Forgotten Voices of Conflict – Highlighting under-reported minorities and groups impacted by conflict.
By Abdullahi Jimoh
On TikTok, Facebook and Instagram, the jokes came quickly.
“Speak Hausa, and you’ll be spared”.
“Dress like a Fulani man, and you’ll be safe”.
“Learn Fulfulde, it might save your life”.
In one of the videos, a content creator joked that speaking Hausa or Fulfulde could help someone avoid being kidnapped and killed. Some suggested that dressing like a Fulani person was a “survival tactic”.
The humour emerged shortly after a church in Eruku, Kwara State, was attacked days before Christmas. Worshippers were killed, injured, and kidnapped for ransom. In the aftermath, online commentary and satire quickly shifted blame toward Fulani communities, reinforcing a long-running narrative that associates the ethnic group with kidnapping and banditry.
What may have appeared as harmless comedy carried deeper consequences. By portraying Fulani identity as synonymous with criminality, the content amplified stereotypes and normalised collective blame. For many innocent Fulani people, such portrayals contribute to suspicion, stigma, and even violence.
In March 2025, 16 Hausa hunters travelling to Kano were reportedly lynched by a mob that accused them of being kidnappers. Though the details remain contested, the incident underscored how ethnic labelling and suspicion can escalate into deadly consequences. Ethnic profiling in Nigeria did not begin with social media, but digital platforms have accelerated its reach.
The missing context
The Fulani are one of Africa’s largest and most geographically dispersed ethnic groups, living across West and Central Africa. In Nigeria, they are not a monolithic community. Some are nomadic pastoralists, others are semi-settled agro-pastoralists, and many are fully urbanised professionals, traders, civil servants, and academics.
Yet public discourse often blurs between these distinctions. Criminal acts committed by individuals are frequently framed as evidence of collective guilt. The complexity of farmer–herder conflicts, banditry in the northwest, and insurgency in the northeast is reduced to ethnic shorthand.
In a reporter’s diary published by Premium Times, Qosim Sulaimon reflected on how insecurity in northern Nigeria is routinely blamed on Fulani communities, with members sometimes broadly described as terrorists or jihadists. He referenced Abiodu Jamiu, a former reporter with HumAngle who covered how a Fulani community in Tangaza Local Government Area of Sokoto State was burned down by Yan Sakai after bandits attacked a commercial vehicle. The bandits had burned the vehicle, leading to the death of a nursing mother and her daughter. Members of the Tangaza community were then misrepresented as bandits because they shared the same language as the real perpetrators. Fulani tribes are also often the victims of banditry.
Media’s contribution
Nigeria’s media landscape plays a significant role in shaping public perception. A review of crime reporting patterns shows that ethnic identifiers such as “Fulani herdsmen” are frequently used in headlines about violence in parts of the country. By contrast, similar crimes in other regions are often attributed to “gunmen” or “unknown assailants,” without reference to ethnicity.
For example, a February 7 Punch headline read: “Gunmen kill Anambra community leader, one other”. Anambra is in southeastern Nigeria, predominantly Igbo, yet ethnicity was not highlighted.
Meanwhile, other reports have used constructions such as “Fulani herdsmen kill 10 Christians in eastern Nigeria when covering attacks in central Nigeria. Even when violence is linked to disputes over land or grazing routes, ethnicity is frequently foregrounded in ways that imply collective responsibility.
“I think the media contribute to it by ethnicising criminality,” Sulaimon said. “If a man commits a crime, his religion or ethnicity is secondary. The crime does not represent the realities of others who share that identity. But it is not uncommon to find headlines using a criminal’s ethnicity to report the story.”
This pattern, media observers argue, reinforces stereotypes and deepens mistrust between communities.
The existing policy and improvement
Concerns about hate speech and ethnic incitement are not new. In 2019, Nigeria’s National Assembly introduced a controversial hate speech bill proposing stiff penalties for ethnic incitement, including prison terms and heavy fines. While the bill generated debate over free expression and potential misuse, it reflected official recognition of the dangers of inflammatory speech.
However, legislation alone has not addressed newsroom practices.
Media experts argue that professional bodies, including the Nigerian Union of Journalists (NUJ) need to strengthen ethical guidelines around identity reporting. Context-aware journalism, clearer editorial standards, and diversity training are among the proposed reforms.
“Ethnic profiling is wrong,” said Usman Aliyu, a correspondent with the News Agency of Nigeria in Benin City. “There is a need for newsroom guidelines that address this directly. Crime has no tribe. If identity must be used, age, gender, and name are often sufficient.”
Advocates say responsible reporting does not mean ignoring facts. Rather, it requires asking whether ethnicity is relevant to the story and whether its inclusion serves public understanding or simply fuels prejudice.
As media framing shapes the way other citizens see ethnic groups, the consequences have extended beyond public opinion to real-world discrimination and violence.
When Qosim asked one of the Fulani women he met when documenting their experience of harassment, she said they had “accepted fate”.
The views and opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not reflect the official policy or position of the Media Diversity Institute. Any questions or comments should be addressed to the editor at [email protected] of the Media Diversity Institute (MDI).
