Nigeria’s Silent Paradox: How the Hausa Majority Lost Power in Their Own Homeland
Nigeria often presents itself as Africa’s most complex democracy—a nation of immense diversity where power is supposed to rotate through its many ethnic, religious, and regional blocs. Yet beneath this narrative lies a contradiction so stark it can no longer be ignored: the Hausa people, widely recognised by scholars and demographic experts as Nigeria’s most populous ethnic group, currently hold zero governorships across the federation.
In a country where political power at the state level determines control over land, security architecture, resource allocation, and development priorities, this absence is not symbolic—it is structural. It raises urgent questions about representation, justice, and the future of indigenous communities in Northern Nigeria.
A Disturbing Breakdown of Power
A look at the current ethnic distribution of Nigerian governors reveals how uneven political power has become:
Fulani – 9
Yoruba – 6
Igbo – 5
Kanuri – 2
Ikwerre – 1 (plus the FCT Minister)
Half-Fulani/Half-Yoruba – 1
Urhobo – 1
Ibibio – 1
Ijaw – 1
Efik – 1
Esan – 1
Nupe – 1
Ebira – 1
Jukun – 1
Tiv – 1
Marghi – 1
Mwaghavul – 1
Mada – 1
Hausa – ZERO.
This is not a marginal ethnic group struggling for relevance. This is the Hausa—an ethnic nationality whose language is spoken across West Africa, whose culture shaped Northern Nigeria long before colonial borders were drawn, and whose population strength has always been acknowledged in national censuses, academic literature, and political calculations.
The Hausa Homeland Without Hausa Governors
The irony deepens when one considers geography. States such as Kano, Katsina, Jigawa, Sokoto, Zamfara, Kebbi, and Kaduna are globally recognised as historic Hausa homelands. Long before the creation of modern Nigeria in 1914, these territories thrived as Hausa city-states—centres of commerce, scholarship, agriculture, and governance.
From Kano’s trans-Saharan trade routes, to Katsina’s Islamic scholarship, to Zaria’s administrative sophistication, Hausa civilisation was not peripheral; it was foundational. These societies developed complex systems of land tenure, local governance, conflict resolution, and economic organisation centuries before British colonial administration arrived.
Yet in today’s Nigeria, the highest executive authority in these states—the office of governor—is consistently occupied by individuals who do not politically identify as Hausa.
This reality is not merely historical irony. It is a political anomaly with real-world consequences.
When Political Absence Becomes Human Suffering
Across Northern Nigeria, insecurity has become a daily reality. Banditry, mass kidnapping, rural displacement, and communal violence have devastated farming communities—many of them indigenous Hausa settlements that have existed for generations.
Without governors emerging from a clear Hausa political consciousness, these communities often feel:
Unprotected, as security decisions are made far from their lived realities
Dispossessed, as ancestral lands are lost to violence, forced migration, or elite capture
Politically invisible, reduced to voting numbers rather than stakeholders in governance
Land ownership, grazing routes, rural development, and local security frameworks are state-level responsibilities. When indigenous communities lack representation at that level, their interests are easily sidelined. Over time, this vacuum enables others to consolidate political, territorial, and economic control—while Hausa communities are left to bear the costs.
The Submergence of Hausa Political Identity
There is a difficult but necessary truth that Hausa leaders and youths must confront honestly: Hausa political identity has been submerged under Fulani dominance.
In contemporary Northern Nigerian politics, Hausa interests are often articulated by others. Decisions affecting Hausa communities are negotiated without Hausa political ownership. Meanwhile, when insecurity escalates—when villages are attacked, farmers displaced, or markets destroyed—it is frequently Hausa civilians who suffer first and longest.
This does not mean coexistence is wrong. Hausa–Fulani cultural and religious intermingling is a historical reality. But political representation is not the same as cultural proximity. When one group consistently speaks for another, power becomes concentrated, and accountability disappears.
The result is a tragic paradox: the largest ethnic group in Nigeria increasingly experiences itself as a guest in its own homeland.
This Is Not Hatred—It Is a Call for Justice
It is important to be absolutely clear: this conversation is not about hatred, exclusion, or ethnic supremacy. Nigeria’s diversity is its strength, and peaceful coexistence remains non-negotiable.
This is about:
Representation
Historical legitimacy
Political justice
No ethnic group—especially one with such demographic weight and civilisational roots—should be politically invisible in the very territories it built.
Around the world, political systems recognise that stability depends on inclusion. When indigenous majorities are locked out of power, resentment grows, trust erodes, and insecurity deepens. Nigeria is not immune to this reality.
Organisation, Not Violence
The way forward is not violence. It is political clarity.
Hausa political liberation does not mean confrontation—it means organisation:
Building independent political platforms
Producing leaders who explicitly articulate Hausa civic interests
Separating cultural identity from political accountability
Demanding transparent governance on land, security, and development
Liberation, in this context, means self-representation, not aggression. It means peaceful participation in democratic processes, lawful mobilisation, and strategic engagement with Nigeria’s constitutional framework.
The Questions Nigeria Must Answer
The silence around this issue is no longer sustainable. Nigerians—especially in the North—must confront uncomfortable but necessary questions:
How did the Hausa become politically absent in Kano, Katsina, Jigawa, Sokoto, Zamfara, Kebbi, and Kaduna?
How did a people with numerical strength and historical legitimacy become spectators in their own homeland?
How long can the largest tribe in Nigeria watch others rule their land without consequence?
These are not extremist questions. They are democratic ones.
Representation Matters. History Matters.
Nigeria’s future depends on fairness, inclusion, and honest dialogue. The continued political invisibility of the Hausa people undermines all three.
Restoring Hausa political visibility is not a threat to Nigeria—it is a step toward balance. It must be done peacefully, lawfully, and deliberately, through civic engagement, political education, and accountable leadership.
History matters. Representation matters.
And for Nigeria to move forward, no people—especially its largest—can remain unseen where power truly matters. 🇳🇬
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