Shari’ah, divorce and danger of misdiagnosing the problem

By: Fatih Lawal-Garu

THE editorial published by the Nigerian Tribune on May 14, 2026, titled “Divorce: The Kaduna woman who has nowhere to go,” raises an emotionally compelling and socially important issue. It tells the painful story of a 44-year-old woman in Kaduna who, after three decades of marriage and raising ten children, now faces uncertainty and displacement following the collapse of her marriage.

No reasonable person can read such an account without sympathy. The plight of divorced women abandoned without adequate support is a serious social concern that deserves national reflection, institutional response, and moral accountability. In that regard, the editorial performed an important public service by drawing attention to the suffering of vulnerable women who often find themselves economically and emotionally exposed after divorce.

However, while the editorial correctly highlights the woman’s distressing condition, it unfortunately proceeds to place the blame on Sharī’ah law itself. In doing so, it arrives at a sweeping conclusion that deserves careful scrutiny.

The editorial argued that, “in a justice system that appears discriminatory against women and girls, the likelihood was high that the judge would have ordered the forceful eviction of this woman if her ex-husband had not volunteered to pay for a new accommodation.” This statement is problematic for several reasons. First, it amounts to a premature judgment regarding a matter that has not yet been fully adjudicated by a competent Sharī’ah court. It assumes judicial bias and predicts an unjust verdict before due legal process has run its course. Such conclusions risk undermining public confidence in the judicial system based on speculation rather than evidence. More fundamentally, the editorial goes further to characterise Shari’ah as “oppressive,” “unfavourable,” and “discriminatory,” implying that Islamic law itself is inherently unjust to women. This is where the central analytical flaw emerges.

The unfortunate experience of one woman—even a deeply painful one—cannot reasonably serve as sufficient evidence to indict an entire legal and moral framework followed by millions across centuries and societies. Doing so confuses failures in implementation with failures in principle. The Kaduna woman’s suffering is not proof of the failure of Sharī’ah. Rather, it reflects the failure of individuals, institutions, and society to properly uphold the rights and protections that Sharī’ah itself explicitly provides. Many injustices wrongly attributed to Sharī’ah are, in reality, products of harmful cultural practices, ignorance of Islamic legal obligations, weak institutional enforcement, economic neglect, and social irresponsibility. Islam did not establish marriage as a prison, nor did it sanction the abandonment of women after years of sacrifice and commitment.

On the contrary, Islamic law imposes profound responsibilities upon husbands to act with justice, compassion, dignity, and accountability—particularly during divorce. The Qur’an itself contains explicit protections for divorced women. In Surah At-Talaq (65:1), divorced women are not to be expelled from their homes unjustly. In verse 65:6, husbands are instructed to provide accommodation according to their means. Surah Al-Baqarah (2:231) forbids oppressive treatment during divorce, while verse 2:241 mandates fair provision for divorced women. These are not marginal principles within Islamic law; they are foundational ethical obligations.

The tragedy, therefore, lies not in the law itself, but in the failure to implement it faithfully and justly. To portray this painful incident as evidence that Sharī’ah is inherently oppressive overlooks the extensive protections embedded within Islamic legal tradition. It also ignores an uncomfortable reality: abuse, neglect, and injustice occur under virtually every legal and social system when institutions fail and human beings abandon moral responsibility.

Indeed, women face abandonment, economic hardship, and domestic injustice in societies governed by secular legal systems as well. No legal framework—religious or secular—is immune from misuse when justice is poorly administered. The deeper issue exposed by this case is the persistence of harmful social attitudes toward divorced women, inadequate welfare and family support systems, poor legal literacy, and weak enforcement mechanisms for protecting vulnerable individuals after marital breakdown.

These are societal failures that demand reform, education, and stronger accountability—not the wholesale condemnation of a divinely grounded legal tradition.

Critiquing the abuse of Shari’ah is legitimate. Critiquing failures in judicial implementation is equally necessary. But condemning Sharī’ah itself based on the misconduct of individuals or institutional shortcomings is intellectually unsound and ultimately counterproductive.

If anything, cases like this should encourage a renewed commitment to proper Islamic legal education, ethical family conduct, judicial fairness, and stronger institutional protection for women—not the dismissal of Sharī’ah altogether.

To mistake the abuse of a system for the failure of the system itself is a serious analytical error. It shifts attention away from the actual causes of injustice and risks obstructing meaningful solutions.

The real challenge before society is therefore not whether Sharī’ah is just, but whether those entrusted with implementing it are willing to uphold its principles with sincerity, knowledge, compassion, and fairness.

That is where the conversation truly belongs.

•Lawal-Garu writes in via ibnkamilgaru1@gmail.com