By By Matthew Alugbin
I once read a story I now recall with a suitable match with an ongoing occurrence.
In a prosperous town, there existed one sacred drum, said to speak with the voice of the ancestors. Whenever it was beaten, the people gathered to listen to it. The drum did not belong to the king alone, but to the spirit of the land. There came a particular season when two powerful chiefs laid claim to the drum.
The first said, “I inherited the drum from the founders of this town.”
The second replied, “I protect the people today; therefore, the drum must answer to me.”
To prove their authority, both began beating the drum at different times and for different reasons. Soon, the drum lost its rhythm. The people no longer knew which call to answer. Children danced to one beat, elders argued over another, and strangers laughed at the confusion. Eventually, the people forgot why the drum was made. By the time the chiefs settled their dispute, the people had stopped gathering altogether. There was no longer a need to dance. And if there are no dancers, of what use is the drummer or the drum itself?
Like the sacred drum, traditional titles and institutions were created to unite the people, not for unhealthy competition. They were not meant to amplify personal or political relevance.
In late 2025, the Okanlomo title ignited visible public disputes between two Yoruba Kings. In August 2025, the Ooni of Ife, Oba Adeyeye Enitan Ogunwusi (Ojaja II), bestowed a chieftaincy distinction known as Okanlomo Oodua on Chief Dotun Sanusi, a prominent Ibadan-based entrepreneur. The investiture, held in Ibadan, was intended to honour Sanusi’s philanthropic efforts and his contributions to Yoruba cultural life. However, the announcement and framing of the title quickly generated controversy. The Alaafin of Oyo, Oba Abimbola Akeem Owoade, publicly challenged the development, maintaining that the authority to confer pan-Yoruba chieftaincy titles rests exclusively with the Oyo stool. In response, and seemingly to reassert this claim, the Alaafin later introduced his own conferment of the title by installing Seyi Tinubu, son of President Bola Tinubu, as the Okanlomo of Yorubaland in December 2025.
At the 20th Wole Soyinka Centre for Investigative Journalism Awards earlier in December 2025, the Nobel Laureate, Wole Soyinka, expressed shock at the “appurtenance of power” surrounding the President’s son. In this light, the recent conferment appears less ceremonial and more like a deliberate show of power in the protracted contest between the two thrones.
This clash quickly escalated the suspicion of a supremacy tussle between two of the most revered traditional seats in Yoruba culture. On the one hand, the Ooni of Ife is widely regarded as the spiritual originator of the Yoruba people. Ile-Ife is mythologised as the cradle of Yoruba civilisation and ancestral lineage under Oduduwa, the progenitor of many Yoruba royals. On the other hand, the Alaafin’s historic political significance is beyond question. At its height, the Oyo Empire stood as one of the most formidable and influential states in pre-colonial West Africa.
The Olubadan of Ibadanland, Oba Rashidi Adewolu Ladoja, had earlier adopted a notably restrained stance on the controversy. He made it clear that his authority is confined to Ibadan and that he has no intention of participating in debates over supremacy among other paramount rulers. This measured position is informed by his unique experience of leadership, having worn two distinct “crowns”: first as an executive governor and later as the 44th Olubadan of Ibadanland.
In contemporary Nigeria, post-colonial constitutional arrangements and democratic governance have largely reduced the role of traditional rulers to ceremonial functions. Over time, public reverence for these institutions has steadily declined. When symbols of heritage become instruments of rivalry, the danger is not who wins but what is lost. If this trajectory continues, the legitimacy and moral authority of traditional institutions may fade quietly and almost imperceptibly, until they are irretrievably diminished.
Matthew Alugbin teaches at Edo State University, Iyamho.
