By Jacob Olupona

We are gathered here in commemoration of Oba Okunade Sijuwade, Ooni of Ife and a leader with an influential legacy that has continued long after his passing. Oba Sijuwade’s transition from this world to the ancestral realm on July 28, 2015, generated deep grief from his family, friends, and the Nigerian citizenry as a whole. He was kind, generous, and operated with a well-cultured finesse. He was born great, achieved greatness through his trade, commerce and hard work, and as Ooni of Ife, had greatness thrust upon him. He was a successful businessman before completing a 35-year reign as Oba.

I would compare Oba Sijuwade to the great men praised in the apocryphal book of the Bible, Ecclesiasticus. The author enjoins the audience: “Let us now praise famous men, / and our fathers in their generations. / The Lord apportioned to them great glory, / his majesty from the beginning.” The author talks about men who are “renowned for their power,” “wise in their words of instruction,” and “honored in their generations.” We can say these things of Oba Sijuwade. He resembled this kind of greatness. At his passing, Nigeria lost one of its most distinguished personalities and influential leaders.

It would not have been possible to write my book, ‘City of 201 God’, without his help. The final copy has his photograph, adorned with his Aare crown, on the cover. I will always be grateful to the Oba for his support during that process. When people ask me about the work, I joke that during the research process I walked where even the initiated fear to tread. I was able to do so because of the Oba and his generosity in offering me access. We even brought him to Harvard, where he was the guest of honor at a conference on Ifa divination, and welcomed him with a reception given to prominent leaders. Similarly, Harvard University invited His Eminence Alhaji Muhammadu Sa’ad Abubakar III, the Sultan of Sokoto to visit, and deliver the prestigious Jodidi lecture of the Weatherhead Center for International Affairs.

But my purpose today is not only to talk to you about Oba Okunade Sijuawade, about whom I could speak until tomorrow, but the institution he represented, that of traditional rulership and chieftainship. We are here to discuss the two major issues currently facing Nigeria—division and insecurity—and how the “traditional institution”, that is, positions of sacred kingship, tribal leadership and chief councils representing a traditional way of life and local mode of governance can address such problems.

I ask: how can we empower traditional institutions, particularly the institution of the Oba, Emir and Obi, to secure the national integrity of the country? My speech will address three main areas. I will outline how it came to be that traditional institutions were stripped of their power. I will then build an image of how these institutions can recover their authority and use it for good through constitutional reform and generating a soft cultural power uniting Nigeria through civil religion. Then I will articulate future visions of what Nigeria could be and how the traditional institution could get it there. As you listen to my speech, I encourage you to think of practical steps we can take in our various regions to secure and unify Nigeria.

While we have federal and state governments whose role it is to ensure Nigeria’s flourishing, the task cannot fall to them alone. In fact, they have shown us that it is impossible for the state to secure unity without proactive contribution from local traditional rulership. My own people, the Yoruba of southwestern Nigeria, often say: “Ilu to ni oba, to ni ijoye?” which means, “how can this thing happen in a place with an Oba, a place with chiefs?” They ask the question as an exclamation, disbelieving that severe societal damage could take place when the oba should be present to avert crises. In a community where there are kings and chiefs, ordinary people do not expect aberrations to occur.

Our goal is to arrive at a place where we can say, with declarative confidence, that aberrations will not take place, because the oba is in charge. But leadership of traditional institutions should not simply be “top-down.” Traditional institutions have a responsibility towards ordinary people. But why was it that traditional institutions lost the authority they were initially imbued with to serve such local people in the first place? Why is it that bad things happen in this day and age even when an oba is in charge?

When the modern democratic Nigerian state came to power, it should have recognized the authority of traditional institutions in the constitution and in practice, giving them a role to play in the rebuilding of the country. But they took on this role for themselves, distancing themselves from traditional rulers who had been integral to local life for years. But as the state tried to unify Nigeria in the twentieth century and beyond, they struggled. Without a formal recognition of the traditional rulership and their influence, a unifying national identity to bring Nigerians together was lacking. Many state and federal authorities see their positions as ways to generate wealth rather than serve Nigerian constituents, and often religious leaders wield more power than local rulers. Kings and rulers sometimes even defer to religious leaders; neglecting the civil responsibility they have by virtue of their own position. Inevitably, when federal authorities fail, and the state neglects its responsibilities, traditional institutions must step up to fill the gaps.

But it is not just the state which is to blame for the erosion of traditional institutions. With due respect, I call upon chiefs and leaders themselves to recognize where they have let this erosion happen. Traditional institutions are key stakeholders in Nigerian society but all is not well with the body. To continue contributing to the smooth function of the nation-state, they need to resolve unnecessary rivalries and other divisive actions. History shows that traditional rulers have an authority that existed long before the state, and we must re-imagine how to exercise such power in a collaborative and peaceful way. They are accountable to their people at the same time as key influencers in the policy realm. They are custodians of tradition. Let us remind ourselves of how traditional rulers have exercised their power historically.

Think of the Land Use Act of 1978, where all land was vested in the state governor. Military authorities travelled around the country to inform kings about the new decree. I will not mention names, but many will remember a particular military leader in southwestern Nigeria, who came to deliver the bad news to an oba. The messenger almost didn’t return alive from delivering the message to the oba. His utterances were regarded as a total abomination to the king, and so the king wielded his power against him. Many of you know the king of whom I speak…

Now, I am not saying traditional institutions in the contemporary moment should imitate this kind of brute or mystical force. But we should recall the authority traditional institutions have and re-imagine how that authority could be used for the collective uplift of the Nigerian people in crisis, through carefully considered and peaceful means. The throne is a powerful institution and the person who sits on it must use it cautiously. Those on the throne can critique the state, particularly when it is harming Nigerian people. But some rulers are happy to avoid conflict as long as they are receiving their stipend. That disposition will not help the Nigerian people.

So, I have briefly laid out the problems facing traditional institutions in the modern era. We have a state that thus far has made traditional rulers’ powers secondary, failing to recognize the necessity of local displays of power to unify the country. Violence, insecurity, and ethnic conflict continue alongside a lack of unifying national vision. Nigeria will not escape the challenges of modernity. She must face them with boldness, and a new imagination of what is to come. Now, I want to outline a vision traditional rulers can implement for the unification and security of Nigeria, rooted in the exercise of responsible power via traditional institutions.

Such a vision for the Nigerian state must come about through measured and comprehensive constitutional reform. The rise of the Nigerian democratic state emerged alongside the formation of the Nigerian constitution, which has been altered five times since the 1999 update. Yet as many scholars and commentators have acknowledged, there is a gap in the way the constitution defines local forms of traditional rule. In fact, it hardly mentions them at all. Yet the question of traditional institutions’ significance in their local communities and their role in preserving cultural heritage is well-known. It is time for comprehensive constitutional reform in Nigeria that will acknowledge the influence of traditional rulers, rather than settling for the diminishing of their power so that they must continually answer to chairmen of local government councils. It has come to my attention that recently, a bill proposing to do just that—forming a National Council of Traditional Rulers that will advise the government on matters of public policy and traditional custom—has been debated by Nigerian legislators. We await the outcome, and I continue to posit that a considered approach to constitutional reform that safeguards Nigerian democracy at the same time as acknowledging the key role traditional rulers have played and continue to play in policy has potentially very positive benefits.

I call stakeholders to implement a council of traditional rulers who have an advisory, non-executive function outlined in law. These councils could consist of representatives from local regions which form a national advisory board to comment on federal policy. Their role would be to address national problems including ethnic and religious conflicts, and with specialized knowledge from each of their regions, they could identify root problems and devise plans of action.

The council would represent local regions and promote policy to unify and secure constituents’ economic, social and cultural wellbeing. This is not to say that traditional rulers would merely become handmaidens of the state. They are already “fathers” of their people and have extensive experience ruling in local communities; such knowledge could benefit the federal government. They could be insulated from partisan politics and allowed to think critically about the needs of their people in a collective format.

One may not think the proposed bill is perfect, but the underlying sentiment that traditional rulers need constitutional recognition is an imperative. As an academic with a deep investment in his country, I believe that a reconfiguration of Nigerian society is needed to bring about an end to violence, division and insecurity. Constitutional reform is not the only way forward. We must begin to talk about a “soft power” that Emirs, kings and chiefs wield, embedded in traditional institutions. These “soft cultural powers” can facilitate the maintenance of national unity across the country. By “soft” I do not mean “weak,” but culturally influential. Cultural power takes place through education, displays of cultural vitality, and socio-cultural engagements. I am thinking of festivals like Durbar celebrated among Hausa people, New Yam festival (Iri Ji) among the Igbos, the Olojo festival in Ile-Ife, or the Ojude Oba festival in commemoration of the traditional ruler of Ijebuland. These festivals have been especially effective in combating rivalries among groups in Nigeria, forging a rallying cry of unity for ethnic groups in the region. That festival sees children of different ethnic groups come together, and children in the diaspora come home. There are many different examples I could mention.

The question then becomes: can festivals and cultural displays like these become trans-regional? How do we unify Nigeria across difference using these collective rituals? There may also be scope for forming interstate cultural alliances, such as Oba Okunade Sijuwade was noted for. You will recall one such international alliance, the visit of the Emir of Kano and Oba Sijuwade to Israel, which angered the late Major General Muhamadu Buhari as military head of state in 1984.

Here, I would like to lay out a vision for how unification and alliances could take place. I have talked about constitutional reform and now I move to a question beyond legislation. I offer this framework, but I encourage you, as the chiefs, rulers and leaders of Nigeria, to work out its practical details. It is a vision with civil religion at its center. I use the idea of civil religion in my own scholarship to refer to the creation of a national collective identity. Civil religion is an invisible institution, premised on the idea that any functioning society must have sets of myths, narratives and rituals that bond the community together. It is not about trying to convert people to a particular religious system of beliefs. It is about generating cultural power through symbols, narratives and stories to create a sense of unified identity.

In the absence of a naturally existing civil religion, it is our job to construct it. Here, I invoke Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s idea of civil religion, which states that if civil religion is not already present in a community, then it must be built from the ground up. And it should not only be created by those in charge, but through a collaborative process with ordinary townsfolk.

This is very important in the Nigerian case. As a nation-state, we are in crisis because we lack the prophetic imagination to envision ourselves as a unified nation, bound by common civil religious festivals and rituals. Lack of national unity is very pronounced in our disintegrated contemporary moment. And it is arguably this lack that has made it so hard to combat ethnic and religious division. In my formative scholarship in Ondo State during the 1970s and 80s, I discovered that traditional festivals became sites of unifying civil religion, where the Oba became a “custodian of all traditions.”

The Oba was a central figure who uplifted Ondo heritage, creating a “sacred canopy” under which a plurality of religious traditions could be celebrated. Christian chiefs and Muslim celebrants would come together, participating in the traditional festival under the auspices of the traditional institution. This is the kind of civil religion I have spent my life researching and searching for: a non-sectarian civil religion anchored on ideology and rituals of sacred kingship. It is a sacred canopy and custodian of heritage that can also respect differing religious convictions among common people.

By creating a national vision, we are not doing away with local ethnic identities. But ethnic identity cannot be the only marker that unites people, otherwise it will lead to exclusion. Creating unity requires finding a common narrative or communal symbols to unite a people, and it must be the work of people from across all sections of society. As a practical point, we could support the establishment of a think tank, a collection of people led by a range of societal groups: from laborers and university students to young professionals and traditional rulers, who join together under the “canopy” of the chieftaincy and sovereigns, to imagine what uniting civil religion and value systems could look like.

In this instance, civil religion would be linked to social development. It would not simply be a means to promote national identity for its own sake, but would build community, alleviate poverty and generate security. The think tanks could speak across ethnic, regional and linguistic divides and use the resources of traditional leadership to solve the people’s problems.

Nigeria is longing for people and institutions with moral compasses to emerge from their silence and speak truth to power. Nigeria is longing for voices that will cry for justice and pursue justice. We do not want spirituality or religious fervour without moral transformation. We want traditional rulers to recognize that their role is not merely about local governance. My call today is for traditional rulers to take a stand on higher moral ground, to act as beacons of hope and justice. Obas, Emirs and Obis embody strong and formidable leadership in their regions, providing stability through traditional value systems. They have a duty to think about and respond to challenges arising in their kingdoms, and to consider how all they do within their regions might promote a secure and unified Nigeria.

Across southwestern Nigeria, if you wake early in the morning, you can drive around town and see hundreds of young people holding cutlasses and hoes, looking for employment. They don’t have anywhere to work. Couldn’t traditional institutions organize them into a more formal workforce? There is much in the authority of traditional institutions that we can use to improve ordinary life for working citizens, and those looking for employment. We must re-imagine traditional authority to address the challenges of modernity.

In the past, decrees were made at the national level and then imposed on the people. But we have to think differently today. In the wake of the constitutional reform we are longing for, institutions should raise the level of engagement from local governance to new cultural imaginations: from solving familial problems to harnessing the collective wisdom of elderly men and women in their communities. There are retired generals, ambassadors, teachers, and elderly voices waiting to be called upon. In medieval Europe, the town crier would call together the village into a town assembly. I call on traditional rulers to call on their own people to act, and to act now! To join a town assembly and imagine a Nigeria for the future!

I’ll give you an example of what this civil religion nation-building project could look like. When I was an undergraduate at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka in 1971, I was surrounded by symbols of Nigerian nationalist heroes in the halls of residence. The houses were dedicated to people like Obafemi Awolowo, Ladoke Akintola, Ekpo Eyo, Margaret Ekpo, Isa Kaita, Abubakar Tafawa Balewa and Ibanga Akpabio. I was seeing what it meant for the institution to really be a ‘University of Nigeria,’ where national figures, symbols and narratives generated cultural power and national collective identity. I also think of the figure of Nnamdi Azikiwe, first president of Nigeria and founder of University of Nigeria, a visionary leader who understood the potency of symbols and effectively used them.

I give this example not as someone who thinks he has all the answers, but as a scholar who wants to encourage his community to use key tools to forge unity. The kind of projects I am proposing are not easy. They involve reforming the constitution, creating a council of traditional rulers and a think tank: re-imagining traditional institutions and Nigerian national identity without exclusion. It is work that requires nation building, community development and social improvement. Traditional institutions could implement projects in their regions and then brainstorm on how they might scale up to the national level. I offer another example of the current Orangun of Oke-Ila, who is here among us today and who created a school where poor students from all over the country can attend. I was happy to know that the BBC showcased the school in one of its Africa-centred television programs, “Focus on Africa” on Wednesday, 9 July 2025.

Successes like these encourage us but also remind us that there is more work to be done, especially considering the national orientation projects that have failed in the past. Think about our National Youth Service Corps, or National Orientation Program, a project of great national imagination but which has not achieved its full meaning. How can traditional institutions assist the state in accomplishing this particular objective of bringing youth from across the country into new regions, ethnic groups and languages, to generate an ethos of service and an interethnic collective Nigerian identity?

But traditional rulers must act when problems arise. Two Youth Corps participants died during the 2011 election and nothing was done to memorialize them or ensure that nothing like that would ever happen again. This is where traditional rulers might have stepped in, to commemorate their lives and think ahead to a safer future for the program. Traditional institutions are not just governing councils, haggling over who should be chosen as chairman, but deeply embedded in the lives of the people who live alongside them. They must be willing to hold the state accountable for how its policies impact people.

I mention these examples of traditional rulers who have implemented social development projects, because there can be no vision of a unified, secure Nigeria without alleviation from poverty. Nigerians do not have the energy to work for unity when they are living with empty stomachs. Insecurity is exacerbated when unemployment is high, because people become more willing to fall into corruption or unsavory work in order to feed their families.

Let us admit that our traditional institutions may require reforms. Your Royal Highnesses, please permit me to respectfully list a few. The growing clamor for titles, along with the astronomical rise in the number of so-called “traditional rulers”, many of whom lack clearly defined or prescribed authority, has undermined the integrity of the traditional institution. Increasingly, financial power, rather than cultural heritage or ancestral legitimacy, determines the level of respect and recognition accorded to the traditional stool, thereby eroding its historical essence and societal value.

A traditional stool may lose respect due to a range of factors, including moral failure such as immoral conduct, corruption, or breaking cultural taboos; abandonment of traditional values and neglect of festivals or sacred rites; and overt political partisanship that compromises the neutrality and dignity of the throne. Disconnection from the people, demonstrated by neglect of community welfare, poor leadership, or bias in dispute resolution, also diminishes reverence. Legitimacy issues arising from flawed selection processes or government imposition can further erode trust, as can open disrespect toward other traditional institutions. In today’s media age, negative public perception, arrogance, or insensitive remarks can rapidly damage a ruler’s reputation. Finally, from a spiritual perspective, a traditional ruler who breaks sacred covenants or is perceived to have lost ancestral backing may lose the honor traditionally accorded to the stool. Respect for the throne, therefore, must be earned and preserved through integrity, cultural stewardship, justice, and service to the people.

Undue interference and control by the government often instill fear in our traditional rulers, largely because many of them are heavily dependent on government salaries and patronage. As the saying goes, he who pays the piper calls the tune. Unfortunately, our traditional institutions are neither self-sustaining nor self-preserving, making them vulnerable to external manipulation and diminishing their autonomy and influence. All these must change to make the institution stronger and worthy of its name.

Permit me, as I close this talk, to add that some people might object to having traditional rulers occupy such a prominent role in a modern secular democratic Nigerian state, but we know that modern secular democracy is not a panacea for all ills. The current situation in Trump’s America has revealed that democracy is not infallible. Traditional rulers should be having a conversation about what democratic governance looks like for modern Nigeria in a way that will ensure its security, unity and justice for all. They could generate a bipartisan response to issues of governance rather than taking sides along ethnic and religious lines. They should ask: how do we reposition communities to reconnect with their ancestral roots? How can that construct a unified, inclusive national identity? There is a deeper crisis at work here, a crisis that consists of our loss of indigenous wisdom and knowledge systems. I am not talking about the practice of traditional religion—though the popular interest in traditional values cannot be stopped!—but more crucially exploration of particular cultural knowledge systems that offers us new ways of seeing the world, and the opportunity to engage critically with our traditions in the hope of building a brighter future.

And so, I leave you with this. Traditional institutions are being called towards a new form of engagement with the modern state. Not based on the quest for power, position or exclusive representation, but a collaborative, horizontal future, where ordinary Nigerians are invested in the creation of a people who care for their most marginalized and advocate for moral transformation, anti-corruption and collaboration. Together, drawing on the wisdom of the past and new insight for the future, we can collectively construct a civil religion that facilitates the formation of an inclusive Nigeria.

•             Text of the Oba Okunade Sijuwade 10th Year Memorial Lecture by Olupona, FNAL, NNOM, Hugh K. Forster Professor of African and African American Studies and Professor of African Religious Traditions, Harvard University.

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