“Who keeps one end in view makes all things serve.” — Robert Browning
“Àwòdì òkè kò mọ̀ p’árá ilẹ̀ ń wòun.” — Yorùbá adage.
“An elder’s mind is a sea of temperance.” — Akin Adeṣọkan.
Citizens of Ọ̀yọ́ State were treated to a fairly intriguing start to the undeclared jousting for pole position in the Ọ̀yọ́ gubernatorial race recently. Three prominent sons of Ibadan were elevated to royal status, ostensibly by the governor of the state, on 3rd April 2026, Good Friday. The governor was absent on the day and the three prominent citizens were also absent. The high drama (or farce) that ensued at Mapo Hall that day has kept the people joshing since. Naturally, the commentariat has included all — aristocrats and plebians, royalists and republicans, men and women. Only infants, literally the unspeaking ones, have been left out.
An employment promotion is an act imposed by hierarchy; a chieftaincy elevation, particularly in Ibadan’s unique and mathematically precise consensus-sensitive system, requires demonstrable acceptance. If the chiefs were absent in muted protest, this carries normative weight on the legitimacy, not merely the formality, of the elevation.
Not all opinions carry equal weight of course. But when certain citizens weigh in, their interventions tend to command more than the usual attention because of their long experience and learning. Such was the intervention of Chief Niyi Akintola, SAN, in the wake of the Mapo event. Chief Akintola appeared to broach the matter from an advocacy position rather than as dispassionate legal analysis. Only so much ratiocination can happen on live media. Chief Akintola is a prominent Ibadan indigene with a declared honorary chieftaincy title. He is also a major player in Oyo State politics and has vied twice at least for the seat of Governor in the state. His credentials do not invalidate his views, but they must inform how they are weighed.
This short article is a response to the installation of the three kings and the opinions expressed by Chief Niyi Akintola, SAN, giving his imprimatur to the purported action of Governor Makinde. It is short but will lead us into some codas by way of epistemic digression. Ọ̀rọ̀ mi ò pọ̀, àkàwé rẹ̀ ló pọ̀.
First Principles
If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. — Anonymous
Section 2(1) of the Constitution explicitly states: “Nigeria is… to be known by the name of the Federal Republic of Nigeria.” Alas, Nigeria is a Republic in name only even as that fundamental fulcrum is a de jure, if not de facto, provision. That almost every governor in Nigeria now appoints warrant chiefs and kings in clear contradiction of the grundnorm is an Achilles heel of the ‘Federation.’ Nigeria is a republic more in the breach than it is in observance and we have paid insufficient mind to what this means for amity and progress. Private citizens have now joined state functionaries and they now proclaim themselves kings within and outside Nigeria, sometimes setting off diplomatic incidents all because we won’t self-regulate.
I am aware that both the governor of Oyo State and Chief Niyi Akintola had the Chieftaincy Laws of Oyo State (as amended) in mind and not necessarily the Nigerian Constitution. It is a common, albeit normalized, error of commutation. Chief Akintola even referred to our arch royal father as His Imperial Majesty. Bíi ti bóo!? Imperium in a republic? Happily, Ọba Ladoja is a first rate mind of whom every black man and woman on planet earth should be proud and he is more than capable of explaining the clear difference between commutative and non commutative operations in traditional jurisprudence as well as in high mathematics. To further set our communal minds to pasture I highly recommend the groundbreaking work of jurisprudential thought by Professor A. A. Okunniga: Transplants and Mongrels and the Law —the text of his inaugural lecture at the University of Ife.
Òwúyẹ́ or The Elephant in the Room
Senator Sarafa Alli of Oyo State has seen a quiet but consistent consensus building around him lately. The stars seem aligned for him, should he throw his hat into the ring to become governor of the State in 2027. He is a known vector quantity. Not merely scalar. What could be wrong with giving him royal fillip therefore? A good question. But there is such a thing among boys who have played street football (as Nigerians do) as an alákóbá supporter. Very often, the bottomline of the efforts of that supporter is to pump gold into what should be wind-compliant fẹ́lẹ̀lẹ̀ or Wembley ball, making the ball so heavy that the star striker cannot score. In a horse-race, the alákóbá supporters hobble their Sea Biscuit in the name of festoons. So, let us carry on as if Senator Alli has not committed to contesting. Or not just yet.
Chief Akintola opined that the governor has not violated any laws in installing the three kings and cites Section 20 of the amended Chieftaincy Law of Oyo State as the legal authority that empowers the “executive governor” to install, elevate or otherwise appoint a king. This section of that law, which I will neither here quote nor paraphrase (please consult your lawyer) is a legal portmanteau that is as adjectival as it is substantive. The snooker strategy here by governor and Learned Silk is not difficult to see.
Chief Akintola is a Senior Advocate of Nigeria. Granted there is a limit to how much he could have expatiated on the law in a media broadcast, yet asserting that “everything is within the ambit of the law” is rhetorically powerful but legally and logically unpersuasive. The strength of a legal opinion rests on demonstrated, not asserted, compliance with the governing law.
The “Codification” claim is conflated with legal validity in Chief Akintola’s repeated celebration that “the tradition has now been codified,” treating codification as self-evidently legitimising. However, codification and legal compliance are distinct questions. A law can codify a practice incorrectly or incompletely. Codification does not preclude procedural ultra vires acts in applying a codified law. The critics of the ‘elevation’ are not necessarily arguing that no law exists. They argue, in turns, that there appears to be duress and undue influence and that conditions precedent to application of the extant laws were not followed in this instance. We all witnessed the pressing of the Ifá Oracle to the service of the emergence of a paramount Yoruba King recently. Is a Yoruba king made so merely by the pronouncement of an elected governor simpliciter? Chief Akintola (and the governor) did not engage these nuanced arguments.
Blending Royal Apples and Onions + Argumentum ex silentio
Chief Niyi Akintola quite problematically analogizes the absence of the elevated chiefs to a workplace promotion, arguing: “If you are being promoted, even in your place of work, you don’t need to be at home.” This analogy is a false equivalence and is legally flawed.
Chieftaincy elevation in Nigerian customary law and statutory chieftaincy declarations typically involves prescribed ceremonies, oaths, and acceptance rituals. Whether the Ibadan Chieftaincy Declaration or the amended law requires physical presence and acceptance is a specific legal question, not one answerable by a general employment analogy.
The Ibadan succession system is sui generis even among the Yorùbá. Deliberate, conspicuous absence of all three elevated chiefs raises a question of consent and acceptance that the analogy sidesteps. An employment promotion is an act imposed by hierarchy; a chieftaincy elevation, particularly in Ibadan’s unique and mathematically precise consensus-sensitive system, requires demonstrable acceptance. If the chiefs were absent in muted protest, this carries normative weight on the legitimacy, not merely the formality, of the elevation.
Furthermore, Chief Akintola argues that the Olubadan’s non-attendance at the Mapo ceremony was cured by the presence of “the Balogun…with the Staff of Office of the Olubadan.” Really?
Well, let’s perform a thought experiment here. Let’s apply Governor Makinde’s (and Chief Akintola’s) peremptory formula to the elevation of Prince Charles to King Charles. If the UK would be outraged, why would Ọ̀yọ́ citizens not be? The only plausible reason would be that the Nigerian dramatis personae think in terms of stools and not thrones. There is a reason why the Chieftaincy Laws require the prescribed authority to perform specific acts. Whether delegation by the Olubadan of his role at a coronation is legally permissible under the relevant chieftaincy declaration is a concrete legal question.
Chief Akintola’s assertion that “The Olubadan has not denied that he sent the Balogun” is a problematic argument from silence (argumentum ex silentio). Absence of denial is not affirmation, particularly where the Olubadan himself did not attend and has made no public statement confirming his endorsement. Chief Akintola invokes, by implication, ignorantia juris non excusat to silence critics, saying “many people don’t read.” This is a logical misuse of the maxim:
The maxim means that a person cannot escape legal LIABILITY by claiming not to know the law. It says nothing about ostensible BENEFITS or whether critics are correct in their reading of the law. Using it to dismiss substantive legal objections is a problem. It substitutes condescension for cogency.
The Political Motivation Deflection
Chief Akintola dismisses the claim that the elevation was politically motivated by saying it was initiated by one (singular) of the recipients through a petition. However, these two things are not mutually exclusive.
A petition by the recipient could still be acted upon by a governor for political reasons, particularly with Senator Sarafa Alli, a visible political figure, being one of the beneficiaries. The timing (Good Friday, a public holiday) and the absence of all three beneficiaries compounds rather than resolves this suspicion. Chief Akintola does not engage the structural conflict of interest in a governor from a different political party promoting a possible aspirant from a rival party into a quandary.
The Adedibu Historical Precedent: Irrelevant as Deployed
Again, Chief Akintola invokes the late Chief Lamidi Adedibu’s situation during Oba Odulana’s reign as a “historical antecedent.” However, he himself concedes: “High Chief Adedibu was not even an oba when he was taking part in politics.” This actually undermines the precedent Learned Silk is citing.
The Adedibu situation involved a chief on the ascendancy ladder being asked to choose between politics and chieftaincy before elevation. The present situation involves persons already holding political office visibly being elevated to Oba status where the Obaship may be used against the “elevated” politician. If anything, the Adedibu precedent supports the critics’ position that there is a historically recognised tension between political participation and advancement in the Olubadan hierarchy.
CCII Attendance as Proof of Acceptability?
Chief Akintola argues that the presence of the President of the CCII (Ibadan’s umbrella body) and his speech demonstrated that the elevation “was acceptable to all of us in Ibadanland.” This is a non sequitur: Attendance at a ceremony is not equivalent to endorsement of its legal validity. “Acceptable to all of us” is a sweeping generalisation contradicted by the very controversy that prompted the media programme. Organisational representation at an event does not constitute institutional ratification of its legal basis.
Internal Contradiction on the Significance of Absence
Chief Akintola simultaneously argues that:
(a) The absence of the elevated Obas does not negate the elevation (“you don’t need to be there”); and
(b) The presence of the CCII president proves acceptability.
If physical presence is legally irrelevant (a), it cannot then be mobilised as evidence of acceptance or legitimacy (b). Learned Silk cannot have it both ways. He cannot run with the hare and hunt with the hounds concomitantly.
Conclusion
A kite concatenates, yes, but terrestrial creatures also observe it doing so. The Yorùbá say: Ẹní sùn làá jí, ẹnìkan kìí jí apirọrọ. We wake those asleep, not those pretending to be asleep. And in Ọ̀yọ́ Aláàfin, the ethereal guardrails of rhetoric are often reiterated thus, for clarity and substance: Ó ti wí làá wí, ẹnìkan kìí ni ó ti lóó wí. The culture generally abjures booby traps.
Chief Akintola has tried to bring about some pragmatism by comparing the installation of an Ọba with a promotion at a desk job in a commercial office. The error is beyond one of transposition, as when a lawyer who should know better conflates a contract of service with a contract for services. The cultural economy runs on a higher principle.
Chief Akintola’s opinion on Governor Makinde’s gambit is that of a skilled advocate defending a position rather than a neutral legal analysis. Its central weakness is that it asserts customary and legal compliance without demonstrating it. Invoking Section 20 without exposition, celebrating codification without showing customary diffidence toward procedure, and dismissing procedural objections with trite workplace analogies unsuited to chieftaincy law. The logical inconsistencies, particularly the double standard on the relevance of physical presence and the misapplication of the Adedibu precedent, further undermine the Learned Silk’s opinions.
Perhaps it would greatly help the governor and the Learned Silk that the citizens know that what precedes six is more than seven in sum. The people can count.
Tade Ipadeola is a lawyer and poet. He plays Ayò and Chess.
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