In retrospect, the ethnic attacks that erupted in Lagos State during the election season should have been anticipated. This election was the first since 1999 in which another party came close to toppling the All Progressives Congress’s long‑standing “structure.” From traditional rulers to thugs, the Lagos ruling class mobilised to protect their privileged interests. Recruiting foot soldiers for this cause was easy; many citizens, ethically and systematically diminished by the regime’s dysfunction, found meaning in punching down on their neighbours. As United States President Lyndon B. Johnson once observed, “If you can convince the lowest white man he’s better than the best coloured man, he won’t notice you’re picking his pocket. Hell, give him somebody to look down on, and he’ll empty his pockets for you.” Nigerians are no different. By pitting Igbo against Yoruba, or Muslims against Christians, leaders can incite people to fight for those who consume their children’s future.
While bitter exchanges raged, the leaders who should have used their moral authority to quell the tensions were largely silent. It was therefore surprising that Lagos governor Babajide Sanwo‑Olu’s victory speech condemned “hateful and hurtful ethnic profiling,” calling it “totally out of place for us as Lagosians, the proud residents of West Africa’s pre‑eminent melting pot.” If he truly believed this, he should have spoken out before profiting from the violence, not after. Where was he when traditional rulers staged an Oro ceremony to intimidate people? Why did he not ask them to postpone the rites, given their suspect motives? Where was he when thugs forced voters to declare their Yoruba identity to be allowed to vote? How many aides who publicly participated in the hate campaign has Sanwo‑Olu—or the APC—cautioned or dismissed? Some thugs will be arrested, as promised, but the hands that nurture fear and hate will likely remain to launch the same campaign in 2027 (and possibly 2031). Sanwo‑Olu may be a good person at heart, yet he is also a pragmatic politician. Speaking out against ethnic tension while it was raging would have risked dampening the enthusiasm of supporters who believed they were serving a higher Yoruba nationalist cause. Now that victory is secure, he condemns ethnic profiling.
The events in Lagos are not merely about whether Yoruba, Igbo, or other groups would vote as a bloc. Virtually every election ultimately reduces to identity politics. In Lagos—and in every other location where violence erupted—official power and bureaucratic resources were commandeered to deny others the privilege of choosing their own candidates. The ensuing ethnic slurs, bitter social‑media exchanges, and physical violence were inevitable consequences of leaders’ machinations. A different leadership approach could have altered the texture of relations during the elections.
Sanwo‑Olu’s belated condemnation mirrors that of President Bola Tinubu, who on Tuesday issued a statement expressing pain over ethnic slurs and urging people to rise above their differences. Such statements, often crafted by speechwriters, are cheap when not backed by action. Tinubu, who has held Lagos “by the jugular” for 23 years despite not being a Lagos indigene, could have set a personal example that Nigerians can lead anywhere regardless of origin. His wife, Remi, served as a Lagos senator for 12 years without qualifying by state of origin or marriage, yet she announced she would choose her successor. One would expect such a couple, benefitting from the city’s generosity, to extend it to others, but they largely watched as their operatives and media outlets spread vitriolic propaganda. Even the U.S. government had to issue a statement condemning the bigotry before they reacted.
Now, amid the smouldering ashes of a war fought for his sake, Tinubu reads a prepared speech urging a “healing process.” If he needs healing, perhaps he should tune in to the NSPPD tomorrow morning. The leaders’ manipulation of Lagos’s diversity for personal gain has made primordial politics standard fare. The cosmopolitan residents—who share business ties, endure the city’s polluted air, and suffer from its derelict infrastructure—suddenly turned on each other with venomous attacks. Although no prominent Igbo figure has declared Lagos a “no‑man’s land,” some Yoruba cling to that narrative, repeatedly dredging it up to justify needless antagonism, yet they cannot produce evidence of anyone still insisting on it.
Going forward, Sanwo‑Olu must ask himself what Lagos’s diversity truly means. Does he view its people as mere numbers to exploit for economic and political gain, or as living, breathing humans whose dignity must be assured? Hopefully it is not too late for him to rise above the murky ethos inaugurated by the political bandits and jagudas who shaped his career.
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