Over the weekend, a news story claimed that the Lagos State Government had banned non‑indigenous traditional titles after a video was released by Fred Nwajagu, the Eze Igbo of Oshodi‑Isolo, in response to ethnic attacks on Igbo during the last election. The report said Nwajagu was promptly arrested by the police and the Department of State Services, agencies that had previously turned a blind eye to brazen ethnic incitement and attacks on the Igbo in Lagos. In other parts of the country where violence occurred, these security agencies were nowhere to be found. Although I was disappointed by the selective reaction of the Lagos State Government, the police, and the DSS, I welcomed the reported ban, hoping it might signal the beginning of the end for the spread of such titles across Nigeria by the three largest ethnic groups: Igbo, Yoruba, and Hausa.
The Lagos State Government quickly clarified that it had not banned these positions. This was not surprising, because the only groups that benefit from non‑indigenous traditional titles are politicians—particularly governors—and the title holders themselves. Many people do not understand why titles such as Eze Ndigbo, Oba Yoruba, or Sarkin Hausawa proliferate in various towns and cities. The reason is simple: they are pliant figures used by politicians, especially state governors, for political purposes. Media reports often reveal that the existence of these titles is sustained by politicians. For example, Jubril A. Gawat, Senior Special Assistant to the Governor of Lagos State on New Media, tweeted: “Yesterday, His Imperial Majesty, Eze Fred Nwajagu, also the Eze Ndigbo of Oshodi/Isolo & Ajao Estate Kingdom came with his chiefs to the Campaign Office & promised that Igbo in Oshodi Isolo will vote massively for APC.” The grandiose epithets “His Imperial Majesty” and “Kingdom” were employed to dress the man in borrowed robes, making it appear that a critical influencer had endorsed Governor Babajide Sanwo‑Olu.
Similar political maneuvering appears elsewhere. On 21 November 2022, The Guardian reported that the Yoruba community in Awka coronated a new Oba, Alhaji Abdul Olahan, and quoted Governor Soludo’s assurance. The article traced Olahan’s lineage back to his father, a tailor from Ede, Osun State, highlighting the symbolic nature of the ceremony. In August 2014, Daily Trust ran a story titled “Okorocha presents a car to Sarkin Hausawa in Imo,” a gesture that was part of former Governor Okorocha’s effort to cultivate support for his presidential ambition. After he filed his presidential form, the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission raided his home, only for him to be discharged by the court in February 2023.
In genuine Nigerian cultures, traditional rulers reside within their domains, reign over all people there, and are crowned through clearly defined rites performed by specific authorities. They act as fathers to their subjects and usually remain non‑partisan, greeting political candidates politely while maintaining neutrality. This contrasts sharply with self‑appointed figures labeled Eze Ndigbo, Oba Yoruba, or Sarkin Hausawa. Often, these individuals appoint themselves, with hand‑picked friends acting as a pseudo‑electorate. Their “cabinet” members are never neutral; they strive to prove loyalty to the state governor. When a governor needs votes from a non‑indigenous community or faces accusations of ethnic bias, he summons these so‑called traditional rulers, who then issue statements or pay solidarity visits, urging their constituents to support the governor. In return, they receive regular freebies, contracts, and other patronage, making them indispensable political assets. Even if governors find them irritating, they cannot ban them outright; at most, they can curb their influence if they become too overbearing. Banning them would risk being labeled “tribalistic,” a stigma that could harm a governor’s future federal ambitions.
Among the Igbo, the title of Eze Ndigbo in various cities is viewed as an aberration. Holders of such titles are not regarded as community leaders in their places of residence. Traditional rulers are expected to head a town within their own state, each with its own customs and a town union that elects officers to represent members living elsewhere. When a member of a town union falls ill, is arrested, or dies, the union rallies to protect the family’s dignity in a “foreign land.” This communal support was evident in 2015 when the APC spread a false story that PDP candidate Jimi Agbaje had pledged to elevate the Eze Ndigbo in Lagos to the same status as the Oba of Lagos. While some Yoruba voters believed it, many Igbo found the claim amusing, recognizing that self‑styled Eze Ndigbo are merely contractors and government agents with no real influence. They are treated like university students crowned as hostel traditional rulers—drama tinged with private business. If such titles could be banned, the public would welcome it, but because they serve governors’ political needs, their abolition is unlikely. This dependence ensures the continuation of the aberration.
Twitter: @BrandAzuka
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