By Rekpene Bassey
The Nigerian Senate’s recent consideration of a bill to establish a National Council of Traditional Rulers, placing the Sultan of Sokoto and the Ooni of Ife as permanent co‑chairmen, represents a fundamental misreading of our nation’s plural heritage.
Ostensibly crafted to unify, this legislation instead binds our diverse traditions into a constricting framework that privileges two ethnic constituencies at the expense of many others.
At its heart, the bill is neither historically accurate nor constitutionally sound. It conflates religious authority with cultural legitimacy, elevates sectional interest over federal balance, and risks enshrining political favouritism in place of genuine communal representation.
Such an approach betrays the very spirit of “Salus populi suprema lex esto” – the welfare of the people must be the supreme law, and instead serves a narrow vision of power consolidation.
Actual traditional authority in Nigeria is woven from threads of lineage, lore, and localised custom. The Sultan of Sokoto’s eminence derives primarily from his role as the spiritual head of Nigeria’s Muslim faithful, grounded in the legacy of Shehu Usman dan Fodio, rather than from any pan‑Nigerian cultural mandate. His stature is therefore religious and regionally Fulani, not a universal symbol of traditional governance.
Likewise, the Ooni of Ife stands as a luminous paragon of Yoruba monarchical heritage, tracing descent to the mythical Oduduwa. Yet his sphere of influence does not, and cannot, extend authentically to the Igbo of the Southeast, the Kanuri of the Northeast, or the intensively diverse polities of the Niger Delta. To imply otherwise is to commit the fallacy of “unum scitius” – that one knows all.
Nigeria is, in truth, a cornucopia of over 250 ethnic nationalities, each with its chieftaincy institutions, councils, and rituals. From the Oba of Benin to the Etsu Nupe, from the Emir of Kano to the Amanyanabo of the Niger Delta, every community possesses a traditional custodian whose legitimacy emerges organically from within. Our federal character demands that any national council mirror this mosaic, not reduce it to a binary.
Constitutionally, powers not expressly conferred on the federal government remain within the ambit of the states or the people. The bill’s prescriptive model of traditional leadership overreaches this demarcation, potentially trampling on state rights and jeopardising the cherished principle of subsidiarity: “ubi societas, ibi ius”. Where there is a society, there must be law.
Moreover, by codifying an exclusive two-person leadership, the Senate risks hardening ethnic fault lines at a moment when unity is most precious. Many major ethnic groups, including but not limited to the Hausa, Igbo, Kanuri, Tiv, Urhobo, and Efik, find themselves relegated to the periphery of this new structure, notwithstanding their equally venerable traditions.
The security implications of such institutional marginalisation are profound. History teaches that perceived injustice, when sanctioned by law, fuels grievance politics and foment. In a nation where communal tensions have previously ignited violence, from the Zango Kataf clashes to the Ogoni uprisings, the recipe for discord is all too familiar.
Should excluded communities conclude that their heritage has been legally demeaned, the resulting alienation may manifest in civil disobedience, secessionist ferment, or support for violent militant movements. The equilibrium of our federal polity is delicate; to disrupt it through legislative bias is to invite turbulence in the name of unity.
Philosophically, the bill violates the principle of equal dignity for all cultures. As Aristotle posited in Nicomachean Ethics, justice consists in rendering each individual, and by extension, each community, its due. “Audi alteram partem,” let us hear the other side: every ethnic group must be heard and have its traditions affirmed.
The concept of traditional leadership cannot be abstracted to a single national formula. It is, instead, a living negotiation between people and place, crown and community. To impose top‑down uniformity is to misunderstand the organic character of customary authority, undermining both its legitimacy and its efficacy.
A one‑size‑fits‑all approach to traditional governance neglects the unique mechanisms by which different peoples have historically maintained social cohesion, administered justice, and transmitted values. Erosion of these mechanisms will weaken local dispute‑resolution, community policing, and the early warning systems upon which national security often relies.
We therefore urge the National Assembly to withdraw the bill in its current form and convene broad‑based consultations with all major traditional institutions. Such a process should be guided by the maxims of federal character, historical authenticity, and equitable representation, rather than by partisan calculus.
Any reimagined National Council of Traditional Rulers must incorporate rotating leadership, inclusive advisory seats, and a decision‑making quorum that reflects the country’s ethno‑cultural proportions. A truly national body would draw from the Obas, Emirs, Amanyanabos, Ezes, Ogisos, and myriad other custodians of custom.
Furthermore, the council’s charter should enshrine respect for human rights, the rule of law, and democratic accountability; ethical guardrails that prevent the ossification of privilege and the entrenchment of narrow interests. In doing so, Nigeria would model a synthesis of tradition and modern constitutionalism.
Let us recall the wisdom of Cicero: “Salus publica est summa lex” – the public welfare is the highest law. A genuinely inclusive council of traditional rulers would strengthen national unity, bolster communal resilience, and enhance our security architecture by bridging grassroots and state.
In rejecting the present bill and crafting a more equitable framework, we reaffirm that Nigeria’s strength lies in its rich tapestry of cultures. Only through inclusive recognition of all our traditional custodians can we forge a secure, cohesive, and prosperous nation that honours the past while safeguarding the future.
*Rekpene Bassey is the President of the African Council on Narcotics (ACON), and also a security and drug prevention expert.
