For about a century now, Nigeria has faced a conundrum: What does it do with its traditional institution? Yet, a little over a century ago, that question never arose until a new flag was planted on the lands that would later be called Nigeria.
One of the first things British colonial marauders did to shock the system they found in these territories was to upset the apple cart, as the British would say. While “civilising the natives” was the mantra when these invaders set sail from their cold island, their first priority was the usurpation of lands and the deposition of extant kings. Kings who proved uncooperative and resisted the annexation of their lands and the ceding of their thrones to a queen they had never seen were haunted and killed, like Sultan Attahiru and many others. Others, like King Jaja of Opobo, were enslaved, and others like the Oba of Benin and the six northern emirs banished to Ilorin were deposed and exiled to die in lands they never called theirs.
They were replaced by others, often their brothers or relatives, creating alternate lines of succession and tensions within ruling families. In other places, thrones were arbitrarily erected. These replacements and new kings were subordinated to colonial officers dispatched from the UK. Most of these officers were not even fit to carry their own Queen’s chamber pot.
What the British did was the savagery vandals would visit on a culture that was not theirs, one for which they had little regard. Unfortunately, since that intervention, interruption in the forms of depositions and banishments has become the modus operandi for dealing with traditional rulers in the country. It would seem it is becoming a part of our democratic culture.
As it did then, these depositions have continued to create chaos and confusion in the country. The low-budget Game of Thrones playing out in Kano is well-documented and much written about. What has not been talked about enough is how these scenes are replicating themselves across the country, often as a consequence of the fallout from last year’s general elections.
In Kogi State, one of former Governor Yahya Bello’s parting shots before scurrying into hiding from the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC), was to depose the Ohimegye of Koton Karfe, Alhaji Abdulrazak Isa Koto and other traditional rulers, whom he felt did not fall in line with his ambition. He was replaced by Alhaji Saidu Akawo Salihu. The problem was that the deposed king was quite popular amongst the people and enjoyed legitimacy as the traditional ruler of that Kingdom.
The transition has not been easy, and months later, the aftermath of that sudden deposition is still reverberating in Koton-Karfe. Recently, there was chaos in Koton-Karfe over the Eid period in which live ammunition was used, and several people were injured as a consequence of this. It could have been worse. And at the moment, there are still underlying tensions in the state over the incident.
Unfortunately, these tensions have been heightened by careless utterances of public officials who should know better, and who should say the right things to calm nerves.
The divided loyalty is understandable because naturally, the newly installed Ohimegye will have his supporters and has access to the apparatus of the stool and the backing of the government.
However, comments such as those made by Bashiru Gegu, the Kogi State Commissioner for Solid Minerals at the emir’s palace around the Eid period could be interpreted as inciting and might have triggered the violence that followed. In his position, it is understandable that the commissioner, as part of Governor Ahmed Usman Ododo’s cabinet, would toe the government line, but this does not have to be at the expense of peace and reconciliation in the state.
The ascension of one person to the throne, either through natural succession or deposition, should not come at the expense of public safety. There are legitimate ways of dealing with dissent, and threatening to use bullets to curb dissent should never be normative public official discourse. Democracy should never be subsumed in the garb of dictatorship.
It is distressing to see state governors all over the country focusing so much energy on depositions and installations of new kings, speeding acts through the state assemblies with astonishing efficiency that serve those interests. The same efficiency is rarely brought to bills that would be more useful to the populace.
As I write, the cost of living in the country is prohibitive. There is a new wave of inflation as food prices hit new highs. Nigerians are grunting under the weight of this incredible burden and the massive mismatch between earnings and the cost of living, yet what we are witnessing is a complete lack of prioritising these challenges. Instead, there is a focus on altering chieftaincy laws, deposing emirs and installing new ones. These acts are often at great public cost, with security forces called in to stymie any potential unrest, such as that witnessed in Kogi State.
From Kogi to Kano and Sokoto, where the state government has invested time and resources in stripping the Sultan of Sokoto of the powers to appoint district heads without the permission of the government, seems to take precedence and give the impression that power and its exercise for the sake of power, rather than public good, seems to be the priority, at least, according to this democratic culture we are cultivating. The traditional institutions might be relics of times past, but they still exist. The government justifies the budgets it spends on them because of the significant social, cultural and historical roles they play. The British monarchy may have little political power, but it is a central cultural ornamentation around, which British culture revolves. The institution in Nigeria, despite its fragmentation, serves a similar role. However, while the British monarchy has been treated with respect, this has not been the same with Nigerians institutions.
This is a direct consequence of how this once powerful institution lost its powers, stripped by colonial adventurists and vandals. If colonial savages did that as vandals of cultures that were foreign and often inexplicable to them, it is strange that this method has become the favourite tool of the people who should be the guardians of the people’s cultures.
Constitutional power should not be wielded as a caveman club used to bash our history and culture, or whatever artifacts of it that survived colonial marauding. After 25 years of stable democracy, Nigeria should have a clear idea of what it wants its traditional institution to be. Whatever that is, it should not be placed at the whims of public officeholders, who, like Ganduje, do not mind balkanising a thousand-year-old kingdom to settle petty political peeves, or like Yahaya Bello, who would use these peeves to desecrate stools that have meant so much to the people.
While the democratic institution has given itself the power to intrude at will and violate the sanctity of the traditional institutions, it is surprising that it has not equipped itself to smoke out Mr Bello from hiding to answer to the allegations against him. At the very least, our democratic culture should not be abused to shield public officials with questions to answer. Democracy should not be about exercising power for power’s sake, it should be about accountability and good governance for the benefit of the people.
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