By Patrick Asuquo
Just as the 18th-century Irish statesman and philosopher once said, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”
At this pivotal moment in Nigeria’s journey, we must not stay silent. The conversations we have today—about our identity, our institutions, and our future—are more critical than ever, especially when they touch on something as sacred and foundational as traditional leadership.
Across Nigeria—from the savannahs of the North to the forests of the South—traditional rulers have long served as more than ceremonial figures. They are custodians of our heritage, pillars of community leadership, and often the first responders in peacekeeping and conflict resolution. Their authority is not merely in their titles, but in the trust and reverence of the people they serve.
This is why the proposed bill to establish a National Council for Traditional Rulers deserves our attention. On paper, it is a commendable idea—uniting our royal institutions under one umbrella to promote national unity, cultural preservation, and advisory support to government. However, as currently structured, the bill risks undermining the very goals it claims to champion.
It proposes that the Sultan of Sokoto and the Ooni of Ife be appointed as permanent co-chairmen of the council.
Let me be clear: both the Sultan and the Ooni are widely respected. Their legacies are admirable, and their influence is felt across Nigeria. But enshrining their leadership as permanent risks sending an unintended message—one that suggests Nigeria is a nation of only two traditions or histories.
That cannot be. Nigeria is a federation built on diversity—of peoples, languages, traditions, and kingdoms.
Consider the Obong of Calabar. His royal stool predates the Nigerian state itself. The Efik kingdom, under his leadership, signed international treaties with European powers long before the 1914 amalgamation. These were not ceremonial gestures; they were significant diplomatic engagements that shaped early interactions between African kingdoms and the Western world.
And the Obong is not alone. From the Tor Tiv in Benue to the Olu of Warri, the Attah of Igala, the Obi of Onitsha, the Shehu of Borno, the Dein of Agbor, and many others—there are royal institutions across this country whose histories and contributions are equally deep and impactful.
So when a bill elevates just two royal stools above the rest, it becomes not just a structural issue, but a symbolic one. It affects recognition. It touches on dignity. It questions how we choose to tell the story of Nigeria and whose story we prioritize.
The truth is: traditional institutions work best when there is mutual respect. No true monarch seeks to claim superiority over another. Their legitimacy flows from history, service, and the devotion of their people—not from government appointment or political ranking.
If this council is to truly reflect the spirit of Nigeria, it must also reflect its full diversity.
A more inclusive and equitable approach would be rotational leadership. Let the chairmanship rotate—perhaps by geopolitical zones or through a consensus framework. Let each region, and by extension its royal institutions, have the opportunity to lead and contribute. This approach would foster unity, not resentment. It would uphold fairness, not favoritism.
Because inclusion isn’t just a political talking point—it’s a lived reality. People know when they’re included. Communities feel it. And when that sense of belonging is missing, it weakens trust and unity.
Let me emphasize: this is not an attack on the Sultan or the Ooni. Far from it. This is a call for fairness. A call for humility in how we design our national structures. A reminder that Nigeria belongs equally to all its regions and peoples.
This is a moment for citizens to raise their voices—not in outrage, but in reason. Not to divide, but to unify around the principles of justice, equity, and shared heritage.
Let us not pass a bill that deepens historical fault lines. Let us pass one that acknowledges the strength of our diversity and helps us heal.
In a country of many thrones, no single throne should be made the throne of all.
Patrick Asuquo is the Special Assistant on Media, Office of the Chief of Staff, Cross River State.
