The sad optics of the struggle for the possession of the mortal bodies of the late Aláàfin and Awujale does more damage to the Obaship system in Yorubaland than the burial procedures themselves and are a reminder of the need to create an inclusive and dignifying protocol that reflects cultural maturity and safeguards collective dignity. Moreover, the subservience of royalty to crass political ends and the politicisation of the royal selection process should be of more concern to us than who conducts royal burials.
The recent transitioning of the revered Aláṣẹ Ìjẹ̀bú, Oba Sikiru Kayode Adetona, and his immediate public Islamic interment, in accordance with the 2021 Ogun State’s Obas and Chiefs Law, has elicited great controversy across Yorubaland. Rightly so, conversations on the place of royalty and culture in our modern world routinely elicit hotly different reactions, be it the questions of the relevance of monarchies in English and Spanish democracies or the vexed issue of gender-equal succession in Sweden, Belgium, and the Netherlands. You can throw in the mix Thailand monarchy’s strict lèse-majesté laws and the issue of freedom of expression and colonial reckoning for European royals. Therefore, Yoruba peoples, proud inheritors of a civilisation that has thrived for over a thousand years, should not and cannot avoid these discussions.
The burial of Awujale raises three key questions, and how well we answer them will shape the future. What should be the ideal frame of Yoruba culture and spirituality in 2024? What is the place of Yoruba royalty in our people’s lives now? Who are the custodians of our traditional stools today? Cultural purists often invoke the phrase ‘this is our culture’ with conviction. Yet, as Raymond Williams reminds us, “culture is one of the two or three most complicated words in the English language and a notion fraught with complexity and ambiguity.“ In light of this conceptual fluidity, what and whose culture is actually being asserted when appeals are made to culture as a foundation of authority?
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Unmistakably, however, Yoruba kingship institutions originated within a religious worldview centred on the Òrìṣà and the attendant cosmological order. The Oba was historically seen not only as a political head but also as a spiritual intermediary between his people and the gods. The process of enthronement involved elaborate rituals conducted by traditional religious prelates, indicating that kingship was embedded in Yoruba metaphysics. However, how do we frame our spirituality in light of our complex religious experiences of the past 500 years?
The Yoruba traditional religion is polytheistic, recognising hundreds of Òrìṣà, each representing specific natural forces, moral principles, professions, and social institutions. Built on this ancestral foundation is our beautiful cultural worldview that presents a rich tapestry of multiplicity, syncretism, and accommodation, which together underpin the remarkable liberality and resilience of the Yoruba worldview. No wonder our families are an impressive blend of shades of religions and kinship ties that supersede competing theologies. Perhaps it is time to accommodate ‘foreign gods’ in our pantheon, after all the door is never truly shut.
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Based on historical evidence, there is no authority in our cultural system that rigidly fixes the religion of our kings. Over the last 150 years, both Muslim and Christian kings have ascended the throne across various Yoruba kingdoms. Oba Ali Atewogboye of Ado-Ekiti, a devout Muslim, was crowned in 1836, becoming the first Muslim ruler in Yorubaland. Similarly, Oba Momodu Lamuye of Iwo, enthroned in 1853, was a devout Muslim.
The answer to what is authentic Yoruba religion in the twenty-first century is to look at the history of Islam and the Christian faiths across our communities. Islam has had recognisable presence in Yoruba cities for at least 500 years and the Christian faith for at least 200 years. Essentially, Islam has been practiced in some form in Yorubaland even before Ede, Osogbo, Akure, Ibadan, Abeokuta and Eko were founded as cities — and ditto for Christianity and some other cities. Can we then say that these religions are totally alien in our lands at this point, after their centuries-long influences? How do we separate their linguistic and social influences from our lives? I think the most reasonable answer lies in the understanding that cultural and religious identities are rarely static; they are shaped, reshaped, and often hybridised by encounters with the external world. In fact, in Yorubaland it is not awkward to organise thanksgiving services for the successful completion of an Ogun festival in a Christian church, or have an Oba launch an Ogun statue in the name of “the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,” or an Oba insisting on having his wives join him at the front row at Eid al-Adha prayers.
Based on historical evidence, there is no authority in our cultural system that rigidly fixes the religion of our kings. Over the last 150 years, both Muslim and Christian kings have ascended the throne across various Yoruba kingdoms. Oba Ali Atewogboye of Ado-Ekiti, a devout Muslim, was crowned in 1836, becoming the first Muslim ruler in Yorubaland. Similarly, Oba Momodu Lamuye of Iwo, enthroned in 1853, was a devout Muslim. Other notable Muslim monarchs of that era include Oba Timi Abibu Lagunju of Ede (1855) and Oba Adeyemi I Alowolodu (1876). Conversely, Oba Frederick Kumokun Haastrup, the Owá Obokún Ajimọkọ I of Ijeshaland, became the first Christian king in 1896, and Oba Isaac Akinyele was crowned Olubadan of Ibadan in 1955 as a committed Christian, who also served as the inaugural president of the Christ Apostolic Church. These precedents unequivocally point to a conclusion: royal succession is by bloodline; religious affiliation does not disqualify a prince from royal succession. What is culturally prohibited is the use of royal authority for overt religious proselytism.
While traditionalists have unquestionable primordial spiritual claims to the ownership of the traditional leadership system in Yorubaland, the current religious demography of Yorubaland indicates a domination by the two Abrahamic faiths, a fact that has created the current simmering conflict. Undeniably, the continued existence, relevance, and legitimacy of the traditional leadership institution in Yorubaland depend on its wide acceptance across all Yoruba communities of faith. Calcifying kingship rites is guaranteed to result in its death in time, in relation to the current religious demography, and its unregulated opening up to modernity will destroy its essence and relevance — a complex reality that calls for calm heads and wise solutions. The contemporary throne in Yorubaland is the joint heritage of all Yoruba people; it must therefore reflect the diverse religious realities of its people.
The current contest around Obaship rites invites deeper reflection on their true purpose. These are symbolically unique rituals designed for cultural heritage, social well-being, and the acknowledgment of ancestral lineage. While traditional religion provides the framework for these rites, the intent behind them — continuity, prosperity, justice — can be appreciated and upheld by Obas of any faith. The consistent nomination of non-traditionalists as Obas over the last century-and-a-half speaks to our living tradition, one that evolves, accommodates, and honours diversity within unity.
No well-meaning scion of Yorubaland will accommodate the seeming irresponsibility of some traditional leaders cloaked in modernity and/or religious fervour who desecrate sacred tradition. Our shared duty, regardless of faith, is to delineate the permissible bounds of responsible leadership. Keeping a delicate balance between the fixed and amenable is the primary key to sustaining the institution.
No well-meaning scion of Yorubaland will accommodate the seeming irresponsibility of some traditional leaders cloaked in modernity and/or religious fervour who desecrate sacred tradition. Our shared duty, regardless of faith, is to delineate the permissible bounds of responsible leadership. Keeping a delicate balance between the fixed and amenable is the primary key to sustaining the institution.
As a prince of Oke-Ako Ekiti, albeit permanently with no royal aspiration, and a public policy scholar, I will suggest three pathways forward based on my global reading of systems and processes. First, traditional rites must be respected; however, we must create opportunities for their modifications for monotheistic candidates, as these rites are the historical foundation of kingship. Secondly, religious accommodation is a principal qualification for royalty in Yorubaland. Obas, irrespective of their faiths, must acknowledge the indigenous customs that validate their throne. And lastly, we must review our current legal and customary frameworks to accommodate reasonable concerns, prevent disputes, and ensure continuity.
The sad optics of the struggle for the possession of the mortal bodies of the late Aláàfin and Awujale does more damage to the Obaship system in Yorubaland than the burial procedures themselves and are a reminder of the need to create an inclusive and dignifying protocol that reflects cultural maturity and safeguards collective dignity. Moreover, the subservience of royalty to crass political ends and the politicisation of the royal selection process should be of more concern to us than who conducts royal burials.
Kabiyesi Ọba Sikiru Kayọde Adetọna, ọmọ Anikílaya, ọmọ Fídípótẹ, you surely left Ijebuland better than you met it, and that is all that matters!!
Tosin Osasona is a criminal justice policy researcher and security sector reform specialist.
