By Adeola Ojo
In his incisive critique, Governor Adeleke and a Tale of Three Ataojas, Tunde Odesola contrasts the storied legacy of the Osogbo throne with the controversial conduct of the incumbent, Oba Jimoh Olanipekun.
Odesola contrasts the historical bonds of mutual respect between past monarchs, such as the legendary friendship between Oba Adenle and the Olokuku of Okuku, with the current monarch’s overt political campaigning. He laments a profound erosion of royal dignity. He frames the late Oba Iyiola Oyewale Matanmi III as the gold standard of leadership: a man of intellect who understood the boundary between cultural stewardship and partisan politics.
Odesola’s commentary is a stern warning against the “unkingly” politicisation of the palace, especially with the August 15, 2026, gubernatorial election approaching. By highlighting the friction between the Ataoja and the Osogbo Progressives Union, the author shows how the monarch’s public endorsement of Governor Ademola Adeleke has fractured the community he is meant to unite.
While Odesola’s critique is sharp, it leaves deeper, systemic fractures unexplored. He focuses heavily on the individual failure of the incumbent, yet glosses over the structural vulnerability of the modern monarchy in Nigeria. The traditional institution today exists in a state of constitutional limbo. The 1999 Constitution offers no formal role for Obas, creating a desperate incentive for them to “hustle” for relevance through the executive branch.
Odesola’s analysis assumes a return to an idealised past, but it fails to address the economic realities that have turned the palace into a site of patronage. When the state controls the resources that keep a palace running – and when kings are effectively subordinated to the government of the day – partisanship becomes less a choice and more a form of political servitude.
Furthermore, Odesola’s piece overlooks the crisis of legitimacy that has long plagued traditional selection processes. The politicisation of the throne does not begin with the incumbent; it often starts with the state government’s heavy hand in selecting, suspending, or recognising traditional rulers. By failing to interrogate how the state government itself weaponises the monarchy, Odesola’s piece stops short of the full truth. The Oba’s endorsement of a governor is often not just a matter of personal “unkingly” behaviour, but the final act in a transactional relationship where the throne has already been captured by political interests.
The throne of a traditional ruler is not merely an elevated seat of velvet and gold; it is the anchor of a community and the final arbiter of civic morality. A king, by definition, must stand above the fray of everyday political squabbles. He is the father to all, existing to harmonise the diverse interests of his people. When an Oba descends into the mud of partisan campaign rhetoric, he commits a form of philosophical suicide. He abandons his role as a universal father to become a factional foot soldier, stripping his office of its sacred aura and dragging the crown into the gutter.
The tragedy of Oba Olanipekun’s public endorsement of Governor Adeleke ahead of the August 15 election is a painful manifestation of this decay. When a monarch uses his platform to berate opposition parties and dictate the electoral choices of his subjects, he shatters the social contract. The monarchy functions on the belief that the king represents the ancestors and the future, not just the party in power.
By transforming the palace into an annex of a campaign office, Oba Olanipekun has not only alienated those who hold different political aspirations but has invited the cynicism of the marketplace into the inner sanctum. Not only that, once a king starts begging for favour or acting as a lapdog for state actors, he forfeits the distance required to be respected.
If we may ask: Why have our elder-statesmen and traditional custodians lost the reverence that once buffered their offices? Obviously, the answer lies in the commodification of character. Respect is not innate to a title; it is earned through integrity. However, when leaders demonstrate that their principles are for sale, and that their endorsements are governed by the immediate optics of fiscal gain rather than long-term communal stability, they signal to the youth that the state is merely a predatory arena. This “cheapening” of office creates a vacuum of moral authority. If the king acts like a political tout, society descends into a state where only raw power, not wisdom, commands attention. We simply cannot continue this way.
To right these wrongs, we must return to the basics of traditional governance. A monarch’s duty is anchored in neutrality, moderation and the defence of the weak. He must never engage in hate speech, threaten his subjects, or allow himself to be a pawn of the executive branch. The path to redemption requires an immediate retreat from the precipice of partisanship. Oba Olanipekun must be reminded that his legitimacy is not derived from the ruling party, but from the indigenes of Osogbo who seek a father, not a political strategist.
The strategy for restoration is clear: the community, led by vibrant bodies and supported by enlightened elders, must collectively reject the politicisation of the throne. To put the Oba, the party he supports, and his sponsors to shame, the people must exercise their agency with absolute, uncompromising independence. They must treat the August 15 election as a referendum on the dignity of the Osogbo crown.
When the electorate casts their ballots based on conscience rather than palace dictates, they send a clear, undeniable signal: the King’s authority ends where the citizen’s liberty begins. By refusing to be intimidated or bought, the people can perform a necessary act of political hygiene – re-establishing the boundary between the sacred and the profane. We must act now, for a kingdom that loses the respect of its people is already halfway towards ruin.
To be honest, Oba Olanipekun has over the years shown himself as a monarch of the People’s Democratic Party (PDP), now PDAccord, hue, and, save for the sacredness of his office, his stance is clear. But what happens if the forthcoming Osun governorship election returns Asiwaju Munirudeen Bola Oyebamiji (AMBO) of the All Progressives Congress (APC) as Osun governor-elect? Where will our Ataoja run to and how will he defend his actions? Will he continue with his political dance steps or attempt to be apolitical, long after the damage will have been done?
It is a matter of time!
- Ojolivesin Ijebu-Jesa, Osun State.
