By Kunle Akinsanya

The Awujale stool is not just another traditional title. It is the spiritual, cultural, and historical soul of Ijebuland. Any process leading to its occupation must therefore rise far above suspicion, inducement, and transactional politics. Sadly, the ongoing controversies surrounding the Awujale selection process raise grave questions that cannot be ignored.

A fundamental question confronts us all: must a responsible government wait until a state is set on fire before taking necessary preventive steps? Governance, after all, is not merely about reaction; it is about foresight, restraint, and timely intervention.

Reports and petitions making the rounds allege inducement at various stages of the Awujale selection process. If these allegations hold any weight, then a more disturbing question arises: has the revered Awujale stool been reduced—by implication or practice—to a political office where money is shared and luxury vehicles distributed?

Never in the history of Ijebuland has the crown been perceived as a prize for the highest bidder. Yet today, concerns persist that princes of proven pedigree, character, and intellectual depth are being sidelined in favour of moneybags whose sources of wealth are opaque and unverified. This perception alone, whether fully proven or not, is enough to damage the sanctity of the institution.

Traditional leadership thrives on moral authority. Once money becomes the loudest voice in succession matters, the institution itself begins to lose legitimacy.

Critical fingers are being pointed at certain kingmakers, including members of the Afobaje and a few individuals within the interregnum structure set up by the government. Are these individuals innocent of the allegations of inducement and manipulation, or have they become active participants in practices that undermine tradition? This is not an accusation but a demand for transparency. Silence in the face of widespread public concern only deepens mistrust and fuels speculation.

It is instructive that when the government halted the process, there was a loud public outcry from certain quarters. Yet this reaction appears selective. Where was this outrage when petitions alleging inducement, sharp practices, and procedural abuse flooded government offices?

Contrary to the narrative being pushed by some interests, government intervention at that point may well have been an act of restraint rather than oppression. When a process is overheating, threatening public peace and unity, is it not the duty of government to pause, review, and recalibrate?

Stopping a process to prevent it from being “flooded” by controversy is not necessarily an admission of failure; it can also be an effort to prevent an unforeseen crisis.

The Ogun State Chieftaincy Law of 2021 was enacted to bring clarity, order, and legality to traditional succession matters. The law reinforces due process in the selection of traditional rulers, affirms the supervisory role of government in preventing breakdown of law and order, emphasises fairness, documentation, and adherence to registered declarations, and empowers government to intervene where disputes, irregularities, or threats to public peace arise.

Importantly, the law does not render government a helpless bystander. It recognises that traditional institutions exist within the larger framework of the state and that unchecked crises in chieftaincy matters can easily spill into violence. Therefore, government intervention, especially when backed by petitions and credible allegations, cannot automatically be dismissed as interference. The real issue is whether such intervention is guided by law, transparency, and the public interest, not by hidden agendas.

Ijebuland deserves an Awujale whose emergence is beyond reproach, one whose legitimacy is anchored in tradition, law, and moral authority, not controversy. The process must be cleansed of every perception of inducement, favouritism, or commercialisation.

This moment calls for restraint from all sides: princes, kingmakers, political actors, and government officials alike. The throne is too sacred to be rushed, traded, or imposed under a cloud of suspicion.

History will remember not just who became Awujale, but how he became Awujale. And that, more than anything else, should guide every decision made at this critical juncture.