The usual stirring defence of the Alaafin’s supremacy is rooted in a romantic recollection of the past. Many writers have painted a picture of grandeur, order, and power, asserting that the Alaafin remains the custodian of Yoruba political heritage. While no one disputes the historical greatness of the Oyo Empire, it is important to separate historical symbolism from the practical governance structures of a modern, democratic society.

Let us interrogate this issue on three simple but important grounds: the dynamism of culture, the limits of Oyo’s ancient influence, and the reality of post-colonial political power.

Culture is dynamic, not static

Culture is a moving train. It evolves. What was once the norm can become an outdated relic in a different context. For example, in ancient Oyo, there was a tradition that the Aremo must die alongside his father, the reigning Alaafin. That brutal practice was later abolished—proving that even sacred traditions are not immune to reform.

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So, to say that Alaafin should permanently chair the Council of Obas “because it has always been so” is historically lazy and politically dangerous. Change is not betrayal; it is the soul of human progress. If Oyo itself changed core traditions, why should the proposed system of rotating chairmanship be considered sacrilegious?

Oyo was never the sole centre of Yoruba civilisation

It is a fallacy to assume the Alaafin’s leadership of the Yoruba was eternal and all-encompassing. The rise of Oyo as the political capital of Yorubaland was not automatic—it was earned through military conquest, trade networks, and political organisation. Long before Oyo’s rise to prominence, history affirms that older Yoruba kingdoms such as Ketu, Owu, and Ila had already been established. In fact, in its formative years, Oyo-Ile is said to have paid tribute to the Olowu of Owu. That Oyo eventually rose to imperial greatness only highlights the ever-shifting nature of influence and authority within the Yoruba political landscape.

Even at the height of Oyo’s military dominance, not all Yoruba people were under Alaafin’s direct authority. His “supremacy” was political and pragmatic, not spiritual or universal. It was a power negotiated through strength, not ordained by heaven. To extend that to the modern era is to conflate pre-colonial conquest with permanent entitlement.

Political power has shifted—Oyo no longer leads

The most important question is this: does Oyo still retain its former political dominance? The answer is, respectfully, no. Long before Nigeria’s independence, Ibadan had already risen as a powerful centre—militarily, administratively, and intellectually. It became the capital of the Western Region and later Oyo State. Today, it remains the largest city in the state and arguably the economic and political nerve centre.

The Alaafin’s modern influence, while still highly respected, no longer translates into political authority across Yorubaland. In a democracy, no town, no monarch, no tradition is above fair representation. That is why the idea of a rotating chairmanship was introduced in the first place—to reflect the multi-polar reality of today’s Oyo State, not the imperial memory of centuries past.

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Honour the Past, But Face the Present

Yes, the Alaafin is an institution of historical pride. But so are other monarchs in the state—each with rich stories, legacies, and people who revere them. Leadership in the 21st century must be inclusive and sensitive to the evolving political landscape. Permanent chairmanship is not a birthright. It is a matter of collective agreement and equity. The dynamism of Yoruba history itself tells us this: no power is eternal, and no tradition is too sacred to be revisited.

We must not be held hostage by nostalgia when justice demands rotation.