Dialogue With Nigeria: Ibadan, Ladoja, and the Lessons of Power

“Ibadan, a running splash of rust and gold, flung and scattered among seven hills like broken china in the sun.” — J. P. Clarke

I extend goodwill to the new Olubadan, Senator Rasheed Adewolu Ladoja. A man of distinction — former governor of Oyo State, senator of the Federal Republic, seasoned survivor of Nigeria’s rough political tides — his elevation to the Olubadan stool is not just a personal triumph, but the closing of a long arc. He has known both fortune and misfortune, uplift and constraint, not least through his turbulent relationship with a formidable political godfather. Now, at the anchorage of tradition, he carries a new kind of authority: symbolic, moral, and potentially catalytic.

The Cast of Ibadan Politics

Ibadan’s politics has often resembled theatre. The late Dr. Omololu Olunloyo once described the triumvirate of power in the city: brain (himself), brawn (Lamidi Adedibu), and money (Azeez Arisekola Alao). Together they defined Ibadan’s rhythm for a time — strategist, enforcer, financier. The trio is gone now, but the roles remain, less transparent in today’s cast. Governor Seyi Makinde has emerged as a dominant figure, balancing administrative control with a measure of independence from old godfather networks.

The Double-Edged Sword of Patronage

The Ladoja–Adedibu saga remains one of Nigeria’s most vivid lessons in godfather politics. Adedibu, the quintessential grassroots populist, built power not on ideology but on personality — shameless, profane, candid, and entertaining. His politics was nicknamed “Amala politics”, feeding both stomachs and loyalties.

When Ladoja resisted Adedibu’s expectations of tribute, their pact collapsed, spiraling into impeachment threats. Ladoja survived by holding enough legislators to block a supermajority. President Obasanjo, however, saw betrayal in Ladoja’s refusal to honour his bargain. To him, a pact with a “devil” required fidelity.

Two impressions linger of Ladoja: he did not cling desperately to power, being already self-made, and he bore himself with a dignity rare in Nigeria’s political theatre. His eventual rise as Olubadan was long expected, and now it places him in a position to embody more than politics: the weight of tradition.

Ibadan’s Heroism and Its Shadows

As Olubadan, Ladoja has repeated a familiar boast: “Without Ibadan, Yoruba Obas would’ve become Emirs.” This recalls the decisive victory at Osogbo in 1840, when Ibadan forces stopped a Fulani advance that threatened to carry the Sokoto Caliphate’s reach to the Atlantic. Yoruba independence might have ended there, but Ibadan’s courage prevailed.

Yet Ibadan’s story is not one of unblemished heroism. The same militarism that defended the Yoruba also brought oppression within. The Ekiti Parapo War, sparked by the abuses of Ibadan’s emissaries (ajele), saw neighbouring peoples resist exploitation, tribute, and hedonistic excess. Ibadan defended unity but also imposed hegemony, its energy both protective and predatory.

A City Built From Collapse

As Professor Bolanle Awe noted, Ibadan rose from the ashes of Oyo’s collapse, a city of exiles, migrants, and soldiers. Cosmopolitan and ambitious, it drew strength from diversity but often lacked the restraint to govern with fairness. Some leaders courted northern emirs, experimenting with legitimacy through religion as well as force. Ibadan, in truth, was improvisation made city — resilient, opportunistic, and contradictory.

Continuities in Today’s Politics

The echoes are unmistakable. Godfather networks, patronage politics, and the delicate coexistence of state authority with traditional rule still shape Ibadan. The Olubadan stool itself is a reminder that Yoruba power has always been layered and negotiated.

Senator Ladoja now stands as a bridge. He can be custodian of culture, moral voice, and advocate for justice — if he resists the clientelism of old. His challenge is to celebrate Ibadan’s heritage without repeating its excesses.

The Lesson of Ibadan

When old empires fall, new centres rise. Some protect, some dominate. Ibadan did both. The task for today’s leaders is to learn from this paradox — to defend without oppressing, to build without plundering.

As we welcome Senator Ladoja to the Olubadan stool, let us honour Ibadan’s courage at Osogbo, but remember also the warning of the Ekiti Parapo war. True legitimacy lies not in conquest or patronage, but in just governance: protecting the weak, binding communities together, and serving the common good.