The Underlying Tribal and Cultural Wars of Supremacy in Nigeria
By Frank Tietie
One of the enduring banes of the Nigerian Federation is the unspoken but persistent quest by indigenous tribes and ethnic groups to dominate one another, often through worldviews inspired by religion, tradition, or inherited mythology. This silent contest for supremacy has shaped our politics, poisoned our social relations, and repeatedly undermined our collective claim to modern statehood.
There was a time in the geographical space now called Nigeria when the killing of twins was a cultural practice. As a boy growing up in Agbarho, near Warri in the Niger Delta, we were warned not to enter the bushes during certain periods because a king had just died and human sacrifices were expected to accompany his burial. These were not myths told for entertainment; they were lived realities, enforced by fear and sanctified by tradition, which I personally experienced.
History is replete with similar horrors across civilizations. In the Holy Bible, the Jews were instructed to wipe out the Amalekites entirely, including their men, women, children, animals, and property, leaving no trace. My frail human mind, until I get to heaven, may not fully grasp the rationale for such ethnic cleansing, yet as a Christian, I believe the Bible to be the inspired word of God. So even faith does not erase the hard truth that humanity has repeatedly justified violence against “the other.” The 1994 genocide of Tutsis and moderate Hutus in Rwanda was not the first of its kind, and tragically, it may not be the last but must never be in Nigeria.
The price of choosing modern statehood, as Nigeria claims to have done, is the willingness to abandon traditional and religious beliefs that are now universally regarded as inhuman. Modern life is defined by a coalescence of shared standards and laws, chief among them is the dignity of the human person. That is why the world watched in disbelief in the year 2000 when a Nigerian, Buba Jangebe, was convicted under Sharia law and had his hand amputated at the wrist for stealing a cow. Many thought such practices belonged to a distant past that we had consciously left behind.
Yet, on 28 December, Nigeria again shocked the entire world when a highly respected playwright, one of the founding figures of Nollywood as a filmmaker, and a first-class academic with a PhD in Theatre Arts, Dr. Don Pedro Obaseki, was reportedly stripped naked in his hometown of Benin City, paraded for kilometres, forced to kneel and crawl, all in preparation for a palace trial. His alleged offence was failing to declare the supremacy of the Oba of Benin during a speech delivered in London. Since that incident, several human rights lawyers and public affairs commentators have reportedly received threats and warnings from some natives of Benin to remain silent or face consequences.
This is not merely disturbing, it is constitutionally antithetical. Nigeria subscribes, at least on paper, to the tenets of human rights under the International Bill of Rights: the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, and the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights. These commitments are reflected in our Constitution and reinforced by the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights. Yet, many of our people still cling to deep-seated aspirations to enforce the ascendancy of their traditional or religious beliefs over others, even when such beliefs degrade human worth and subject individuals to the worst forms of indignity.
This contradiction is the fault line running through our national life. Progress, whether social, economic, or political, will remain slow or elusive so long as tribes and cultures continue their battles of enthronement in the name of religion, tradition, or ethnic pride. The fear of domination by one group over another has fueled intense rivalry, eroding the dream of building a true nation-state where individual rights are respected above collective myths.
This brings us to the uncomfortable question: are we, in practice, better than Boko Haram? While we may condemn violent extremism with our lips, we often tolerate or even celebrate cultural and religious practices that rely on coercion, humiliation, and fear. The methods may differ, but the underlying logic of supremacy and dehumanisation is disturbingly similar.
Nigeria cannot have it both ways. We cannot proclaim allegiance to modern human rights standards while excusing cultural or religious excesses that trample on human dignity. A nation is not built by the dominance of one worldview over others, but by the supremacy of law, reason, and respect for the human person. Until we confront this truth honestly, our claim to being better than the very evils we denounce will remain hollow.
Frank Tietie
Nigerian Lawyer and Executive Director of Citizens Advocacy for Social and Economic Rights (CASER), writes from Abuja
