Osun of particular concern
June 26, 2026 12:51 am
Folorunso Adisa’s The Mirror and the Lamp
There are states where politics is fierce. There are states where it is noisy. And then there are places where politics begins to resemble a permanent battlefield. Increasingly, Osun State appears to have drifted into that troubling category.
For anyone who regularly follows political conversations in Southwestern Nigeria, the Osun media space can be an unsettling experience. Open social media on any given day, and chances are that one of the most acrimonious political exchanges you encounter will originate from there. Personal attacks have become routine. Political disagreements are often delivered in language so venomous that one wonders whether opponents still see one another as fellow citizens. The bitterness is palpable. The hostility is exhausting. More importantly, it is unhealthy for both society and democracy.
This reality sits uneasily with Osun’s cherished identity as Ìpínlè Omolúàbí, the Land of Virtue. The Omoluabi ethos, entrenched in Yoruba moral philosophy, celebrates character, dignity, restraint, civility and communal responsibility. Sadly, whenever politics takes centre stage in the state, those values appear to recede into the background. What should be a contest of ideas often degenerates into a contest of insults. What should be political engagement increasingly risks becoming political warfare. The danger is not confined to rhetoric. Words often serve as the advance guard of violence.
In recent years, reports of politically related killings and violent clashes in Osun have become alarmingly frequent. Accusations and counteraccusations dominate public discourse. Governor Ademola Adeleke’s administration has at various times raised concerns about security and policing within the state. Opposition voices, on the other hand, have accused the government of failing to exercise sufficient control over the security situation. Between both camps lies a public increasingly anxious about its safety. Whatever political explanations are offered, one truth remains immutable, and it is that no election is worth a human life.
The killing of Hon. Remi Abass, Chairman of Irewole Local Government Area, in February 2025, remains one of the most disturbing examples. He was murdered during a crisis surrounding the control of local government administration. Predictably, political actors immediately sought to allocate blame. However, beyond the partisan narratives stood a more painful reality: another life had been lost, and another family plunged into grief. What made the tragedy even more sobering was the profile of some of those later arraigned in connection with the incident. They were not elderly political godfathers. They were relatively young men whose energy, creativity and productive years should have been invested in building their communities rather than being associated with destruction. Every such incident represents not only a criminal act but also a social failure.
Then came another disturbing episode in January this year.
A graphic video circulated online showing the body of a young man identified as Oyebamiji Quzeem, popularly known as “Mosquito”, lying in a pool of blood after being murdered in broad daylight. As is often the case in Osun’s hyper-polarised political environment, social media instantly transformed into a courtroom. Allegations flew across partisan lines. Political loyalists rushed to assign responsibility. Sadly, amid the noise, a human being had lost his life. Only a few days ago, another tragedy emerged from Ilobu in Irepodun Local Government Area involving a 14-year-old boy, Ezekiel Olapade. Public allegations and political interpretations have followed the incident. The facts remain matters for investigation and due process. However, the larger concern is impossible to ignore, and it is the growing atmosphere in which violence appears increasingly intertwined with political tension.
The Yoruba have a proverb: “Ti ogiri o ba laanu, alangba kii wọ inu rẹ”. If there are no cracks in the wall, the lizard cannot enter. Criminal elements flourish where institutions are weak, where enforcement is inconsistent, and where political actors fail to draw clear boundaries between legitimate competition and dangerous mobilisation. Violence does not emerge from a vacuum. It feeds on permissiveness. Thomas Hobbes, writing in Leviathan in 1651, observed that the first duty of government is the preservation of peace and security. Without security, he argued, society descends into fear and uncertainty. More than three centuries later, the principle remains relevant. Citizens may disagree about policies, parties and personalities, but they expect government to protect life and property. That obligation transcends partisan affiliation.
The consequences of insecurity are often understated. And outside of the headlines and casualty figures lies the quiet erosion of public confidence. Recently, I was invited to attend the 70th birthday celebration of a friend’s mother in Osun State. Another friend who’s also travelling from the United Kingdom strongly encouraged me to attend. I had every intention of doing so. But after reflecting on the persistent reports of violence and insecurity emanating from the state, I reluctantly withdrew. That decision may seem insignificant, but it is not. Every cancelled trip, every abandoned investment, every avoided gathering represents a hidden cost of insecurity. Fear changes behaviour. It alters perceptions. It gradually damages a state’s reputation.
To be fair, the current situation may not necessarily be the product of a single actor or administration. Some incidents may be orchestrated to embarrass the government. It is equally possible that certain failures of governance have created vulnerabilities that criminal elements exploit. The truth may contain aspects of both explanations. Nevertheless, democratic accountability demands clarity regarding responsibility.
Governor Adeleke remains the chief executive of Osun State. While security architecture in Nigeria involves both federal and state institutions, citizens naturally look first to the governor for leadership during moments of crisis. He cannot afford to allow political actors, criminal networks or partisan interests to make the state ungovernable. Likewise, the Federal Government and security agencies must recognise that security should never become a casualty of political disagreement. The protection of citizens must remain a shared obligation.
What is particularly worrying is that this pattern is beginning to appear cyclical. Osun increasingly acquires a reputation for heightened tension whenever elections approach. Many Nigerians still remember the anxiety that surrounded the 2022 governorship election. Security concerns became so pronounced that extraordinary policing measures were introduced. Such situations should be exceptions, not recurring features of the state’s political landscape. This is especially important because Osun is not uniquely predisposed to political violence. Other states conduct fiercely contested elections without descending into bloodshed. Political competition is normal. Violence is not.
Political parties must therefore undertake serious internal reforms. Leaders should openly discourage inflammatory rhetoric and sanction members who incite violence. Security agencies must ensure that offenders are investigated and prosecuted regardless of political affiliation. The law loses its deterrent value when citizens perceive selective enforcement. More fundamentally, society itself must reject the dangerous logic that political victory justifies human suffering.
How many lives must be lost before power changes hands? How many families must bury loved ones before a candidate secures office? Any political ambition that requires bloodshed as its pathway to success is morally bankrupt from the outset. No elective position is valuable enough to justify the destruction of human lives. This is why the current trajectory is particularly painful for those familiar with Osun’s rich intellectual and cultural heritage. The state has produced distinguished scholars, accomplished civil servants, respected jurists and influential public figures. It hosts one of Nigeria’s most celebrated institutions, Obafemi Awolowo University.
Some of the finest individuals I have encountered are proud sons of Osun. Men such as Prof. Mahfouz Adedimeji from Iwo, and scholars like Profs Jeleel Ojuade and AbdulRasheed Adeoye from Ifetedo and Odo-Otin, respectively, embody the values traditionally associated with the Omoluabi ideal. They taught me and other generations of students not only academic subjects but also the importance of character, civility and responsible citizenship at the University of Ilorin. That is the Osun many Nigerians know and admire. It would be a tragedy if that identity were overshadowed by violence, intolerance and political thuggery.
The people of Osun face a choice. They can permit the anti-Omoluabi culture of hatred and violence to define their future, or they can reclaim the values that earned the state its proud reputation. One path leads to deeper division: the other leads back to dignity. For a state that proudly calls itself the Land of Virtue, the moment has come to choose character over chaos, citizenship over partisanship, and humanity over power. No political office is worth the blood of a single Osun son or daughter. If the state is to remain faithful to the ideals embedded in its identity, then the preservation of life must become the first principle of its politics.
The conversation does not end here. You can continue it with me on X via @folorunso_adisa, LinkedIn: Folorunso Fatai Adisa, or on Facebook at Folorunso Fatai Adisa.
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