Two museums two different paths.

In 1973, the Benin City National Museum stood proudly in the heart of the city, on King’s Square. Within its walls were housed an impressive collection of artefacts from the great Benin Empire — terracotta pieces, bronze figures, and cast iron works — each a silent testament to the kingdom’s artistic genius and spiritual depth. Curiously, in 1973, the palace did not insist that these treasures possessed such sacred import that they must reside within its grounds. Yet today, in 2025, the narrative has shifted — only the recently returned artefacts are suddenly accorded divine or spiritual status, fit only for the palace.

But the question arises: in today’s Nigeria, should our venerable traditional institutions elevate themselves above constitutional authority? The answer, self-evidently, is no. They have their place — symbolic, cultural, historical — but in a fast-changing world, they must remain artefacts of our past, no more, no less.

The Oba’s descent into the rough waters of politics is unfortunate and unbecoming. It diminishes the reverence attached to his ancient stool. He must not be so shortsighted as to believe that the government of today will forever protect his current interests. Power shifts, and when it does, the palace may find itself isolated.

Where, then, are the elders of the palace — those who should tug at the royal robe and remind the Oba of his sacred duties to our gods and to the soil of our land?

The palace lacks both the expertise and the means to preserve and manage these cultural legacies. Yet, like a dog in the manger, it denies others the capacity to do so — cutting off its nose to spite its face. The governor, for his part, has been no better. His silence and inaction have only emboldened this royal misadventure. Instead of guiding the Oba away from this destructive path and tempering his own political prejudices with wisdom, he chose cowardice.

In a fit of misplaced bravado, he reached for his toy guns and went to war — revoking the certificate of occupancy like a wounded child lashing out. Such political theatre! In the end, both palace and government have managed to make themselves look smaller — and Edo poorer — in this sad comedy of power and pride.