The long-awaited return of the Benin artefacts by European and American institutions should have marked a simple, triumphant moment: history correcting itself, dignity restored, and Nigerians finally reclaiming fragments of a past violently interrupted. Instead, what we received is a modern drama—complete with plot twists, questionable protagonists, and enough irony to make even Shakespeare rise from the grave for a rewrite.
These artworks—bronzes, ivories, plaques—were taken from the Benin Kingdom after the British punitive expedition of 1897. That kingdom, for all its sophistication and power, ceased to exist as a sovereign political entity the moment the British colonial system imposed its administrative blueprint. Out of that colonial project eventually emerged today’s Federal Republic of Nigeria.
And here lies the heart of the matter: the artefacts were not returned to a fictional “Benin Empire 2.0.” They were legally returned to Nigeria—the sovereign, internationally recognised state. As far as modern international law is concerned, the Benin Kingdom belongs to history, study, and cultural pride—but not to the list of corporate, legal, or state entities empowered to receive property, sign treaties, or claim ownership over national heritage assets.
Yet in today’s Nigeria—where constitutional literacy often loses a wrestling match with tradition, sentiment, and ego—we are watching an unusual tug-of-war. The Oba of Benin, custodian of tradition and revered cultural figure, is positioning himself as the primary owner of the returned artefacts. Not custodian. Not partner. Owner.
This is where the plot gets entertaining.
The historical reverence attached to the Benin monarchy is undeniable. Its heritage is profound, its cultural role significant. But traditions do not magically convert into legal jurisdictions. A kingdom that ended in 1897 cannot suddenly reappear in 2025 claiming international property in its own name. Nigeria is not a buffet where anyone resurrects a pre-colonial structure for convenience.
Yet the Oba’s growing assertiveness has been made possible—almost sponsored—by the astonishing weakness of the Edo State government. With a governor lacking political spine, constitutional clarity, or even the basic desire to defend the legal framework under which he operates, the monarchy has been elevated into a quasi-state authority.
Both the governor and the palace now wander into territories where they have no constitutional business—like two tolerated trespassers who showed up early to a meeting they weren’t invited to.
It must be repeated clearly: in law, fact, and practice, the federal government of Nigeria holds sole authority over cultural and historical artefacts originating from any part of the federation. This is not controversial. It is the structure the constitution created and the international community recognises.
In the specific case of the returned Benin artefacts, the federal government received them legally. The federal government then delegated implementation tasks to the Edo State government, including creating a museum structure and ensuring the artefacts are preserved within Benin City, in recognition of their historical origins.
That is partnership—not ownership.
Housing the artefacts at the Oba’s palace or within a palace-controlled institution was never a conversion of ownership. It was simply cultural accommodation. But where there are perceived financial gains—visitor revenue, cultural tourism, donor funds, international partnerships—accommodation has now been inflated into entitlement.
The Oba is over-emphasising a role that was meant to be symbolic and custodial. The governor is too timid to remind him of the difference. And Edo’s political class, forever trying to avoid offending either crown or vote bank, is happy to watch constitutional clarity dissolve into royal sentimentality.
In the end, what should have been a unifying cultural moment has morphed into a dispute fuelled by ambition, misinterpretation, and an astonishing disregard for the legal foundation of the Nigerian state.
The artefacts belong to Nigeria.
They were returned to Nigeria.
They remain the property of the Nigerian people.
Respect for heritage does not replace the rule of law.
And the rule of law cannot be bent simply because a governor lacks courage.
If anything, the real lesson from this saga is simple:
When history returns home, modern claimants should not attempt to recreate kingdoms that the world—and the law—left behind over a century ago.
Centre for Nigeria Progress 