Why We Must Protect Our Heritage

Your Majesty, a king can believe strongly in his faith while understanding that the position he holds has a history that goes beyond his personal beliefs. He might not participate in ancestral worship but that does not mean he should ignore its importance in history. He can make changes without thinking that everything from past beliefs has lost its value. The duty of preserving history can be toughest when a custodian does not agree with the original beliefs.

Your Imperial Majesty, Oba Abdulrasheed Adewale Akanbi, Telu I, the Oluwo of Iwoland,

I write to you with respect for the ancient throne of Iwo and to discuss a question that goes beyond any one person’s religious beliefs. What happens to a people’s historical heritage when the person in charge of it does not accept some of the beliefs that shaped it? A traditional institution is not just the home or office of its current leader but the combined effort of many generations whose beliefs, customs, and views of the world have defined it.

Every year, people visit the Western Wall in Jerusalem, a holy site for Jews, where some Christians also pray. They may touch the ancient wall while praying, but this does not mean they worship the wall itself. To understand this act, one must know what the wall represents to those who approach it, rather than just judging their actions based on what an outsider can see.

In Mecca, Muslims gather around the Kaaba, the cube-shaped structure in the Grand Mosque. Muslims around the world face the Kaaba when praying. During pilgrimage, they circle the Kaaba seven times, while some kiss or touch the Black Stone, a sacred object in the eastern corner of the Kaaba. The difference between the Kaaba and the Black Stone is key because a person unfamiliar with these actions might not grasp their significance.

An important story from Sahih al-Bukhari, Hadith 1597, shows this difference. Umar ibn al-Khattab, the second caliph in Islam, kissed the Black Stone. He explained that he knew the stone has no power to help or harm anyone and that he kissed it only because he saw Prophet Muhammad (SAWS) do the same. His words made it clear that this act was not about worshipping the stone but about showing obedience in the Islamic faith.

If Muslims want others to understand their practices based on Islamic teachings and not just looks, shouldn’t we also be careful when looking at the actions of Yoruba traditional worshippers? When someone goes to an ancestral shrine, makes an offering, or speaks to an Òrìṣà using a sacred object, do we know what that person thinks the object represents, or are we judging without asking those who have kept these traditions?

Islam, Christianity, and Yoruba traditional religion have significant differences in beliefs, and to understand another faith does not mean accepting its teachings. People may disagree with others’ beliefs while still recognizing that their sacred objects, places, and practices have meanings that are not clear from just observing them. It is important to distinguish between disagreeing with a religion and truly understanding its practices, especially when these practices are part of a people's history.

Yoruba religious traditions have grown over time, focusing on Olódùmarè, Òrìṣà, àṣẹ, ancestors, and the link between the visible and invisible worlds. Their practices vary, but the objects, shrines, and ceremonies tied to them show how earlier generations understood life and built their communities. Even if later generations do not share those beliefs, the historical importance of what their ancestors created does not just vanish.

In Brazil and Cuba, descendants of Africans taken from their homes through the slave trade still keep parts of Yoruba religious knowledge alive. In Brazilian Candomblé, especially Ketu traditions, and Cuban Lukumí, names, chants, prayers, and ceremonies from Yoruba roots remain important. Over centuries, some aspects of the language and practice have changed. Some practitioners keep expressions they do not fully understand, while others study their meanings, similar to how some Muslims recite Qur’anic Arabic but rely on translations for understanding.

What should we think about the fact that communities separated from Yorubaland long ago have kept parts of this heritage, while many expressions of the same traditions in Yorubaland are now rejected? Their preservation abroad does not mean every inherited practice must remain unchanged back home, but it makes us think about what future generations might lose if the signs of their ancestors’ beliefs disappear.

Your Majesty, this brings me to your view on traditional kingship and the religious heritage of the Oluwo’s palace. In an interview with The Punch on 2 September 2017, you talked about moving an Òrìṣà that you said had been linked to the palace for over 800 years. In another interview with Nigerian Tribune on 19 January 2019, you mentioned demolishing a shrine at the palace front. These are different actions. Moving a sacred object does not mean destroying it, but both raise questions about how an institution keeps its historical heritage when its current custodian rejects the beliefs linked to these objects.

Religious freedom does not take away the duty of every community to follow laws that protect public safety and the rights of others, whether the activity is traditional, Christian, or Muslim. But the freedom to reject a religious practice and the freedom for others to continue that practice are connected. If a king’s beliefs deserve respect, how can we respect the beliefs of his subjects in the same community?

In another interview with The Punch on 29 June 2024, you called yourself a reformer of traditional kingship and separated Yoruba cultural practices from ancestral worship. You suggested that historical objects and records should be kept in museums, letting people learn about earlier generations without having to practice their religions. This idea is helpful for our discussion, as it shows that preserving an object does not mean accepting its original religious meaning.

You also shared your wish to write your own history, as past generations did. Every reigning king adds to the history of the institution he leads, but does writing a new chapter mean removing the evidence of earlier chapters? Can a king’s achievements include not only the changes he brings but also the heritage he safeguards for future kings?

In August 2025, The Punch reported your claim that Yoruba kings should not be forced to worship ancestral deities and that traditional kingship does not need to be tied to a specific religion. This is an important point because inheriting a throne should not require giving up one’s religious beliefs. A Muslim king should not have to engage in worship that goes against his beliefs, just as a Christian king should not be compelled to follow beliefs he does not hold.

But this principle raises another question. If religious freedom protects a king from forced ancestral worship, should it not also protect traditional worshippers who genuinely practice their ancestors’ religion? A report from The Guardian on 14 August 2023 mentioned instructions said to be from Your Majesty that limited some traditional sacrifices and the Oro festival in Iwo. The report does not confirm if those instructions were enforced, but it highlights an important difference between regulating religious activities for public safety and restricting them because of differing beliefs from the reigning king.

Religious freedom does not negate the duty of every community to follow laws that protect public safety and the rights of others, whether the practice is traditional, Christian, or Muslim. But the freedom to reject a practice and the freedom for others to continue that practice are related ideas. If the beliefs of a king deserve respect, how should we respect the beliefs of his subjects in the same community?

This question becomes crucial when ancestral objects remain sacred to those who still practice their faith. A shrine may be historical evidence to one person, a communal identity to another, and a place of active worship for someone else. Keeping such an object in a museum might protect it physically, but it does not automatically solve issues about who should take care of it, who owns it, or the wishes of those who still see it as sacred.

Your Majesty, think about the age of the object you referred to in your 2017 interview. Its claimed age of over 800 years would need independent verification. But if an object has endured through many rulers, religious changes, colonial rule, Nigerian independence, and everyone alive today, it would be a material sign of the people who created, cared for, and passed on responsibility for it. All those who established it are now gone, while the object remains as proof of their existence, if it has been preserved.

An inheritance can take centuries to gain its historical importance, but it can be diminished in just one king’s reign. An object moved with the right care may stay available for study or worship, while a shrine destroyed without proper documentation may lose its architectural features and historical context. In both cases, the questions focus on what is preserved, what is lost, who was consulted, and what future generations will understand.

Iwo’s long history with Islam does not erase its earlier Yoruba past, just as the acceptance of Islam or Christianity by future generations did not wipe out Yoruba language, kinship, leadership, and other inherited institutions. Religious identities have changed, but many parts of cultural and political life remain, showing that continuity in history does not always need continuity in beliefs.

A palace is not just a regular house because a king lives in it. Its historical character comes partly from the objects, spaces, customs, and records that show how generations have expressed the identity of the institution. A king inherits more than just a building and a title, as he also takes a place in a history that started before he was born and will continue after he is gone.

The freedom of a king to worship according to his beliefs and the duty to protect the historical inheritance of his institution do not have to be opposing responsibilities. They can show that faith can coexist with understanding history, that the freedom a ruler claims can also be respected in those he rules, and that an institution can change without losing proof of the generations that shaped it.

If each new king were to remove any historical object or symbol that conflicted with his beliefs, what would remain in a few generations? One might take away a shrine, another a ceremonial item, and yet another a practice that no longer appeals to him. Each choice might seem reasonable to its maker, but together, they could lead to the slow loss of the physical and ceremonial proof of the palace’s past.

The institution might keep its title, succession plans, and royal authority, while losing much of what makes it special compared to an ordinary compound. Royal legitimacy does not rest only on ancestral objects, but those objects can show the continuity through which an institution gained its identity. The duty of custodianship thus goes beyond determining which inherited beliefs a king accepts.

Your Majesty, your idea that ancestral objects and records could be kept in museums opens a chance to think about how to protect them. Could surviving objects be documented and preserved with help from traditional custodians, worshippers, historians, and museum experts? Where worship is allowed, can practitioners keep access to their heritage without needing the king to participate? And where moving an object is necessary, can steps be taken to maintain its historical context, knowledge, and meaning to the community?

These questions matter because the people who may lose the most from the loss of historical inheritance have not been born yet. Those alive today may remember where a shrine was or what a ritual object meant, but after they pass, especially when the physical evidence is gone, future generations may only inherit incomplete stories of what once existed.

The descendants of Yoruba people in Brazil and Cuba remind us that cultural inheritance can survive great disruptions when communities value it. Their experience urges us to ask whether the ancestral institutions in Yorubaland should treat their remaining historical objects with similar seriousness, even when not everyone shares the beliefs tied to those objects.

Your Majesty, a king can firmly hold his beliefs while recognizing that the institution he leads has a history that goes beyond his personal faith. He can choose not to participate in ancestral worship without dismissing its historical value. He can introduce changes without thinking that everything from past beliefs has lost its importance. The duty of custodianship can be most challenging when someone must protect something whose original meaning they do not accept.

The throne of Iwo has survived many generations, and its inheritance belongs to a community that includes those who founded it, those who support it now, and those who will inherit it in the future. Each reign adds to that ongoing history, but no single reign defines it all.

So I will return to a question that I hope Your Majesty will think about carefully. Must we accept what our ancestors believed before we can preserve what they left us? And if an inheritance has already lasted beyond everyone living today, should its survival depend entirely on whether its current custodian agrees with the beliefs of those who created it?

The freedom of a king to worship according to his conscience and the responsibility to keep the historical heritage of his institution do not have to be opposing duties. They provide a chance to show that faith can exist alongside historical understanding, that the freedom claimed by a ruler can also honor the beliefs of those he governs, and that an institution can change while still keeping evidence of the generations that shaped it.

As a son of Iwo, I share these thoughts out of respect for its ancient throne, for the diverse beliefs of the people whose history it carries, and for the generations yet to come who will one day ask what their ancestors passed down, what they preserved, and what they chose to set aside.