Nigeria has perfected one political deceit better than any other: the claim that the Yoruba are privileged. It is repeated so casually and confidently that it has hardened into “truth.” Yet, when this assertion is tested against facts, population data, constitutional design, and representation arithmetic, it collapses completely. What emerges instead is an uncomfortable reality: Oyo State is marginalized, Oyo State is oppressed, and Oyo State is structurally cheated. By extension, Yoruba land is being short-changed within Nigeria’s federal arrangement. This is not rhetoric. It is mathematics reinforced by law.
Nigeria operates a constitutional federation under the 1999 Constitution, a system in which political power, fiscal access, and development opportunities are tied directly to the number of states, senatorial districts, and federal constituencies. Sections 48 and 49 of the Constitution deliberately link representation in the Senate and House of Representatives to state structure, while Section 162 ties revenue allocation to those same structures. In such a system, imbalance in state creation is not cosmetic; it is consequential. Marginalization is therefore not measured by emotion or protest, but by how the Constitution distributes power.
Before Lagos expanded through colonial commerce, port activity, and post-independence migration, Ibadan was historically the largest indigenous city in Africa by population. This is not regional folklore; it is demographic history acknowledged in colonial and post-colonial records. Yet, despite this overwhelming urban weight, Ibadan has been administratively frozen as though it were an average city. In reality, Ibadan alone is larger than Enugu, Owerri, Onitsha, Umuahia, and Aba combined. Still, this vast population remains confined within one state structure, with no corresponding expansion in representation. In a constitutional democracy premised on population-based representation, this is a fundamental distortion.
Geography makes the injustice even more glaring. Oyo State’s landmass is larger than the combined landmass of Anambra, Abia, Imo, Enugu, and Ebonyi. Yet, under the current federal structure, Oyo operates with one governor, one state assembly, and one administrative bureaucracy, while those five states operate with five governors, five assemblies, and five independent administrative systems. Section 14(2)(c) of the Constitution states clearly that participation by the people in governance shall be ensured in accordance with democratic principles. When a population and territory of Oyo’s scale are compressed into a single administrative unit while far smaller territories enjoy multiple layers of governance, participation is not ensured—it is diluted.
The imbalance becomes indefensible at the National Assembly, the very institution designed to reflect Nigeria’s federal character. Oyo State has three senators, fourteen members of the House of Representatives, and one governor. By contrast, the five South-Eastern states—Anambra, Abia, Imo, Enugu, and Ebonyi—have fifteen senators, forty-three members of the House of Representatives, and five governors. Individually, Abia has eight House members, Anambra eleven, Ebonyi six, Imo ten, and Enugu eight. Collectively, they command more than three times Oyo’s representation. This disparity is not symbolic; it translates directly into legislative influence, committee dominance, federal appointments, and budgetary leverage, all of which flow from the constitutional architecture.
Historically, this outcome was neither natural nor inevitable. Old Oyo Empire once dominated vast territories across what are now Oyo, Osun, Ogun, Kwara, parts of Lagos, and even present-day Benin Republic. Yet successive state creation exercises—from 1967 through 1996—expanded Northern political blocs into multiple states while compressing Yoruba space. The justification for state creation was always proximity of governance and equity of development. In the case of Oyo, the opposite occurred: governance was pulled farther away, representation narrowed, and influence diluted.
The enduring Yoruba mistake has been excessive constitutional faith in a political system that quietly rewards pressure. While other regions framed state creation as a matter of survival, Yoruba leaders trusted the promise of fairness embedded in the Constitution. That trust has not been reciprocated. Silence has been mistaken for satisfaction; moderation has been read as consent.
Demand for Oyo State division
The demand that Oyo State be divided into three states is therefore not emotional agitation, ethnic grandstanding, or political opportunism. It is constitutional correction. Section 8 of the 1999 Constitution expressly provides for the creation of new states where there is demonstrable demand, viability, and popular support. Oyo satisfies these criteria beyond argument: population density, vast landmass, economic capacity, and clearly defined senatorial districts already recognised by law. Oyo North, Oyo Central, and Oyo South are not speculative constructs; they are existing constitutional realities awaiting administrative recognition.
State creation is not a favour bestowed by benevolence; it is a constitutional mechanism designed to cure imbalance. When one state is larger than five combined yet politically smaller than each of them individually, the federation has failed its own constitutional promise of equity, justice, and balanced participation.
This is not a cry of pain. It is a presentation of evidence. Oyo State is not shouting. Oyo State is counting—states, senators, representatives, governors, and the constitutional cost of prolonged silence.
The question is no longer whether Oyo deserves three states. The question is how long Yoruba Nigeria will continue to subsidize constitutional injustice with restraint?
