By Oluwayeni Odifa
The proposed indigeneship bill being pushed by Kalu and the Uzodimma administration is one of the most dangerous legislative ideas to surface in Nigeria’s recent democratic memory. If passed, it would not only alter the foundational understanding of identity and belonging, it would set the stage for a brazen override of ancestral roots by political convenience.
At its core, this bill attempts to create a legal pathway through which people can claim indigeneship of a state they did not descend from and have no ancestral roots in. The qualifications rest solely on having spent a number of years there or marrying a native. The absurdity of it mirrors a scenario where someone declares themselves your sibling simply because they’ve lived in your compound long enough.
Indigeneship, like lineage or heritage, is not a status to be awarded by a bureaucratic panel. It is not something one applies for, waits to be approved, or acquires through long-term residency. It is rooted in blood, ancestry, and the continuous historical and cultural ties passed down from generation to generation.
What this bill proposes is not inclusion but the legal version of identity theft, an attempt to erase the boundaries of indigenous identity by law. If allowed to stand, it becomes the first move in a wider effort to dilute the cultural and political standing of ethnic nationalities in their own homelands.
Some observers believe this bill is part of a broader centralist agenda. It functions as a political Trojan horse, rolled into regions under the banner of equity, but hiding within it the tools to erode regional autonomy. By expanding indigeneship through the backdoor, the federal government would be able to gradually dismantle regional claims to traditional land rights, resource control, and affirmative action policies designed to protect some ancestral communities.
For the Yorùbá people, who have built and defended their lands, cities, customs, and governance for centuries, this bill strikes at the heart of existence. It opens the door for outsiders to settle and then begin to make cultural and political claims within a generation. Over time, this subtle encroachment will erode the rights of actual indigenes and distort the demographic and political balance.
Imagine a scenario where someone with no ancestral tie to Ibadan, Abeokuta, or Ife rises to traditional or political leadership simply by citing years of residence. What becomes of heritage? What happens to the native sons and daughters whose identities are now being legislatively hijacked?
In some places in Nigeria, settler communities already wield more economic and political power than the original inhabitants. The law, as it stands now, offers little clarity. This bill would take it further, embedding that imbalance into the legal structure, and legalizing displacement by demographic advantage. In states like Plateau, Benue, Delta, and even some parts of the Southwest and so on, fears of demographic invasion and political marginalization are rooted in lived reality. The fears reflect patterns of displacement, electoral upsets, and cultural dilution already happening on the ground.
It is important to separate emotional politics from grounded realities. Tolerance and hospitality are values Yorùbá society holds dear. But to welcome a visitor does not mean handing them ancestral keys. The idea that anyone can declare themselves an indigene based on years of stay or marriage is both intellectually dishonest and socially corrosive. It attempts to treat identity like a stamp of convenience, rather than a truth rooted in lineage and ancestry.
This bill must be resisted in full. It is not about fairness. It is about systematically diluting indigenous rights across Nigeria. Yoruba leaders at every level must rise and reject this intrusion. This is not a time for silence or neutrality, it calls for action, legislation, and protection of our roots from political convenience.
There is no known country on earth where indigeneity is reduced to residency or romantic ties. No nation trades ancestral belonging for the number of years one has lived on a land. Indigenous identity, from the First Nations in Canada to the Māori of New Zealand and the Aboriginal people of Australia is protected. It is recognized as sacred, not handed out like state IDs. Nigeria must not become the first to legislate cultural erasure under the guise of unity.
Nigeria is already stretched thin under the weight of unresolved structural imbalances. This bill threatens to further unravel the fragile threads of identity, land rights, and political representation by introducing a dangerously vague and precedent-setting policy.
Indigeneship is an inheritance. A sacred trust passed from ancestors to descendants, not a government gift. It must be protected from the hands of legal impostors and disguised expansionists. Diversity in Nigeria should be respected by reinforcing origins, not flattened by policies pretending to be unifying.
The bill is an abomination. It must not pass.
