₦airaland Forum

Seun:
I hate the lynching culture of my Yoruba people. At 1:06 you see the people outside who want to lynch her. It's exciting to them. It's fun to them.

In precolonial times, Yoruba warriors would pick an innocent person to be beaten, mocked and killed by the public for good luck in battle.

A friend's cousin was almost lynched because a neighbor's child was missing. They had already started slapping him when the child was found.

An OAU room-mate said he was almost lynched because he was running with a bucket. He had to challenge the accuser ("what did I steal?" to live.

Read about 'Operation Wetie' (wet him with petrol).

To end this evil culture, we need consequences. Any person who participates in a lynching should be arrested, paraded, and charged with murder.

Codepain:
Yes o unlke the Igbos of spotless history

Codepain:
Yes the theme is to make it seems like Yoruba are the custodians of lynching

Fenrir:
As a Norwegian scholar who has spent decades studying Yoruba civilisation — from its spiritual systems and social structures to its moral and political philosophy — I view the new John Randle Centre as both inspiring and revealing. It celebrates Yoruba identity with the vibrancy it deserves, yet it also exposes a deeper truth: what we call “tradition” today is not preservation but reinterpretation.

From a European perspective, I find it fascinating — and occasionally troubling — how modern Nigerians speak of being “unapologetically traditional” while having long abandoned many of the actual traditions that defined their ancestors’ world. Across centuries, practices once regarded as sacred or essential — from the authority of the Ifá priesthood and the Ogboni council, to ritual sacrifices, ancestral oaths, gendered rites, arranged marriages, and taboos — have been reshaped or dismissed as “inhumane” or “outdated.”

Progress demands such changes, of course. Yet honesty demands acknowledgment: what is now presented as “Yoruba tradition” is a carefully curated, modern expression of a once vastly different moral order. The irony lies in claiming to revive ancient culture while filtering it through twenty-first-century values — human rights, egalitarianism, and global morality — concepts entirely alien to the world of the ancestors.

Even the recent outrage over mob justice — the tragic culture of public lynching that still scars parts of Yoruba society — reflects this tension. I have seen recordings of these scenes, where a crowd’s excitement turns violence into spectacle. It is horrifying, yet not entirely new. In precolonial times, Yoruba warriors sometimes selected an innocent person to be beaten or sacrificed publicly as a ritual for victory in battle — human life offered to appease fate. History, seen through a modern lens, is grimly consistent in this regard: across all civilisations, not just Yoruba, human life once carried little moral weight outside one’s kin group. Europe, too, had its burnings and its public hangings.

So when we condemn such acts today — rightly — we must also recognise that the moral evolution we praise is a modern development, not an ancient one. The Yoruba of today who call for justice, due process, and human dignity are not continuing the past; they are transcending it. That distinction matters.

The Yoruba world of the ancestors was ordered, poetic, spiritual, and wise — but also hierarchical, punitive, and often brutal. The Yoruba world of today is dynamic, hybrid, and self-aware, but fundamentally modern. To claim the two are the same is to erase both history and progress.

As a European who has watched cultures across continents re-invent their pasts, I find the Yoruba example deeply human. Every society romanticises its ancestors. The honest path, however, is to admit that modern cultural pride is not about returning to what was, but about transforming it into what can still give meaning now.

Only when Yoruba identity — and indeed all cultural identities — embraces that truth, can it celebrate its heritage without being trapped by its mythology.

AlphaTaikun:
You have a deeply insightful perspective there.

Indeed, for those of us who have a vast knowledge of global geopolitics, medieval Europe had these lynchings and we'll and in recent history especially from 1900 in the Deep South of the United States, majorly African-Americans and some Whites were brutally lynched and or hanged with crowds of young and old spectacular watching and I've seen post cards that had images or pictures of lynched people. That was how gross the in term of morality several White people in the United States were from the 1900s to the 1940s with segregation in full swing.

In Nigeria, robust consequences and punishments have to be made of anyone who still engaged in that heinous crimes and the law enforcement agents MUST be seen to do their jobs otherwise these insidious people would give excuses for engaging in mob actions and lynchings.

Fenrir:
You’ve made a strong and thoughtful point, and I agree that mob justice and public violence are shameful anywhere they occur. But this issue isn’t about race — it’s about humanity. Every nation that tolerates corruption, silence, and fear will face the same moral decay, no matter the color of its citizens.

In Nigeria, the problem lies deeper than government or police — those institutions simply mirror the people who shape them. Law enforcement is corrupt because corruption is accepted as normal. The military is compromised because loyalty can be bought. The government fails because too many have learned to live comfortably within that failure.

Even the marriage system exposes how far this has gone. Many wedding practices here openly violate human rights, ignore the nation’s own marriage laws, and are built on force, manipulation, and deceit. What should be a sacred union between two willing hearts has too often become a transaction — a stage for control, pressure, and lies.

Until there is honesty, both in leadership and among ordinary people, nothing will change. A nation cannot claim justice when its homes, laws, and unions are built on corruption.

AlphaTaikun:
Absolutely well said.

The keyword here like you earlier stated is "HUMANITY." That thought will keep everyone in check.

I appreciate your deep insights here.

Cheers.

Fenrir:
You speak wisely, my friend. Humanity — aye, that is the iron in the spine of all decency. Without it, crowns turn to rust and laws to dust. You’ve grasped the heart of the matter — when men remember their shared humanity, they stand taller than their tribes, their faiths, or their borders.

I raise my horn to you for that insight. May your words echo longer than the noise of those who chase power without purpose. Stay strong, stay just, and may your path be lit by truth, not comfort.

Skål, brother — the North salutes you.

Codepain:
Yes o unlke the Igbos of spotless history

RedboneSmith:
A Yoruba talks about his Yoruba people. A fellow Yoruba turns up and thinks the best way to disagree with his brother is to make it an Igbo issue, in a country of over 300 other ethnic nationalities. Obsessed nitwits.

Kobojunkie:
I was about 10-12 years old when I experienced my first lynching. The people who carried it out were all neighbors and people I had grown up to know over my short time on earth. That day, however, I realized that many of these same people had their hands stained with the same wickedness that we were all taught to run from as children. Behind all of the jovial smiles and warm greetings were monsters ready to kill the next person who triggered their bloodlust.

Just imagine learning, at that age, that most of your neighbors — the papa, mama, aunty, uncle, etc., of your friends —were, in fact, murderers and vile creatures. The trauma no leave me until after I leave that country.😩😩😩

Fenrir:
As a Norwegian scholar who has spent decades studying Yoruba civilisation — from its spiritual systems and social structures to its moral and political philosophy — I view the new John Randle Centre as both inspiring and revealing. It celebrates Yoruba identity with the vibrancy it deserves, yet it also exposes a deeper truth: what we call “tradition” today is not preservation but reinterpretation.

From a European perspective, I find it fascinating — and occasionally troubling — how modern Nigerians speak of being “unapologetically traditional” while having long abandoned many of the actual traditions that defined their ancestors’ world. Across centuries, practices once regarded as sacred or essential — from the authority of the Ifá priesthood and the Ogboni council, to ritual sacrifices, ancestral oaths, gendered rites, arranged marriages, and taboos — have been reshaped or dismissed as “inhumane” or “outdated.”

Progress demands such changes, of course. Yet honesty demands acknowledgment: what is now presented as “Yoruba tradition” is a carefully curated, modern expression of a once vastly different moral order. The irony lies in claiming to revive ancient culture while filtering it through twenty-first-century values — human rights, egalitarianism, and global morality — concepts entirely alien to the world of the ancestors.

Even the recent outrage over mob justice — the tragic culture of public lynching that still scars parts of Yoruba society — reflects this tension. I have seen recordings of these scenes, where a crowd’s excitement turns violence into spectacle. It is horrifying, yet not entirely new. In precolonial times, Yoruba warriors sometimes selected an innocent person to be beaten or sacrificed publicly as a ritual for victory in battle — human life offered to appease fate. History, seen through a modern lens, is grimly consistent in this regard: across all civilisations, not just Yoruba, human life once carried little moral weight outside one’s kin group. Europe, too, had its burnings and its public hangings.

So when we condemn such acts today — rightly — we must also recognise that the moral evolution we praise is a modern development, not an ancient one. The Yoruba of today who call for justice, due process, and human dignity are not continuing the past; they are transcending it. That distinction matters.

The Yoruba world of the ancestors was ordered, poetic, spiritual, and wise — but also hierarchical, punitive, and often brutal. The Yoruba world of today is dynamic, hybrid, and self-aware, but fundamentally modern. To claim the two are the same is to erase both history and progress.

As a European who has watched cultures across continents re-invent their pasts, I find the Yoruba example deeply human. Every society romanticises its ancestors. The honest path, however, is to admit that modern cultural pride is not about returning to what was, but about transforming it into what can still give meaning now.

Only when Yoruba identity — and indeed all cultural identities — embraces that truth, can it celebrate its heritage without being trapped by its mythology.

Patiks:
Being thinking recently: why does the human race, have different cultures and traditions? Does one culture or traditions make a particular group superior to the other?

If yes, why do the same group or class of beings (humans in this case need different rules or way of life to live?

There certainly got to be the right way for all humans created by one God to live. This "my culture", Igbo culture", "Yoruba culture", with different rules and regulations that are inconsistent, has to be from a different source or being who enjoys confusion. That being is called the devil and he is the author of tribalism as well as gender, racial and class discrimination.

Fenrir:
That’s a fascinating question — whether humanity’s many cultures are signs of divine confusion or something more organic. From a historical and humanist perspective, I see cultural diversity not as evidence of disorder, but as the record of human imagination adapting to circumstance.

Every civilisation — Yoruba, Norse, Hebrew, Chinese — has wrestled with the same timeless challenges: how to live well, how to treat others, how to face mortality. The differences in our customs are not proof that someone “tampered” with humanity, but that human beings are endlessly creative in their search for meaning.

I understand why many people interpret moral variation through a spiritual lens — as the struggle between God and the devil, light and darkness. But I’ve always found it interesting that in some older traditions, even the “light-bringer” isn’t purely evil; [/b]he represents curiosity, defiance, and the refusal to live in ignorance. My view is that light itself — understanding, awareness — cannot be the enemy of good.

Perhaps what divides us isn’t culture or belief, but fear: fear of difference, fear of being wrong, fear of letting others [b]illuminate what we don’t yet understand. For me, progress begins not in rejecting culture or sanctifying it, but in recognising that every tradition, every moral code, is a human attempt to turn darkness into meaning.

That, I think, is the real light worth following.

Patiks:
A lot of inconsistencies in your analysis, but I won't be puncturing each, because I have learned to ignore people who are bent on making arguments that lead nowhere

"Many cultures" that differ AKA "cultural diversity" are definitely signs of confusion and not advancement. Moral values or principles have no varieties. It's either you are good or bad, faithful or unfaithful, kind or wicked, etc. Same with different gods/creator being served by the same humans.


"Light-bringer", "illuminate" definitely sound occultic, that's why I will be wise enough to end the discussion with this reply only.

"isn’t purely evil" Is there any such thing as being partially evil? Evil is evil and good is good. Anything in-between is the devil's attempt to masquerade as the angel of light.

"every tradition" Not every tradition is beneficial. If everyone is, there won't be any need for trying to justify their existence in the first place.

"human attempt to turn darkness into meaning" I have no idea what your darkness means here (and I am definitely not interested in finding out more).

Fenrir:
That, I think, is the real light worth following.

budaatum:
Your signature befuddles. Where it say 30 men?

Fenrir:
I actually had to read the Quran under orders during my deployment in Afghanistan — hardly voluntary. Yet somehow, you’re upset about 30 grown men and not the kids. That says plenty.

budaatum:
Ref for both please. I'd like to see where you read it, thanks.

But actually, my fuddle is your "humanity.

What were Muslims in Afghanistan like?

budaatum:
Ref for both please. I'd like to see where you read it, thanks.

But actually, my fuddle is your "humanity.

What were Muslims in Afghanistan like?

Fenrir:
https://youtube.com/shorts/OtqFzOjclL8?si=2wH6371WoKCKlkee

budaatum:
You quote YouTube.

Fenrir:
Because im not having the words of that book in my head again.

Codepain:
Lynching culture of his Yoruba people 😡