Beyond The Noise: How IPOB Rhetoric Distorted Yoruba–Igbo Relations
By AYOOLA FASEYI
THE days following the November 20 sentencing of IPOB leader Nnamdi Kanu brought an eruption of outrage across social media. “Yorubas do not like Igbos,” many users claimed. “What have we done to deserve this hate?” These sweeping grievances circulated with such force that people far removed from the issue were pulled into a simplified narrative of ethnic persecution.
Much of the uproar centred on the identity of the judge, Justice Omotosho, and the fact that the President, Attorney-General, and Chief Justice of Nigeria are all Yoruba. For those predisposed to distrust, these coincidences were enough to construct a story of collective bias.
But the reality is far more complex — and demands a measure of calm. Yoruba people do not harbour a natural or inherited hatred for Igbos. What has unfolded over the last decade is largely a reaction to sustained hostility emanating from IPOB and amplified by Nnamdi Kanu. His rhetoric did not remain in fringe corners. It travelled through radio broadcasts, rallies, and online platforms with daily regularity, shaping perceptions and hardening resentment.
The origins of this strain can be traced back to the political climate after the 2015 presidential election. Many in the South East invested emotionally in Goodluck Jonathan’s candidacy. His defeat produced anger, and some of that frustration was redirected toward the Yoruba electorate, accused of “betrayal” for voting Buhari — even though a Yoruba man was on the ticket. This sentiment lingered online for years, becoming a lens through which many young people interpreted Yoruba political choices.
IPOB seized on this mood and elevated it into an ideological position. Through Radio Biafra and public statements, Kanu repeatedly cast Yorubas in derogatory terms. He questioned their integrity, mocked Igbo Christians who worshipped under Yoruba-led churches, and painted an entire ethnic group as corrupt and untrustworthy. These were not isolated missteps; they formed a systematic narrative that influenced thousands who treated them as truth.
Other episodes deepened this divide. During the EndSARS protests, Kanu alleged that Yoruba leaders were sabotaging the movement. Ahead of the 2017 Anambra election and again during the 2023 cycle, IPOB-linked accounts claimed — without evidence — that Yorubas were obstructing Igbo political ambitions. At various points, criminal incidents in the South West were reframed as Yoruba conspiracies. During the Lagos lockdown unrest, narratives portraying Yorubas as perpetual Igbo adversaries spread across digital spaces.
These narratives accumulated over time, creating an atmosphere of distrust and insult that no community could quietly absorb forever. Hostility begets hostility; resentment rarely remains one-sided.
Yet amid this tension, a vital truth stands: IPOB is not the Igbo people, and criticism of IPOB is not animosity toward Igbos. Millions of Igbos reject secession, reject hate speech, and reject violence. They must not be conflated with those who promote division.
If there is to be healing, the conversation must begin with honesty. It is impossible to demand sympathy while ignoring the provocations that inflamed the current climate. No community is beyond reproach, but none deserves to be painted as an enemy after enduring years of sweeping accusations.
Nigeria’s ethnic relations are not doomed. They have endured many storms because citizens — Yoruba, Igbo, and others — live together, work together, and build lives together every day. The real danger lies in political propaganda that distorts realities and pits communities against one another.
Clearing the air begins with acknowledging the truth: the tension is recent, not historical; political, not cultural. And it will fade only when inflammatory rhetoric is abandoned and dialogue replaces divisive narratives.
