Renaming Of Streets In Lagos: Calling Local Government Chairmen To Order Before They Trigger Ethnic Crisis -By Isaa Asabor

According to an African proverb, “If the keg of palm-wine is not quickly snatched from the hands of an exuberant drunk, he may drink himself to stupor.” Another similarly rich saying reminds us, “If an overzealous child is not assisted by his elders when roasting yams in the farm, he may innocently set the farm and the hut ablaze.” These proverbs speak directly to the current trend in Lagos State where some local government chairmen have taken it upon themselves to rename streets in manners that are not only abrupt but also insensitive to the sociocultural and political implications such actions may carry. It is time the state government, and indeed the public, begin to pay closer attention to this trend before it becomes a catalyst for national disunity or an inter-ethnic controversy of regrettable proportions.

In recent weeks, news of various streets being renamed by local authorities across different parts of Lagos, particularly in historically diverse areas like Bariga, Ajeromi/Ifelodun, and Eti-Osa Local Government have been met with mixed reactions. While some may argue that renaming streets is part of urban development and a symbolic gesture of honoring worthy individuals, the question remains: who decides which names are worthy? And to what extent should the power to rename streets be wielded without wider consultation or socio-political sensitivity?

For the avoidance of doubt, street naming or renaming is not in itself a problem. Indeed, it can serve as a powerful way to preserve history, honor heroes, and reflect societal values. However, when this practice becomes a unilateral decision carried out by a handful of local officials with little to no public engagement, it risks being seen as an abuse of office or worse, an ethnic imposition.

The most troubling cases are those where Yoruba-dominated local councils have renamed streets bearing historically significant non-Yoruba names, replacing them with names perceived to favor only local or ethnic sentiments. Such actions inevitably send the wrong message to non-indigenous communities who have long called Lagos home. It breeds resentment, fuels suspicion, and undermines the ethos of inclusion that Lagos has long been known for.

For instance, imagine a street in Ajegunle originally named after an Ijaw icon being renamed after a lesser-known local figure without community dialogue. Or a road within Eti-Osa local government historically named in honor of an Igbo entrepreneur who played a foundational role in building the area, suddenly replaced by a contemporary Yoruba political figure whose relevance is debatable. These examples, whether hypothetical or real, raise serious questions about motive, process, and consequence.

Street renaming, though seemingly a mundane administrative duty, is anything but it speaks to memory, heritage, and identity. In a cosmopolitan city like Lagos, where different ethnic groups have lived together for decades and contributed to its economic and cultural growth, a careless renaming of a street can spark unnecessary controversy.

Unfortunately, some of the recent renamings were carried out without proper consultation with stakeholders, residents, traditional rulers, historians, or even urban planners. When actions of such public consequence are carried out in secrecy or based on narrow interests, the outcome is often divisive rather than unifying.

It is ironic that while many developed cities around the world are struggling to preserve and protect their multicultural histories, some local officials in Lagos are hastily rewriting theirs without understanding the potential repercussions. What legacy are they really building?

Let us not pretend that politics is not a factor. It is. Many of these street renamings are thinly veiled political gestures aimed at currying favor with political godfathers or scoring cheap popularity points. In some cases, it is even a ploy to rewrite history to suit a political narrative. Streets are being renamed not necessarily because the old names were unworthy, but because new power brokers want to leave their imprint, often at the expense of unity.

The danger with this approach is that it sets a precedent. If a local government chairman in one part of Lagos can rename a street unilaterally to reflect only his ethnic or political leanings, what stops another chairman in the East, North, or South-South from doing the same? What happens when this tit-for-tat renaming frenzy spirals out of control?

This is how national disintegration starts, not always with gunfire, but sometimes with erasures, rebranding, and the quiet dismantling of shared heritage.

For the sake of clarity, it is not out of place to opine that Lagos is not just a Yoruba city; it is a Nigerian city. In many ways, it is a “West African metropolis”. For decades, it has served as the melting pot of cultures, ethnicities, languages, and ideologies. To now start reconfiguring its street names based on narrow interests is to deny the very soul of Lagos.

Many non-Yoruba Nigerians consider Lagos their home. They were born here, schooled here, paid taxes here, and contributed to the social and economic fabric of the city. Therefore, stripping away public symbols that reflect their presence and contributions is not only unjust, it is provocative.

That is why cultural sensitivity is not optional; it is necessary. Every renaming decision should be preceded by proper engagement, historical consultation, and democratic transparency. Anything short of this is an invitation to crisis.

There is an urgent need for the Lagos State House of Assembly to develop clearer legislative guidelines on the naming and renaming of public infrastructure. These guidelines should emphasize inclusiveness, historical value, communal dialogue, and socio-political balance.

More so, the Lagos State Ministry of Local Government and Chieftaincy Affairs which has the functions of planning, devising, and implementing state policies related to local governments and chieftaincy matters must begin to hold local chairmen accountable for any renaming that is done without due process or that poses a threat to inter-ethnic harmony.

What is at stake here is bigger than names on signposts; it is the question of coexistence, respect for diversity, and the commitment to building a Lagos that belongs to all Nigerians, not just a select few.

Let it be known that no one is against honoring local icons. Indeed, Lagos has produced countless heroes, both indigenous and non-indigenous, worthy of such recognition. But it must be done right. It must be done justly. And it must be done with an eye toward preserving the unity of Lagos and, by extension, Nigeria. 

As we say in Nigerian parlance, “Make dem no use style divide us.” We must be careful not to allow well-meaning intentions turn into seeds of division. The power to name is the power to shape memory. That power should never be used frivolously or selfishly.

So, to the overzealous chairmen across Lagos who are brandishing their renaming pens like political swords, we say: Watch it. The keg of palm wine must not be allowed to spill. The yam must not roast into flames. Lagos deserves better than symbolic land grabs and ethnically charged renaming exercises.

Let us watch the chairmen before they trigger ethnic crises in Lagos.