The Adeleke name has become synonymous with Osun politics. From the Senate to the state’s highest office, the family has held commanding influence in Osun West and across the state for decades. Political dominance is not a crime. But when dominance calcifies into monopoly, democracy suffers and development narrows to the interests of a few. Osun is at that point. The argument for moving power out of one family and one town is no longer abstract. It is a question of equity, accountability, and the future of the state.
For years, the dividend of that dominance was thin. Representation in Abuja produced little legislative footprint that shifted Osun’s material conditions. The first civilian governorship stint under the family left a record that many in the state still describe as wasted years, with key development indices stagnant and institutions weakened. That history matters because it established a pattern: access to power without a corresponding scale of delivery. The current administration under Ademola Adeleke came in with goodwill and unprecedented fiscal space. The removal of subsidy and liberalization of exchange rates triggered an outpouring of FAAC allocations to states. For the first time, Osun has room to breathe financially. Yet the question on the streets is simple: where is the accountability for this windfall, and who benefits?
What we see is concentration. Key positions in government are held within a tight family orbit. Decision-making, contracts, and patronage flow through a familiar network. The outcome is predictable. Resources tilt toward one town. Ede, once defined by a single major road, now boasts multiple dualized roads delivered in a short span. An airport project is being sited to elevate what critics call a glorified village above older, higher-ranking towns with greater commercial or historical claims. This is not envy. It is the political economy of favoritism. When power is ring-fenced, development follows the bloodline and the postcode. Other towns in Osun West, and the entire East and Central districts, become spectators in their own state.
That is why power must rotate. Rotation is not punishment. It is correction. Osun has dozens of towns with educated, competent, and tested leaders who have never had a pathway to the top because one family brand dominates ballot access, funding, and media attention. Moving power out of the Adeleke family is about expanding the leadership pool. Moving it out of Ede is about restoring a sense of common ownership in the state project. If democracy means anything, it means no single family or town should permanently equate itself with the state.
The case for change rests on three grounds. First, accountability. Dynasties blur the line between public office and family estate. When the governor, key commissioners, and advisers answer to the same household, oversight dies. The state assembly, party structure, and civil service all adjust to please the family, not the law. Second, equity. Osun has nine federal constituencies and 30 local governments. Concentrating roads, airports, and appointments in one axis breeds resentment and underdevelopment elsewhere. A state cannot grow if only one town grows. Third, competence and renewal. Education and exposure are not the preserve of one family. Ile-Ife, Ilesa, Ikirun, Iwo, Ejigbo, and Osogbo all produce administrators, technocrats, and entrepreneurs who can govern with fresh ideas. Keeping power locked in one house blocks that pipeline and tells the rest of the state that merit is secondary to surname.
The subsidy-era allocations have exposed the stakes. Money is coming in, but without diversified leadership, the spending pattern will reinforce the same geography and the same beneficiaries. The airport is the symbol. In a state with poor intra-city transport, unfinished tertiary health centers, and underfunded schools, the choice to prioritize a prestige project in the governor’s hometown reveals a priority problem. It signals that state planning is being driven by family legacy, not state-wide strategy.
Osun does not need to retire the Adelekes from politics. It needs to retire the idea that Osun politics equals Adeleke politics. The family has had its turn, repeatedly. They have been to the Senate. They have been governor twice. They have controlled appointments and projects. The results are visible, and so are the gaps. For a state to mature, power must circulate. It must move from one family to another, from one town to another, so that loyalty shifts from individuals to institutions.
The next election cycle is a test of that maturity. If Osun wants better education outcomes, industrial growth, and balanced infrastructure, it must break the cycle of dynastic control. Not out of malice, but out of necessity. No family, however popular, should own a state. No town, however loyal, should own the budget. The only thing that should be permanent in Osun is the people’s right to choose new stewards when the old ones have had enough time to prove their case.
