The Benin Origin Controversy: Myth, Memory, and Political Legitimacy in the Niger Delta and Igboland

 

 Introduction

A persistent controversy surrounds the claimed Benin origins of numerous communities across the Niger Delta and parts of Igboland. This essay examines the veracity of such claims, arguing that while some migrations from Benin were historically genuine, many oral traditions linking group origins to the ancient kingdom reflect sociopolitical strategies rather than literal genealogical descent.

The Oral Traditions and Their Anomalies

Communities among the Urhobo, Isoko, Ijaw, Ikwerre, Ika, Enuani, and Ukwuani peoples preserve oral traditions describing ancestors—hunters or migrating princes—who left Benin to establish new settlements. Yet a curious pattern emerges: many alleged progenitors bear names that are decidedly non-Benin in origin. Rather than names like Osakpolor, Osagie, or Osadolor, we encounter Oghwoghwa, Opute, Akalaka, and others that belong to the very cultures claiming Benin ancestry.

Several examples illustrate this paradox:

The Urhobo Kingdoms. Prince Oghwoghwa, purportedly from Benin, is credited as the progenitor of four core Urhobo kingdoms: Ogor, Agbarha, Ughelli, and Orogun (the last founded through his only daughter, Oriarha). Yet "Oghwoghwa" is not a Benin name—it is distinctly Urhobo.

The Tarakiri Clan (that cuts across Delta State and Bayelsa State). The Tarakiri oral tradition traces their progenitor to a Benin migrant named Ondo. Tarakiri was one of his sons. Tarakiri is said to have founded numerous kingdoms across present-day Ijawland, Isoko, and Urhobo territories. However, both "Tarakiri" and "Ondo" bear Ijoid rather than Edo characteristics.

Ozoro. Oral tradition holds that Ozoro was founded by a warrior named Opute and his wife, Ozoro, who migrated from the ancient Benin Kingdom (Igodomigodo) around the seventh century during the reign of Ogiso Orrorro. Neither name is Benin; "Opute" is Ukwuani.

The Ikwerre. Ikwerre ancestry is traced to Akalaka, a fleeing member of the ancient Benin royal family who fathered three sons—Ekpeye, Ogba, and Ihruọha (progenitor of the Ikwerre/Iwhuruọha)—who migrated eastward. Again, "Akalaka" does not sound like a Benin name.

The Mein Clan. The Mein Clan of the Ijaw traces its origin to an eponymous progenitor, Mein, who migrated from the ancient Benin area to the central and western Niger Delta. "Mein" is decidedly Ijoid rather than Benin.

Why Claim Benin Origins?

If these progenitors bear non-Benin names, why do so many groups insist on Benin ancestry? Two principal explanations emerge:

Prestige and Political Legitimacy

Claiming a Benin bloodline or connection offered local dynastic families a prestigious pedigree. By aligning their origin stories with a renowned centralised empire, ruling houses legitimised their authority, traditional titles, and chieftaincy structures. The Benin Empire served as an "imperial mirror" in which local rulers could see reflected a grandeur they wished to claim as their own.

Colonial Administration Convenience

British colonial administrators and early anthropologists favoured centralised monarchy models. They frequently recorded, amplified, or generalised Benin-centric origin theories over decentralized local histories. Communities that had interacted extensively with the Oba or Benin over centuries later adopted or blended Benin elements into their foundational oral histories—sometimes to match administrative expectations and avoid marginalization.

The Problem of Oral Tradition

Much of what is recorded about the origins and migrations of these peoples is sometimes believable and, in other cases, speculative. Consistent with many African peoples, their traditions of origin and migration are not written; instead, they rely on information passed down over generations. Memory may fail, and accounts may be fabricated or remolded (Ogunkoya, 1956; Afigbo, 1981; Opone, 2022).

Okpevra (2021: 539), citing Ikime (2006), writes that "if there is any aspect of the history of the various peoples of Nigeria about which no one can speak with any exactitude, it is that which deals with the origins of our peoples." G. B. Williams (N.A.I. File No. 26769, 1931: 5), a colonial administrator who produced one of the Intelligence Reports on the Ukwuani/Ndosumili people in the 1930s, concluded that "their history must be largely the result of guess work." He however opined that:

“By their customs and relationships it seems probable that all the Western [Ukwuani] and Southern [south Ndosumili] clans were formed as the result of successive migrations from Benin and that the migrants after settling in their new territory adopted the language and some of the customs of their Eastern neighbours, the Ibos” (N.A.I. File No. 26769, 1931: 5).”  

We cannot confidently ascertain whether colonial administrators' efforts at archiving people's history were purposely designed to mislead. What is clear, according to some historians (Ikime, 2006; Okpevra, 2021), is that their effort is "decisively simplistic." Their accounts of many people's origins are replete with personal opinions and biases that have become beacons of truth today for those unwilling to challenge such narratives.

Alagoa's Analysis

In his seminal historical scholarship, particularly A History of the Niger Delta, renowned Nigerian historian Professor Ebiegberi Joe Alagoa analyses why multiple non-Edo ethnic groups and clans in the Niger Delta heavily link their origins or royal lineages to the ancient Benin Empire. According to Alagoa, several socio-political, cultural, and historical dynamics explain this phenomenon:

1.      Political Legitimacy and Prestige (The "Imperial Mirror")

In pre-colonial West Africa, the Benin Empire was a dominant military and administrative powerhouse. Alagoa argues that claiming ancestral ties to Benin served as a powerful mechanism for political centralisation and legitimacy among local rulers. For communities or dynasties looking to consolidate power, validate their monarchies, or elevate the prestige of their local thrones, tracing their roots back to Benin royal bloodlines—such as the flight of a prince or warrior—provided instant political clout and authority.

2.      Adaptation to External Influence and Colonial Intermediaries

During the British colonial era, administrators favored centralised monarchical systems, often viewing decentralised or "headless" societies through a lens of political inferiority. Many Niger Delta elites reinforced or refashioned their oral traditions to emphasise Benin ancestry to match the administrative expectations of colonial authorities. Aligning with a globally recognised empire like Benin protected these communities from being marginalised by British officials.

3.      Diplomatic and Commercial Strategic Alliances

The Niger Delta region was deeply interconnected via trade and diplomatic routes with Benin. Rather than a literal biological mass migration, many claims of "Benin origin" actually reflect ancient commercial, cultural, or military treaties. Over time, oral traditions often compressed these deep-seated trade relationships or historical alliances into a singular narrative of genetic ancestry.

4.      Cultural Syncretism and Royal Insignia

Many Niger Delta groups adopted political institutions, military strategies, artistic symbols, and royal insignia directly from Benin. When a local chiefdom adopted Benin-style governance, titles, or ritual items, the community's collective memory eventually translated the adoption of these cultural concepts into a story of literal physical migration from the Benin kingdom.

Conclusion

Alagoa emphasizes that while some migrations from Benin were physical and historical—such as the well-documented expansion of the Warri Kingdom under Prince Ginuwa—many other oral traditions should not be read as pure literal genealogy. Instead, they operate as sociopolitical tools used to claim status, organization, and prestige by anchoring a community's identity to a legendary centre of regional civilisation.

The controversy surrounding Benin origins thus reflects a deeper truth about how societies construct and deploy history. Oral traditions are not merely records of the past; they are living instruments of identity, legitimacy, and power. Recognising this does not diminish their value—it enriches our understanding of how communities navigate the complex terrain of memory, politics, and belonging

"HIS ROYAL MAJESTY" OR "HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS"? THE PROPER NOMENCLATURE FOR TRADITIONAL RULERS IN NIGERIA

 

INTRODUCTION

The nomenclature of traditional rulers in Nigeria is marked by inconsistency. Traditional rulers are addressed interchangeably as "His Royal Majesty" (HRM) and "His Royal Highness" (HRH), with no national standardization. In states with hierarchical classifications, first-class rulers are typically styled HRM, while second- and third-class rulers bear HRH. This essay argues that "His Royal Highness" is the constitutionally and historically proper title for all traditional rulers in Nigeria, and that "His Royal Majesty" is a misnomer inconsistent with Nigeria's republican status.

 

THE CURRENT PRACTICE: A FRAGMENTED LANDSCAPE

The application of royal honorifics varies across states. Hierarchical states reserve HRM for first-class rulers and HRH for lower classes. Delta State, however, operates no classification system under the Delta State Traditional Rulers Council and Chiefs Law (Cap T2); all recognized traditional rulers stand on equal legal footing, with no paramount ruler or permanent chairman. Despite this, individual rulers may unofficially adopt either title, reflecting the absence of a coherent national policy.

 

HISTORICAL ORIGINS: THE COLONIAL LEGACY

During colonial rule, traditional rulers were formally styled "His Royal Highness." This was deliberate. In British royal protocol, "Majesty" is reserved exclusively for reigning sovereigns, while "Highness" designates princes, dukes, and other non-sovereign royals. By applying HRH to Nigerian traditional rulers, the colonial administration signified their subordinate status under the British Crown. The title HRM was withheld because it would have implied equal sovereign status with the British monarch—a concession never made.

 

THE CONSTITUTIONAL REALITY: A REPUBLIC, NOT A MONARCHY

Nigeria is a federal republic. Sovereignty resides in the people, and the President is the head of state. Traditional rulers exercise no constitutional sovereign authority; their powers derive from state laws, not from inherent sovereign right.

The principle is clear: sovereign monarchs are styled "Majesty"; non-sovereign dignitaries are styled "Highness." Since Nigeria has no sovereign monarchs, the proper designation for traditional rulers is HRH. The title HRM implies sovereignty, which no Nigerian traditional ruler possesses in law.

 

THE CASE FOR UNIFORM "HIGHNESS"

Three compelling reasons support a uniform HRH designation:

1. Constitutional Accuracy: HRH reflects the true constitutional status of traditional rulers as non-sovereign authorities within a republic.
2. Historical Continuity: The colonial-era HRH designation remains legally apt, as traditional rulers remain subject to higher constitutional authorities (state governors and the federal government).
3. National Standardization: A uniform title eliminates confusion, promotes clarity in official and legal documents, and prevents the unauthorized assumption of sovereign pretensions.

 

COUNTERARGUMENTS ADDRESSED

Objection: Some states legally classify first-class rulers as HRM, and this should be respected.

Response: State laws may classify traditional rulers administratively, but they cannot confer sovereign status. HRM is not a mere administrative label; it carries constitutional and historical connotations that no state law can alter.

Objection: Ancient kingdoms like Oyo, Benin, and Sokoto have historical sovereignty warranting HRM.

Response: Cultural and historical significance is distinct from constitutional sovereignty. These rulers are revered cultural figures, but they govern no independent state and exercise no sovereign prerogative. HRH honors their status without constitutional misrepresentation.

CONCLUSION

The current haphazard use of HRM and HRH for traditional rulers lacks historical, constitutional, and logical justification. In a federal republic where sovereignty resides in the people and the President is the highest constitutional authority, no traditional ruler can properly bear the title "Majesty."

The uniform designation for all traditional rulers in Nigeria should be "His Royal Highness" —a title that accords dignity and respect while accurately reflecting their constitutional status as non-sovereign cultural leaders. The National Council of Traditional Rulers or appropriate legislative bodies should consider standardizing this nomenclature to eliminate confusion and uphold constitutional propriety.

ROOTS OF THE URHOBO/ITSEKIRI LANDS CONFLICT: THE THREE TRIGGER EVENTS

 

Introduction

The perennial land disputes between Urhobo and Itsekiri communities in the Warri region are not primordial ethnic conflicts. Instead, they can be traced to three decisive historical events, each of which planted the seeds of discord by forcibly altering the political and territorial landscape in favor of British administrative convenience and Itsekiri elite ambition.

1.      The 1848 Succession Crisis and the Itsekiri Diaspora

Following the death of Olu Akengbuwa and his heirs around 1848, a power vacuum and violent succession crisis erupted at Ode Itsekiri (Big Warri), leading to the town’s near-abandonment. The surviving royal princes fled and founded new settlements closer to what is now Warri Township:

- Prince Agbamu founded Ubeji

- Prince Yonwuren founded Ugbuwangue

- Prince Ewolofun founded Ugbori

These communities, now considered core Itsekiri settlements, literally owe their existence to this internal crisis. Significantly, in later land cases, the descendants of Prince Ewolofun (Ugbori) and Prince Yonwuren (Ugbuwangue) testified in court that their lands were not held under the overlordship of the Olu, and that upon arrival they met only Agbassa fishermen in the area (as testified in court by Ugbori litigants). 

The Critical Question: If settlements founded by Itsekiri princes do not recognise the Olu’s overlordship over their land, how can Urhobo settlements that predate these Itsekiri arrivals be considered the Olu’s tenants?

2.      The 1894 Ebrohimi Expedition and the Refugee Reversal

In 1894, British forces bombarded the Nana Olomu’s stronghold of Ebrohimi, captured him, and caused a mass exodus of Ebrohimi’s inhabitants. These refugees, including Nana’s own household, were granted shelter and land in Urhobo villages such as Sapele, Amuokpe, Elume, Ugbukurusu, Oghara, and others. In fact, Nana’s son, Celeone Nana, formally applied to Agbassa elders for land to build a home in 1925 after a long sojourn in Ovwian (Asagba).

The historical irony is stark: decades later, the descendants of these same refugees—the Itsekiri—turned on their Urhobo hosts, claiming legal ownership of the very lands that had offered them sanctuary. This pattern of receiving refuge then claiming ownership became a recurring source of bitterness and litigation. 

3.      The Death of George Eyube and the Rise of Dore Numa (The “Mistake of 1901”)

Dore Numa was appointed a Political Agent in 1894 on Nana Olomu’s fall, initially overseeing Benin River District while George Eyube, an Urhobo man, was appointed as their Political Agent for Warri District. Tragedy struck in 1901 when George Eyube died in a firearm accident. For mere administrative convenience, the British merged the two districts into a single Warri Province under Dore Numa, instead of appointing another Urhobo or Ijaw successor.

Professor Peter Ekeh rightly termed this the “Mistake of 1901.” Had Eyube lived, the British would have approached him—not Dore Numa—to acquire land for the new Warri Township. Instead, Dore used his new, expanded authority to:

- Fraudulently lease Urhobo and Ijaw lands as “Olu land”

- Pose as the Olu in court to validate these seizures

- Enjoy unwavering British protection in all legal challenges

Upon Dore’s death in 1932, the Itsekiri elite swiftly appropriated his colonial-era “legacy”—including the stolen Agbassa lands—institutionalizing the dispute for generations to come even though they opposed him in his lifetime.

Conclusion: A Conflict of Colonial Manufacture

These three events reveal a clear pattern: the Warri land crisis is not an ancient ethnic feud but a direct product of historical accidents, colonial manipulation, and the weaponisation of administrative power. The conflict was ignited not by traditional enmity, but by British policy decisions and the opportunistic adoption of a fabricated overlordship by Itsekiri elites. Understanding these roots is essential for any genuine resolution.

© Michael O. Dedon (2026)

THE ITSEKIRI LATER-DAY CLAIM TO OWNERSHIP OF SAPELE: A HISTORY OF INGRATITUDE AND JUDICIAL DEBUNKING

 

Recent public assertions by Chief Emmanuel Oritsejolomi Uduaghan (husband of Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan), purporting to represent the Itsekiri nation, regarding the ownership of Sapele Township are not only historically revisionist but a direct attempt to relitigate a matter conclusively settled by the West African Court of Appeal in 1942.

In a recent press release, Uduaghan issued a thinly veiled threat, warning that the Orodje of Okpe’s plan to erect a sub-palace in Sapele would be “resisted by every legal means possible” if it fell outside the 510 acres granted in the 1942 judgment. He further claimed, falsely, that “Sapele from time immemorial belongs to the Itsekiri people.”

This rhetoric ignores the unequivocal judicial record. The case of Chief Ayomanor v. Ginuwa II (1942) was a comprehensive defeat for the Itsekiri claim. The Okpe people, through their chiefs, sued for a declaration of title to all land known as Sapele Township. The Itsekiri defence, audaciously, claimed the Olu was the “rightful owner” and that the Okpe were “subjects” who owed him allegiance as overlord.

The trial judge, Justice Jackson, demolished this claim with scathing clarity. He found:

1.       The Land Was Okpe Farmland: The entire area was farmed by the Okpe (“Sobos”) from time immemorial.

2.    Itsekiri as Refugees, Not Rulers: After the 1894 British bombardment of Nana Olomu’s stronghold at Ebrohimi, “a large number of Jekkris [Itsekiri] ran for refuge to Sapele and there obtained the permission of the Sobos to settle, giving customary dashes for the grant of that privilege.”

3.      Dore Numa Was an Agent, Not an Overlord: The 1908 lease for 510 acres to the colonial government was signed by Chief Dore Numa on behalf of the Okpe chiefs and people. The court affirmed he acted as their agent, not as a representative of the Olu. For this service, the Okpe allowed him to keep £40 of the £100 annual rent—a business arrangement, not a tributary relationship.

4.      No Evidence of Itsekiri Authority: The judge noted there was “not a murmur of evidence” that any Itsekiri had ever exercised chiefly authority in Sapele before the 1890s. He dismissed the Itsekiri claims as “impudent” and their historical narrative as a “fantastic story of tradition.”

The judgment was explicit in its scope. The court granted the Okpe people a declaration of title as “the owners of that land now commonly known as the Sapele Township.” The 510 acres were merely the portion leased to the government; the title covered the township in its entirety. The judge explicitly rejected the idea that the township boundary was a property divide, stating that the Okpe ownership formed a “unity of character” across the region.

The present Itsekiri argument is a disingenuous distortion. They now claim the court only awarded 510 acres, attempting to imply the rest of Sapele is disputed or Itsekiri land. This is a deliberate misreading. The court case was about who owned the land of Sapele Township. The verdict was absolute: the Okpe people.

The Itsekiri claim that their presence in Sapele predates the Okpe and grants them a superior title is a profound historical distortion. While they cite colonial intelligence reports and selective historical references to assert an ancient settlement, the evidence presented and accepted in a court of law paints a different, definitive picture.

It is true that Itsekiri individuals were present in Sapele before the 1894 Nana War—but not as settlers or rulers. The court's judgment in Chief Ayomanor v. Ginuwa II clarifies their role:

• They were traders who frequented the area.
• The Okpe people, originally trading with the Ijaw, found Itsekiri merchants to be "better clients" and shifted their commerce accordingly.
• The letter from Okpe chief Omarin, cited by the Itsekiri as proof of overlordship, was definitively interpreted by the court. It showed that the Olu sent a "Captain" to Sapele to protect his own Itsekiri traders from potential Ijaw interference. This captain functioned as a policeman for Itsekiri commercial interests, not as an administrator exercising authority over the Okpe land or people.

The historical pattern is unmistakable and troubling: Itsekiri communities, welcomed as refugees by Urhobo hosts in Sapele, Amuokpe (Sagay family), and Oghara after the Nana War, later turned to claim overlordship over their benefactors. The courts have consistently rejected these claims, but the revisionist rhetoric persists, threatening the peace and rewriting a history of sanctuary into one of spurious entitlement.

The Itsekiri claim to Sapele epitomizes a recurring pattern in their relations with Urhobo neighbours: receiving sanctuary and later recasting it as sovereignty. Their pre-1894 presence was commercial and transient; their permanent settlement was contingent on Okpe consent. To now claim "overlordship" or primordial ownership is not only contradicted by judicial fact but represents a profound rewriting of a history built on Urhobo hospitality. The court correctly recognized this, dismissing the claim to authority as baseless and the historical narrative supporting it as a "fantastic story of tradition."

The matter is settled in law and in fact. Sapele is, and has been judicially confirmed to be, Okpe land. Any suggestion otherwise is not a legitimate historical claim, but a dangerous and ungrateful revival of a long-debunked colonial-era fiction.

© Michael O. Dedon (2026)

The Hypocrisy of Itsekiri Overlordship: A Weapon Against Others, Rejected by Their Own

 

Introduction

The Itsekiri claim of Olu overlordship over non-Itsekiri lands is not a consistent legal principle but a political weapon, selectively applied. Its fundamental hypocrisy is laid bare by two facts: Itsekiri communities themselves reject it when applied to their own lands, and its legal validity has always depended on judicial complicity rather than historical truth.

The Selective Enforcement of Overlordship

In two landmark cases, the same claim—Olu overlordship—was treated in opposite ways, exposing its dubious foundation:

1.   Ometan v. Dore Numa (Agbassa Warri Land): The colonial court accepted the overlordship fiction to protect the British proxy, Dore Numa, dispossessing the Agbassa people despite their clear prior occupancy and the existence of a treaty affirming their autonomy (which the court conveniently overlooked).

2.   Ayomanor v. Ginuwa II (Sapele Land): Here, a more principled judge dismissed the identical claim of overlordship as baseless, calling the supporting narrative a "fantastic story of tradition" which emanated largely from the fertile brain of that self-styled historian, Chief William Moore. The court recognized the Okpe as the true owners and the Itsekiri as refugees who settled with Okpe permission.

This inconsistency reveals overlordship not as law, but as politics. When courts served colonial interests (protecting Dore), the fiction was upheld. When courts sought justice, it was dismissed offhandedly.

Understanding "Overlordship": Sovereignty vs. Ownership

The Itsekiri argument conflates two distinct concepts:

● Sovereignty (Overlordship): Supreme political authority over a territory—a public, governmental power.

 

●       Title (Ownership): The private, legal right to possess, use, and transfer specific property.

 

A sovereign does not automatically own all land within his domain. The British Crown, for example, held radical title over Nigeria but did not claim ownership of every family’s farm. The Olu’s purported overlordship, even if historically valid (which it is not), would be a political authority, not a proprietary one. It would not justify dispossessing families of land they have owned for generations. An overlord usually exercises sovereign rights over lands in his domain and not title to the land as sovereignty and property operate in distinct legal and moral domains. Sovereign rights over land and title to land represent two distinct legal domains: public authority versus private ownership.

Crucially, any vestige of the Olu's colonial-era "sovereignty" was extinguished by:

●       The creation of the Itsekiri Communal Land Trust (ICLT, 1959), which took over administrative control of the Dore Numa leases. The ICTL was created to cure a defect in the Olu's overlordship claim which only vested sovereign rights and not title to land. The creation of the ICTL was to enable the Itsekiri establishment gain title to the said Dore leases and other Itsekiri communally owned lands. Trouble came for the ICTL when it overstepped its mandate by encroaching onto Itsekiri and Urhobo privately held lands in Warri which eventually led to its dissolution by the government.

 

●       The Land Use Act (1978), which vested all land in the state governor, nullifying any traditional claims to sovereignty over territory. This effectively killed the Olu's sovereign rights claim as there cannot be two sovereigns within one domain.

The Itsekiri Themselves Reject Overlordship

The most damning evidence against the overlordship claim comes from Itsekiri communities. They have consistently and successfully fought the Olu and the ICLT in court to protect their family-owned lands:

●       The Forcados Case (Dore v. Olue, 1921): where the Ugborodo/Ogidigben people resisted Dore’s claims, forcing a compromise that recognized family land ownership.

 

●       Arthur Prest v. ICLT (1971): The ICLT lost its claim to Ugbuwangue lands after the claim of overlordship was resisted.

 

●     Ugbori Land Case: The descendants of Prince Ewolofun (John Anewe Omagbemi) defeated the ICLT, arguing the Olu is overlord of people (Olaja), not land (Olale). To prove their independent founding, they called the Otota of Agbassa to testify that the Agbassa were the only people present when their ancestors arrived—the ultimate irony.

●       Ekurede land Case: The descendants of Oforudu (Ovor’Udu) who were divided over the history of Ekurede’s founding. One faction claimed that the Olu granted permission for the land’s establishment, while the other contended that it was founded by Oforudu from Udu (Urhobo), with the original name being Okurode, later changed to Ekurede. Some members of the family were influenced by the Olu, who offered them a chieftaincy title and other incentives to support a distorted version of how Ekurede came to be in order to maintain the overlordship narrative.

The Ultimate Hypocrisy: A Weapon Turned Inward

The pattern is undeniable: Itsekiri elites champion overlordship to claim others' lands (Ogbe Ijoh, Agbassa, Ogunu, Sapele) but reject it fiercely to protect their own lands (Ugborodo, Ugbori, Ugbuwangue, Omadino, Ekurede). This is not a legal doctrine but a tool of territorial expansion.

John Anewe Omagbemi’s Ugbori land case epitomizes this. His father (Omagbemi) was used to continue Dore’s case against the Agbassa (after Dore died) on appeal, yet he later led the fight to protect Ugbori from the very same overlordship doctrine. This is the core hypocrisy: Overlordship is valid only when it dispossesses a neighbour; it becomes an illegitimate "colonial fiction" the moment it threatens an Itsekiri family’s patrimony.

 
Conclusion: A Doctrine Built on Sand

The Olu’s overlordship is:

1.      Historically false: A British colonial invention for administrative convenience.

2.      Legally inconsistent: Upheld only by complicit courts, rejected by principled ones.

3.   Rejected by its purported beneficiaries: Itsekiri communities themselves deny it applies to their family lands.

4.      Politically extinguished: Superseded by the Land Use Act.

It is not a principle of customary law but a strategy of conflict, sustained by historical revisionism and maintained only so long as it serves a political purpose against non-Itsekiri communities. Its continued assertion is the greatest barrier to peace and justice in Warri.

 

© Michael O. Dedon (2026)

PREEMPTION OF LOCAL OR STATE LAW BY THE MONTREAL CONVENTION IN AVIATION LITIGATION IN NIGERIA

Abstract:

The Montreal Convention, the treaty that regulates international air travel, completely preempts state law causes of action in contracts of air transportation. However, it is a common practice in Nigeria for plaintiff passengers to assert causes of action that arise under local or state law in causes of action founded upon air travel. This practice is, to some extent, encouraged by the law Courts who often times resort to applying principles of domestic/common law to allow remedies not permitted by the Convention. The article examined the evolution and present state of the law governing the preemption of passenger claims for compensation for harm arising from air travel under the Montreal Convention as applicable to Nigeria.

Introduction:

It is a common practice in Nigeria for aggrieved passengers to sue airlines for alleged damages sustained during air travel but allege a cause of action founded upon principles of domestic/common law of contract or tort and this practice is not helped by the Courts who most often times hide under the principle of ubi jus ubi remedium[1] to allow this anomaly. Claims arising from air travel in Nigeria are completely regulated by an international treaty, the Montreal Convention.[2] By virtue of the provisions of the Convention, a passenger is not allowed to assert causes of action that lies outside of the Convention as the Convention provides the exclusive mechanism for recovery for injuries or other damages that arise during air travel. This article highlights the legal consequence for Nigeria in signing the Montreal Convention and the implication for air travelers in asserting their rights against airlines in Nigeria.

What is the Montreal Convention?

According to West (2016),[3] the Warsaw Convention[4] was passed in 1929 to protect the young airline industry from liability levels that could threaten its viability. Ultimately, these goals went unmet as numerous amendments stripped the Convention of its uniformity and easy applicability. To fix this confusion, the signatories to the Warsaw Convention met in 1999 and created the Montreal Convention, which superseded the original convention and sought to fix these issues.  The Montreal Convention thus unifies all of the different international treaty regimes covering airline liability that had developed haphazardly since 1929. It excludes national rules in favour of a unified international legal regime. Uniformity requires that passengers be denied access to the profusion of remedies that may exist under the laws of a particular country in preference for the convention.

The Montreal Convention is adopted into Nigerian law by Section 50 of the Civil Aviation Act[5] wherein it is provided as follows:

“The provisions contained in the Convention for the Unification of Certain Rules Relating to international Carriage by Air signed at Montreal on 28th May, 1999. as has been modified and Set out in the Third Schedule of this Act and as amended from time to time, shall from commencement of this Act have force of law and apply to international/non‐international carriage by air within Nigeria, irrespective of the nationality of the aircraft performing the carriage and shall subject to the provisions of this Act, govern the rights and liabilities of carriers, passengers, consignors, consignees and other persons.”

From the date of commencement of the Act, the Montreal Convention became the basis for establishing an airline’s liability for both international and non-international air travel in Nigeria. By the said act of ratification (and consequently the adoption of its provisions), in so far as it entails consent of Nigeria to be bound, ipso facto reflects the current preferences of Nigeria at the time of ratification that the Convention be the only basis for air travelers in Nigeria to vindicate their rights and this cannot be amended by a law Court by applying domestic/common law doctrines.

Preemption under the Montreal Convention:

As stated above, the Convention excludes national rules in favour of a unified international legal regime. To that end, it contains a clause (Article 29) which preempts the application of national or other local rules that might otherwise have been applicable in the absence of the Convention. This preemptive effect is a fundamental aspect of the legal regime established by the Convention and reflected in the title of the Convention as a convention for the unification of certain rules for international carriage by air. Challenging that preemptive effect therefore goes to the root of what the Convention is about and is an anathema. Preemption under the Montreal Convention is governed by its Article 29, “Basis of Claims,” which states: 

“In the carriage of passengers, baggage and cargo, any action for damages, however founded, whether under this Convention or in contract or in tort or otherwise, can only be brought subject to the conditions and such limits of liability as are set out in this Convention without prejudice to the question as to who are the persons who have the right to bring the suit and what are their respective rights. In any such action, punitive, exemplary or any other non-compensatory damages shall not be recoverable.”

The implication of the preemptive nature of the Convention is that for a plaintiff to find a cause of action in a contract of carriage by air, there must be a remedy for a perceived grievance under any of its provisions and not outside of it. If a remedy cannot be asserted under the Convention, then the plaintiff has no other remedy. The case law that governs the recoverability of damages under the Convention was first espoused in the landmark decision of El Al Israel Airlines v. Tseng,[6] where the United States Supreme Court determined that the Warsaw Convention (the predecessor to the Montreal Convention) provided the exclusive remedy for any claims falling within its scope. The Court found that “[R]ecovery for a personal injury suffered ‘on board an aircraft or in the course of any of the operations of embarking or disembarking,’ if not allowed under the Convention, is not available at all.” In so finding, the Court interpreted Article 24 of the Warsaw Convention, as clarified by Montreal Protocol No. 4, as precluding a passenger from stating any air transit personal injury claims under “local” law. 

Since that time, the holding in Tseng has been expanded to a number of cases interpreting similar provisions involved with the Montreal Convention. For example, in Nobre v. American Airlines,[7] the Court held the Montreal Convention is the “exclusive mechanism for recovery for personal injuries suffered on board an aircraft or in the course of embarking or disembarking from an airplane. The Court noted that, if a claim falls within the reach of the Convention, it must be brought under its terms or not at all. In other words, a Court must be wary in entertaining claims that alleges state-court causes of action. If plaintiff is asserting causes of action that arise under local or state law, the action is prohibited by the Montreal Convention and plaintiff should be precluded from recovery for same. Furthermore, the House of Lords in Abnett v British Airways Plc; Sidhu v British Airways Plc[8] also reiterated the exclusivity rule thus:

“The Convention is, of course, tightly drawn on these matters. This has been done in the interests of the carrier, whose exposure to these liabilities without the freedom to contract out of them was a principal consequence of the system which it laid down. Were remedies outside the Convention to become available, it would encourage litigation in other cases to restrict its application still further in the hope of obtaining a better remedy, against which the carrier would have no protection under the contract. I am in no doubt that the Convention was designed to eliminate these difficulties. I see no escape from the conclusion that, where the Convention has not provided a remedy, no remedy is available.”

The Montreal Convention by its nature, in fact, also overrides constitutional guarantees of fundamental rights. Thus in King v American Airlines,[9] a passenger was denied boarding allegedly based on racial discrimination. The claim was preempted in favour of the Convention as a remedy could not be found under it. In Thibodeau v Air Canada,[10] a passengers’ claim of denial of the right for cabin announcements in the flight to be made in the two official languages of Canada, viz. English or French as provided for under the Canadian Official Languages Act (OLA) was preempted by the Court on the ground that the Montreal Convention precluded any claim to damages other than those provided for in the Convention by a passenger against a carrier in relation to events on board on aircraft or during embarkation or disembarkation. Also, in Stott v Thomas Cook Tour Operators Ltd,[11] which concerned a serious failure by an airline to make sufficient arrangement to provide for the needs of a disabled passenger, in breach of EU legislation on the rights of disabled passengers and its UK implementing measures, the UK Supreme Court held that the Convention would preempt any claim by a passenger towards an airline regarding damage caused on board, regardless of the basis for the claim if the same is not covered by it.

Thus the protective envelope shielding airlines from legal duties towards their passengers is not limited to ordinary contract and tort matters but can result in passengers being stripped of the fundamental rights they would normally be able to invoke in any other context than that of air transport. In a nutshell, in any law suit pertaining to performance or enforcement of a contract of air transportation in Nigeria, a party cannot resort to the domestic/common law principles of contract/tort in finding a cause of action for a perceived grievance nor can a Court entertain such actions by purporting to apply domestic/common law doctrines. This is because the only rights and obligations of the parties are those provided for under the Convention and not outside of it. This point was well reiterated by the Supreme Court in Harka Air Services Ltd. v Keazor[12] thus:

“The law is that where a domestic/common law right has been enacted into a statutory provision, it is to the statutory provision that resort must be had for such right and not the domestic/common law. Hence an air passenger is not at liberty to choose as between the provisions of the Convention and the domestic/common law for claims for damages against the carrier. Such claims have to be asserted only in accordance with and subject to the terms and conditions of the Convention and cannot be pursued under any other law.”[13]

Conclusion:

The underlying effect of the Montreal Convention is that it is preemptive of claims arising under national laws in contracts of air transportation. The implication is that an aggrieved passenger cannot go outside of the Convention to find a remedy for cause of action founded upon air travel. The exclusivity rule of the Convention functions as a device to protect airlines from unwarranted liability to consumers. It reflects the current preferences of states that are parties to the Convention as to how to balance consumer interests and industry interests in the field of air transport. In other words, our Courts should discountenance law suits arising from air travel but seeking remedies outside of the Convention.

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[1] A Latin legal maxim that translates to "where there is a right, there is a remedy."

[2] Convention for the Unification of Certain Rules for International Carriage by Air (Montreal, 28 May 1999) (Montreal Convention).

[3] West, A. (2016), ‘Defining “Accidents” in the Air: Why Tort Law Principles Are Essential to Interpret the Montreal Convention’s “Accident” Requirement’ Fordham Law Review Vol. 18, Issue 3, Art. 18.

[4] Convention for the Unification of Certain Rules Relating to International Carriage by Air, Signed at Warsaw on 12 October 1929 (Warsaw Convention).

[5] Laws of the Federation of Nigeria, 2022.

[6] 525 U.S. 155 (1999).

[7] 2009 WL 5125976 (S.D. Fla. Dec. 21, 2009).

[8] [1997] 1 All E.R. 193.

[9] 284 F 3d 352.

[10] 284 F 3d 352.

[11] [2014] UKSC 15.

[12] [2011] All FWLR (Pt.591) 1402).

[13] See also Emirate Airline v. Tochukwu Aforka & Anor. (2014) LPELR-22686(CA).