Cultism in Osun: A Failure of Leadership, Not of Youth, By Bamidele Alabi

The recent killing of a notorious cult figure in Esa-Oke, and the mixed public reactions that followed, have exposed an uncomfortable reality: cultism is no longer a fringe problem in Osun State. It has become deeply entrenched within the social fabric of many communities.

From Esa-Oke to Osogbo and several other major towns across the state, residents can now identify cult strongholds with disturbing precision. Entire neighbourhoods have become informally divided among rival groups, transforming what should be isolated criminal incidents into an accepted feature of daily life. Violence that once shocked communities is increasingly viewed as routine. This normalization of territorial control by criminal groups should be a source of serious concern for government at all levels.

Equally troubling are the signals being sent by those in positions of influence. Whenever political actors are perceived to celebrate, romanticise, or associate with individuals widely linked to violent criminal activities, the distinction between acceptable conduct and criminality becomes dangerously blurred. At a time when citizens are yearning for safety and stability, leadership must send an unequivocal message: crime has no heroes and violence deserves no admiration.

Beyond the headlines, however, lies a deeper and more troubling question. How did society arrive at a point where so many young people see cult groups as viable alternatives to legitimate pathways of advancement?

It is easy—and intellectually convenient—to blame the youth. Yet young people neither formulate public policy nor control the institutions responsible for economic development and law enforcement. Those responsibilities rest squarely with political leaders, policymakers, and the broader social elite.

For decades, successive administrations have failed to build a socio-economic framework capable of guaranteeing meaningful opportunities for young people. Today, a significant segment of the youth population finds itself trapped between unemployment, underemployment, and limited access to quality education. Many are neither in school nor gainfully employed, leaving them vulnerable to exploitation and recruitment.

This vacuum has created fertile ground for three interconnected forces. Criminal networks seek street-level operatives to carry out illicit activities. Cult groups offer a false sense of belonging, identity, protection, and power. Political actors, particularly during election cycles, often view vulnerable youths as expendable foot soldiers to be mobilised and discarded when political objectives have been achieved.

This is not a new phenomenon. Decades ago, Chief Obafemi Awolowo foresaw the dangers inherent in abandoning young people to economic uncertainty. His philosophy of full employment was never simply about expanding government payrolls. Rather, it was about creating a society in which every young person had a stake in stability and progress. His vision was straightforward: every youth should either be receiving an education, acquiring a vocational skill, or participating productively in the economy.

The wisdom of that philosophy remains relevant today. When young people are left in an economic and social vacuum, society eventually bears the cost of their frustration, alienation, and desperation.

For this reason, Osun State cannot arrest its way out of the cultism crisis. While effective policing remains essential for containing immediate threats and protecting lives, law enforcement alone addresses only the symptoms of a much deeper problem.

To dismantle the structures that sustain cultism, the state must adopt a deliberate and comprehensive strategy focused on prevention, rehabilitation, and reintegration. Such a framework should be anchored on several key pillars.

First, there must be substantial investment in socio-economic empowerment through standardised vocational training, sports development initiatives, entrepreneurship support programmes, and pathways to sustainable employment.

Second, political leaders across party lines must reach a firm consensus to end the practice of recruiting, funding, and weaponising vulnerable youths during electoral contests. Any serious anti-cultism agenda must begin with political accountability.

Third, greater attention must be paid to resource governance, particularly within informal mining activities that often attract illegal cash flows, criminal elements, and violent competition for control.

Fourth, mental health and social support systems require urgent strengthening. Community-based counselling and rehabilitation programmes can help address the trauma, substance abuse, and social dislocation that frequently accompany cult involvement.

Finally, security architecture must evolve towards genuine community policing, where trust is rebuilt between residents and law enforcement agencies. Effective intelligence gathering and crime prevention are difficult to achieve when communities and security institutions operate in mutual suspicion.

Ultimately, cultism is a governance challenge masquerading as a law enforcement problem. Any society that provides its young people with credible opportunities for education, employment, and social mobility naturally becomes resistant to cult recruitment. Conversely, a society that offers little hope for advancement will continue to produce new generations of criminal actors, perpetuating cycles of violence, retaliation, and grief.

The debate over whether cultism constitutes a menace has long been settled. The more pressing question is whether Osun’s leaders possess the political will to implement the bold and deliberate policies required to make cultism irrelevant. That can only happen when education becomes accessible, employment opportunities expand, and pathways to economic advancement are available to all.

That is the conversation Osun State urgently needs to have.

 

Bamidele Alabi, a sociologist, writes from Esa-Oke, in Obokun Local Government Area of Osun State.