As an Igbo researcher and enthusiast of my culture, I often reflect on the depth and beauty of the Igbo way of life before colonization.
I’ve come to understand it was a society steeped in order, respect, and balance—built on values that prioritized community, fairness, and the sacred interconnectedness of all things.
However, with European interference came disruption. Our indigenous systems of governance were replaced, our natural practices dismissed, and our collective identity severely challenged.
When I think of what we neglected, I don’t dwell on despair. Instead, I see a call to action—a responsibility to unearth and reclaim the values and customs that made us a people of wisdom and resilience.
Igbo Governance: A Model of True Democracy and Accountability
Before colonization, Igbo governance was a marvel of decentralized democracy. Unlike the monarchies that dominated other regions, the Igbo operated under a system where power was distributed among various groups, ensuring no one person could dominate the community.
I’m proud of how the village assembly embodied participatory democracy. Decisions that affected the entire village were made collectively, with every adult male having the right to speak.
Yet, this wasn’t a society that excluded women. The Umuada, a council of women born into the village, and the ‘Otu Inyom‘, a collective of married women, wielded significant influence. They were custodians of morality and arbiters in disputes, ensuring that balance was maintained.
Today, these structures have largely been eroded. Colonization introduced the warrant chief system, centralizing power in individuals who were often unaccountable to their communities.
This shift undermined the collaborative spirit of Igbo governance. Worse still, women’s leadership roles, which had been integral to our society, were diminished, leaving a void that we are only now beginning to fill.
Values of Communal Living and Reciprocity
One of the most cherished values of pre-colonial Igbo society was the idea of igwebuike—“there is strength in unity.” Growing up, I often heard my elders emphasize this principle.
It taught us that no one thrives in isolation; our success, happiness, and even survival depended on how well we supported one another.
In practice, this meant that wealth and knowledge were shared. The igba boi apprenticeship system, for instance, allowed young people to learn trades under the mentorship of established businessmen, who provided not just skills but also capital to set them up for success. The success of one meant the upliftment of many.
Compare this to today, where individualism often overshadows communal responsibility. Modern society encourages competition over cooperation, leaving many feeling isolated.
The igba boi system, while still practiced, has lost some of its prominence in favor of Western-style education and corporate aspirations. While progress is important, I wonder how much more cohesive our communities could be if we restored these systems of mutual upliftment.
Spirituality and Morality as a Way of Life
For the Igbo, spirituality wasn’t separate from daily life—it was life itself. We revered Chukwu, the Supreme Creator, alongside lesser gods, ancestors, and nature spirits.
This belief system instilled a deep respect for the environment and for each other. Morality was tied to spirituality, with the understanding that actions had consequences not only in this life but also in the spiritual realm.
Festivals like the New Yam Festival celebrated gratitude and renewal, reminding us of our natural connection to our environment and to one another.
Veneration and ceremonies kept us aligned with the divine, while oral traditions passed down lessons of morality, integrity, courage, and humanity.
Today, much of this spirituality has been dismissed as “pagan” or outdated. Missionary efforts during colonization replaced traditional beliefs with Christianity, often painting our way of life as inferior. The same thing the Muslims have been doing across North Africa since the Jihad.
While some Igbo people, including myself, practice Christianity, I also see the wisdom in our ancestral spirituality and the need to preserve it. Our ancestors lived with a sense of balance and accountability that modern organised religion often struggles to replicate.
Justice Rooted in Restoration
One of the most remarkable aspects of Igbo culture before colonization was the justice system. Justice wasn’t about punishment but about restoration.
If someone wronged another, the goal was to restore harmony, not to isolate or destroy the offender. This was achieved through restitution, public apologies, or rituals of reconciliation.
I often wonder how different our world would be if we still embraced this approach. Today’s legal systems, influenced by Western frameworks, focus heavily on punishment and retribution, often neglecting the healing of relationships and communities.
What We Lost – and What We Can Reclaim
Colonization didn’t just alter our systems—it attempted to replace them entirely. The democratic, inclusive governance structures that ensured fairness were replaced with centralized systems that marginalized the voices of the people.
The communal values that fostered unity gave way to individualism, creating gaps in social cohesion. Our spirituality, once a guiding force, was pushed to the margins, leaving many disconnected from the wisdom of our ancestors.
But all is not lost. The echoes of our heritage still resonate in our proverbs, festivals, and oral traditions. The resilience of the Igbo spirit has ensured that much of our culture survives, waiting to be rediscovered.
To rebuild what was lost, we must start with intentional efforts:
1. Reviving Governance Structures: Let us reintroduce consultative leadership and ensure women and youth are included in decision-making processes, just as they were in pre-colonial times.
2. Promoting Communal Values: By teaching the principles of igwebuike and onye aghana nwanne ya, we can rebuild communities that prioritize collective well-being over individual gain.
3. Restoring Indigenous Knowledge: Schools and cultural centers can become spaces where young Igbo people learn about their history, governance systems, and natural morality.
4. Embracing Our Philosophy: We can celebrate our festivals, honor our ancestry, and find ways to blend indigenous production practices with modern science, ensuring that our ingenuity remains alive.
The Way Forward
Reflecting on what we’ve lost isn’t about lamentation—it’s about finding the strength to reclaim and rebuild. The Igbo culture before colonization was a tapestry of wisdom, resilience, and balance.
By understanding and honoring this heritage, we don’t just preserve our past—we create a future that is deeply rooted in who we are.
As an Igbo writer, I feel a deep responsibility to tell our stories, to remind us of where we come from, and to inspire us to reclaim what is ours.
The legacy of our ancestors is not lost; it lives within us. It is our duty to nurture it, celebrate it, and pass it on to the generations to come.
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