Not Just a Name: Why Ibadan Poly’s Identity Must Be Protected

Governor Seyi Makinde’s recent decision to rename The Polytechnic, Ibadan to Omololu Olunloyo Polytechnic, Ibadan has ignited a wave of controversy across the state and beyond. Intended as a tribute to the late Dr. Victor Omololu Olunloyo, respected technocrat, scholar, and the school’s pioneer Principal, the move was announced at the former governor’s funeral to honour his contributions to Oyo State. But rather than inspire unity or reverence, the renaming has provoked outrage among students, alumni, and concerned citizens who see the act not just as a tribute, but as a threat to a cherished identity.

The name “The Polytechnic, Ibadan” is more than institutional signage. It holds generations of history, struggle, achievement, and pride for thousands of people across Nigeria and the diaspora. From convocation gowns to certificates, job interviews to professional circles, the name carries weight. It is tied to personal stories, family legacies, and the collective memory of a community that built its identity within those school walls. What makes the backlash particularly fierce is not just the decision itself, but the manner in which it was made, without public consultation, without engaging stakeholders, and without offering a transition narrative that respects what already exists.

Governor Makinde has long been hailed as a listening leader, one whose democratic instincts often shine through in his governance style. But this moment now demands that he listens again, not just to applause at a funeral service, but to the pulse of the people, especially those who studied, taught, worked, and lived the name The Polytechnic, Ibadan. If his administration insists on renaming, clarity and justification are needed. What was the process followed? Was the school’s governing council involved? Was the academic board consulted? These questions are not antagonistic, they are democratic.

Preserving the identity of Ibadan Poly does not mean disrespecting Dr. Olunloyo. In fact, the reverse is true. A legacy as rich as his deserves to be honoured through thoughtful, unifying gestures. A dedicated building, a state archive, a research fellowship, or even a public monument could immortalise his contributions without overriding the name that thousands of students still carry on their academic records. When we erase the name of a school, we are not just changing signboards, we are editing memory. And such editing must be done with sensitivity, inclusion, and clarity.

Students and alumni now stand at a crossroads. Their frustration is valid, but the response must be strategic, peaceful, and coordinated. Rather than turning to protests that could become counterproductive, they can take the moral high ground by petitioning the State Assembly, engaging education stakeholders, and demanding a seat at the table. This is the time to speak, not with rage, but with reason. Let the record show that they were not silent when a piece of their identity was at stake.

At the heart of this controversy is a deeper question: how do we honour the past without trampling on the present? How do we build legacies without erasing others? For a government that has made inclusion and modernisation its hallmark, this is a test of both principle and political maturity.

Makinde can still turn this around. He can show that he honours Olunloyo not just through renaming, but by upholding the very values Olunloyo stood for, excellence, legacy, and public trust. And that starts by listening to the people who built and belong to The Polytechnic, Ibadan.

The name deserves to remain. The people deserve to be heard. And Governor Makinde still has the chance to lead with both honour and humility.

Ayo Ayoola