Across Nigeria today, a growing number of young people are questioning the religions they inherited.
Some are leaving Christianity.
Some are leaving Islam.
Some are returning to Òrìṣà traditions and other forms of indigenous spirituality.
There is nothing wrong with asking questions.
In fact, questioning is where understanding begins.
But perhaps there is another question we should be asking:
Are we returning to our traditions simply to believe them, or are we also prepared to study, understand and develop the knowledge behind them?
That distinction matters.
We inherited more than religion
Ifá is often discussed today mainly as a religious or spiritual system.
But UNESCO describes Ifá as a complex system of signs connected to a large body of knowledge concerning Yoruba history, philosophy, medicine and mythology. Its literary corpus is organized around 256 Odù.
That alone should make a curious young person stop and ask questions.
Why 256?
What is the structure behind it?
How is information organized?
How are patterns generated?
How are those patterns connected to human problems and decisions?
These are not only religious questions.
They are also questions about information, mathematics, cognition, decision-making and knowledge systems.
Look at the number 256
Ifá begins with sixteen principal Odù and expands into 256 possible configurations.
Mathematically:
16 × 16 = 256
And 256 is also:
2⁸ = 256
Eight positions, each capable of two states, create 256 possible combinations.
That does not mean our ancestors were building modern digital computers.
We should not rewrite history.
But it does mean that there is an information structure here worthy of serious investigation.
Instead of stopping at:
“It is spiritual.”
or:
“It is magic.”
why shouldn't the next generation also ask:
“How does it work?”
Think about ikin and ọ̀pẹ̀lẹ̀
Traditional Ifá consultation can use 16 sacred palm nuts known as ikin. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, for example, documents the sixteen sacred ikin as essential objects in Ifá divination.
Ifá also uses the divining chain, ọ̀pẹ̀lẹ̀.
Both approaches ultimately identify one of the 256 Odù.
That raises a question I find fascinating.
Not a historical claim, but a thought experiment:
If the tradition could develop different ways of arriving at the same body of knowledge, what does that tell us about innovation?
And an even bigger question:
If Ọ̀rúnmìlà were living in our technological age, what would he be investigating?
Would he simply insist that everyone keep doing everything exactly as it was done centuries ago?
Or would a mind associated with wisdom, knowledge and inquiry be curious about mathematics, neuroscience, computing, artificial intelligence and consciousness?
None of us can answer that on behalf of Ọ̀rúnmìlà.
But it is a question worth asking.
Don't stop at magic
Our ancestors did not have EEG machines.
They did not have computers capable of processing billions of calculations.
They did not have modern neuroscience laboratories.
They did not have artificial intelligence.
We do.
Today researchers can record electrical activity from the brain, decode aspects of intended movement, and use those signals to control external devices.
In 2025, researchers demonstrated a non-invasive brain-computer interface that decoded brain signals associated with intended finger movements and translated them into robotic finger movement.
Another study combined brain-computer interfaces with an AI copilot and enabled a participant with paralysis to control a robotic arm to move objects.
That is not magic.
It is measurement, signal processing, neuroscience, engineering and artificial intelligence.
Something invisible—a neural intention—can now be detected, interpreted and translated into physical action.
That should make every curious young African ask:
What else don't we yet understand?
Respect tradition. Investigate it.
There are two mistakes we can make with inherited knowledge.
One is to reject everything our ancestors knew because it does not fit modern religion.
The other is to accept everything unquestioningly because it came from our ancestors.
Neither approach is understanding.
We should be able to say:
This tradition deserves respect.
And at the same time:
This tradition deserves investigation.
We can preserve Yoruba language, stories, philosophy and wisdom while still asking difficult questions.
We can consult Babaláwo.
We can consult historians.
We can bring in mathematicians.
We can bring in neuroscientists.
We can bring in computer scientists.
We can bring in Christian and Muslim scholars.
Then we can compare what different knowledge traditions have learned about the same human problems.
That is a much more interesting future than simply arguing about which religion is superior.
This is where Binaryology begins
This thinking led to an experiment we call 256 Binaryology.
Binaryology does not ask people to abandon Christianity.
It does not ask Muslims to abandon Islam.
It does not ask traditional practitioners to abandon Ifá.
And it does not claim that an ancient divination system is secretly a modern computer.
Instead, Binaryology starts with a simpler question:
Can we study the 256-pattern structure of Odù as a knowledge and decision-support framework, and then compare its wisdom with other traditions and modern knowledge?
The platform begins with all 256 Odù.
A person comes with a real-life purpose or question.
A pattern is generated.
The corresponding Odù becomes the starting point for reflection.
Then related wisdom can be explored across traditions, including Ifá, the Bible, the Qur'an and other knowledge sources.
The objective is not to tell people what to believe.
The objective is to encourage people to understand.
From consultation to consciousness
Human beings have always tried to answer questions such as:
Why is this happening to me?
What should I do next?
What is the consequence of this decision?
What pattern am I failing to see?
Religion has addressed these questions.
Philosophy has addressed them.
Ifá has addressed them.
Science addresses them differently.
Artificial intelligence is beginning to address them in yet another way.
Perhaps the opportunity for our generation is not to force these worlds into competition.
Perhaps it is to study where they intersect—and where they do not.
That is part of what Binaryology is designed to explore.
Nigerian youth have a bigger responsibility
Imagine if the brightest young Nigerians interested in Ifá were also studying:
- artificial intelligence,
- neuroscience,
- mathematics,
- robotics,
- medicine,
- linguistics,
- anthropology,
- history,
- data science,
- and philosophy.
Imagine a Babaláwo sitting with a neuroscientist.
Imagine an Ifá scholar working with a computer scientist.
Imagine Yoruba oral knowledge being properly digitized, translated, compared and preserved.
Imagine our young people building new technologies inspired by African questions rather than simply consuming technologies built elsewhere.
That, to me, is a much more powerful form of cultural revival.
Our ancestors completed their chapter
Our responsibility is not merely to repeat it.
Their tools were the tools available to them.
Our tools are different.
We have laboratories.
We have satellites.
We have genomic science.
We have brain imaging.
We have quantum physics.
We have robotics.
We have artificial intelligence.
And we still have questions about consciousness, purpose, decision-making and human existence that none of these technologies have completely answered.
So perhaps the right question for Nigerian youth is not:
“Should I go back to traditional religion?”
Perhaps the bigger question is:
“What knowledge did my ancestors leave behind—and what can my generation discover next?”
That is the conversation Binaryology wants to begin.
Respect the tradition.
Study the knowledge.
Question what you do not understand.
Build what the next generation will inherit.
Don't stop at magic. Investigate...