By Prof. Chiwuike Uba, Ph.D.
In a famous fictional scene from the “Game of Thrones” series, a man boldly declared, “Knowledge is power.” Instantly, the queen commanded her guards to seize him, and as they obeyed without hesitation, she smiled and replied, “Power is power.”
That moment, though imagined, mirrors a brutal truth in our world today: the illusion that brute force—military, political, ecclesiastical, or corporate—can override truth, insight, and reason. The man was spared, not because the queen found his words convincing, but because he held a key piece of information she needed. Ironically, the very knowledge she dismissed became her tool for dominance.
This scene is more than entertainment. It exposes a deep contradiction in society’s power structures: the disdain for wisdom, yet the desperate dependence on it. And nowhere is this contradiction more visible than in Nigeria today.
In every society—whether democratic or religious—power is meant to be a tool for protection, progress, and justice. Yet, across Nigeria’s political landscape and even within its religious institutions, especially the Church, power has increasingly become a weapon of intimidation, silence, and fear. Those entrusted to lead now often rule. Those meant to shepherd often oppress.
Behind this dysfunction lies a grave misunderstanding: the assumption that authority equals wisdom, and that the ability to command is justification enough to dominate. This, fundamentally, is a distortion of what power truly is.
In Nigeria today, state governors often function as emperors, ruling their states as personal estates. Local government autonomy—guaranteed under Section 7 of the Nigerian Constitution—is mocked in practice. State Assemblies are reduced to rubber stamps. Public opinion is silenced. Dissenters are blackmailed, isolated, or punished. And those with ideas or insight—especially civil society, the media, and concerned citizens—are routinely branded as enemies, simply because they expose uncomfortable truths.
Even more concerning is the federal level, where the President of Nigeria often exercises imperial authority, despite being bound by democratic and constitutional limits. Executive orders override dialogue. Transparency is minimal. National Assembly oversight is weakened. The Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria (1999, as amended) in Section 14(2)(a) declares that “sovereignty belongs to the people…” but in practice, the people are treated as subjects, not citizens.
Leadership, in this context, becomes not a mandate but a monarchy. We must remember that unchecked power is not new. History has shown—from Roman emperors to African dictators like Idi Amin and Robert Mugabe—that when leadership drifts from humility to hubris, nations crumble. In our own national history, regimes of military authoritarianism paved the way for the same civilian impunity we now witness.
Power is the ability to act. Wisdom is the knowledge of when, how, and whether to act. Leadership demands both. Proverbs 4:7 reminds us: “Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom: and with all thy getting get understanding.” The president who bulldozes policies without listening to experts and citizens will eventually govern a fragile state. The bishop who silences every priest or laity with a contrary view will preside over a hollow, dying Church. The CEO who leads through fear will eventually drive away talent.
Where knowledge is disrespected, decision-making becomes impulsive. Where authority is unchecked, institutions become abusive. And when people are not heard, trust collapses. The Qur’an warns in Surah Ash-Shura (42:38) that righteous believers are those “who (conduct) their affairs by mutual consultation.” Leadership without counsel is not Islamic, and power without wisdom is not divine. The psychological and spiritual damage of such abuse is profound: clergy sink into depression; young people lose faith in governance and religion; civil servants live with quiet trauma. Places that should heal—churches, mosques, schools—become silent battlegrounds.
This abuse is not limited to politics. In the Church, too many bishops behave like feudal lords. Priests are spoken to as errand boys. The laity are reduced to sources of revenue. Correction is demonized, and orthodoxy becomes a tool of suppression. Worse still, in many Pentecostal circles, pastors have assumed divine status, encouraging followers to treat them as infallible. Congregants kneel to greet them. Their words are taken above scripture. In many congregations, people now fear the “man of God” more than they fear God. Malachi 2:7 condemns this priestly arrogance: “For the priest’s lips should keep knowledge, and they should seek the law at his mouth: for he is the messenger of the Lord of hosts.” Yet many “messengers” have hijacked the message.
In the Muslim community, some Friday sermons have become political time bombs, leading to violence immediately after prayers. Islam teaches peace and justice, but some clerics twist religious emotion to stoke division. The Qur’an is clear in Surah Al-Baqarah (2:256): “There is no compulsion in religion…” and in Surah Al-Hujurat (49:11), “Do not ridicule others, perhaps they may be better than you.” Using the mosque as a launchpad for ethnic or sectarian hatred is a gross betrayal of the Qur’anic call to justice (Surah An-Nahl 16:90).
In the corporate space, many CEOs and founders act like demigods. Staff are dehumanized. Contracts are ignored. Loyalty is demanded, but dignity is withheld. Workers are treated as dispensable tools. Yet, James 5:4 warns: “Behold, the wages of the laborers who mowed your fields, which you kept back by fraud, cry out against you…” This too is oppression—just dressed in corporate suits.
In academia, vice chancellors have created fiefdoms within ivory towers. Professors are intimidated. Research is politicized. Critical thought is suppressed. Instead of nurturing minds, many academic institutions have become echo chambers for mediocrity and arrogance. The very institutions meant to challenge power now replicate its worst forms.
Women and youth are also frequent victims of power abuse. Church leadership structures that exclude women, youth wings treated as decoration, universities where older professors insult their younger colleagues, and governments that tokenize young people while excluding them from real decision-making—all point to a systemic sickness.
In both political and ecclesiastical systems, the wisest voices are often the most marginalized. The Constitution (Section 39) guarantees freedom of expression, yet those who speak truth to power are silenced. Priests with vision are punished. Professors with integrity are sidelined. Employees with ideas are overlooked.
But here lies the irony: those in authority quietly rely on the very people they suppress. Presidents turn to technocrats for solutions. Bishops depend on courageous priests to restore dying congregations. CEOs scramble for talent after stifling creativity. Because power, when stripped of wisdom, cannot sustain itself.
We need to tell the stories of the truth-tellers: the young priest who risked transfer to defend the gospel, the Muslim cleric who defied political pressure to preach peace, the young woman whose resignation letter became a blueprint for labour reform. These stories inspire more than statistics ever can.
Power without accountability becomes private property. But power is a sacred trust, not a personal inheritance. Romans 13:1 makes it clear that “there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God.” Yet, divine authority is always tempered by justice, mercy, and humility (Micah 6:8). Accountability is also a central Islamic ethic. The Prophet Muhammad (SAW) said: “Each of you is a shepherd, and each of you is responsible for his flock.” (Sahih Bukhari & Sahih Muslim)
Restraint is not weakness; it is strength under control. Listening is not surrender; it is wise leadership. Dialogue is not defiance; it is democratic oxygen. Economically, we must also challenge how poverty is weaponized. Politicians buy loyalty with hunger. Churches teach survival, not empowerment. Mosques build structures while neglecting job creation. Nigeria’s future cannot rise on a foundation of economic servitude.
It is time to redefine power—not as the ability to silence, suspend, or suppress, but as the courage to lead with integrity, humility, and wisdom. To our political leaders, including the President, govern as a trustee, not a tyrant. You are bound by the Constitution and answerable to the people. Power is not in jailing critics or silencing protest. Power is in building systems that protect rights and preserve dignity. To our bishops and religious leaders, you are not masters of the Church but servants of Christ. You were called to wash feet, not to elevate chairs. Stop confusing honour with idolatry. To Pentecostal founders and prophets, you are shepherds, not shrines. Preach Christ, not yourself. If your followers fear you more than God, you have failed. To Muslim leaders, you are entrusted with the souls of millions. Use the pulpit to promote peace, not provoke rage. You will answer to Allah for every word that leads to bloodshed. To CEOs and business owners, people are not tools. Treat your employees with fairness. Lead with excellence, not intimidation. To university administrators, let your legacy be minds mentored, not egos enforced. Universities should incubate brilliance, not reward sycophancy. To civic spaces and media, guard your independence. The voice of the people is the conscience of the nation. You are not enemies of the state—you are its mirror. To those who still hold truth in their hearts, do not lose heart. Yours is the power that truly transforms. The prophet, the reformer, the writer, the teacher—these are the ones who shift destinies.
We must confront a sobering reality: power without knowledge is reckless, and knowledge without power is vulnerable. The Nigeria we hope to rebuild—across governance, faith, education, and economy—can only rise when power and wisdom embrace.
We need a new generation of leaders who listen deeply, act justly, and lead humbly. Leaders who fear God, respect people, and uplift truth. Until then, we will remain trapped in a loop of oppression masked as order, charisma mistaken for character, and noise without progress.
But a better Nigeria is still possible—if we choose power that listens, and wisdom that leads. And for those of us who follow, not lead—we too must repent: for praising what we should rebuke; for clapping when we should question; for enabling tyranny through silence. As Scripture says, “If my people, who are called by my name, shall humble themselves…” (2 Chronicles 7:14). Leadership begins with the courage to be led by truth. God is with us!