“In a room where people unanimously maintain a conspiracy of silence, one word of truth sounds like a pistol shot.” – Czesław Miłosz
The ululation over the alarming decline of Nigeria’s democracy has reached a fever pitch, with even the clergy refusing to remain silent. This is no surprise; the Holy Book is filled with accounts of men of God who boldly addressed the people, particularly those in power, during times of crisis. Saint Gregory the Great, in his pastoral Rule, admonished the clergy: “If we are before the powerful, we speak it to them. If we are before the weak and downtrodden, we speak it to them.” As Elie Wiesel poignantly remarked: “Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.”
The Bible brims with “truth-to-power” moments. Prophets were not mere spiritual guides; they served as the national conscience, fearlessly confronting kings about corruption, idolatry, and social injustice. The encounters between biblical prophets and political leaders stand as stark reminders of the need for accountability. Take, for instance, the powerful confrontation between Prophet Nathan and King David. After David’s heinous acts of adultery and orchestrated murder, Nathan didn’t simply condemn him. He told a compelling parable that highlighted David’s unjust actions, leading to David’s own realisation of guilt and subsequent repentance. Yet, the consequences of his sins ravaged his family and kingdom for generations to come.
Similarly, consider the relentless battles of Prophet Elijah against King Ahab and Queen Jezebel. Ahab, often labelled one of Israel’s most “wicked” kings, was called out by Elijah for endorsing idolatry and committing grievous injustices, such as the judicial murder of Naboth to seize his vineyard. Elijah did not shy away from warning Ahab of dire consequences for his actions.
The story of Moses confronting Pharaoh is not merely a religious narrative but a monumental political showdown. Moses demanded the release of a subjugated labour force and warned Pharaoh of catastrophic consequences should he refuse—consequences that ultimately led to Egypt’s devastating downfall.
The prophetic tale that resonates most closely with Nigeria’s current plight is that of Prophet Amos. He was a “blue-collar” prophet, a shepherd sent to the Northern Kingdom during a time of stark economic growth juxtaposed with deepening inequality. Amos ripped into the political and wealthy elites for “trampling on the poor” and “selling the righteous for a pair of sandals.” He issued a dire warning that empty religious rituals are meaningless without “justice rolling down like waters.” Following Amos’s ministry, Israel faced conquest by Assyria.
John the Baptist, a testament to the continuation of this prophetic legacy, fearlessly rebuked Herod Antipas for his immoral actions. This confrontation cost him his life, as did many messengers with the courage to speak out against tyranny and injustice. Daniel confronted Nebuchadnezzar, Jeremiah challenged Zedekiah, and Isaiah spoke truth to Ahaz and Hezekiah. Only a few, like King David, responded to their errors with repentance, while others sought to silence the messengers, ultimately facing dire consequences.
This week’s Political Musing may seem religious and theological at first glance, but it serves a critical purpose afterall religion and politics are deeply intertwined and revolve around the realities of human existence.
The focus of our discourse this week stems from a powerful lamentation by a Catholic Bishop concerning the dire state of democracy in Nigeria. This lament was expressed during the funeral of Senator Okechukwu Cleophas Ezea, widely known as Ideke, on February 13, 2026, in his hometown of Itchi in Igbo Eze South local government area of Enugu State. The Catholic Bishop of Nsukka Diocese, Most Reverend Godfrey Igwebuike Onah during his homily, delivered pointed critiques aimed at Nigeria’s political leaders, exposing their negligence and its detrimental effect on our democracy.
The audience—comprising political party leaders, national and state assembly representatives, governors, both past and present, and serving ministers—needed to hear the unsettling truths voiced by the Bishop.
Bishop Onah has emerged as a prominent voice on social media, delivering incisive messages as the chief shepherd of Catholics in Nsukka Diocese. He embodies multiple roles, including that of a professor, widely recognised for his intellectual rigour and passionate critiques of the Nigerian state. Unlike detached analysts, his “lamentations” resonate powerfully from the pulpit, seamlessly merging academic philosophy with the fervour of a biblical prophet.
His analyses squarely address the “death of reason” in Nigerian governance and the systematic betrayal of the poor by the elite. The recent burial of Senator Ezea presented a critical platform for him to confront the powerful about the prevailing dire circumstances, particularly as Nigeria painfully approaches 2027. He unflinchingly took political leaders to task, challenging them to prove him wrong if they can. His scathing observations on the manipulation of the poor led him to redefine democracy within the Nigerian context, asserting that it has devolved into “the manipulation of the poor, by the powerful, for the rich.”
He lamented that democracy has been stripped down to mere “periodic rituals” (elections), devoid of true accountability. The Nigerian elite have utterly failed, searching for mere alibis to justify the chaotic state of the nation while they enjoy life’s comforts.
Perhaps even more alarming to Bishop Onah and other astute observers of Nigeria’s political landscape is the rampant defections and the unsettling shift towards a one-party state in a nation rich in cultural and ethnic diversity. He categorically views these political manoeuvres not as strategic decisions but as manifestations of moral and intellectual bankruptcy, revealing a disturbing lack of ideological conviction.
The Bishop resoundingly criticised Nigerian politicians for sliding between parties like “merchants in a marketplace,” proving their allegiance lies solely with their own interests. He emphasised that the vitality of any democracy hinges on a robust opposition, yet Nigeria’s political leaders deliberately and selfishly suffocate dissent. The Bishop warns that when the ruling class successfully absorbs the opposition, democracy dies—there will be no one left to oppose the executive’s excesses.
The Bishop’s message resonated particularly forcefully in his critique of the separation of powers. He condemned the alarming passivity of the other branches of government, which have effectively become extensions of the executive they are meant to check. Specifically, he criticised the State Houses and the National Assembly for acting as mere “appendages” of the Governors or President, convening solely to rubber-stamp loan requests instead of challenging executive authority. Bishop Onah expressed profound anguish that courtrooms have supplanted polling units, leaving the “common man” disillusioned, as justice has become “for sale” to the highest bidder.
The Chief Shepherd’s address during Senator Ezea’s funeral was unmistakably clear and assertive: political leaders have woefully failed in their duties. His choice of venue for the attack was intentional, as the late Senator represented a rare political class dedicated to public service, principled in his refusal to defect to the ruling party despite the allure of doing so. The people, the congregation at the funeral, easily the victim of the political oppression clapped as the intellectual clergy lampooned their leaders.
It appears unlikely that Nigeria’s political elites will heed this urgent admonition from the pulpit; their minds are set, their eyes fixed solely on greed, and they selectively hear only the calls of money and power. Nevertheless, like the great prophets before him, Bishop Onah has delivered his message with conviction. The responsibility now lies with a grieving nation, reminding them that while having a bad leader may not be their fault, choosing to remain under such leadership is. God help us all.
