06/10/2025
There is a verse in the book of Ecclesiastes that reads like a prophecy carved in stone: “Woe to you, O land, when your king is a child, and your princes feast in the morning!” (Ecclesiastes 10:16). It is not merely ancient poetry. It is not a relic of Hebrew wisdom meant for a bygone era. It is a mirror, a warning, a curse that echoes across centuries, describing with chilling precision the fate of nations trapped under unworthy rulers.
The Bible does not condemn humble beginnings here. History is full of leaders who rose from obscurity to greatness. Abraham Lincoln was born in a log cabin but led America with vision and moral strength. Nelson Mandela grew up in rural South Africa but governed with grace and forgiveness. Thomas Sankara lived modestly in Burkina Faso yet ruled with dignity, courage, and foresight. The verse does not despise poverty or ordinary origins.
What it condemns is something more insidious: when men ascend to power but remain children in wisdom, when they inherit crowns but are slaves in spirit. A “slave king” is not defined by where he comes from but by what rules him: greed, insecurity, and the lust for validation. Such a leader confuses leadership with self-indulgence, power with plunder, governance with conquest. And when such a man rules, the land groans under his weight.
Nigeria today stands as the most tragic proof of this scripture.
Since independence in 1960, Nigeria has lived under the shadow of Ecclesiastes 10:16. Every decade, every regime, every promise of renewal has collapsed into disappointment. The nation, abundant in oil, gas, land, and human talent, has not lacked resources, it has lacked leaders. Men who ascended thrones without the wisdom to carry them, rulers who feasted in the morning while the people went to bed hungry at night.
The First Republic (1960–1966) collapsed under the weight of corruption, ethnic rivalry, and political immaturity. Military coups soon followed, promising discipline but delivering dictatorship. Yakubu Gowon squandered the oil boom of the 1970s. Murtala Mohammed came briefly with a spark of reform but was cut down by assassination. Then came Olusegun Obasanjo in uniform, continuing the military’s grip.
The 1980s brought Muhammadu Buhari’s first rule, marked by iron-fisted decrees and economic hardship. He was followed by Ibrahim Babangida, who institutionalised corruption, annulled the June 12, 1993 election, and left Nigeria fractured. Then came Sani Abacha, who turned the state into a personal vault, looting billions while ruling with terror.
The return to “democracy” in 1999 gave Nigerians hope. Olusegun Obasanjo, this time in civilian clothes, promised renewal. Yet his years were filled with constitutional manipulations, privatisation scandals, and the entrenchment of godfather politics. Umaru Musa Yar’Adua came with a gentler spirit but was cut down by ill health. Goodluck Jonathan stumbled into office, presiding over oil theft, ballooning corruption, and Boko Haram’s rise. Nigerians, weary of PDP excesses, turned to Buhari again in 2015, believing his promise of integrity. What he delivered instead was an era of debt, inflation, insecurity, and division and explicit corruption, religious bigotry, and gross ineptitude.
And now, Bola Ahmed Tinubu (BAT) sits on the throne, perhaps the most glaring embodiment of Ecclesiastes 10:16 in Nigeria’s history.
To understand why Nigeria suffers so deeply today, we must first understand the psychology of the “slave king.” It is the mentality of one who has not been freed from servitude even while wearing a crown. Such a ruler governs not out of principle but out of hunger. He once knew scarcity, and instead of learning empathy, he internalised greed. When power comes, he devours it as if it might be snatched away tomorrow. Where a true leader builds, a slave king consumes. Where a true leader secures, a slave king hoards. Where a true leader liberates, a slave king oppresses.
In Nigeria, the pattern is painfully clear. Men who once shouted against injustice become the architects of oppression once enthroned. Those who once lamented corruption now sit atop padded budgets. Those who once stood in queues for fuel now preside over fuel subsidy fraud. Those who once spoke the language of the poor now feast in banquet halls while the poor starve outside the palace gates.
Chinua Achebe captured this failure with brutal clarity in The Trouble with Nigeria: “The trouble with Nigeria is simply and squarely a failure of leadership.” He wrote those words in 1983, but they are more painfully true in 2025. Leadership in Nigeria has been reduced to the recycling of slave kings, men who wear agbada or uniforms, but whose thinking remains bound by greed, insecurity, and servitude to foreign masters.
Tinubu’s Crown of Woe
Tinubu ascended to power not through a free people’s choice alone, but through judicial manipulation, elite orchestration, and the consolidation of a political machine. Once enthroned, the reality of his rule quickly became clear: this is not governance for the people, it is plunder for the few, spectacle for the many, and silence for the victims.
Consider the 2024 budget: ₦57.6 billion allocated for luxury SUVs for lawmakers; ₦20 billion for a new vice-presidential residence; ₦15 billion for the president’s own residence renovation; billions more siphoned through opaque “constituency projects.” Meanwhile, nurses, teachers, and law enforcement officers remain underpaid and overworked. Roads crumble, hospitals are empty, and millions of citizens cannot afford a single bag of rice.
The fuel subsidy removal promised liberation but delivered deception. Trillions were supposedly saved; yet roads did not appear, hospitals did not improve, and electricity did not return. Instead, whispers of phantom payments, secret contracts, and offshore accounts grew louder. Every naira extracted from citizens flowed not into national development but into private coffers.
Debt accumulation adds insult to injury. Trillions of naira borrowed in just the first two years of Tinubu’s presidency have mortgaged the future of generations yet unborn. Every naira spent lavishly today becomes a chain around the neck of a child who will ask: why did our leaders choose luxury over legacy?
Cronyism compounds the damage. Ministries and agencies are filled not by merit but loyalty. His son occupies special roles with opaque authority. Judges validate manipulated elections. Legislators approve padded budgets. Nigeria suffers, while a few thrive.
The Human Cost
Corruption is not abstract, it is violence. Every naira stolen, every contract padded, every subsidy diverted has a human face. In Plateau, Benue, and Southern Kaduna, entire villages live under siege. Mothers walk miles for water; children skip meals; families sleep in IDP camps. Universities collapse under ASUU strikes. Hospitals lack basic drugs. Roads become death traps. The youth, disillusioned, flee abroad, enriching foreign economies while Nigeria hemorrhages talent.
This moral collapse is as serious as material deprivation. Citizens become complicit in normalized corruption. Ethical norms erode. Integrity is punished. Patronage flourishes. A culture of mediocrity and survival, rather than service and dignity, dominates.
African Parallels and Lessons
Nigeria is not alone. Across Africa, leaders like Paul Biya, Robert Mugabe, and Omar al-Bashir exemplify the curse of slave kingship, power divorced from service, accumulation prioritized over welfare. Yet Africa also offers models of true leadership. Thomas Sankara of Burkina Faso refused indulgence, built schools and hospitals, and served with courage and vision. Nelson Mandela governed with humility and moral authority. Ibrahim Traoré today prioritizes national interest over personal gain.
These leaders demonstrate the difference between rulers enslaved by ego and rulers empowered by conscience. They show that even under adversity, leadership can be a trust, not a reward, and a nation can flourish under selfless guidance.
Breaking the Cycle
The people hold the key. Citizens must reject crumbs, demand accountability, insist on justice, and refuse leaders whose vision begins and ends with accumulation. Education and civic awareness are essential weapons: informed citizens resist manipulation, demand integrity, and hold rulers accountable.
The biblical warning is not inevitability; it is a call to action. Nigeria can be blessed, even after decades of misrule, if its people refuse to accept slave kings. Every voice raised, every vote cast responsibly, every act of resistance against corruption is a step toward freedom.
Conclusion
Woe is Nigeria under Tinubu. Woe is Africa when leaders feast while the people starve. Yet blessing is possible. Reject the slave kings. Demand service. Insist on justice. Hold the powerful accountable. Only then can the biblical curse of woe be transformed into the blessing of stewardship.
The land suffers because the king is enslaved, but the people still have the power to choose freedom.
Ayodele Ogunyemi
Vice Chairman
Nigerian Community Greater Manchester.
Vice Chairman
Mobilisation and Outreach
ADC - Diaspora Coalition
