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This is the second and final part of the two-part article examining hunger, governance, and dignity in Nigeria. The Part One challenged the notion that Nigerians are insatiable, framing hunger instead as a consequence of systemic governance failure.
This second part continues that argument by shifting attention to another, more dangerous form of hunger: The hunger for power. It examines how leadership driven by ambition rather than service has weakened institutions, distorted priorities, and deepened the distance between the state and its citizens.
The story of Oliver Twist was not just about hunger; it was about awakening. Oliver eventually walked away from the system that crushed him and discovered that courage could sustain him when institutions failed him. That same courage exists in Nigeria today – in homes, on streets, in small businesses, and in quiet acts of defiance against despair. But courage alone is not enough. It must be met by leadership that listens, policies that deliver, and governance that remembers its purpose. Until power serves people rather than feeds on them, the hunger will continue. Not because Nigerians are insatiable, but because deprivation, once normalized, always grows.
The world does not bend for the fearful. And nations do not prosper on courage alone. They prosper when governance meets hunger with justice, fear with security, and need with responsibility. Until then, the cry for “more” will not be a sign of greed. It will be a declaration of survival.
There is a dangerous kind of hunger that does not announce itself with empty stomachs or hollow eyes. It wears fine clothes, speaks in polished language, and hides behind authority. It is the hunger for power – and in Nigeria today, it may be the most destructive hunger of all. Power, by itself, is not evil. In its purest form, power is meant to serve. It exists so that roads are built, schools function, hospitals heal, and citizens sleep without fear. Power is supposed to organize society in a way that protects the weak and enables the strong to contribute meaningfully. But when power becomes an end in itself, when holding office matters more than serving the people, it mutates into something predatory. Nigeria is not suffering because its people ask for too much. Nigeria is suffering because too many of those entrusted with leadership want too much power and care too little about responsibility.
The evidence is everywhere. Election seasons are marked not by debates on policy, education, healthcare, or security, but by desperate maneuvering, defections, propaganda, and bitterness. Alliances are formed and broken overnight, not in the interest of citizens, but in the interest of advantage. Political energy is consumed by who controls what, who succeeds whom, and who must be neutralized to remain relevant. Meanwhile, the everyday needs of Nigerians are treated as background noise. Citizens ask for food and security, but leaders argue about political dominance. People cry out for safety, but power struggles dominate headlines.
Young people search for jobs, while politicians search for leverage. Hospitals lack equipment, schools decay, roads collapse – but political offices multiply, and convoys grow longer. This is the tragedy of a state captured by power hunger: governance becomes secondary.
The most important responsibility of any government is to meet the basic needs of its people. Security, food, shelter, healthcare, education, and opportunity are not optional items on a political menu. They are the foundation of legitimacy. A government that cannot guarantee these loses its moral authority, no matter how loudly it speaks. Yet in Nigeria, citizens are repeatedly asked to endure hardship in the name of reform, patience, or sacrifice – while those in power appear insulated from the pain. The language of leadership has become disconnected from the language of survival. Leaders speak of policies; people speak of hunger. Leaders speak of strategy; people speak of fear. Leaders speak of the future; people struggle with the present.
This disconnect is not accidental. It is the natural outcome of leadership driven by power rather than purpose. When hunger for power dominates, decisions are no longer guided by what works, but by what secures control. Appointments are made to reward loyalty, not competence. Resources are allocated to strengthen political influence, not public welfare. Silence is valued more than truth, and obedience more than integrity. In such a system, the citizen becomes invisible – noticed only during elections, courted with promises that quickly expire once power is secured.
The irony is painful. Nigerians are often accused of being impatient, demanding, or ungrateful. Yet what are they asking for? Electricity that works. Roads that do not kill. Schools that educate. Hospitals that heal. Security that protects. These are not extravagant dreams. They are the minimum expectations of citizenship. Calling these demands “too much” exposes the depth of political failure.
A government obsessed with power often fears its own people. Criticism is seen as rebellion. Protest is labeled disloyalty. Questions are treated as threats. Instead of listening, power tightens its grip. Instead of serving, it controls. And in doing so, it forgets a simple truth: power that does not serve eventually collapses under its own weight. History is unkind to leaders who confuse power with purpose. Nations do not fall because citizens ask for dignity. They fall because leaders refuse to provide it.
Nigeria’s greatest crisis today is not the lack of resources or talent. It is the absence of a governing philosophy that puts people first. We have oil, gas, land, youth, and creativity. What we lack is leadership willing to subordinate ambition to service, ego to empathy, and power to responsibility. The hunger for power is insatiable because it is never satisfied. Each victory demands another. Each office seeks a higher one.
Each control point requires further control. Meanwhile, hunger among the people grows – quietly at first, then loudly, and finally dangerously.
And hunger, when ignored long enough, does not disappear. It transforms into anger, hopelessness, migration, crime, and unrest. Not because people are wicked, but because survival eventually overrides patience. The real question, then, is not whether Nigerians are asking for too much. The real question is why those in power have asked so little of themselves. Leadership is sacrifice. Governance is service.
Power is a responsibility, not a reward.
Until this truth is rediscovered, the needs of citizens will continue to be postponed, politicized, or dismissed. And the hunger for power will continue to consume what little trust remains between the government and the governed. Nigeria does not need more powerful politicians. It needs more purposeful leaders. Because a nation cannot
be built on ambition alone. It is built when power bends toward the people, when
leadership remembers why it exists, and when the hunger that matters most – the
hunger for dignity, safety, and opportunity – is finally fed.
