The Mirror Of Sycophancy: When A Nation Bows To Shadows: By Hon. Dr. Sunny Oby Maduka (DSM)
A starving dog that dances frantically at the sight of a dry bone forgets that the bone holds no marrow, offering only the hollow, mocking illusion of a feast. When a society casts aside its dignity to worship the mere shadow of power rather than its substance, it sinks into a deep, tragic slumber of the soul, a paralysis where critical thought dies, and moral clarity is buried alive.
On July 21st, 2026, the Nigerian public discourse was held hostage by TWO separate yet deeply intertwined SPECTACLES. Together, they formed a grotesquely clear mirror, reflecting our collective addiction to political sycophancy, our shattered national conscience, and our desperate, humiliating hunger for foreign validation.
In Abia State, the quiet dignity of the indigenous weavers of Akwete fabric was drowned out by the thunderous sirens of an imperial motorcade. First Lady, Senator Oluremi Tinubu arrived in grand, royal state, pledging a breathtaking ₦2 billion donation to boost the local textile heritage. On paper, supporting local craft appears noble. But beneath the velvet curtains of state banquets and the orchestrated adulation lay the stench of an unconstitutional monarchy.
The fawning display brought to life an ancient, bitter truth: “When a slave suddenly sees a fellow slave dressed in a master’s discarded robe, he bends his knee as if he has seen the master himself.”
He bends his knee not because he is certain of who inhabits the cloth, but because, the slave mentality is internally programmed for outward servitude. The tragic mark of the subjugated mind is the loss of independent reasoning, acting on impulse, devoid of self-respect.
While state actors sang panegyrics and converted a public visit into a carnival of adulation, they ignored the blood flowing freely across the nation’s soil.
How can a people break into wild applause in a society bleeding from a thousand unhealed wounds?
Consider the gruesome tally of that very same day and week:
In Rivers State, assassins snuffed out the life of a vigilante commander and three women.
In Borno State, coordinated horrors ripped through Gwoza, where female suicide bombers blew apart a wedding, a funeral, and a hospital, leaving at least 18 dead (including pregnant women and children), and dozens maimed. In nearby Kuwawu, over 20 farmers were slaughtered in their fields; attacks in Kross Kauwa and Logomani claimed military personnel, burning police outposts and primary health centres to ash.
In Katsina State, armed bandits invaded a mosque in Unguwar Mantau during Fajr prayers, cutting down at least 34 worshippers as they bowed before God.
In Niger, Benue, and Plateau, armed raiders continue their relentless march, erasing whole villages from the map.
This is a bloody season that Nigeria should be wrapped in sackcloth and ashes, weeping uncontrollably. We ought to be in a state of national mourning. Yet, we beat drums and sing praise songs for political royalty. We have shed the fundamental instincts of humanity—empathy, grief, and solidarity; and sadly, we have been transformed into a herd that grazes peacefully beside the fresh graves of its own kin.
In a mature democracy, the spouse of a leader occupies a defined, bounded space. Melania Trump does not tour American states flanked by state-funded armadas to dole out multi-billion-dollar pledges, nor do citizens fall to their knees addressing her as “Her Excellency.” She remains a private citizen married to a public servant.
This craving for royalty metastasized in the SECOND SPECTACLE to this piece: The frantic, embarrassing escalation of an unverified routine diplomatic letter, specifically talking about security cooperation, generated a lot of controversies, especially with the allegation that the letter may have been forged, as it didn’t contain certain US President’s Official Diplomatic Letter features, such as, the standard White House Seal, Watermark, official Letterhead and authentic Signature of the US President. Even with all these abnormalities, this routine correspondence sent by US President, Donald Trump to President Bola Ahmed Tinubu became the magic wand to this regime’s sychophantic hype.
Overnight, the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC) and its apparatus transformed routine diplomatic etiquette into a triumphant victory song for PBAT re-election. Political forums became cheerleading clubs, waving a piece of unverified foreign paper like a holy parchment or a divine stamp of legitimacy.
This hysteria laid bare to a profound national embarrassment and inferiority complex. It showcased the pathetic belief that governance is validated not by whether citizens have food, security, or electricity, but by polite words penned in Washington. A tragic scenario of, “A hunter who boasts endlessly in the village square because a foreigner praised the handle of his gun, but forgets that his children are starving at home.”
International diplomacy is built on cold, shifting interest, not sentimental affection. Foreign praise is as fragile as morning dew; it evaporates the moment geopolitical interests pivot. Celebrating a foreign President’s routine note while basic internal security crumbles is nothing more than narcotic distraction. And it can be likened to, “A bird that builds its nest in a burning tree and still expects its eggs to hatch in peace.”
We cannot continue to dance beneath a burning roof. As long as we mistake official grandiosity for actual achievement and beg foreign thrones for a nod of approval, true democratic accountability will remain a distant mirage.
Finally my fellow Nigerians, I want to sincerely remind us that, National dignity is not minted in the entourage of a First Lady, nor is it signed in the White House. It is forged when citizens reject sycophancy, demand relentless accountability, and remember that, those in power are not deities to be worshiped, but servants hired to serve and protect the living.
A river that forgets its source will inevitably dry up in the heat of the sun. When a nation trades its collective pain for political pageantry, it becomes a ghost walking among the living, a shadow bowing to shadows, and the result is that I come in PEACE.
Dr. Sunny Oby Maduka (DSM) is an Author, Resource Personality, Management Consultant/ Trainer, Chartered/Certified Auditor/Accountant, Financial Compliance Expert, Economic/Political Analyst Strategist, Marine Expert and Motivationist)
Tel: 08033307702
Email: [email protected]
