A quick word on this week’s title. The Shepherd and His Sheep is as intriguing as the deeper meanings attached to the metaphor of the Good Shepherd in the holy book. However, my focus is not on biblical teachings, nor on the shepherd Jacob referenced when he spoke of divine guidance throughout his life or the psalmist, David’s evocative imagery of a loving protector leading his flock to green pastures. 

Rather, my focus is on the exegetical unraveling of the metaphor, peeling back its layers to reveal its stark relevance to the realm of power and influence in our country. Here, the shepherd is not the benevolent guardian but the political godfather who exercises control over his flock of loyalists, who, like sheep, obey without question. The metaphor aptly captures the dynamics of patronage, subservience, and the unyielding grip of political mentorship that defines much of our political landscape. The shepherd in this context does not lead his sheep to pastures of prosperity but, rather, corrals them into enclosures of servitude, ensuring their dependency while consolidating his dominance. It is through this lens that I explore the hidden structures of power, the cost of loyalty, and the dangers of unquestioning obedience.

The relationship between the political elites and their followers often mirrors the timeless dynamic of the shepherd and his sheep in our country’s vast and undulating political landscape. The sheep, docile and unquestioning, move in unison, responding to the prodding and commands of the shepherd whose purpose is to keep them in line and steer them towards the path set by him. This relationship, which symbolises our country’s deep-rooted culture of Godfatherism, defines the nature of power and the character of the sheep who follow the shepherd, not out of conviction, but out of compulsion, fear, or sheer habituation. The imagery of sheep as a metaphor for the dynamics of political authority in our polity is not new. 

Scholars have explored the dynamics of political authority and control in ways that align with this analogy. Many, beginning with Hobbes, locate the dynamics of the shepherd and his sheep relationship within the structures of power that allow order to be maintained through an overarching authority that commands others to ensure compliance. Others working in the field of cultural hegemony argue that the ruling class uses various structures to shape the people’s consciousness, making them accept their dictated reality without question. These frameworks apply seamlessly to our country’s governance space, where the godfather (the shepherd) controls the political direction of his domain of sheep (the alleluia men and women) and ensures that they remain loyal, obedient, and submissive.

The alleluia men and women who render his domain to “hosanna to the highest” are much like the sheep, conditioned to follow without question. They become like Boxer, the loyal but tragically misguided workhorse in George Orwell’s Animal Farm, embodying his servility and internalising the inverted maxim of blind obedience: If our leader says it, he must be right. Their devotion, though unwavering, becomes a quiet surrender of reason, a sacrifice of individual independence at the altar of authority. 

In their world, doubt is disloyalty, and questioning the leader’s words is tantamount to betrayal. Like Boxer, they toil with unquestioning faith, believing that obedience alone is the path to progress. They mistake servility for strength, mistaking their submission for virtue. Yet, in their steadfast trust, they fail to see that unthinking loyalty is not a virtue but a vulnerability that allows power to remain unchecked and truth to be bent to the will of the shepherd—their master.

What is troubling in our case is that every election offers the shepherd an opportunity to handpick a successor, not just any among the flock, but one who is even more unquestioning and servile than Boxer, the loyal workhorse of Animal Farm. Instead of subjecting this choice to rigorous scrutiny, everybody in the flock falls in line, placing blind trust in the shepherd’s instincts. This unquestioning allegiance lays the foundation for godfatherism, where political succession is not determined by democratic principles but by anointment, endorsement, and imposition. 

The leader’s will becomes law, and the people, rather than asserting their agency, surrender it at the feet of authority. The chosen sheep, convinced that he cannot navigate the terrain on his own, submits entirely to the shepherd’s guidance—even when that guidance leads him to the edge of a precipice. He is not selected for his vision, competence, or capacity to serve, but for his ability to obey without question. This cycle reduces governance to patronage, where power is not earned through merit but bestowed as a favour. The tragedy is that the flock, conditioned to follow rather than to think, becomes complicit in its subjugation, mistaking imposed leadership for providence and subservience for stability.

The shepherd and his sheep are not confined to politics alone; they permeate every sphere of our society. Whether in academia, the judiciary, or the media, one finds flocks unwavering in their loyalty, bound not by reason but by obedience. The most insidious among them are the intellectuals and media propagandists, whose craft is not the pursuit of truth but the careful orchestration of public perception to align with the shepherd’s wishes. In professing their devotion, they dare not stray beyond the boundaries set for them, lest they risk falling out of favour. Their role is not merely to follow but to reinforce the shepherd’s authority, ensuring that his dominion remains unquestioned and his voice the only one that matters. 

Their work, as my reading of scholars like Gramsci on hegemony affirms, is to manufacture consent and mold citizens’ consciousness so that the dominance of the ruling class appears natural, acceptable, even desirable. They do not wield whips or chains, yet their influence is no less constraining; their narratives become the prison bars of collective thought. By refining oppression into a palatable doctrine, they turn subjugation into common sense, making our citizens not only accept their place but also defend it. In this way, power imposes not only itself but also seeps into the very fabric of belief, sustained not by force alone but by the willing complicity of those who should know better.

One of the most troubling manifestations of the shepherd and sheep dynamic is found in the politics of our subnational states, where former governors continue to rule from the shadows long after leaving office. These political godfathers, having entrenched themselves within the system, dictate who ascends to power as governor, senator, or local government chairman. Their chosen successors, often devoid of personal political capital or independent thought, are mere vessels through which the master’s will is executed. They do not rise by merit but by the anointing of a single man whose word supersedes the people’s collective will. Once in office, they do not govern as leaders but as proxies, perpetually tethered to the unseen hand that placed them there.

Meanwhile, within the shepherd-and-sheep dynamic, democracy is reduced to a mere ritual, devoid of substance. Its essence is eroded by a system where political power is neither earned through merit nor contested through genuine competition but passed along within an unbroken cycle of dominance, ensuring nothing changes.

However, history has shown that sheep can resist shepherding. We have seen it happen in subnational States. Radical ideologues argue that revolutions, civil uprisings, and political awakenings occur when the flock begins to recognise the shepherd’s deception and manipulation. They argued that the Arab Spring, the collapse of entrenched regimes in Eastern Europe, and our June 12 struggles demonstrate that political sheep can break free when awakened. They are right, but overcoming the conditioning that makes submission instinctive is the challenge. It requires courage for the sheep to defy the shepherd, stray from the dictated path, and challenge the master’s authority.

For our citizens to escape the grip of godfatherism, they must evolve from passive sheep to conscious and active citizens. Political education, civic engagement, and promoting independent thought must replace blind allegiance. The shepherd must be stripped of all powers and rendered ineffective by any means possible. If the sheep cease to respond to commands, the shepherd loses relevance. 

The enduring question remains: Will the sheep of our country’s political landscape continue to be driven by the dictates of the shepherd, or will they awaken to the reality that their collective power far outweighs the influence of the shepherd? Until the sheep muster the will to resist the shepherd, they will remain trapped in the endless cycle of subjugation, their fate sealed by forces beyond their control. The patterns of imposed leadership and blind obedience will persist, ensuring that power remains concentrated in the hands of a few while many others continue to trust and obey and be happy in the shepherd’s will, without question.

True liberation begins not with the shepherd’s benevolence but with the flock’s awakening. The realisation that they possess the agency to choose, question, and break free from the chains of perpetual submission is central to my points here.

Abdul Mahmud is a human rights attorney in Abuja