Desperate leaders do not deliver peace, prosperity or progress, by Mohammed Salihu
History reminds us that great leadership often begins not with ambition, but with hesitation. From Moses at the burning bush to modern-day statesmen who rise reluctantly to the call of duty, the most effective leaders are often those least eager to rule. But in today’s political climate, desperation has replaced humility. Power is pursued not as a responsibility, but as a reward. At the centre of this crisis is the ego—bloated, insecure, and insatiable. Desperate leaders, driven by ego, cannot deliver because they serve themselves before they serve the people.
In every generation, leadership shapes the course of nations—for better or worse. Over the years, history has given us many types of rulers: bold, cunning, visionary. But at the heart of it lies a timeless contrast between two archetypes: the reluctant leader and the desperate leader. One leads from a place of duty and principle; the other from fear, vanity, or the hunger for self-preservation.
To understand this divide, we can return to one of the earliest and most powerful illustrations—the story of Prophet Moses (Musa) and the burning bush.
When God called Moses to lead the Israelites out of bondage in Egypt, Moses did not leap at the opportunity. He hesitated. He questioned. He doubted. His was not the ambition of a man seeking power, but the anxiety of one aware of its burden. His dialogue with God, recorded in both the Bible (Exodus 3:11–4:14) and the Qur’an (Surah Taha, verses 12–14), is deeply telling:
• “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?”
• “What if they do not believe me or listen to me?”
• “Pardon your servant, Lord. I have never been eloquent… I am slow of speech and tongue.”
• And finally, “Please send someone else.”
Moses’ reluctance was not weakness. It was a sign of moral seriousness—a profound recognition of the cost and consequence of leadership. And yet, it was this same man who would confront Pharaoh, lead a nation through peril, and deliver laws that shaped civilisations. Reluctant leaders succeed because they are driven not by the lust for power but by a sense of purpose.
By contrast, desperate leaders are propelled by ego, fear, and insecurity. They do not ascend out of service; they claw their way to power to escape irrelevance, shield themselves from accountability, or fulfil a personal vendetta. They promise reform, but deliver repression. They build nothing lasting because they are obsessed with survival, not legacy.
The damage caused by desperate leadership is all around us :
In the United States, the aftermath of the 2020 presidential election revealed a leader unable to concede defeat. His refusal to accept loss—driven by ego—culminated in an insurrection on January 6, 2021. He did not protect democracy; he endangered it. His desperate grip on power left America more divided and more vulnerable.
In Russia, a long-serving leader faced domestic dissent and dwindling relevance. Rather than reform, he chose war. The 2022 invasion of Ukraine was not born of necessity, but of desperation to restore a vanishing empire and silence critics at home. The result? Economic sanctions, global isolation, and untold human suffering. Power, when clung to desperately, breeds catastrophe.
In Asia, a popular leader fueled his dominance through religious polarisation, hyper-nationalism, and institutional centralisation. But beneath the projection of strength lies fear—fear of dissent, of minorities, of democratic institutions. The deeper he entrenched his rule, the more fragile the nation’s unity became. Desperation masked as authority hollowed out the democratic core.
In Africa, Nigeria’s recent transition of power came with a slogan that captured the entitlement of desperation: “It’s my turn.” Rather than inspire hope, the new leadership quickly descended into confusion. The hasty removal of fuel subsidies, chaotic policy rollouts, and inflationary hardship pointed not to a clear vision, but to panic-driven politics. Loyalty was rewarded, not competence. Unity was ignored, not fostered. The ego took the wheel—and the people were left behind.
Desperate leaders may seize power—but they do not deliver peace, prosperity, or progress. Their urgency breeds instability. Their fear fuels repression. Their egos ignite conflict. They cannot build because they cannot look beyond themselves.
In contrast, reluctant leaders listen before they speak. They pause before they act. They carry the weight of leadership not as a prize, but as a burden. And in that humility, they find the strength to serve with integrity, endurance, and foresight.
The lesson for our time is clear: the world does not need more desperate men clinging to thrones. It needs more reluctant leaders—those who understand that true leadership is not about ruling over people, but serving them. Leaders who know the cost of getting it wrong, and are humble enough to lead with care.
