Every era produces powerful men who believe they have mastered history, only to discover that history was patiently waiting to judge them. Their rise is rarely built on strength alone. It is sustained by applause that drowns out truth, loyalists who mistake flattery for fidelity, and followers who bend so completely that they no longer recognise the difference between respect and surrender. Yet there is a timeless warning that echoes across politics, business, religion, and public life: stand on truth and refuse to worship power, and you may quickly be branded a snake in the green grass. The courage to tell the truth has always been punished before it is honoured.
The anatomy of unchecked power is remarkably consistent. A leader begins with vision and public confidence. Success attracts admirers. Admirers become gatekeepers. Gatekeepers silence critics. Before long, the leader hears only echoes of his own opinions. Honest counsel is dismissed as disloyalty, while extravagant praise becomes the currency of advancement. Institutions that should restrain power instead become instruments for protecting it. At that point, failure is no longer accidental. It is inevitable.
Perhaps the greatest betrayal does not come from declared enemies but from professional loyalists. They applaud reckless decisions, defend obvious mistakes, and vilify anyone who dares to raise inconvenient questions. They tell the leader he is indispensable, infallible, and untouchable. Those who insist on facts rather than fantasies are quickly isolated. Their integrity is recast as envy. Their warnings are dismissed as sabotage. They are labelled troublemakers, rebels, or, in the language of political survival, green snakes in green grass. Every society has coined its own expression for this ancient tactic: discredit the messenger so the message can be ignored.
History, however, has little respect for propaganda. It records what sycophants attempt to erase. From fallen empires to disgraced administrations, from collapsed corporations to shattered ministries, the pattern rarely changes. Power insulated from criticism eventually mistakes itself for permanence. Leaders who never hear the truth eventually lose the ability to recognise it. By the time reality breaks through, reputations have already begun to crumble, institutions have weakened, and those who once shouted the loudest have quietly disappeared.
This is why accountability remains the highest form of loyalty. The adviser who risks his position to prevent a disastrous decision is more valuable than a hundred courtiers competing to offer praise. The colleague who says, “This is wrong,” protects both the leader and the institution. The citizen who demands transparency strengthens democracy rather than undermines it. Truth is often uncomfortable, but comfort has never rescued a nation from decline. Honest criticism has.
The tragedy is that societies frequently persecute their most principled voices before later celebrating their courage. Men and women who refuse to compromise their conscience are branded obstacles to progress. They lose appointments, friendships, opportunities, and influence because they refuse to exchange conviction for convenience. Yet history repeatedly vindicates those who stand on principle. The label of green snake in the green grass may endure for a season, but the verdict of truth outlives every campaign of character assassination.
Nemesis does not hurry, but it never loses its address. It arrives when applause has faded, when loyalists have found new masters, and when power can no longer negotiate with reality. In that final reckoning, titles offer no immunity, influence commands no exemption, and flattery purchases no mercy. What remains is character. The men who stood on truth may have walked alone, but they leave behind enduring legacies. Those who built their empires on applause discover, too late, that the loudest cheers are often the first to fall silent.
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Ayah – Igalamela/Odolu LGA, Kogi state.
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