Where is God and Where is the President? The Psychological Darkness of the “Sacred” and the State -By Psychologist John Egbeazien Oshodi

Luxury Judicial Quarters, Forgotten Communities, and the Painful Question Nigerians Are Asking About Justice, Leadership, and the Silence of God

I recently read a report in Sahara Reporters that paints a haunting picture of our current reality. While the government is busy “flagging off” and constructing luxurious quarters for judicial officers—complete with five bedroom duplexes, guest houses, and swimming pools—several communities across Abuja are crying out for the barest essentials. Roads remain broken. Water pipes remain dry. Clinics remain empty or non existent. In some areas, citizens still travel long distances simply to obtain basic medical attention or clean drinking water.

As I digested the details of this extreme disparity, I could not help but ask the heavy, psychological question that many Nigerians are whispering in the dark:

In the face of such neglect, where is God and where is the President?

This is not a question meant to offend religion or disrespect the seat of power. It is a reality based inquiry into the moral and psychological state of our nation. It is the kind of question that arises when citizens feel abandoned by both the sacred language of faith and the practical promises of governance.

When the “Sacred” institutions—the judges who hold our lives in their hands—are being pampered with luxury provided by the Executive, while the “Common Man” is left without water, schools, or clinics, something is fundamentally broken.

Justice must not only be done; it must be seen to be independent. Yet psychologically, when the public sees the guardians of justice enjoying material comforts provided by the same political structures they may one day judge, a troubling perception begins to grow. The people begin to wonder whether justice can still stand upright when it is surrounded by comfort from power.

We are witnessing a dark aspect of policy where prestige is valued over people, and comfort is prioritized over conscience.

The Painful Reality: A People with Nowhere to Turn

The most heartbreaking part of this dark aspect is the total isolation of the citizen. You must realize the depth of this crisis: if a citizen is wronged, where do they go?

They cannot go to the Police, as the system often protects the powerful.

They cannot go to the Judiciary, because when judges are living in “Presidential gifts,” the common man feels the scales of justice are already tipped toward the giver.

They cannot go to the Political Parties, which are often just engines for elite accumulation rather than platforms for public service.

In such a climate, the ordinary citizen begins to experience something deeper than political disappointment. What emerges is psychological abandonment. The structures that were supposed to provide protection begin to appear distant, unreachable, and sometimes hostile.

When all earthly doors are slammed shut and the institutions built to protect you are instead being pampered by the state, you are forced to look upward.

This is why the question “Where is God?” is so painful.

It is not merely a religious question. It is the emotional cry of a society searching for meaning in the midst of institutional silence. It is the cry of a person who has been abandoned by every system meant to serve them.

It feels as though God has been claimed by the politicians who pray in public, while He remains silent for the thirsty in the suburbs, the unemployed youth wandering the streets, and the mothers who must travel miles simply to treat a sick child.

The Psychological Trap of Elite Isolation

The issue here is the disconnection of the “Sacred.” A judge is supposed to be a sacred figure of truth. The courtroom symbolizes moral balance, restraint, and fairness. Citizens must believe that the judge stands above influence, above pressure, and above political convenience.

But psychologically, when you place that figure in a luxury villa provided as a gift from the government, you create a wall between them and the suffering of the public.

Comfort has a subtle psychological effect. It softens resistance. It reshapes loyalties. It creates invisible expectations. The more insulated leaders become from the daily struggles of citizens, the harder it becomes for them to fully grasp the urgency of public suffering.

Over time, this separation produces a dangerous emotional distance between the rulers and the ruled.

The Vanishing Presence

We look for the President in the pipes that bring water and the clinics that save lives. We look for leadership in functioning schools, reliable electricity, and communities where children can grow without fear or deprivation.

If his intervention only reaches the elite quarters but vanishes before it hits the thirsty suburbs, then for the average citizen, the President is absent.

A presidency cannot exist only in ceremonies, announcements, and official buildings. It must exist in the everyday realities of the people. When citizens cannot see the impact of leadership in their daily survival, leadership begins to feel distant, abstract, and invisible.

The Silence of the Sacred

If God is found in justice and the care of the poor, then a sacred office that enjoys private swimming pools while the neighbor has no drinking water is an office that has lost its spiritual compass.

Religion has always carried moral expectations. Faith traditions across the world remind leaders that power must be exercised with humility, fairness, and compassion. When sacred language is used publicly while suffering continues privately, a moral contradiction emerges.

Citizens begin to wonder whether faith has become ceremonial rather than transformative.

Your Direct Path to Clarity

Acknowledge the Vacuum

You must recognize that when the Police and the Courts are compromised by luxury, the citizen is left in a state of psychological homelessness. People begin to feel that no institution truly belongs to them. This sense of abandonment slowly erodes trust in the entire system.

Look Beyond the Marble

Do not be moved by leaders who use God’s name to justify their comfort. True sacredness is not found in marble floors, official villas, or ceremonial speeches. True sacredness is found in the dusty streets where the people are struggling, where mothers are searching for medicine, and where young people are searching for opportunity.

Demand a New Intervention

Our prayer for God to intervene must be matched by a demand for a Presidency that is visible in the suburbs, not just the villas. Citizens must insist that leadership be measured not by luxury projects for elites but by improvements in the daily lives of ordinary people.

Final Reflection: A Nation Must Choose

Nations rarely collapse suddenly. More often, they slowly lose their moral balance when the sacred and the state drift too far from the suffering of the people. When justice becomes comfortable while citizens remain desperate, when power becomes visible only in luxury but invisible in hardship, a dangerous psychological fracture begins to grow inside the nation.

The questions Nigerians are asking today—Where is God? Where is the President?—are not merely expressions of anger. They are signals of a deeper national search for moral leadership, accountability, and human dignity.

Painfully, many citizens are also beginning to observe another troubling reality. While communities continue to struggle with hunger, insecurity, unemployment, and the absence of basic services, political machinery across the country appears to be quietly shifting its attention toward the next general election in 2027. Directly or indirectly, strategies are being prepared, alliances are being discussed, and political calculations are already taking shape. For the suffering citizen watching from the outside, this creates a painful contrast: the politics of tomorrow advancing rapidly while the suffering of today remains unattended.

When citizens see energy being invested in future electoral victories while present hardships remain unresolved, a deeper psychological wound forms. People begin to feel that their pain has become secondary to political survival.

If those entrusted with authority cannot hear these questions now, they may one day hear them in louder and more painful forms. And if human ears remain closed to the cries of the people, history often shows that conscience, circumstance, or even the quiet voice of the sacred eventually finds a way to speak where citizens have been ignored.

A wise nation listens before the silence of the people turns into the noise of despair.

About the Author

Prof. John Egbeazien Oshodi is an American psychologist and educator specializing in forensic, legal, clinical, and cross cultural psychology, with expertise in policing, corrections, and public ethical policy. A native of Uromi, Edo State, Nigeria, he works at the intersection of psychology, justice, and governance and teaches at Nova Southeastern University and Walden University. Prof. Oshodi is a Black Republican in the United States but belongs to no political party in Nigeria, and his work is guided by justice, good governance, democracy, and Africa’s development. He is the founder of Psychoafricalysis and has authored more than 700 articles and multiple books.