A teacher should have maximal authority, and minimal power.

Hear now the wisdom of Thomas Szasz, who declared: “A teacher should have maximal authority, and minimal power.” These words are not to be taken lightly, for they contain within them the ancient tension between the soul that seeks to guide and the hand that seeks to control. To understand them is to glimpse the sacred nature of teaching, where wisdom flows like a river, not from the lash of command, but from the strength of earned respect.

The word authority is not born from fear, but from trust. It arises when the student recognizes the teacher as a source of truth, a bearer of knowledge, a guardian of wisdom. Power, by contrast, is the blunt instrument of coercion, the force that bends but does not enlighten. The great teacher does not need power, for his words, his deeds, his example, are enough to command the heart. Like the sun that needs no whip to compel flowers to bloom, true authority radiates from within.

Let us remember the story of Socrates in ancient Athens. He held no office, commanded no armies, wielded no wealth. He taught not with decrees, but with questions, guiding young minds to discover truth by their own reasoning. He had no worldly power, yet his authority was so great that his students, among them Plato, carried his teachings across centuries. Even when condemned to death, Socrates did not cling to power or demand obedience. He drank the hemlock calmly, trusting that truth itself would outlive the force of tyrants. Here we see Szasz’s wisdom made flesh: the true teacher lives by authority, not power.

History warns us also of the opposite. When teaching becomes a tool of raw power, it corrupts both student and master. Consider the indoctrination of children in totalitarian regimes, where teachers were forced to command minds through fear and lies. There, the rod of power silenced questioning, but it never nurtured wisdom. Such “teaching” built obedient subjects, not free citizens. For knowledge imposed by force is brittle; it shatters when struck by truth. Authority alone endures, for it is chosen freely by those who listen and believe.

The meaning of Szasz’s words, then, is both noble and urgent: a teacher must earn the reverence of their students, not seize it by command. Authority is the fruit of patience, humility, and wisdom. Power is the crutch of those who cannot inspire. The great teacher lights the path and says, “Walk with me,” not, “March as I order.” To teach is to serve, not to dominate. To guide is to elevate, not to suppress.

Therefore, let each who hears these words carry this lesson: if you would teach, whether in the classroom, in the home, or in the world, seek to cultivate authority by living truthfully, by showing integrity, by loving wisdom more than control. Use power sparingly, only to protect, never to command. Remember always that the soul of a student is sacred, and it blossoms not under domination, but under trust.

Practical steps are given to you: listen before you speak; ask before you answer; model the virtues you wish to see in others. Let your wisdom, your fairness, your humility be the source of your authority. Restrain your use of power, for every act of force diminishes the respect that could have been freely given. Be the kind of teacher whose presence inspires learning, whose example compels growth, and whose memory endures not because of fear, but because of love.

In this way, you shall walk the ancient path of the true teacher, holding the highest authority and wielding the least power. And in doing so, you will shape not only minds, but hearts, leaving behind not mere students, but disciples of wisdom who carry light into the ages.