Knowledge is power, if you know it about the right person.

“Knowledge is power, if you know it about the right person.” — Ethel Watts Mumford

These words, spoken by the American author and wit Ethel Watts Mumford, carry a sting of irony and a whisper of truth that has echoed through the corridors of both palaces and prisons. Her statement turns the familiar saying — “knowledge is power” — upon its head, revealing the shadow that lies behind wisdom’s light. For while knowledge in its purest form can elevate the soul and advance civilization, Mumford reminds us that in the realm of human nature, knowledge can also become a weapon — a subtle, unseen blade that cuts more deeply than the sword. She understood, as the ancients did, that power is rarely about force alone, but about understanding the hearts, weaknesses, and desires of others.

The origin of this quote lies in Mumford’s sharp observations of society during the early 20th century — an age of both progress and intrigue. A woman of intellect and satire, she wrote during a time when politics, art, and social circles intertwined in a dance of ambition and manipulation. Her insight draws from that world, where reputations were made and unmade not by violence, but by information. To know “the right person” — to understand their secrets, ambitions, or fears — was to hold a kind of invisible dominion over them. Thus, Mumford’s words capture the essence of psychological power, the kind wielded not by emperors or generals, but by those who command the hidden currency of influence.

From the dawn of history, the wise have known this truth. In the courts of kings and queens, it was not always the warrior who held sway, but the advisor, the scribe, or the spy — those who understood the hidden motives behind the throne. Consider the tale of Cardinal Richelieu, the French statesman who served under King Louis XIII. He wielded enormous influence not through arms, but through information — by knowing the weaknesses of his enemies, the ambitions of his allies, and the secrets whispered in royal chambers. His mastery of knowledge made him more powerful than nobles and generals alike, and his shadow loomed over all of France. Richelieu embodied Mumford’s truth: that power is not only in what one knows, but in whom one knows about.

Yet there is a moral complexity in Mumford’s words. They reveal the dual nature of knowledge — that it can enlighten or corrupt, depending on how it is used. When knowledge is sought to uplift others, it becomes wisdom; when it is hoarded or weaponized, it becomes manipulation. The ancients spoke often of this balance. Socrates taught that the wise man uses knowledge to free the soul, while Machiavelli argued that rulers must sometimes use it to control others. Between these two poles — virtue and cunning — humanity has always swayed. Mumford’s quote exposes this tension, reminding us that the line between wisdom and deceit lies not in the mind, but in the heart.

Her words also reflect the human fascination with secrets — the quiet power that comes from seeing what others cannot. In every age, from the whispering courts of Rome to the modern world of politics and media, information has been the lifeblood of control. Today, the phrase takes on new meaning in the digital age, where “knowing about the right person” can shape reputations, elections, and even the fate of nations. The world, more than ever, runs on the power of data — on who holds it, who conceals it, and who dares to use it. Thus, Mumford’s century-old insight rings with prophetic clarity in our own: that knowledge, in the wrong hands, can bend truth itself to serve ambition.

But her saying is not merely cynical. It is also a warning and a call to wisdom. She urges us to understand the power of what we know — to handle truth with care, lest it become a tool of harm. For the one who seeks to use knowledge only for leverage may gain power, but lose integrity; and the one who fears all knowledge loses the power to discern. The truly wise know when to speak and when to stay silent, when to reveal and when to protect. Such balance, taught by philosophers and prophets alike, is the mark of maturity.

So let this be the lesson drawn from Ethel Watts Mumford’s words: knowledge in itself is neutral, like fire. It can illuminate or destroy, depending on the hands that wield it. Use it, therefore, not to dominate others, but to understand them. Seek not to know others’ weaknesses for advantage, but their hearts for compassion. For though it is true that “knowledge is power,” the greatest power is not in knowing about others — it is in knowing oneself, in mastering one’s own motives, impulses, and pride.

Thus, O seeker of wisdom, remember the paradox hidden in Mumford’s wit: to know much is to hold great responsibility. Guard your knowledge as you would a sacred flame — not to burn others, but to bring light where there is darkness. For in the end, the one who uses knowledge with integrity holds the only kind of power that endures — the power that shapes not others’ fates, but one’s own soul.