Power is domination, control, and therefore a very selective

The words of Wole Soyinka—“Power is domination, control, and therefore a very selective form of truth which is a lie.”—fall with the weight of centuries of struggle. In this utterance, the Nobel laureate unmasks the inner nature of power when corrupted: it does not reveal the fullness of truth, but bends it, trims it, and reshapes it to serve the will of the ruler. In so doing, it becomes not truth at all, but a refined lie, dressed in the garments of authority. For domination requires illusion, and control demands that only fragments of reality be permitted to shine.

The origin of these words comes from Soyinka’s life as both poet and dissident, born in Nigeria, a land torn by colonial rule, civil war, and the struggles of independence. He saw governments wielding power not as service but as domination, silencing dissent, reshaping history, and dictating what the people were permitted to know. To the rulers, their decrees were “truth.” Yet beneath the surface, the lived reality of the people—poverty, repression, suffering—exposed the falsehood. Thus, Soyinka declared that when truth is controlled by the strong, it ceases to be truth at all, and becomes a lie sanctified by power.

History testifies to the danger of such selective truths. Consider the reign of Joseph Stalin. His power was absolute, and with it he curated “truth” itself. Records were altered, photographs erased, histories rewritten so that the people saw only what the state desired them to see. Dissenting voices were crushed, not because their words were false, but because they revealed truths the ruler could not bear. What remained was a carefully sculpted narrative—partially true, but wholly a lie, for it omitted everything that might weaken the grip of domination. Soyinka’s words echo across that history: when power dictates truth, deception rules the land.

Yet there are also stories of resistance. Václav Havel, living under Communist rule in Czechoslovakia, wrote of the “power of the powerless,” declaring that even small acts of honesty—speaking openly, refusing to parrot lies—were acts of rebellion against selective truth. His courage, like Soyinka’s, shows that while power may dominate for a season, truth untamed is always greater than truth controlled. In the end, the structures built upon lies crumble, while the free word endures.

The teaching here is twofold. First, beware of those who claim to define truth for all while silencing opposition, for their truth is but a lie fortified by control. Second, recognize that the temptation lives not only in empires and kings, but in every human heart. Each of us, when wielding authority—be it in family, in work, or in community—faces the danger of shaping reality for others, omitting what is inconvenient, presenting only what maintains our control. In so doing, we become deceivers, even if we cloak ourselves in good intentions.

The lesson is clear: seek truth in its wholeness, not in fragments handed down by the powerful. Practice humility, for no one man or institution possesses all reality. Guard your heart against the desire to manipulate, to control, to dominate with your own version of truth. Instead, let your words and actions illuminate reality as it is, even when it weakens your position. For truth that serves power is a lie, but truth that stands beyond power is freedom.

Therefore, take these actions: listen to many voices, especially the silenced. Question the narratives handed to you by authority. Refuse to shape truth into a weapon for control. In your own life, resist the temptation to tell only the convenient story; instead, tell the whole. For as Soyinka warns, power without morality will always craft a selective truth—and in that act of selection, truth itself is lost. To live rightly, then, is to serve truth above domination, and in doing so, to defy the greatest of lies.