The devil ain't got no power over me. The devil come, and me

Bob Marley, prophet of song and messenger of truth, once declared with fearless simplicity: “The devil ain’t got no power over me. The devil come, and me shake hands with the devil. Devil have his part to play. Devil’s a good friend, too… because when you don’t know him, that’s the time he can mosh you down.” At first, these words sound like a paradox, a strange mingling of defiance and friendship. Yet within them lies the ancient wisdom of those who see clearly: that to conquer evil, one must first recognize it, not as a mystery shrouded in fear, but as a reality to be faced with open eyes.

The origin of this saying lies in Marley’s deep roots in Rastafarian thought, in the traditions of struggle, resistance, and spiritual clarity. To him, the devil was not merely a horned figure of legend but the living embodiment of oppression, temptation, corruption, and deceit. By saying he would “shake hands with the devil,” Marley declared that he did not fear the presence of evil, for he had already named it, faced it, and accepted that it had a role in the drama of life. The devil, unacknowledged, is most dangerous; but once seen, once understood, he loses his power to deceive.

To say that the devil has his part to play is to acknowledge the truth of balance in creation. Just as night defines day, just as struggle gives meaning to freedom, so too does temptation sharpen virtue. The one who pretends evil does not exist is like a traveler who refuses to admit that storms may come. But the one who accepts the storm, who shakes its hand, is prepared to endure it. Marley’s words, then, are no surrender to the devil, but a triumph: for by knowing him, he cannot be undone by him.

History itself gives us mirrors of this wisdom. Consider Nelson Mandela, who for twenty-seven years sat in the prison of Robben Island. He did not deny the devil of apartheid, nor did he cower before it. Instead, he faced it with eyes open, studied its nature, and endured its assaults. In the end, when he walked free, he was not destroyed by bitterness but strengthened by knowledge. He had “shaken hands with the devil,” and thus the devil could not “mosh him down.” His spirit was greater than the evil that sought to consume him.

So too in the story of Jesus in the wilderness, tempted by the adversary. He did not pretend that temptation was absent, nor did he flee. He faced the devil directly, answered with truth, and in so doing proved that the devil had no power over him. The trial itself became his triumph. Marley’s words breathe the same wisdom: the one who acknowledges the devil cannot be deceived by him, for recognition disarms deceit.

The lesson for us is profound: do not live in denial of evil, nor in fear of it. To pretend that life holds no temptation, no corruption, no hardship, is to make yourself vulnerable. But to look upon these forces with clarity, to name them, to see them as part of the world’s great balance, is to rob them of their hidden power. Ignorance is the devil’s ally; awareness is his defeat. The one who knows the face of evil can walk with confidence, for the devil has no surprise to spring upon him.

Practically, this means living with vigilance and honesty. Acknowledge your own weaknesses, your temptations, your struggles. Do not hide them, for hidden, they control you. Face them, and they lose their chains. When corruption beckons, name it for what it is. When oppression rises, do not cower but recognize it, understand its shape, and stand firm. By shaking hands with the devil, you declare that you see him, that you are not blind, and therefore he cannot overthrow you.

So let Marley’s words echo in your heart: “The devil ain’t got no power over me… because when you don’t know him, that’s the time he can mosh you down.” Let them remind you that knowledge is strength, that awareness is freedom, and that fear fades when the truth is faced. Do not deny the devil’s presence—but deny him power, and walk on with the courage of those who cannot be overthrown.