Bezos wedding: When will we stop applauding power?
By Ebuka Ukoh
“We are nobodies. We have no money. Nothing. We’re just citizens who started organizing — and we managed to move one of the most powerful people in the world out of the city.” — Tommaso Cacciari, No Space for Bezos.
It took me a lot to pick up my laptop and type. But it is easy to scroll through the news, get angry, and do absolutely nothing. But I know better now.
Doing something — even a small thing — matters. For some, it will be to plant the seed. For others, it will be to water. The point is this: ordinary people still have power. They just need to know it and own it.
Last week, the streets of Venice reminded the world what people power looks like. Protesters from groups like No Space for Bezos and Greenpeace Italy rallied against the lavish, hyper-exclusive wedding celebration of Jeff Bezos and Lauren Sanchez. The world’s third richest man planned to rent out historical landmarks, sail in on private yachts, and jam up Venice with celebrity guests and former U.S. Marines. The city was to become a backdrop for billionaire decadence.
But the people said no.
From hanging protest banners across Venice’s canals to plastering the city with fake Bezos dollar bills, citizens organised, their message was clear: Venice is not for sale. And they won. The event was moved from the city centre to a more remote location. The world’s elite retreated.
Compare this to Nigeria. If someone like Bezos were visiting Lagos or Abuja, we might declare a public holiday to welcome him. We just saw that happen. President Tinubu visited Benue State, where people were still reeling from a massacre, and the state declared a holiday, not to mourn the victims but to welcome a powerful man. This is what sycophancy looks like when it replaces sense.
We are quick to roll out red carpets for those with power, yet slow to resist those who abuse it. We silence our pain in favour of performance. But what if, like the people of Venice, we pushed back?
In Nigeria, we are dealing with insecurity in Benue, oil spills in the Niger Delta, gentrification in Lagos, and crippling hardship from fuel subsidy removals. These aren’t random misfortunes. They are structural betrayals. Yet, we often act like we are powerless.
We are not.
Organising doesn’t always mean marching. It can mean: Forming community safety patrols when the state fails to protect; Creating coalitions to monitor oil spill cleanup promises; Mobilising digitally to resist land grabs; Voting as a bloc to unseat non-performing leaders.
The End SARS movement proved this. So did Bring Back Our Girls. Otoge in Kwara shifted political dynamics. The fuel subsidy protests, from Occupy Nigeria in 2012 to the current resistance against hardship, all show that organised voices can challenge the status quo. But protest doesn’t need to trend on Twitter to be effective. It just needs to persist.
As Tommaso Cacciari put it: “We are nobodies.” But they organised. And they moved Bezos.
The billionaires of this world may have yachts and security. But they are still afraid of one thing: the organised will of the people.
Let’s be clear: protests should never be violent. In Nigeria, it seems the police are more equipped to suppress unarmed protesters than to fight armed robbers or bandits. Still, we must not let the evil engineering of the system silence us. Whether it is digital advocacy, town hall meetings, school debates, or just one conversation that shifts someone’s thinking, do something.
Because the moment we stop trying, the system wins.
In a world where the rich turn cities into playgrounds, organising is how we take them back. It is how we remind ourselves that we are not furniture to be moved around for optics. We are citizens. We are the city.
An Igbo proverb says, Agbata obi eze adịghị mma, e kwu na ya bụ ihe mere eji agba egbe n’ogige eze. (The discomfort in the king’s neighbourhood is the reason the palace is never truly at peace.)
A Yoruba saying reminds us: Pẹlẹbẹ ni ejò ńrin, àmọ̀ ìgbà tí ó fi ńrin mọ́kànjúà, ló ṣì jẹ́ kó di ẹ̀rù fún ara rẹ̀. (That snakes move alone is their undoing.)
Let that be our moral guide.
When we organise, we dignify ourselves. When we speak, we reclaim our future. When we resist — with wisdom, unity, and courage — we change even billionaires’ plans.
Let Nigeria learn this. Let every citizen remember it. Because power still belongs to the people. If only we would use it.
- Mr Ukoh, an alumnus of the American University of Nigeria, Yola, and PhD student at Columbia University, writes from New York.
