The news that Colonel Robert Gueï is being proposed or has proposed himself as the presidential candidate of the PDCI party for the forthcoming elections in the Ivory Coast (okay, Côte d’Ivoire) can come as no surprise to any observer of the African political scene. However, this news is not in the least less disappointing for not being surprising. And this remains so whether or not Gueï’s candidature is eventually confirmed or not. He came to power under the guise of a God-sent messiah charged with ridding Ivorians of the corrupt dictatorship of Henri Konan Bédié, and there is no doubt that the latter needed getting rid of. He had been presiding over a dictatorship, boldly pretending to be a modern democracy.
I visited Côte d’Ivoire for the very first time during the first quarter of 1997 and was sadly surprised to notice that the Bédié regime, of which I had heard so much, was little more than a bold pretence of mostly corrupt kleptocrats, hanging like parasitic leeches on monolithic state structures, inherited from and coextensive with the regime of their acknowledged ‘Père de la Nation’. Does that remind you of some other African countries with which you are familiar? I felt like weeping for the Ivory Coast, knowing fully well that I would at the same time be weeping for myself and my children, my country people and their children. Robert Gueï’s intervention raised the same sort of euphoric hopes that the coming of Kabila had raised in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. But, apparently, popular hopes get raised in Africa only to be given a shattering free fall from their euphoric heights. Why would people not learn from Nelson Mandela?
Like Samuel Doe before him, like Laurent Kabila more recently, Robert Gueï has proved not to be of the stuff of which popular political messiahs are made, has proved not even to understand what profane messiah-ship is all about. He has rather quickly shown himself to be infected and affected by the Samuel Doe Syndrome. He has evidently decided to try the path, so well traced out by the Babangidas and Abachas, a path whose ultimate destination is known to all of us. Exceptions may not be completely lacking, but military people certainly do not have what it takes to give political leadership. I started having doubts about Gueï the day the national football team of the Ivory Coast got eliminated from the last Cup of Nations in the early rounds of the competition. Gueï crudely interpreted the defeat as a sign of lack of patriotism on the part of the players, subjected them to military-style drills and, absurdly, forced them to sing their national anthem.
Gueï has tasted power for only a few months and discovered that ‘power is sweet!’ and is therefore ready to stay on and perpetuate himself in power, by all means. It is, of course, possible, even likely, that Gueï is being pushed and encouraged, against his own better judgement, by civilian sycophants and praise singers, people who in their own interest flatter every power man of the day as being divinely sent and indispensable. But this is no excuse for a gunman who came to power without the help of such popular flatteries. Gueï could have chosen political sainthood by organizing and supervising no-nonsense democratic elections and then withdrawing from the political limelight, but he has deliberately chosen the path that leads directly to the dustbin of political history. It is up to him.
It is really saddening to realize that nearly half a century after the political independence of most African countries, after so much needless suffering in the midst of plenty, we Africans are still not ready to put our act together, in our own collective interest, in the interest of our own children. Why cannot we all learn from the Mandela phenomenon? Nelson Mandela is more popular now and more in demand for important international and global assignments than when he was in power, simply because he voluntarily and willingly quit the summit of power, after only a single term in office, when the logic of the situation and the tearful cries of his people would have encouraged him to stay on.
The Africa Leadership Forum has prescribed a maximum of two four-year terms of office for African heads of state, with the further recommendation that appropriate regional and international assignments should be envisaged for ex-heads of state, so that they may not be terrified of quitting power. Four years is long enough to achieve for one’s country whatever one wants to achieve as a head of state. Mandela has just proved it. A second term of office, in fact, should be allowed by the people only in exceptional circumstances. Power is an extremely dangerous thing that should not be allowed to crystallize in the hands of a single individual or group of individuals. Whenever this happens, collective well being and survival are in great danger, because power is extremely delightful and absolute power tends to be absolutely delightful.
Here in Cameroon, our presidential term of office of 5 years was already above the prescribed limit. But, in 1996, we all further connived, against reason and our own better interest, to raise it to 7 years, for no other ostensible reason than to perpetuate Mr. Paul Biya and his small group of power sharers in power. By the time the current septenat ends, Mr. Biya would have been in power for an absurd 23 continuous years, and some people still envisage a second septenat for him, which could likely be changed into a decanat before it ends! No one can say that Biya has not done any good since he came to power. But he has done the good that he could have done. In his own interest and the interest of the nation he loves so much, he ought to take his well-deserved, long over-due retirement before the next presidential elections. Vocal members of the CNU-CPDM may not agree with this recommendation, but political ethics, wisdom and the logic of the situation all point to Peter Mafany Musonge as the best Presidential candidate that our state party can field for 2004.
Gobata
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