In Africa, Democratic Systems of Government Slowly Replacing Personality Cults

HARARE, Zimbabwe —  When a new member of the parliament called President Robert Mugabe “the only other Son of God,” Mugabe joined a galaxy of African leaders who have been showered with fanciful honorifics.

Mugabe already had been dubbed “the most authentic, consistent and revolutionary leader” in the ruling ZANU PF Party’s newspaper advertisements.

His Kenyan counterpart, Daniel Arap Moi, is known as “The Glorious” ( Mheshimiwa in Swahili). The octogenarian Hastings Kamuzu Banda is “The Lion of Malawi” or “Savior” ( Mkango waMalawi or Ngwazi in the native Nyanja.)

Praise-singing, once an important feature of the reverence accorded to African rulers, is being challenged more and more by a critical public demanding political freedom.

For placing Mugabe on a par with Jesus Christ, Tony Gara was accused of professional sycophancy and blasphemy. Angry letters to the local press denounced him for saying that “(Zimbabwe) and its people should thank the Almighty for giving us his only other Son--by the name of Robert Gabriel Mugabe.”

The local Catholic magazine Moto protested that Zimbabwe did not need a personality cult such as that supporting North Korea’s President Kim Il Sung, who is known as the Great Leader.

According to Jonathan Moyo, a University of Zimbabwe political science lecturer and outspoken critic of Mugabe, the bestowing of accolades on leaders is a precolonial African tradition.

“Traditional chiefs in precolonial societies enjoyed these praises as they sought to build centralized structures of authority and coercion. Some of the leaders who inherited power at independence have continued to rule like chiefs,” Moyo said.

“Because most African countries are colonially created states, hero worshiping . . . has always been justified on grounds of consolidating nationhood. That is where you get that concept of one country, one leader.”

Many of the attributes heaped on African leaders by their subjects compare their powers to those of God or of a dangerous animal.

President Mobutu Sese Seko of Zaire rules under the self-proclaimed title “The one who is and shall always be,” derived from a name he gave himself in the 1960s, Kuku Ngbengu Wasa Banga.

“God the Almighty is an attractive comparison, because he expects absolute loyalty and obedience,” Moyo said.

Banda has suppressed all opposition since he came to power in 1964. Officials insist that he be addressed as “Ngwazi, His Excellency the Life President, Mkango waMalawi, Dr. Kamuzu Banda.”

When Banda is seated, his chief of protocol kneels to address him. Malawians must invoke Kamuzu’s name in all official statements.

On a trip to Malawi early this year, Banda gave Mugabe a leopard skin, a symbol of power in Africa.

No recent African leader has followed the example of the Central African Republic’s Jean-Bedel Bokassa, who declared himself emperor in the 1970s.

Moyo said the habit of hero worshipping is fading: “The ordinary man is now aware that once he treats his political leader like a traditional chief, the leader wants to hold onto power till death.”

It is not just the titles that have lost their appeal. African symbols of power worn by some leaders, mostly postcolonial nationalists of the 1950s and 1960s, are also under scrutiny.

Mobutu’s trademark is a leopard-skin hat. Banda carries a fly whisk; Moi sports a short staff. President Kenneth Kaunda of Zambia is never without a white handkerchief in his hand.

Moi’s predecessor and Kenya’s first president, Jomo Kenyatta, also carried a fly whisk.

Some younger African leaders have managed without the titles and symbols, among them Angolan President Jose Eduardo dos Santos, Mozambique’s Joaquim Chissano and presidents Yoweri Museveni of Uganda and Ali Hassan Mwinyi of Tanzania.

“Public respect for praise names and power symbols is declining as fast as the pressure for democracy on the continent is building,” said Chengatai Malumo of the University of Zimbabwe.