IN ANOTHER era, Nelson Mandela and Robert Mugabe shared much in common. Both were articulate, feted leaders of African independence movements in countries ruled by a white minority. Both spent long periods in prison, and were eventually their respective countries’ first black leaders, Mugabe in 1980, and Mandela in 1994.
   But the post-independence fates of Zimbabwe and South Africa have radically diverged. Although it has a multitude of serious social problems ranging from high crime rates through to a ferocious AIDS epidemic, South Africa is the most prosperous nation on the continent, with an increasingly influential emerging black professional middle class. The fact that it is holding the first African football World Cup is indicative of its current global standing. Zimbabwe, meanwhile, is in political and economic chaos: democracy is in tatters, while the Zimbabwean dollar this year experienced a staggering 100,580.2 per cent rate of hyperinflation.
   Why has Zimbabwe, the country that was once called the ‘breadbasket of Africa’ come to such an impasse? How did Robert Mugabe so comprehensively fail where Nelson Mandela so remarkably succeeded? The answer lies in the mindset and vision of the two leaders: their respect and understanding for the democratic process, and their ability to integrate dispossessed blacks into their countries’ respective economies.
   Robert Mugabe today fights an imagined war against a long-extinct colonialism, and has in the process become a tyrant who constricts the liberties of the Zimbabwean people in much the same manner that Ian Smith’s racist white government did before him. Zimbabwe’s traumatised but determined opposition, the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC), led by Morgan Tsvangirai, have been brutalised by Mugabe’s Zanu-PF. Opposition supporters have not only suffered beatings and false imprisonment, but have also been starved of food, that most appalling method by which to flex political muscle. A reasonable reflection of Robert Mugabe’s mindset can be seen in the absurd reporting and comment written in the Zimbabwe Herald newspaper, a publication that is essentially the mouthpiece of Mugabe’s Zanu-PF party.
   In contrast, Mandela possessed a coherent vision for post-apartheid South Africa, and most crucially a capacity for reconciliation between the white and black communities. When Mandela assumed presidency in 1994, one of the first initiatives that the ANC government undertook was the establishment of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Chaired by Archbishop Desmond Tutu, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (or TRC) was a forum in which those who felt that their human rights had been violated in the Apartheid era could come forward and testify; similarly those accused could also testify and request immunity from prosecution. The commission’s members consisted of both black and white advocates. The result was that the agents of the apartheid regime were compelled to publicly face up to their past crimes, while those who suffered were able to publicly testify about what happened to them. Although still deeply divided, there were no violent recriminations against whites, and South Africa continued to function as a relatively peaceful society.
   Mugabe’s approach to Zimbabwe’s economic injustices was just as ham fisted as his approach to politics. Instead of searching for a smooth manner in which to give blacks a leading role in Zimbabwe’s economy, Mugabe simply expelled white landowners, giving the land to Zanu-PF members who had no experience of organised farming. The result of this sudden and radical change in the structure and production output of Zimbabwe’s economy was a phenomenal rise in food prices, which Mugabe attributed as being a conspiracy to bankrupt Zimbabwe by western governments.
   Faced with the similar problem of having to readdress the racial economic inequalities in South Africa, Mandela took an eminently more sensible approach. Realising that South Africa would face economic disaster if all white business was re-appropriated overnight, Mandela’s ANC government passed ‘affirmative action’ legislation that ensured that all companies employed black and coloured people in management roles. Although much business is still white dominated, the complexion of South Africa’s business community has gradually – but significantly – changed since 1994. For example, initiatives such as the Broad Based Black Economic Empowerment have increased the number of blacks in management positions across a wide range of businesses from 216,772 in 1995 to 359,408 in 2005.
   Sadly, Mandela’s extraordinary example is the exception rather than the rule in post-colonial Africa. Mugabe joins a long catalogue of despots who have stamped on democracy, brutalised their countrymen and pillaged national resources. From extreme cases like Idi Amin in Uganda and Joseph Mobutu in Zaire through to more moderate and honourable failures such as Kwame Nkrumah in Ghana or Julius Nyerere in Tanzania, post-independence African leadership has been uniquely disastrous. Take for example, Ahmed Sekou Toure of Guinea, a leader like Mugabe whose political roots were in revolutionary socialism. On independence from France in 1960, Toure immediately established a one-party state, and many political opponents were jailed. In the 24 years that he ruled Guinea, he failed to establish any kind of parliamentary democracy.
   Why do these freedom fighters turn into oppressive tyrants? In many respects it is because of the nature of the fight for freedom. The Zimbabwe African National Union, the Mugabe-headed resistance movement to white rule in Rhodesia was not an inherently democratic organisation, it possessed from the outset a militant marxist agenda. The leadership of ZANU operated in a constant state of paranoia: they never knew who would betray them to the government. Mugabe carried this sense of deep-seated paranoia into democratic government. Eventually, Zimbabwe the nation-state was run in the image of ZANU, the underground militant organisation. Consequently, government accountability and freedom of expression disappeared.
   This is the hidden, enduring legacy of colonialism in Africa: that the struggle for freedom came at the expense of a respect the democratic process.
   The author is a freelance journalist who writes for New Age from London

Dear Reader, living in the solution at times can be challenging; swimming against the current of negativity and trying to find opportunity in every crisis, seeing every dip, every fall, as a prelude to a rise, as a chance for renewal, can at the best of times make one feel somewhat delusional and, at the worst of times, make one tire and wish to give up, go under. But, dear reader, do we really have a choice of giving up, allowing ourselves be overpowered by negativity, overwhelmed by problems? I don’t believe so. If we wish to continue contributing to the world, make a difference in our and other’s lives, leave a better world for our children than what was given to us, we must choose the only option, the one of swimming forward; shutting out the detractors, pulling away from the reeds dragging us down into the swirling tides of defeat, and rising towards the solution.
   In the last two weeks, I have been assailed by doubts on whether I can, whether I should feel optimistic about the future; whether I can, whether I should write about a universe which conspires to give us what we intend and work for, about a future full of promise. I found that even my rose tinted glasses were getting fogged, my perceptions were being tested by the events around us; potential famine, riotous hunger and political instability in the country of my birth and return; start of a recession, home foreclosures, joblessness, an un-winnable war and the voice of hope being drowned out by cynicism in the country that adopted me, gave me an almost free education and a wonderful life; a young sister, a beacon of activism and unfurled spirit, seeing her peaceful movement bloodied by the barrel of a gun and the insidious shards of propaganda. Yes, dear reader, not only were my rose tinted glasses fogging, they were cracking from the onslaught of negative news.
   I could not write about what I did not feel. So, I took a break. I did the next right thing. I focused on my work, which stems from a belief that this country of mine is on the verge of take-off, a country where I can work, live and contribute to after 20 plus years away. I tested my belief, my perception that there truly are no insurmountable obstacles, just opportunities to be creative in surmounting such obstacles. My partner I met with some of the captains of our industry. We proposed, we brainstormed, we enthusiastically exchanged ideas; we concluded that our goals are attainable, but that the distance and time to reach the goal post are longer. Regardless of the distance to the goal post, we set our vision and our commitment to reach for it. Meanwhile the universe conspired to provide us short-term sustainability in the form of contracts from different corners of the world. The fog started clearing. But I needed to draw strength from others. I sought out others who believe as I do. I found them with help from a like-minded friend. A group of young returnees, who believe, in spite of all that seem wrong with our country, that Bangladesh will be the next ASIAN TIGER. I found these believers who are willing to bet on their belief, by investing money and time into a venture with a long-term vision for Bangladesh. I found people who inspire, who thrive on ideas and implementation, people who are energized by problems, as they see each problem as a solution-in-waiting.
   I met a gentleman at a roundtable. He is a product of BUET and Silicon Valley, who left the stock options of the valley to come to Dhaka to start a chip design company in Bangladesh. In spite of the connectivity and regulatory issues, he succeeded and now has a viable chip design company in Bangladesh. He is living proof that one does not need to have a platform or infrastructure to return to Bangladesh; that one can create such platform and find ways around the infrastructure with sheer determination and a positive outlook. I looked closer to home and derived inspiration from my brother. He was a much-published and cutting edge scientist in the States; he came back, found a new course of study and teaching, and now is grooming students who have put up an on-line fan club to show their admiration for him. This may seem inconsequential to many, but to me, it is proof of the impact one can have in Bangladesh.
   Dear reader, if you are reading this in the snowy spring of Ann Arbor, or the rainy drizzle of Seattle or the cold fog of London, and thinking of whether you can come back home, remember that many have come before you and that they are showing you the way that it – success, a well-balanced life – can be done; that the sub-prime meltdown and the recession to follow in the West have reduced the opportunity cost of coming back; that most of the growth will happen in this part of the world. For those returnees who have come back, I would like to hear from you so I can pass on your stories to those who wish to return. For those who wish to return, I would like to hear from you so we can start a dialogue as to what is holding you back. Dear readers, shoot me an e-mail and let me know what you think at masudkhan1@gmail.com. I look forward to hearing from you.