Plea to politicians: don’t cross the thin line between political drama and human tragedy

It is often said that life is like a drama in which we each have a role and part to play. In life’s theatre, none loves to play their part than politicians. They are expert at creating drama, even when no one really wants to watch. One problem, though, they cannot decide whether they want to present a comedy or tragedy. Often it is both but with a tendency to degenerate into the latter. Sometimes the drama takes the form of a duel of gladiators with all the certainty of a fatality, or the senseless brutishness of a bullfight. Other times it is more of a cat and mouse game where stratagem and counter subterfuge reign supreme. Or it is a contest employing the famed cunning of the hare or tortoise, depending on which part of Africa the drama is set in. Frequently, it is a combination of all these, and our region is blessed to have it all in plenty. In the history of our northern neighbours, Uganda, there is hardly a dull moment when there is no life and death fight between politicians at different levels, or the cunning manipulation of existing situations for partisan ends disguised as national interest. The latest excuse for this sort of drama is a proposed amendment to the constitution to lift the age limit of those aspiring to be president of the country. It played out like this. The army and Police in riot gear and armoured cars surrounded parliament as the house prepared to debate various motions brought before it, including, possibly, the constitution amendment bill. The last time something similar happened was fifty-one years ago when parliament was being pressured to pass a new constitution. History is never too far away. Its lessons, however, never seem to be learnt. Inside the hallowed chamber, rowdy members of parliament prevented debate on the day’s business. When the house was adjourned prematurely, some of the honourable members pulled out red bandanas and tied them around their heads and marched outside singing victory songs of the National Resistance Army (NRA). The irony was all too clear. In another part of Kampala, undergraduates at Makerere University were fighting running battles with the police. A few miles away, the Lord Mayor of Kampala was being bundled into a police van, kicking and screaming. This time it was not out of protest alone; there was a hint of fear, especially as he seemed to have been taken by surprise. In the process his jacket was ripped right down the back, and no doubt the mayor who loves a legal fight will seek hefty compensation for the damage to his jacket. In what has now become familiar practice, a few other skirmishes between politicians and security forces ensued in other parts of the city. They say that all this is a very important and healthy democratic debate, and the physical bruises to the mayor and other politicians only an occupational hazard. Apparently, debate, like democracy, has got a new definition that takes it beyond arguments using words to include fists and other instruments of violence. Luckily, most of this not-too-gentle ‘democratic debate’ is only among the political class in the capital, with some hangers-on as audience. To that extent it remains only a drama. To the east, in Kenya, the drama has been running for quite a while. There, the gladiators have not yet unsheathed their swords. They are still content with using colourful language to taunt each other and express their discontent. And so we hear of computer-generated leaders (vifaranga vya computer) and thugs (wakora) on the bench. We were treated to the spectacle of a twelve-hour reading of the judgement of a case whose verdict had been known for three weeks. As the drama goes on, there is more suspense. Will there be an election in the next thirty days? Who will conduct it since one side is adamant it will not take part if the election officials in place do not leave? What will happen if the Chief Justice or his deputy refuses to administer the oath of office to the individual elected president? In the midst of all this, there has been the scary talk of a coup, not the military sort, but one nonetheless. First, it was a judicial coup allegedly staged by the Chief Justice. Now, there is talk, by Mutahi Ngunyi, he of the tyranny of numbers notoriety, of a civilian coup engineered by Raila Odinga with the complicity of the Chief Justice. Mutahi Ngunyi’s talk is not an aside, and even if it was, is meant to be heard. It is part of the main plot and must therefore be taken seriously, especially since he has been proved right before. This is where the drama gets frightening. As long as it is an enactment of a quarrel among politicians, that’s generally fine. The rest can sit back and watch and enjoy. But if it involves the subversion of national consensus and threatens the livelihoods of ordinary people, it is no longer a matter of entertainment. It becomes a matter of grave concern. For the moment the elements of good drama remain - conflict, main and sub-plots, protagonists unwilling to give any quarter, suspense and all – in some countries in our region. But since this is not make-believe drama, but real life, involving not only the countries concerned but the whole region, the resolution of the conflict should be one that is satisfactory to all. In real life there is no time to remember forgotten lines and to say them correctly, or failing that to improvise. It has to be right to avoid tragedy.

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Plea to politicians: don’t cross the thin line between political drama and human tragedy