As Africa nervously watches how Kenya traverses the post-poll period — given the country’s bloody history — the participation of 77-year-old Raila Odinga casts a dark shadow over the country’s future.
This is not because Odinga, who has unsuccessfully contested the presidential election four times across three decades (1997, 2007, 2013 and 2017), is associated with violence. It’s about the absence of young people in the race.
The other main contender in the election, William Ruto, is politically considered young at 55 as he nears his corporate retirement age. Why is the opposition’s best shot from someone close to 80?
In Uganda, 77-year-old Yoweri Museveni resorted to a dictator’s playbook, using tricks including shutting down the internet, to keep 40-year-old challenger Bobi Wine at bay. In SA, the idea of making justice minister Ronald Lamola deputy to a president who will be 70 at his party’s elective conference in December sounds “revolutionary”. It’s not completely accepted in his own party, even though members would have been witness to President Cyril Ramaphosa having repeated and embarrassing episodes of falling asleep in public, captured on camera.
His opponents have been quick to say the man is sleeping on the job and it’s no wonder that our challenges of unemployment, poverty, rampant crime and inequality remain. But to be fair, the president’s schedule would be punishing for anyone. So the question then is: should it matter how old our politicians are when they seek public office? Do younger bodies mitigate this punishing schedule?
There’s an interesting story told of two leaders who went to see then president Jacob Zuma to get his counsel on a transport-related issue. As they debated in his presence, the old man fell asleep. Embarrassed, they were not sure who should wake him or brief him about the outcome of a meeting he was chairing while in la-la land. Dipuo Peters, former transport minister, was politically the most senior and so had to carry the burden. She later told the Zondo commission that Zuma was “exhausted”. How could he not be? Even as he reluctantly vacated high office in 2018, he was already 76.
Much has been said of our cabinet being dominated by people of advanced age. The question is whether this advanced age imbues them with experience to solve our country’s challenges, or simply slows us down? Can you imagine Zuma waking up to find that the people he was in a meeting with have all left and he doesn’t know how the meeting ended? Don’t laugh. It is our future at stake.
As innovation forces the world to evolve at an ever-greater pace — changing economies, killing off industries and creating new ones in what the late scholar Clayton Christensen termed “creative destruction” — are the pensioners around the table able to keep up, or is biology making them doze off? More importantly, nations that get ahead do so not merely because they can keep up — they anticipate changes and help their nations meet the economic needs of the future.
As Odinga readies himself to lead, Ramaphosa seeks re-election in 2024, and Museveni feels firmly ensconced in office, are we, the electorate, not to blame for burdening the elderly with responsibilities beyond their comprehension and capability?
Some might say look at the world superpower, the US, led by a 79-year-old. Why is it not falling apart? And the Republicans in Florida still prefer 76-year-old Donald Trump (believe it or not) over 43-year-old governor Ron DeSantis, giving the former hope that he could still make a successful challenge for the White House in 2024. What’s age got to do with it? The truth is that Biden’s age was incidental to his election — Americans simply wanted anyone but Trump. They wanted a return to normality.
If you’re a sleepy president, it might not be a consequence of the wear and tear, but simply because you’re just a sleepy leader
It can’t be argued that the flush of youth is a silver bullet for success. The worst of the youthful leaders must be North Korea’s Kim Jong-un who, in 2011, took over from his father at the age of 28. He certainly is not sleeping on the job because of age — but he is not great either.
In 2017, New Zealand swore in 37-year-old Jacinda Ardern as prime minister, making her the world’s youngest woman head of government. She instantly became a hit across the globe. This week, Bloomberg reported that Ardern’s grip on power is vulnerable because of soaring inflation. Her approval ratings have plummeted.
Finnish Prime Minister Sanna Marin, 36, left her phone at home as she went partying last December until 4am, leaving her colleagues unable to tell her that a cabinet colleague and close contact had tested positive for Covid. It created a frenzy.
The point? Many young leaders mess up too. Nothing about them being young imbues them with an innate ability to lead well. In the end, the elder statesmen or women bring not just their talents and agency to the table, they come armed with the experience necessary to avoid rookie mistakes. The corollary of the argument is that they tend to become slow on account of age.
So, whether it’s Odinga or Ruto in Kenya, Lamola or Ramaphosa in SA, age is nothing but a number. If you’re a sleepy president, it might not be a consequence of the wear and tear, but simply because you’re just a sleepy leader. And when you have youthful zeal and zest for life, you might just use it in the club or in pursuit of needless wars, or, like Ardern, be a global rock star whose status might not help you win important domestic battles.
In the end, we choose our poison. I would rather have a young, innovative, energetic leader (even if they occasionally go to clubs) than an old geezer sleeping at every second meeting he attends. We are sleeping through what must be the best times of our lives, imperilling the future of our kids.
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