The Ex-Presidents Club

Conscience and regard for truth do not always appear prerequisite values for high office, to the cost of us all, writes Assem El-Kersh

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Within a year or so, 10 heads of state and prime ministers left office for various reasons. Think about it: the membership of the "Ex-Presidents Club" shot up by 10 in virtually no time flat.

The phenomenon, on the surface, appears to be at least a little more than a coincidence. But what can Cuba's Fidel Castro possibly have in common with Sidi Ould Sheikh Abdellahi of Mauritania, Jacques Chirac of France, Thabo Mbeki, Nelson Mandela's successor in South Africa, or any of the other members on list: Tony Blair from the UK, Ehud Olmert in Israel, Emile Lahoud in Lebanon, former Pakistani president Pervez Musharraf, Festus Mogae from Botswana and Roh Moo-hyun from South Korea? Perhaps we can add to the list Russia's powerful Vladimir Putin, albeit metaphorically, now that he changed his title from president to prime minister. In all events, we will certainly be able to add George W Bush's name to the list -- to the great joy and relief of many around the world.

The reasons why all these people had to stand down are diverse. In some cases, their term of office came to an end, in others they were forced out of office by ill health, a palace coup, a sudden army revolt or corruption charges. As different as these circumstances may be, the members of the Ex-Presidents Club share at least one characteristic. Their lives change radically once the attribute "former" is affixed to their name. Suddenly, after all the excitement and brilliance of centre stage, they find themselves at the threshold of long years of compulsory idleness and an endless expanse of grey.

Naturally, retired leaders handle their new lives in different ways. Some resign themselves to rest and relaxation in the shade, as is the case with General Musharraf. The former Pakistani president appears content to play bridge, meet friends and take walks on his small ranch, while refusing invitations to speak at conferences due to the delicacy of his position. Not so Bill Clinton who flies back and forth around the world to give his lectures and chat for anywhere from $100,000 to $400,000 per hour.

Others, too, refuse to give in to the rusting process and try to pass the benefits of their experience and wisdom to the world. Castro, for example, takes every occasion to publish his revolutionary thoughts in the Cuban press, while other former leaders found philanthropic organisations to pursue concerns close to their hearts, such as surmounting the challenges of development or promoting interfaith understanding or civilisational dialogue (Chirac and Blair fall into this category). Then you have the type of former Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev, who interred an entire empire only to emerge in later years in an advertisement plugging outrageously expensive handbags.

In contrast, you have those individuals who have decided to create a private sector coalition of retired leaders (Nelson Mandela, Kofi Annan and Jimmy Carter, for example) bent on solving the world's chronic problems, while others (notably former Iranian president Mohamed Khatemi) still harbour the De Gaulle-like dream of returning to power one day to rectify the errors committed by their successors. Most, however, prefer to ruminate over their memoirs, sort through their legacy of good and bad deeds and contemplate the world that they may have made a little better (or much worse) in the hopes that people will remember them with fondness or, at least, without too much rancour. Those among these who can be fairly confident of history's favourable judgement (Carter, Mandela and Mahatir Mohamed, for example) can face the world straight on.

Blair, on the other hand, is rather troubled on this matter of history's regard, at least when it comes to Iraq. During his fleeting visit to Cairo a little over a week ago he offered a glimpse of that exceptional rhetorical flair of his that had once made him one of the most distinguished politicians in the world. But when asked, in the course of the 10th anniversary celebrations of the Generation of the Future Society, how he managed to transform a country the size of Britain and to win over the sceptics to his vision, he answered, "I forgot." The intelligent, seemingly off-hand and candid quip elicited a round of laughter. Then he added, "Bringing change is the hardest thing in the world."

What Blair is undoubtedly very keen to forget -- and what he probably prays that the rest of the world would consign to oblivion -- is the part he played in the invasion and occupation of Iraq and his collusion in fabricating, disseminating and otherwise putting his personal weight behind the various lies and pretexts that Bush used to justify that war. But sure enough, in that assembly an audience member came out with that question that had haunted him even before he resigned last year: Was there an alternative to intervention in Iraq? Otherwise put, do you regret supporting Bush? He responded, partly in jest, that he did not want to lose an old friend but that, "we should have listened to the advice of our friends in the region." The answer was oblique. It was couched in a way that did not explicitly voice regret but rather let the audience draw its own conclusions.

That British official, like others who had preceded him in that golden seat, may or may not have come away with an essence of wisdom. Certainly, he realises that no ones is perfect and that no one is immune. He will also be armed with vast experience in the nature of people, rulers and ruled alike, and in the seduction of power, and the brutality, dirtiness and fickleness of politics. But a complete understanding of the mysteries of rule may still have eluded him: the skills of climbing the rungs, the arts of deceit and calculation, the weight of responsibility, the facility of lying, the fluctuations of fortune, the mirage of satisfying others, the pressures of making choices, the treachery of the polls, the impossibility of unanimity, the tyranny of influence and the solitude at the summit -- the ice-cold solitude at the peak.

Blair's problem is shared by all other former leaders. They are human beings. They realise only when it's too late the magnitude of the crimes they committed. Which leaves one wondering at their wisdom, and courage and regret in hindsight. If only these traits were retroactive, one cannot help but to ask angrily, how many precipitous decisions would they have backed away from? How many conflicts would they have averted? How many lives would have been spared if Bush, for example, had not numbed his conscience? World history, with all its pains, tragedies and violence would change completely if even half of these leaders could recapture the faculty of honest speech and their lost humanity and tell the truth at the right time instead of lying to their peoples and leading them and others to their deaths in the name of slogans in which they themselves are the last to believe.