DAKAR, Senegal, April 2 — The
divide between Africa and the West never seemed wider than after Zimbabwe's
recent election. As Western governments condemned President Robert Mugabe,
African presidents — all except one — rallied behind him or greeted his stolen
victory with silence.
The critical voice belonged to
Abdoulaye Wade of Senegal, who was elected president two years ago in this West
African nation after struggling in the opposition for 26 years. In two years,
despite having taken some unpopular positions on a continent that has long
valued solidarity, Mr. Wade (pronounced wahd) has emerged through the force of
his ideas and personality as one of sub-Saharan Africa's three leading
spokesmen. (The other two are the presidents of the much more powerful South Africa
and Nigeria.)
"Mr. Mugabe did not respect
the rules," Mr. Wade said. "The opposition could not wage its
campaign. There were many deaths. Electoral laws were changed days before the
election. We can't call that an election."
"I was in the opposition for
too long to forget the opposition as soon as I arrived in power," he
added. "I refuse to belong to this trade union of presidents. Mugabe or
not Mugabe is not my concern. My concern was what the people of Zimbabwe
wanted."
Mr. Wade spoke during a recent
late-afternoon interview inside the presidential palace. The most conspicuous
objects in his simple office were models of pet projects now underway:
educational centers for toddlers; a cyber village to enhance Senegal's
commitment to high technology; a university of the future where, the president
says, African students will be able to take courses in "real time"
from "Harvard, M.I.T. and Princeton," thanks to satellites and
computers.
He walks from one model to
another, slowly, his pace perhaps reflecting the fact that he has just returned
from trips to Mexico and Nigeria, or perhaps his 76 years. But ensconced in an
armchair, he speaks with boundless energy, moving from one topic to another
with the ease and force of the university professor he once was.
Nowadays he is focusing his energy
on nothing less than rebuilding Africa. In the recent development summit
meeting in Monterrey, Mexico, or at a regional meeting in Nigeria, Mr. Wade has
been selling the New Partnership for Africa's Development, an ambitious
economic plan to attract Western investment to the continent in return for
guarantees of transparency and democratization.
The plan was the product of an
earlier Wade initiative called the Omega Plan, and another put forward by South
Africa's president, Thabo Mbeki, and Nigeria's president, Olusegun Obasanjo.
But the new plan's emphasis on privatization and business was rooted in Mr.
Wade's thinking.
"I've never seen a country
develop itself through aid or credit," said Mr. Wade, who was trained as
an economist in Senegal and at the Sorbonne. "Countries that have
developed — in Europe, America, Japan, Asian countries like Taiwan, Korea and
Singapore — have all believed in free markets. There is no mystery there.
Africa took the wrong road after independence."
Most of Africa's post-independence
leaders believed in strong federal governments and vaguely socialist economic
policies. In Senegal, Mr. Wade was known as the only intellectual of his
generation to be staunchly anti-socialist and a strong supporter of a
free-market economy. He was a pan-Africanist, believing as the revered Ghanaian
statesman Kwame Nkrumah did in the eventual unity of Africa — but a capitalist
one.
In addition to economics, Mr. Wade
studied law, becoming dean of the University of Dakar's law and economics
faculty. In the mid-1970's, he eventually entered politics to become the chief
opponent to Léopold Sédar Senghor, Senegal's famous poet-president.
Senghor nicknamed him
"Diombor" — "Hare" in Wolof, Senegal's main language — for
his agility and toughness. Over the years, the press called him "Général
Wade" or "Président de la rue publique" — "President of the
street" — because of his popularity with young voters.
In 2000 he campaigned a fourth
time, with his wife, Viviane Vert, who is French, and his son, Karim,
constantly at his side. He won an election that has since been regarded as a
model for the continent.
And so, Mr. Wade likes to say, he
has had a lot of time to sharpen his ideas on Africa. Today a few countries,
especially in southern Africa, have moved away from centralized economies; but
in the rest of Africa, especially the former French colonies, few share Mr.
Wade's strong commitment to the private sector.
"Africans are still imbued
with socialist ideas, even though they may hide the fact," Mr. Wade said.
"My ideas are very clear on this point. I believe in business."
"In the Omega plan, there was
not a mention of debt relief," he added. "Me, I say, let's do
business. I want Africa to be a partner and not a parasite that has to be
fed."
When the plan is presented in its
final form, at a Group of 8 summit meeting in Canada in June, it will most
likely contain provisions on debt relief and cancellation. Most African
leaders, especially Mr. Obasanjo, have championed debt cancellation.
But on other issues, Mr. Wade has
not shied from being the lone uncompromising man. During a conference on racism
last year in Durban, South Africa, Mr. Wade opposed most African leaders in
their calls for reparations for slavery. Africa, he said, must look forward.
"I am African," Mr. Wade
said. "If something is worth it, I will take the risk of criticizing. If
the interests of Africa are at stake, it's at that moment I will
criticize."
It is perhaps Mr. Wade's frankness
and willingness to suffer personal repercussions that have earned him praise,
even from longtime foes.
"Wade has ambitions for
himself, for his country and for Africa," said Pathé Diagne, 65, a
well-known intellectual here who supported Mr. Wade's rival and predecessor,
Abdou Diouf. "There are not too many African leaders like him."
His detractors, however, say his
singlemindedness betrays arrogance. He is unable, they say, to work with
others, either Senegalese on domestic issues or other Africans on international
ones. He may have great ideas, they say, but he is unable to carry them through
to fruition.
"He doesn't have good
relations with African leaders — they have to recognize him as the president of
Africa," said Amath Dansokho, 65, who served as a government minister for
eight months until a falling-out, and who, like many Senegalese politicians of
his generation, was Mr. Wade's student at the University of Dakar. "If he
had become president of Senegal in the 1960's, he would have proclaimed himself
emperor."
Asked whether he enjoyed the power
he had so long pursued, Mr. Wade paused — relishing, it seemed, the opportunity
of delving into the abstract. He spoke of the dangers of power, of the
psychological transformations. Tellingly, even as he spoke of the need to
resist the isolation that is caused by power, Mr. Wade was unaware that
Senegalese had a new nickname for him, "Mor Ndjadje," loosely
translated as "the man who likes to speak and meet people."
"All around you have people
seeking advantages, who flatter you and tell you everything you do is
beautiful," he said. "You say something inane, but they laugh. Power
is very dangerous. I think a lot about power. I'll write about it one
day."
New York Times