Chicago Tribune - September 15, 2004
Laurie Goering, Tribune foreign correspondent

At the traditional Reed Dance, where the kingdom's teenage girls deliver new thatching for the queen mother's beehive huts and the king sometimes chooses one more bride, royalty from across southern Africa mixed with ambassadors and business people. At the restaurant, a handful of activists crammed into a backroom to talk about human rights and a new constitution. There were few illusions about the difficulties ahead.

Swaziland, they noted, is a nation where political parties are banned, mass demonstrations are outlawed and criticism of the monarchy is widely viewed as an attack on the culture itself--even by people unhappy with their government.

"Everybody believes there is a need for change in Swaziland. The question is how to move forward," said Jan Sithole, secretary general of the Swaziland Federation of Trade Unions. "What we have before us is a very formidable battle."

Africa, at the start of a new century, is struggling to find ways to make itself a success. Its leaders, trying to solve the continent's persistent problems, are sorting through deeply rooted cultural traditions, colonial-era legacies and the new demands of a globalized world, searching for African answers to Africa's problems. In the process, they are redefining what it means to be African.

That process includes finding a balance between the traditional leadership of chiefs, monarchs and other strongmen in Africa and Western-style democracy. While a large majority of Africans favor modern democratic government, many also hunger to hold onto the best aspects of traditional leadership, from village meetings where everyone has a say to benevolent strongmen who can cut through red tape to solve problems.

That has led to a fondness for progress-minded military leaders in parts of Western and Central Africa, even as nations such as South Africa have adopted Western-style democracy with competing parties and a strong bill of rights. Lesotho, another Southern African kingdom, also made the journey to modern democracy, but only after a period of military rule.

But in the remote mountain kingdom of Swaziland, sub-Saharan Africa's last absolute monarchy, tradition reigns supreme.

King Mswati III, the "Lion of Swaziland," marries wives from each of the country's clans to cement national unity. Schoolboys spend a few weeks of each summer weeding the monarch's corn and sorghum fields, and the king announces when the first of the harvest can be eaten. He and his emissaries control the rural nation's communal farmland, its army and, ultimately, its laws.

Swaziland, a New Jersey-size nation sandwiched between South Africa and Mozambique, has a parliament and courts intended to balance the king's powers. But those institutions, filled with royal appointees, amount to little more than a rubber stamp for royal decrees, critics say.

Many Swazis see little wrong with that.

"Swaziland has the right answer," said Khanyisile Methula, 20, one of the participants in the recent royal Reed Dance.

Swaziland may not be democratic, she said, but it is peaceful, united and proud, an achievement on a continent in turmoil.

"We don't want democracy," said the barefoot engineering student, dressed in a short beaded skirt and yarn tassels. "We want the king and to continue the culture. Culture is more important."

Critics, however--including a growing number of average Swazis as well as the country's banned pro-democracy movement--say the kingdom's rejection of modern rights and popular participation has left it vulnerable to modern problems.

Investment in the country has slowed since the entire appeals court resigned two years ago in protest of several of its decisions being overturned by the king. The country has since had no high court, raising questions about the rule of law.

World's highest HIV rate

Swaziland also has the world's highest rate of HIV infection, now nearly 40 percent among adults.

The 36-year-old king preaches abstinence and self-control, and he supports anti-AIDS efforts. But his polygamous lifestyle and his playboy image undermine the message, critics say.

Lavish royal spending--a half-million dollars for BMWs to upgrade the royal fleet and a planned $14 million for new and upgraded palaces for each of the king's 11 wives--has prompted widespread grumbling, particularly as the nation's health-care system crumbles and a quarter of Swazis remain dependent on international food aid.

"When the people don't have the right to influence government policy, it's a big problem," said Thulani Maseko, secretary general of Lawyers for Human Rights, one of the organizations pushing for limits on royal power in Swaziland.

Swazis "haven't gotten to the point of saying, 'Away with the king!' They appreciate traditional institutions," Maseko said. "But when I look at the future of this country, I think it is doomed if there is no room for dissent."

Swaziland, a formal kingdom since the mid-1800s and for a time a British protectorate, had a short taste of Western-style democracy at the time of its independence from British rule in 1968. A British-inspired constitution left the monarchy in charge but provided for a separation of powers among branches of government, called for regular elections and allowed political parties.

But after an opposition party began winning parliamentary seats, Mswati's father, King Sobhuza II, suspended the constitution in 1973, saying it did not reflect Swazi traditional culture, which gives the monarch supreme executive, legislative and judicial power.

A few years later a new constitution was introduced restoring those powers to the monarch. Political parties were banned.

Sobhuza II died in 1982, and Mswati, his chosen successor, was recalled from his London boarding school to take the throne in 1986. He was 18.

Today democracy advocates in Swaziland say it's time for a new constitution and bill of rights, and for the country's king to trade his absolute powers for limited ones.

The monarchy has produced a new, still-pending constitution that continues to ban political parties, keep land and other resources in the hands of the king, and place "custom and culture" above rights and freedoms.

Activists say that is unacceptable.

"Nothing can be above the constitution, not even a king," said Mario Masuku, president of the People's United Democratic Movement, one of the banned political parties. Masuku has been jailed repeatedly and charged with treason.

Swaziland's government, under pressure from the African Union, the United Nations and other bodies, has signed international treaties guaranteeing human rights and other democratic freedoms.

But democracy activists say Swaziland's neighbors--and international proponents of democracy such as the United States--have not brought pressure to ensure that the protections are respected.

"Is it that we're too small? Irrelevant?" Musa Hlophe, head of the Swaziland Coalition of Concerned Civic Organizations, asked at the recent restaurant meeting. Around him, a few heads nodded.

Advocates for Swaziland's monarchy insist the country's traditional government is an effective, if African-style, democracy. Political parties and pressure groups are banned but individuals are free to express their views to tribal leaders and royal commissions, said Brig. Gen. Gideon Dube, the country's former defense secretary and now its royal historian. Voting for parliament is neither secret nor direct, but anyone can nominate a candidate, he said.

"Political parties are not our tradition. In the whole of Africa they are new, and that is why there are wars today," Dube said. "There are no political parties here, and that is why we are peaceful and there is no noise."

"Parties don't guarantee democracy," he said. "We feel our democracy is even better than countries that have political parties," Dube said.

Advocates for change, however, say that the king's power allows little room for real dissent. Individual Swazis were allowed to submit ideas for the new constitution, but only in front of a body of 30 commissioners, an "intimidating environment," Lawyers for Human Rights' Maseko said. He and other activists have filed a legal challenge to the document.

Earlier this year, the king forced out the speaker of parliament, threatening to dissolve the body if he didn't resign. And in 2000, two traditional chiefs and several hundred followers were evicted from their homes on communal land after they refused to accept the king's brother as a chief in the area. Swaziland's courts overturned the evictions, but police and soldiers disobeyed the court and ensured that the monarchy's orders were enforced.

In July, Amnesty International released a report criticizing the country for human-rights abuses, including violations of the rights of women and failure to allow peaceful assembly.

Pro-democracy activists, a relatively small group in Swaziland, say the surest way to bring change is through civic education, something badly needed in a society where royal handouts of food are seen as a sign of good government.

Sibongile Mazibuko, an activist in the Ngwane National Liberatory Congress, a banned party, recalls how a janitor in her office, asked to choose between multiparty democracy and the king, repeated what she had been taught--that multiparty democracy was a system "where people are fighting every day."

Educating Swazis about democracy is difficult in a society where political meetings are banned and most other gatherings must be approved by local chiefs. Some progressive groups have resorted to organizing soccer games, then trying to talk to people there.

Legacy of royal polygamy

Still, progress is slow. In a nation with a history of polygamous monarchs, nearly 20 percent of the population has royal ties, and little incentive to see the monarchy end. A four-year drought, a runaway AIDS crisis and widespread poverty mean most Swazis have little time or energy for political debate.

The king in recent years has shown a few signs of yielding to public pressure. Plans to buy a luxury jet at a cost of $45 million--twice the national health budget--have been shelved after parliament refused to go along and aid donors hinted at a pullout. The young monarch also recently suspended international trips in an apparent effort to hold down costs.

Still, a growing number of Swazis say that while they respect the country's traditions, their faith in the current monarch is waning.

Sobhuza II, they remember, drove his 70 wives around in school buses rather than luxury cars.

These days, the royals "are taking care of those close to them," charged Sicelo Sikhondze, an unemployed Swazi youth. "They are not taking care of the country."

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