How once-mighty Magufuli fell from grace

Spotlight

TANZANIAN President John Magufuli will go down in history as an enigma. He started out in 2015 as the most inspirational leader Africa had seen in generations, so much so that social media was exploding with #What Would Magufuli Do?

Today, he is feared in his country and displays all the hallmarks of a modern autocrat.

The slide from being one of the most progressive and honourable leaders to one intolerant of any form of dissent is depressing, given that we are in such desperate need of visionary leaders in Africa who we can look up to and who can inspire us to do better for ordinary people.

Within the first 100 days of Magufuli’s administration, he was implementing his promise to stamp out corruption and be accountable to the people. He took on elites in his own party, sacked corrupt or incompetent civil servants, slashed costs for state banquets at the opening of parliament and channelled money meant for Independence

Day celebrations to anti-cholera operations.

He made surprise visits to government ministries and hospitals, and fired the board of the country’s biggest hospital because patients were sleeping on the floor.

In a move unheard of in any other African country, Magufuli banned overseas travel for civil servants in an effort to save funds and said only ambassadors could take such trips.

Throughout he displayed the utmost humility by disclosing his monthly salary and even driving all the way to the opening of parliament instead of flying. He amazed even his detractors by reducing the size of his presidential convoy and delegation that travels with him.

Magufuli truly captured the imagination not only of his compatriots but of Africans across the continent.

He led the way by implementing free education for pupils whose parents could not afford tuition and

The downward trajectory started with his government banning live televised parliamentary debates, which led to the opposition party, Chadema, calling for rallies in protest.

The police banned the rallies and then events spiralled into a vicious cycle of suppressing dissent. The government proceeded to restrict basic freedoms through repressive laws. Magufuli introduced a law giving unfettered powers to the police to monitor the web, forcing bloggers to register, and prohibiting material that is “offensive or annoying”.

Over time, he has tightened his grip on the digital and traditional media, banning four newspapers and two private radio stations.

As the situation has deteriorated, journalists, politicians, human rights defenders, civil society activists and senior UN officials have all faced threats, intimidation and detention.

Journalist Azory Gwanda disappeared in November last year after reporting on a string of murders. The weekly newspaper Mwanahalisi was banned for two years for calling for prayers for a member of the opposition party.

In December Maxence Melo, a prominent human rights defender, was arrested. A number of MPS who have been critical of him have recently been shot or wounded.

What shocked many Tanzanians and the international community was Magufuli’s decree that no pregnant student be allowed to return to school, as well as his threats to prosecute or deport anyone working to protect the rights of lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender people. When Halima Mdee, an MP and head of the women’s wing of Chadema, was critical of his decision to ban pregnant girls from public schools, she was charged with insulting the president.

However you account for Magufuli’s tragic slide towards authoritarianism, Tanzania and Africa have lost a leader we could have put on a pedestal and say:

“This is a shining example of what an African leader should do for his