EDITORIAL: When heroes become villains
Heroism is not a tattoo etched for life. It is not a permanent scar, like the mark left by a wartime bullet. History shows us, time and again, that within the blink of an eye, a celebrated hero can tumble into the ranks of villains.
Take Idi Amin. In 1971, he was hailed as a saviour in Uganda after ousting the unpopular Milton Obote. For a brief moment, he basked in glory. But as his regime descended into terror, torture and bloodshed, Amin’s heroic image evaporated. He died not in triumph, but in exile in Saudi Arabia, remembered as a dictator rather than a liberator.
Or look at Kwame Nkrumah – Africa’s shining star, the first president of an independent Ghana and a revered icon of Pan-Africanism. Yet, in the twilight of his rule, power hardened into authoritarianism. He too died in exile, in Romania, estranged from the very nation he once led into freedom.
These examples remind us that being called a hero is not an eternal crown. It is conditional. It must be nourished by conduct that honours the ideals for which one was first celebrated.
As Namibia marks Heroes' Day next week, we must do some honest soul-searching. Among us are men and women who still demand to be addressed as heroes – yet their post-independence lives tell a different story.
If you looted the state, amassed wealth unjustly and plunged others into poverty, you have betrayed the struggle.
If you preside over public institutions that are rotting – hospitals without medicine, schools without teachers – your halo is slipping.
True heroism is not about what you once did. It is about what you continue to do, every day, to safeguard justice, dignity and opportunity for all. Anything less is betrayal dressed in old medals.
Take Idi Amin. In 1971, he was hailed as a saviour in Uganda after ousting the unpopular Milton Obote. For a brief moment, he basked in glory. But as his regime descended into terror, torture and bloodshed, Amin’s heroic image evaporated. He died not in triumph, but in exile in Saudi Arabia, remembered as a dictator rather than a liberator.
Or look at Kwame Nkrumah – Africa’s shining star, the first president of an independent Ghana and a revered icon of Pan-Africanism. Yet, in the twilight of his rule, power hardened into authoritarianism. He too died in exile, in Romania, estranged from the very nation he once led into freedom.
These examples remind us that being called a hero is not an eternal crown. It is conditional. It must be nourished by conduct that honours the ideals for which one was first celebrated.
As Namibia marks Heroes' Day next week, we must do some honest soul-searching. Among us are men and women who still demand to be addressed as heroes – yet their post-independence lives tell a different story.
If you looted the state, amassed wealth unjustly and plunged others into poverty, you have betrayed the struggle.
If you preside over public institutions that are rotting – hospitals without medicine, schools without teachers – your halo is slipping.
True heroism is not about what you once did. It is about what you continue to do, every day, to safeguard justice, dignity and opportunity for all. Anything less is betrayal dressed in old medals.
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Namibian Sun
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