By Salifu Manneh
Across Africa, the presidency has become one of the most dangerous jobs, not while in office, but after leaving it. Many African leaders rise to power amid celebration and expectation, only to exit through exile, asylum, or international courts. From State House to foreign refuge, the fall is often sudden and humiliating. This pattern is not accidental.
It reflects a more profound crisis of governance, accountability, and political culture across the continent. What hopeful candidates tell the electorate before catapulting to the highest office in the land, and how their whole character, behaviour, charisma, and foresight take a huge dip, is remarkable.
The Gambia knows this reality too well. When former president Yahya Jammeh lost the 2016 election, he initially refused to accept defeat, plunging the country into a tense political standoff. Only regional pressure forced him into exile in Equatorial Guinea. That moment symbolised Africa’s leadership problem: presidents cling to power because they fear what happens when it ends. In systems where institutions are weak, power is safety. Losing it can feel like a death sentence. However, when sitting presidents are consumed by power, wealth, and egocentric thinking, they lose sight of tomorrow. When power is withdrawn by the people who made the president who he is and where he is, reality strikes, and the president is now faced with a new ball game.
But what are the issues?
The central problem is not African leaders alone, but African institutions. In many countries, including The Gambia, under a dictatorship, power was concentrated in one individual. Courts were weakened, parliaments reduced to ceremonial role-players, and security forces turned into personal protectors of the president rather than guardians of the state. Once leadership becomes personal, the nation becomes fragile. And when such power falls, the former president becomes exposed.
They face the theory of fight or fear as in anxiety management. The perceived threats of losing power have now become a reality. A leader who destroys institutions cannot expect them to protect him in retirement.
This explains why many former presidents flee rather than stay and face the consequences of their rule. Leaders who silence the press, abuse the law, and weaken accountability understand better than anyone that the system has no fairness left in it.
They rule by force and fear, so when power is gone, they expect the same from those who replace them.
Haunted by their ugly, brutal and at times inhumane legacy:
Not every exiled leader is guilty. But many fear accountability for corruption, repression, or abuse. Meanwhile, in some cases, justice becomes selective. New governments sometimes use anti-corruption campaigns as tools to destroy rivals rather than repair systems. Courts become political battlegrounds. This blurs the line between justice and vengeance, convincing former leaders to flee even when wrongdoing is uncertain.
In this dangerous environment, exile becomes Africa’s silent political compromise. Instead of proper trials, leaders are granted safe passage abroad. Instead of accountability, a foreign address becomes the final chapter of leadership. This may avoid immediate bloodshed, but it creates long-term injustice. Victims are denied closure. Truth is buried. And corruption remains hidden. We become a nation in shock and grief. The trauma, if not well managed, could affect us as a country for generations to come. I am old enough to recall having lived under the three presidents our country has produced so far. The late Jawara era was our yardstick.
Africa’s list of fallen leaders reads like a political obituary of failed governance:
Yahya Jammeh of The Gambia fled into exile after refusing to accept defeat.
Blaise Compaoré of Burkina Faso escaped after attempting to extend his rule.
Mobutu Sese Seko died rich and exiled after looting Zaire dry.
Mengistu Haile Mariam lives in Zimbabwe after overseeing mass killings.
Charles Taylor went from exile to international prison.
Omar al-Bashir fell from power and into the hands of the prosecution.
Ben Ali fled Tunisia during the Arab Spring.
Hissène Habré ended his life in jail for crimes against humanity.
Each case is different. But the destination is always the same: disgrace, exile, or prison. How can we turn this unpleasant, at times distressing pattern around?
The pattern reveals a continent trapped in leadership without legacy. African leaders rarely leave behind strong institutions. They leave behind chaos, debt, division, and fear. And once gone, those they ruled fear them no longer, but neither do they trust the systems meant to replace them. A country like ours got stuck in limbo.
The Gambia today stands at a crossroads.
Having escaped dictatorship, the country must now decide what kind of political culture it wants to build. Removing a ruler is not democracy. Building institutions is. If courts remain vulnerable to political pressure, future leaders will not trust them. If investigations are selective, justice will be seen as political punishment. If corruption is tolerated, history will repeat itself.
A country where former presidents cannot safely remain at home is not a stable democracy but a suspended conflict.
If losing office equals exile, then winning office becomes war. That is why elections across Africa are tense, violent, and contested. Power is no longer a public service; it is survival. The presidency becomes a shield from prosecution and poverty alike.
This reality harms ordinary people the most. Public money meant for hospitals, schools, and roads is stolen by leaders who know they might not be around tomorrow. Leaders who expect exile govern recklessly. There is nothing to protect, so nothing is preserved.
The lesson from Africa is simple: strong institutions produce peaceful exits.
In countries where courts are independent, presidents retire quietly. Where institutions are weak, leaders flee loudly. The difference is not culture, race, or history, but accountability. No society tolerates chaos when the law works.
The Gambia must not allow exile to become its political tradition.
We must reject:
Immunity for criminals.
Selective justice.
Political witch-hunting.
Hero-worship of failed leaders.
We must demand:
Independent courts.
Professional security services.
Free media.
Equal treatment under the law.
Leadership should end in honour when deserved, and in accountability when required, not in asylum.
Africa does not need more former presidents in luxury exile abroad. It requires leaders who return home when their time ends, not run from it. And it needs citizens who defend institutions more than personalities.
In Africa, leadership too often ends not in dignity, but in asylum.
The Gambia still has a chance to change that narrative. We need a comprehensive civic, social, and political education throughout our schools and in society at large so future generations can better understand what it means to be given any sense of responsibility and how one’s integrity and self-respect must be protected at all times.
