Paul Kagame wants to forge a sense of national identity from the ashes of genocide. You get the feeling that nothing moves in Kigali, Rwanda’s prim and tidy capital, without Paul Kagame’s say-so. On the drive in from the airport, not a leaf on the palm trees, nor a flower on the intricate floral arrangements, is out of place. There are no slums on the hills, no litter on the pavements and no hawkers on the streets. The traffic is orderly, the police officers polite and, even in the searing heat, motorcyclists wear crash helmets.
Like Lee Kuan Yew’s Singapore, Rwanda is being remade in Mr Kagame’s image. A former guerrilla who led an invading force to quell the genocide in 1994, he has presided over his tiny nation like a stern headmaster ever since. Like Singapore in the early years, Rwanda is an intriguing experiment. Like the late Lee, Mr Kagame is one of world’s most intriguing leaders. Stick thin, cerebral and quietly spoken (usually), he is cast as a man with Solomon-like wisdom and Saddam-like ruthlessness.
Anjan Sundaram, an author who is no fan of what he sees as a repressive, almost Orwellian, regime, wrote: “The thing to know about Rwandan President Paul Kagame is not just that he is a dictator responsible for human rights abuses but that, despite this, he has a great many friends.” Indeed, Rwanda is the favourite of an international community desperate for an African success. Mr Kagame has won the syrupy admiration of friends from Tony Blair to Bill Clinton, who called him “one of the greatest leaders of our time”. FULL STORY
