The Tall Poppy Syndrome: African Leaders and Their Inferiority Complex

My nephew is brilliant! I’m not just saying that as an interested party; the boy is genuinely impressive. He’s a great chess player despite having only recently been introduced to the game, always at the top of his class, and has the ability to make connections between seemingly unrelated concepts. I’ve heard stories about his utter boredom with the time allotted for certain tests—he’s one of those kids who sits with a smug expression when he’s finished, looking around as though to ask, ‘You’re still struggling with this?’ His mum constantly chastises him for being so blatant about it. I often watch him amusedly as he reasons with the cunning of a fox to avoid chores or explain why he doesn’t deserve punishment. Even as we dream of all he might achieve in his life, the sad truth is that the education system despises people like him. No, not the education system—society. People like him, those with a flash of natural brilliance, cast large shadows and make those who are less gifted feel inadequate. Adults are intimidated, and peers driven to envy, and possibly hate. So together, they work to dim that brilliance a little—offhand remarks, accusations of arrogance, nicknames like ‘know-it-all’, anything to shame him back into the fold.

In ancient Rome, Tarquin the Proud (Lucius Tarquinius Superbus), who ruled between 535 and 509 BC, was known as a tyrant and arguably one of Rome’s most brutal and authoritarian kings. He ruled with an iron hand, assassinated dissidents, and centralised power in his firm grip. According to historians, when asked by his son for advice on how to control the city of Gabii, Tarquin silently walked through his garden and cut off the heads of the tallest poppies. Although the phrase hadn’t yet been coined, the metaphor has stood the test of time and is now known as tall poppy syndrome. The tall poppy syndrome is a social phenomenon where the brightest, most talented, and most successful individuals are criticised, resented, or cut down to a more socially acceptable level of accomplishment.

History is rife with stories of individuals who stood out too much for their own good. Their end was always the same: denunciation, isolation, death. Consequently, over the years, the best amongst us have learned to hide, or even worse, deny their special gifts. The vacuum left is almost immediately filled by another group—the coveters. You see, at the opposite end of the tall poppies are those who yearn for power, fame, and recognition but lack the resources or talent to acquire it. Without the necessary skills or abilities for the task, you might wonder how these people eventually get close enough to the crown. Chaos; that's usually their stage cue. Wherever there is chaos, these individuals emerge, like metaphorical cockroaches that survive a nuclear blast. They remain under the radar for years until the opportune time, and then emerge from the woodwork like the saviour nobody knew existed but whom everybody now needs. The challenge with these individuals, though, is that because they know they aren’t quite the stars everyone hoped for, and they know everyone knows it, they find different ways to compensate for their glaring inadequacies. With a trained eye, they’re easy to spot; they’re often the loudest, the most ostentatious, and often need a lot of space. Nursing bruised egos and unmet childhood needs, these individuals yearn for a chance in the spotlight, for their fifteen minutes which they’ll inevitably attempt to stretch into a lifetime. Frighteningly, once they do get their shot, their first order of business is to destroy any individual or institution that demonstrates excellence, integrity, or talent.

Although not expressly defined at the time, tall poppy syndrome manifested in various ways during the European colonisation of Africa, including suppression, undermining, and elimination of Africa’s brightest leaders or intellectuals. Inherited from the colonialists, political structures across the continent today mirror the practices used to keep the most brilliant amongst us in line, leaving key leadership positions to lesser qualified, and often, entirely unqualified people. In African politics, being intelligent, integrous, or charismatic isn’t just dangerous—it could get you killed! Consequently, like a society that learns from its past, our best and brightest keep their heads down and shy away from leadership, leaving the nation in the hands of ill-suited, imbecilic, and insecure people. Few attribute this phenomenon as a contributing factor in the current state of affairs on the continent.

Congo’s Mobutu Sese Seko literally ordered citizens to wear uniforms with his face emblazoned on them; Idi Amin named himself ‘Conqueror of the British Empire’; Teodoro Obiang Nguema Mbasogo claimed to have mystical powers and could control lightning; Charles Taylor’s support of the RUF; Francisco Macias Nguema’s purge of educated individuals and even banning the word ‘intellectual’—all are examples of this particular brand of psychosis. On the insecurity scale, these are the most extreme examples of what happens to a nation in the clutches of such individuals. No doubt, you, dear reader, might be among those who believe Africa has purged itself of these extremely dangerous individuals. However, the more insidious manifestations of this trait in these diplomatic and sanction-ridden times still live among us, albeit under the radar. Symptoms include ostentatious displays of wealth unjustly earned, large and sleek convoys on pothole-ridden roads, benchmarking trips to make up for their leaner years—in fact, the citizenry and its purse are held ransom while they attempt to make up for whatever their parents didn’t give them. They know they shouldn’t be there, and they also know that we know they shouldn’t be there, so they compensate for their inferiority complex by nursing larger-than-life personalities and living lives even the Kardashians would envy—diamonds and gold delivered to residences in buckets, homes with private helipads surrounded by the best nature has to offer, and acres of prime land for them to roam and ‘think’. They do all this to drown the still small voice within that whispers the one truth they know everyone’s thinking: ‘You don’t belong there.’