In the final inquiry posed to Yudhishthira by the Yaksha at the serene lakeside, the Yaksha inquires, “What is the most profound marvel?” To this, Yudhishthira thoughtfully responds, “Each passing day witnesses the departure of countless souls, yet those who remain yearn for eternal life. O Lord, could there be a greater enigma?” It appears that this profound insight often escapes our political leaders, as the twilight of a leader’s career is invariably shadowed by inquiries into their personal well-being and, indirectly, their lifespan.
The imminent approach of the end of one’s life transforms even the most influential leaders into what can be likened to “lame duck” leaders. The expression “lame duck” originates from American politics and signifies an elected official who is nearing the conclusion of their term, particularly when their successor has already been chosen. Being labeled a “lame duck” almost always results in a rapid erosion of political credibility and influence, rendering official power an ineffectual tool. For many leaders, this prospect is more dreaded than even the specter of mortality itself.
Recently, Iran’s supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, was reported on his official website to have embarked on a mountain hike in the northern outskirts of Tehran, merely a month following his prostate surgery. The website noted that the septuagenarian ayatollah, known for his penchant for walking and hiking, was joined by his retinue for this early Friday morning excursion. In addition, it cited the top leader affirming that this hike had been organised based on his doctors’ advice, as he believed that engaging in physical exercise would facilitate his recovery.
Ayatollah Khamenei, the ultimate authority in all state affairs, has held the position of Iran’s supreme leader since 1989. He staunchly upholds the theocratic principles established by his predecessor, the late Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini. This brief glimpse into the ayatollah’s usually tightly controlled personal life serves as a clear message – it underscores that there has been no alteration in the power structure and reaffirms that he remains the primary figure for engaging in diplomatic dealings with Iran.
The ayatollah’s hiking expedition evokes memories of Mao Zedong’s iconic swim in the Yangtze River, a feat he accomplished well into his seventies. During the early 1960s, after the chairman’s ill-fated “Great Leap Forward” policy had plunged China into an economic crisis and a devastating famine claiming millions of lives, Mao found himself confronted with escalating internal party criticism. Meanwhile, the capital city of Beijing buzzed with speculations concerning his well-being.
At that juncture, Mao Zedong withdrew to Hangzhou to devise a plan aimed at restoring his political standing and reclaiming complete authority. It was during this period that he conceived the “Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution” as a strategy to confront his adversaries and reassert his dominance over the Communist Party. However, before embarking on this transformative journey, Mao needed to demonstrate his vitality. Thus, in the summer of 1966, he reemerged in Wuhan to orchestrate one of his most remarkable political spectacles.
On July 16, he orchestrated a highly publicised and energetic swim in the Yangtze River near the Wuhan Bridge. This symbolic act was intended to convey Mao’s robust health and serve as a clear message to his adversaries that they should take heed. Despite Mao being in his early 70s, party propagandists asserted that the chairman had covered nearly 15 kilometers in a remarkable 65 minutes. While the speed might have been plausible, an amateurishly doctored photograph circulated alongside it, leading to widespread international skepticism. Outside of China, this was seen as a political farce and a signal that China might be on the brink of a tumultuous period.
So, why engage in such elaborate theatrics when it often results in heightened scrutiny and additional inquiries? This tendency is often driven by the ambitions of individuals in the inner circle of leadership who seek to maintain the influence that proximity provides. It’s also a reflection of the maneuvering for improved positioning that invariably takes place during a succession process happening concurrently.
Yuri Andropov assumed the roles of General Secretary of the CPSU and President of the USSR following the passing of Leonid Brezhnev in November 1982. Andropov marked a significant departure from his predecessors as he was the first Soviet leader to recognize the precarious state of the USSR’s economy and the unsustainable nature of its claims to superpower status. He also discerned that former U.S. President Ronald Reagan’s “Star Wars” program was, in fact, a strategic ruse aimed at pushing the USSR into economic hardship by compelling it to invest in costly weapons to match non-existent threats. Consequently, in August 1983, Andropov decided to terminate the Soviet space weapons programme.
However, earlier in that same year, Andropov experienced a complete renal failure, a fact that remained one of the most tightly concealed secrets of the Cold War era. The Soviet leader found himself dependent on a dialysis machine and was, in reality, residing in a Moscow hospital during this period. Given his condition, engaging in a mountain hike or a swim in a flowing river became utterly unattainable for Andropov. The precise date of his demise remains shrouded in uncertainty. Officially, he was declared deceased on February 9, 1984. Ultimately, none of us can evade the inexorable grasp of night, even if the journey isn’t always gentle.
On a more local note, we can examine the case of former Prime Minister Atal Behari Vajpayee. After his defeat in the 2004 elections, he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. However, Alzheimer’s doesn’t manifest suddenly; there were discernible signs of his memory declining in the years leading up to this diagnosis. He frequently confused Jaswant Singh with Yashwant Sinha, and vice versa. During public gatherings, he even blanked on Pramod Mahajan’s name. It’s evident that there were vested interests at play in perpetuating this facade, with individuals like Ranjan Bhattacharya and Brajesh Mishra benefiting both financially and in other ways.
Numerous individuals, both within India and abroad, found themselves rather content with this situation. Brajesh Mishra enjoyed significant favour from the Americans, while Lal Krishna Advani welcomed the clear establishment of the succession line by assuming the role of deputy prime minister. The overarching objective was to sustain this charade until the 2004 elections, which the BJP anticipated winning with Vajpayee as their prominent leader. Additionally, it’s worth noting that not long after the 2004 electoral setback, the then Defence Minister, George Fernandes, was also diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease.
Consider the disconcerting scenario: both the Prime Minister and the Defence Minister, the highest-ranking officials in the nuclear command hierarchy, grapple with Alzheimer’s disease. Yet, they remain entrusted with the formidable authority over matters of war and potential catastrophe. This parallels the situation observed in the case of US President Ronald Reagan as well.
This is why I appreciate Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s proposal for a maximum age limit of 75 for politicians. Personally, I would advocate for an even more conservative 70-year age limit. Currently, Narendra Modi himself is 73 years old. He has reached an age that surpasses the average life expectancy in India, and his political career appears quite limited based on current trends. It’s the moment for him to declare, “Chal Khusrau, let’s return home, as the evening twilight embraces all four corners.”
(The writer can be reached at dipaknewslive@gmail.com)
