Jotham's fable and the mistake of electing the wrong leaders

IEBC officials prepare for past by-elections. [File, Standard]

I should begin with a confession. I am an avid reader of the Bible. I read it every single day, first as a sacred text and secondly as one of the greatest libraries of human experience ever assembled. Beyond its theology, the Bible is an extraordinary collection of stories that teach about the complexities of society. Every so often, I stumble upon stories with an uncanny ability to explain the world we inhabit.

A few days ago, while reading the Book of Judges, I came across a story in the ninth chapter. It is hidden beneath the dramatic account of Abimelech's bloody rise to power. I think this narrative is one of the oldest political fables ever told. I read it several times, and each reading revealed something I had not noticed before. Now I am convinced that Jotham was speaking to our society.

Jotham was the only surviving son of Gideon after Abimelech had murdered his seventy brothers. He climbed to the top of Mount Gerizim and addressed the people below. Instead of denouncing them for supporting Abimelech, he told them a story. The trees, he said, once set out to anoint a king over themselves. They first approached the olive tree. "Be our king," they pleaded. But the olive tree declined.

"I cannot give up my oil, by which both God and humanity are honoured, to lead the trees." The olive tree had found fulfilment in bearing fruit rather than wielding authority. The trees then approached the fig tree. It, too, declined. It wondered why it should abandon bearing its sweet fruit merely to wear a crown. Next, they turned to the vine, whose wine gladdened both God and humanity. The vine, too, refused. It argued that it would not exchange productive service for political office.

At this point, the story takes an unexpected turn. I would have expected the trees to return to the olive, the fig and the vine, to persuade them that leadership was itself another form of service. Instead, they did something else. They lowered the standard. Having failed to convince those best suited to lead, they turned to the thornbush.

Note that unlike the olive, the fig and the vine, the thornbush bore no nourishing fruit. It offered almost no shade. Yet it eagerly accepted the invitation to rule. More disturbing still, it immediately resorted to threats. It vowed that if the trees refused to submit, it would unleash fire to destroy them. Jotham's story is a profound theory of how societies recruit leaders. It suggests that decline often unfolds in four stages. A society recognises excellence. It fails or refuses to persuade those with character to serve. Finally, it lowers its expectations and normalises inferior leadership. That is where we are as a society. Let me explain.

It would be simplistic to see Jotham's fable as an allegory about Abimelech. It is about society itself. The tragedy does not begin when the thornbush accepts the throne. It begins when the trees stop insisting on their best and accept mediocrity. The trees knew exactly where excellence resided. They approached the olive first, then the fig tree and finally the vine. Their failure was not one of judgment. It was one of resolve. They accepted each refusal too quickly and did not insist. They simply lowered the standard until they found someone willing to rule. That is when they invited chaos.

Our country has productive trees. We have women and men whose lives already bear fruit. We have people who have demonstrated leadership through service. They have earned authority long before they ever seek office. But we would rather give leadership to the thornbushes. There are so many thornbushes to whom we have entrusted leadership because they come from our tribes or they have money. We are a society in a rush for thornbushes.

Look around to see what thornbushes have done. Our institutions did not collapse overnight. We did not lose our way in a single election. Decline began with small concessions as we lowered our standards and settled for what was available. We crowned our thornbushes when we stopped pursuing excellence.

Let us stop lamenting poor leadership. We should not be asking where all the good leaders have gone. That is the wrong question. The better question is whether we have done enough to identify, persuade, protect and retain our olive trees. This is only possible if we develop a political culture that invites people of proven service into leadership.

Should I say more, really? Jotham's little fable has survived for more than three millennia because it explains something fundamental about human society. Thornbushes will always seek power. That is their nature. We must muster the wisdom, patience and moral courage to reject them.

Our decline is not the result of a lack of people of character. No. It is because we have stopped insisting that people of character govern us. Until we confront this reality honestly, we shall continue to appoint and elect thornbushes. Why, then, should we wonder why there is so little shade and so much fire?