Portrait of Nkrumah as Dictator

THERE is no escaping Kwame Nkrumah in Ghana today. Ghanaian stamps bear his portrait. At night his name flickers in neon lights over Kwame Nkrumah Circle. A biggerthan‐life‐size statue of him stands before Parliament. Commentators on Radio Ghana call him The Redeemer, The Conqueror, His Messianic Majesty.

In Ghana today the man who led the nation to freedom seven years ago has proclaimed a new ‘revolutionary phase’ in which dissent has become a crime against the state.

ACCRA.

No other country in Black Africa has become so synonymous with one man, and no man in Black Mrica has stirred more controversy than Kwame Nkrumah. Inside Ghana there are those whose reverence for him borders on religious passion. There are others whose revulsion runs so deep that twice in the last two years Nkrumah has barely escaped assassination.

When Nkrumah led the country to independence from Britain seven years ago, Ghana possessed the most efficient civil service in Africa, the best schools, the most enlightened lawyers, some of the proudest conservatives, the most ardent revolutionaries. There was a free press, an independent judiciary a freely elected Parliament. Never was Nkrumah's popularity so high.

In Ghana today, the only safe expression of dissent is silence. The press has been muzzled. Judges may be fired and court verdicts reversed at Nkrumah's pleasure. Parliament is a rubber stamp for Nkrumah's Convention People's Party. No other party is legal. The C.P.P. has officially become “the vanguard of the people in their struggle to build a Socialist society” — words whose similarity to the 1936 Soviet Constitution is hardly accidental.

In the United States there are those who equate Nkrumah with Castro. A “Black Stalin” is the way one Detroit newspaper has described him. How else, it is said, can you view a man whose party organs vilify the United States in a style remarkably reminiscent of Pravda?

THERE was a time when Nkrumah was hailed as Mrica's most dynamic leader. Ghana's early freedom was a beacon for other nationalists, who gravitated to Accra and received the moral and financial support they needed to press their own assaults on colonial rule. Nkrumah was the first to establish trade and diplomatic relations with the East; he was considered the pioneer of nonalignment on a continent where most Africans are eager to steer clear of the cold war. But now, his charisma has faded. African heads of state receiving unsolicited letters from him deeply resent his advice on how to. run their countries. Other leaders are astounded at being called “neo‐colonialist agents” simply because they have questioned Nkrumah's obsessive insistence that all Africa should unite immediately under one government.

Nigerians, for whom freedom of speech is precious, are today flocking to performances of “Masks 1960,” a satirical production whose latest skit depicts Nkrumah locked in his bedroom and moaning: “Oh God of all Africa, show me a sign the people love me.” The act ends with Nkrumah deciding to play dead to test his followers' devotion. Shown his body, they weep with feigned sincerity and, in asides, burst into gales of soundless laughter.

If Nkrumah no longer commands a center‐stage position in African politics, why the concern over his turn to the left, his anti‐American outbursts, the jailing of the opposition, the fraudulent January “referendum” in which 99.9 per cent of Ghana's voters supposedly endorsed him as a virtual dictator?

Nkrumah's disciples raise the same question with a different slant. “Why does the Western press always pick on us?” demanded one official in Ghana's Ministry of Information. “When Ghana becomes a one‐party state, it's front page. But nothing is said about the other African states which have oneparty systems.”

But Ghana is different. No other newly independent African state has put itself forward as the “model” for the rest to emulate. No other chief of state has projected himself as “The Voice of Africa.” Rightly or wrongly, Ghana is being judged more sharply because, at the time of her independence, few African states were so richly endowed; if any nation could have progressed within a democratic framework it was Ghana.

IF there is one theme that dominates Nkrumah's personality, it is his sense of Africa's destiny — and his own place at the head of it. Even when he was a penniless student in the United States, his thoughts were preoccupied with Ghana's liberation. Moving on to the London School of Economics after the war, he helped organize “The Circle,” a small secret society of African revolutionaries, whose members included Kenya's Jomo Kenyatta.

In London, Nkrumah's vision broadened far beyond Ghana. Some day, he dreamed, Africa's great continent, splintered and divided among the European powers, must be free not only from Algeria to Capetown, but united under one Pan‐African banner, with “one government. one leader, one mighty voice.”

During his political career, Nkrumah has somehow found time to write four books and scores of speeches. They all dwell on African unity and the need for the emergence of a “new African,” one who is no longer subservient but proud of his blackness and aware of his African heritage. Nkrumah's writings are always provocative, frequently eloquent and often reflect a brilliant insight. “If there is a degree of tragedy about Nkrumah's life,” says a Nigerian intellectual, “it is that his ideas have come to be dismissed because of his many ill‐considered acts.”

Almost every act of Nkrumah's adult life has been devoted to preparing himself for the fulfillment of his dream of “one government, one leader.” As a young man of immense pride and sensitivity. he could never settle for second best; one of his professors at Lincoln University in Pennsylvania recalls him as a freshman earnestly trying out for the school play, then quitting when told he couldn't be the hero.

HE has always been a voracious reader, and Marx, Engels and Lenin made an early impact. In England he attended Communist party meetings “to study their tactics.” While denying he ever became a party member, he has never made any bones about being a Marxist, for Marxism has had great emotional appeal for him. Was it not the capitalists who wished Africa to remain subjected? Even after independence, would they not conspire to keep Ghana weak, divided, always dependent?

“Over the years, Nkrumah has developed a more and more conspiratorial view of history,” says one veteran diplomat in Accra. “His Marxism probably had a lot to do with it, but the main elements are in his own personality.”

In the opinion of many observers, the ultimate expression of this conspiratorial view came with his sudden sacking in December of Sir Arku Korsah, Ghana's Chief Justice, who acquitted three high officials the Government had charged with treason. To Nkrumah, the acquittal was evidence of “subversion” and “corruption” in the judiciary, aimed at creating “unrest” and “confusion” — aimed, as he saw it, at him.

Having established a conspiracy in his own mind, he sought to “root it out.” The result: a clause in the January referendum giving him the right to remove high‐court judges and reverse their verdicts. In effect, Nkrumah has become his own chief justice from whom there is no appeal.

IRONICALLY, democracy and the ballot box have always been kind to Nkrumah. In 1954 and again in 1957 he and his party overwhelmed the rival United Gold Coast Convention at the polls. Yet despite his majority and his unquestioned popularity Nkrumah became increasingly angered at what he termed the opposition's “obstructive” tactics and lack of “positive” criticism. This combined with the alleged discovery of a plot against the Government in 1958 led to the passage of the Preventative Detention Act one short year after independence.

No one knows just how many Ghanaians have disappeared into detention. A few years ago a member of Parliament got up and declared that more than 1,000 had been detained. No one rose to contradict him. In what was termed a partial amnesty Nkrumah freed 150 persons two years ago. Among those released was the aging J. P. Danquah, a distinguished lawyer, playwright and historian, widely regarded in Ghana.

It was Danquah who called on Nkrumah to return to Ghana from London in 1947 to become the U.G.C.C.'s organizing secretary. For their zealousness in seeking independence, the two men shared the same cell in a British jail. But later, when Nkrumah split away to form his own more militant Convention Peoples Party, the two became bitter political rivals. Still, even during Danquah's detention, Nkrumah fondly referred to him as “our old friend” in a speech praising scholars whose research had helped unearth Ghana's ancient history.

EARLY last January I dropped by Danquah's house in Accra. It was only a few days after a police constable had fired five shots at Nkrumah as he was leaving his office at Flagstaff House. Danquah's study was in complete disorder, with papers, books and legal files scattered on the floor. The police had come the night before, ransacked the study and interrogated him for 12 hours.

He deplored the attempt to kill Nkrumah and would say nothing against him, on or off the record. “What can I say? Does anyone really know him?” Of his life in detention, Danquah said: “As in any jail, the food was terrible, but I had all the books I wanted. For a long time they wouldn't give me paper so I could write. That was the worst part. I could have written a few plays.”

Three days later he was returned to prison for the second time. No formal charges were filed against him. Under the terms of the Detention Act none are required.

Politicians were not the only ones arrested that week. Others who disappeared included A. K. P. Kludze, a brilliant young law student and president of the National Union of Ghanaian Students. His crime was the union's passage of two resolutions, one criticizing Sir Arku Korsah's dismissal, the other deploring discrimination against African students in Communist universities. (According to the current party line, racial prejudice cannot exist in “Socialist” countries and is solely a capitalist problem.)

EVENTS in the past six months clearly indicate that Ghana has passed a turning point. As a result of the “yes” vote in the referendum any criticism of the Government no matter how casual or mild is a crime against the state. Nkrumah left no doubt about this in a recent radio address in which he proclaimed that Ghana was now entering a new “revolutionary” phase.

“This phase,” he said, “demands that everyone in our society must either accept the aims of our revolution or expose themselves as the deceivers and betrayers of the people.”

These were not idle words. A few weeks ago a taxi driver making casual conversation with his fare, found himself arrested and sentenced to three years in prison for “rumor mongering.”

The Government's weekly publication, “Spark,” defined the prevailing atmosphere when it declared; “In essence, a state of war exists in Ghana society.” C. P. P. organs have called for a “ruthless purge” of “antiprogressive” and

“bourgeois” elements in the civil service, the schools and universities, the police and the army. The “class struggle,” previously absent from Nkrumah's views on “African socialism,” is now the main ideological point of the new “revolution.”

The “class struggle” theme has its roots less in Marxist theory than in the peculiar composition of the Convention People's Party. Most of the party's “activists” have been drawn from the thousands of “school leavers,” youths who were either not bright enough or did not possess the funds to go on to higher learning.

IN the old colonial days they were known as “Veranda Boys” for when it came to getting the good jobs, they never got past the front door. In contrast, the “Lounge Boys,” with their university degrees and their European manners, were the ones who acquired the top civil‐service posts and the social prestige.

For the Veranda Boys, the C. P. P. offered a natural haven. The party gave them power and status. Few could understand the complexities of Marxist theory, but the simpiicity of Marxist slogans were easily and eagerly grasped. The idea of the “class struggle” seemed especially pertinent and became an outlet for their own anti‐intellectualism.

One result was that hundreds of young educated Ghanaians found themselves frozen out of the party, although many had thought of Nkrumah as their god and were willing to serve at even the lowest level.

NKRUMAH has done nothing to correct this, mainly because of a suspicion that intellectuals make unreliable politicians. The “activists” have been pampered and are now entrenched. In any crisis. Nkrumah can count on their unswerving loyalty. But having been rejected. students inside Ghana, including those back from overseas now constitute one of the most bitter and potentially explo sive elements of opposition to Nkrumah. Hence, the new party cry that “political reliability is a far more valuable asset in Government than a chain of degrees.”

“If this keeps up,” said one disgruntled civil servant, “Ghana could become just like the Congo—a nation run by clerks.”

Although Ghana would seem to be on the verge of becoming an orthodox Marxist state. there is a wide gap between theory and reality. Only one foreign firm has been nationalized — and generously compensated. Ghana's trade is still largely with Europe, and most foreign aid still comes from the West. Nkrumah has repeatedly insisted that there is plenty of room for private foreign investment. In fact, the success of his seven‐year development plan depends on it.

Nevertheless, the consensus among most diplomats in Accra is that Nkrumah has emotionally turned away from the West. The reasons are as numerous as they are complex.

First it was Washington's hostility to the late Patrice Lumumba. Often forgotten is the fact that just before his murder in Katanga, Lumumba had agreed to bring the Congo into the now defunct.Ghnana‐Guinea‐Malinnion. Never had Nkrumah come so close to realizing his Pan‐African dream; if the Congo — the biggest and richest of all the African states — had joined with him, others would surely have followed. Nkrumah blamed Lumumba's murder on Britain, Belgium and the United States. And the passage of time has done nothing to assuage his bitterness. Then came Nkrumah's lengthy tour of Eastern Europe, Russia (where he was given the Lenin Peace Prize), and Communist China.

THE Red carpet had a dazzling effect. “Nkrnmah is no party‐line Communist and he's not about to make Ghana a satellite,” said one American diplomat after Nkrumah's return. “But after that tour he never felt the same about the West. He was flattered, and as a Marxist, he could personally identify — and came away impressed — with everything they showed him.”

But even more important was Nkrumah's reaction to the attempts on his life — the first 21 months ago when a bomb was thrown at him at Kulungugu, the second by the police constable at Flagstaff House last January. Understandably, these close calls have deeply shaken him.

He is haunted by the stillunanswered question: Who is behind these plots? Ghanaian exiles? Most probably. But more and more, Nkrumah has eome to think that the exiles must be trained and financed by the “imperialists.” Nkrumah's fears were reinforced by Andrew Tully's “C.I.A. —The Inside Story.” Nkrumah has read and re‐read this book and distributed 500 copies to his party disciples. To him, it seemed confirmation that the C.I.A. was really a “reactionary” state‐within‐a‐state which often operated on its own, without White House bidding.

The following distorted but not entirely far‐fetched reflection of Nkrumah's thinking appeared in “Spark”:

“When the idea of African unity was firstmooted out by the Imperialists laughed it off. But when the Imperialists saw the idea geriminating, growing and gripping the minds of other African leaders, the C.I.A. employes were summoned to the White House . . . The British Intelligence Agency staff was similarly called to Buckingham Palace and directed. Their local agents in Ghana started unleashing bombs to scare Osagyefo . . . What is shame or disgrace to an Imperialist!”

The theme has endless ramifications. For anyone who is against the Government, or for any Government policy that goes wrong, the finger is pointed to a few “treacherous” Ghanaians backed by “imperialist” agents.

Since the press is tightly controlled by the Government (editors of all news organs meet daily for briefings in Flagstaff House), ultimate responsibility for the anti‐American propaganda rests squarely on Nkrumah.

Does he believe his own propaganda? The answer is yes —and no. Nkrumah's feelings about the United States have always been mixed. He remembers fondly his days at Lincoln and Pennsylvania Universities where he took degrees in philosophy and anthropology. Not so fondly recalled are the days he roamed Harlem in search of work, sleeping in the subways at night; on many a day his only meal came from Father Divine's kitchen. If life for an American Negro was tough during the depression years, it was doubly difficult and not infrequently humiliating for an African stranger.

YET, American history has deeply moved Nkrumah. He has a number of American friends of both races. (Many recall the days when Nkrumah campaigned in Accra from the back of a United States Information Agency jeep). Following his first state visit to Washington in 1959, he wrote glowingly of Eisenhower's “warmth, gaiety, alertness of mind.” When President Kennedy was assassinated, Nkru mah went on the radio and in a voice choked with emotion delivered a moving eulogy.

Despite these gestures, the American Embassy phones today are tapped. Government officials and most educated Ghanaians are reluctant to be seen too often with Westerners.

And today, fearing for his life, Nkrumah remains almost totally secluded in Christianbourg Castle, the brooding 17th‐century Danish slave fortress which stands on a windswept cliff overlooking Accra harbor.

As always, he works an incredibly hard eighteen‐hour day. He rises early, breakfasts on a piece of toast and the yoke of an egg, then exercises for at least an hour—usually at tennis. (At his own insistence, no one keeps score). Since he trusts only a few party intimates — and often complains of the inefficiency of those around him — Nkrumah has a hand in making the most trivial decisions.

Because of quarrels and his own suspicions, he has become estranged from some of his ablest advisers. Over the years many of his oldest friends and former ministers, like K. A. Gbedemah, former Minister of Finance, have been ousted from their jobs and have gone into exile.

Increasingly he has led a lonely existence. Chad Calhoun, an American businessman and long an acquaintance of Nkrumah, remembers being called at his hotel by the President, who wondered whether Calhoun and Mrs. Calhoun would come to dinner that night. When they arrived, they were greeted by Nkrumah and his stately Egyptian wife, Fathia “It's my birthday,” announced Nkrumnah. The Calhouns waited for other guests to arrive, then slowly came to realize that they were the only ones invited.

Although Nkrumah frequently gives interviews to Communist correspondents, he has declined to see Western newsmen for several years. The last time I had talked with him was four years ago, when any correspondent, regardless of affiliation, was welcome at Flagstaff House.

REMINDED of our last meeting, Nkrumah agreed to see me again a few weeks ago, although it was emphasized that the visit was a “courtesy call,” not an interview.

It turned out to be a little of both. Nkrumah was cheerful and characteristically charming. He appeared in remarkably good shape, save for a small white scar on his right cheek.

The scar, he said, had been inflicted during the assassination attempt in January, He told how the constable, after firing all five shots from his rifle, had pursued Nkrumah into the kitchen of Flagstaff House. There they had grappled and the constable had bitten him before being subdued by other guards.

“I don't know how I lived,” said Nkrumah. “It was a miracle of God.” He seemed in an expansive mood. But he rejected any suggestion of a formal interview.

“No. Definitely no,” he said, his high, bald forehead creased in a frown. “I know you, but I don't know your masters and how they might change what you write. The lies I read about me, about Ghana. It's hopeless. I've turned my back on the Western press.”

I asked about his referendum and his face brightened. “You have seen the truth—the people voting,” he said. “The people must decide. One must always go to the people.”

THE sincerity of his words left the impression that it was possible he knew nothing of the voting fraud — of the many “no” boxes with the slits sealed shut, the districts where there were no “no” boxes at all, the threats that anyone failing to vote or daring to vote “no” would be jailed as a “counterrevolutionary.” Since the assassination attempt, Nkrumah had not ventured outside the castle even to vote; had his disciples told him that such steps were necessary, it would have been tantamount to admitting that all was not well in Ghana —that the mood of his people was far from what Nkrumah wished it to be.

One left reminded of Nkrumah's thoughts on another occasion. “One of the best things about Ghanaians is that they are able to laugh at themselves; they have a natural gaiety. That is why we would never tolerate dictatorship or any abuse of power.”

Nkrumah wrote those words m book called “I Speak of Freedom.” But since they were written, Ghaha has experienced four years of change.