Despite a huge fan base, from Southern Africa to Taiwan and the United States, Mswati’s record on human rights is anything but exemplary. Fingers point at the king and his government for the many cases of bullying and mysterious deaths, including those of Maseko, Thabani Nkomonye and Sipho Jele, who died in custody, and the targeting of groups such as the LGBTI+ community.
King Mswati III is basking in infrastructure development as he marks 40 years on the throne in eSwatini, a landlocked kingdom of 1.5 million people. Cheers are flowing in. Blue chips, from Standard Bank to Nedbank, and the region’s top brass, are singing the king’s praises. Dejected activists, some of who now live in exile, look on helplessly, struggling to re-claim the discourse even as regional leaders throw their weight behind the king.
The kingdom’s two-day jamboree gathered thousands at a tiny and old Somhlolo stadium, then, with Southern Africa’s finest as guests, moved to Mbabane’s spanking new International Convention Centre (ICC). Colour, pomp and song defined the moment.
Lesotho’s King Letsie III, along with Mozambican and Zimbabwean presidents Daniel Chapo and Emmerson Mnangagwa, made the guest list. So did Botswana’s youthful Duma Boko and Andry Rajoelina, Madagascar’s ousted leader now at large. Ian Khama and Joseph Kabila – who both stayed in eSwatini after stepping down in Botswana and the DRC respectively – also showed up. Taiwanese leader, Lai Ching-te, whose itinerary fell victim to Beijing-Taipei wars, would eventually make it as a “stowaway”, to quote China. Lai – whose team blasted China as authoritarian after it blocked him from traveling to eSwatini in April – is curiously embracing a king who’s openly authoritarian.
Juxtapose the kingdom’s embrace of Rajoelia and Lai to its human rights violations and hounding of pro-democracy activists. Exiles would not dare set foot in their motherland. Those within are too scared to speak. Critics lament eSwatini’s friends for turning a blind eye. The banning of a May Day rally in Hlatikhulu ended up confined to civil society circles. The international media gave Lai’s on-off-on travel a lot more airtime than the “real state of affairs”: fear and silence, notes Zweli Dlamini, one of a handful investigative reporters openly operating inside eSwatini.
“Any media outlet run or sponsored by mainland China would give prominence to (Lai) but ignore the plight of the Swazis. Lai’s eagerness (to travel here) says a lot about him and what he’s getting through this relationship at the expense of the people of eSwatini,” Dlamini says. “World leaders don’t care. Taiwan doesn’t care. China, the US, SADC or other global organisations don’t care. Human rights violations are well-documented,” he notes, segueing into the mid-2021 massacre, an event which continues to cast a long shadow.
“One MP is in jail. Another one is in exile. Thulani Maseko is dead. These things are linked to 2021.” Dlamini, whose unanswered questions are telling, singles human rights lawyer and The Nation columnist, Maseko’s role in eSwatini’s now-aborted national dialogue. “Who do you think killed him? If people are silenced by the barrel of the gun, who’ll speak out?” But, the first family and government often make the right noises – striking a reconciliatory note, hailing stability, preaching peace, and encouraging unity. The state media plays along.
Mswati’s father, King Sobhuza II, died in 1982 after six decades of direct reign. Four years later – with LaTfwala, the Queen Mother, having warmed the seat as a regent – an Afro-spotting and fresh-faced 18-year-old prince was crowned King Mswati III at Somhlolo, on a sweltering day in April 1986. Four decades later, here is Mswati as the world’s second longest-reigning monarch, after Sweden’s Carl XVI, and longest-serving leader in the 16-nation Southern African Development Community (SADC).
Economics presents a lousy picture too. For one, the GDP sits at US$4.86 billion, working out to a US$3,900 GDP per capita. That places eSwatini as a dismal 149th globally. Aggressive investments on road improvement and the recently-launched ICC are clear signs of modernisation. But, in the absence of equality before the law, Swazis, already grappling with high poverty rates, are sandwiched between government bullying and state-sponsored deaths.
Despite a huge fan base, from Southern Africa to Taiwan and the United States, Mswati’s record on human rights is anything but exemplary. Fingers point at the king and his government for the many cases of bullying and mysterious deaths, including those of Maseko, Thabani Nkomonye and Sipho Jele, who died in custody, and the targeting of groups such as the LGBTI+ community. The government’s ban of a May Day rally, likely at the behest of the king and with the help of the judiciary, went unnoticed in neighbouring South Africa – home to a sizeable Swazi exile community. Yet, in singing the king’s praises in April, Cyril Ramaphosa, South Africa’s president, lauded “strong and fraternal relations” between the two nations but avoided the repressive state of affairs synonymous with Mswati’s 40-year reign.
The king has been called all sorts of names, “from tin-pot dictator to the last absolute monarch (in Africa),” writes Bheki Makhubu. One of the region’s most courageous journalists, Makhubu – who, along Maseko, was incarcerated on trumped up charges – has written extensively about Mswati. On the route to Manzini, past the off-ramp to Lozitha Palace at the foot of majestic mountains, the veteran editor assesses the king’s decades-long rule, from his finest and sometimes iffy moments to the ugly.
The authorities hound whistleblowers for demanding accountability, Makhubu reiterates, moaning the rise of conservative journalists, as independent voices are elbowed. Civil servants have been sent from pillar to post for demanding overdue salary hikes, he observes. The state is accused of brutalising citizens who demand justice, improved social services budgets, better health outcomes, the unbanning of political parties, and the right to elect MPs and prime ministers. The outlawed People’s Democratic Movement (Pudemo) has been calling for such reforms for decades, but the likes of Ramaphosa and Boko, as well as their predecessors, have treated those voices with oblivion.
Direct elections would replace the current set-up whereby the king can name anyone a premier. Fifteen PMs (all male), seven of them in acting positions, have served under Mswati. Only one PM, Barnabas Dlamini, stayed for at least five years. That revolving door raises questions of succession planning and, Makhubu adds, suitability and accountability.
Economics presents a lousy picture too. For one, the GDP sits at US$4.86 billion, working out to a US$3,900 GDP per capita. That places eSwatini as a dismal 149th globally. Aggressive investments on road improvement and the recently-launched ICC are clear signs of modernisation. But, in the absence of equality before the law, Swazis, already grappling with high poverty rates, are sandwiched between government bullying and state-sponsored deaths.
Prime Minister Russell Dlamini speaks of “monarchial democracy” and of prioritising economic empowerment, but shows no will to achieve that. “It’s visible that there are things that remain undone… Almost 60 per cent of the population lives below the poverty line,” Dlamini once conceded. Things have only deteriorated. Metaphorically, spokesperson Donald Mdhluli reported at the time of the king’s jamboree that 20 eSwatini nationals had been arrested by the South African Police Service for illegal mining. In Lesotho, a constitutional monarchy, government symbolically declared unemployment a national disaster as soon as it hit 30 per cent last year.
To throw back, Maseko was shot dead in 2023 in his home. Make Tanele Maseko, his widow, is convinced that Mswati knew of, or ordered, that hit. “It was around 8 p.m. when Thulani expressed his concerns about being killed. The king had spoken at around 3 p.m.. At 10.15 p.m., (he) was shot dead,” she once told The Nation. “We’re not children here, the king meant what he said.” The PM was accused of bullying the widow when she demanded answers.
The monarchy says Tinkhundla is a link between modern and ancient political systems. Dissenters disagree. In a survey on the system, Uniswa found that 45 per cent of the 1,000 people it polled wanted Tinkhundla reviewed to give voters the right to elect their MPs and PMs directly. A quarter wanted the system retained and 30 per cent was uncertain. Makhubu tracks the root. “Even if Tinkhundla were replaced by multi-party democracy today, you’d still have a problem: accountability,” he says.
The fear-silence junction also struck Nqobile Mkhatshwa, a political scientist. In her thesis, where she opines that the regime is known for brutally clamping down on groups opposing the status quo, Mkhatshwa highlights unionist Sipho Jele’s death in custody days after his arrest during a rally, for wearing a Pudemo T-shirt. “It is the threats of punishment and obvious brutality of the (state that instills) fear among (Swazis) to not dare challenge the state.”
Taking a look at the guest list, with names like Mnangagwa and Boko, known for defending human rights, Pudemo activist Pius Vilakati worries that the monarch is emboldened by SADC’s support. Vilakati’s story is emblematic and bears similarities to Nkomonye’s. As a Law student at then-University of Swaziland (Uniswa), Vilakati fled on the eve of his comrade Jele’s funeral. Jele’s death spurred activists but Makhubu worries that “nobody can dare make a noise now” because of recent events such as the killing of Maseko while watching a football match on TV.
Vilakati says it’s “an unsurprising irony” that Mswati welcomes Rajoelina – who fled Madagascar in October amid protests – yet silences the Swazis. “When people get ousted or step down because of human rights violations or theft… they find comfort in Mswati’s arms,” says the exiled student leader. “He’s run out of friends so he’s taking everyone.” That view is common but for different reasons. Princess Sikhanyiso fingers palace power struggles and the lows that some royal family members would stoop to. “The king is pretty much isolated,” she said in Without A King.
Several requests for comment on Rajoelina’s presence in eSwatini drew a blank. Rajoelina went to ground for months after his ouster, only to resurface as Mswati’s guest in February and at his jamboree in Manzini late last month. Government also ignored our requests for comments on the brutality and reforms of the Tinkhundla system.
The monarchy says Tinkhundla is a link between modern and ancient political systems. Dissenters disagree. In a survey on the system, Uniswa found that 45 per cent of the 1,000 people it polled wanted Tinkhundla reviewed to give voters the right to elect their MPs and PMs directly. A quarter wanted the system retained and 30 per cent was uncertain. Makhubu tracks the root. “Even if Tinkhundla were replaced by multi-party democracy today, you’d still have a problem: accountability,” he says. “Constituting the type of people who work with the king into a party won’t change the fact that they have little philosophical understanding. They’ll remain accountable to the king. Others might believe that their authority is supreme and be accountable to themselves.”
Fresh from another May Day assault, pro-democracy activists and organised labour look set to commemorate the fifth anniversary of the 2021 massacre. Expect the state to respond brutally. But, won’t things lull and the political climate regress thereafter? Dlamini is optimistic. “Give it time but we know that change is inevitable. What we saw in 2021 made people think and reflect. It won’t be long but at the same time it won’t be short.”
Shoks Mnisi Mzolo is a roving storyteller with a background in arts and culture, and financial journalism. He also works as an independent researcher and is an avid traveler.
