Bashar Assad with Syria as the dark theater!

Raju Korti
Dictators have always intrigued me as a subject for writing, and Bashar al-Assad, one in the long line of such crackpots, offers a compelling case. Their peculiar mix of charisma and cruelty, their rule etched in bold strokes of despotism, eccentric whims, and bizarre idiosyncrasies, create an irresistible narrative. They stride across the world stage like actors in a gripping tragedy, their vivid personas concealing the dark shadows they cast. Each one is a study in the corrupting allure of absolute power, showing how it distorts the human psyche into something both fearsome and strangely captivating.

Bashar al-Assad: Suited and booted!

I recall while on duty, an old Reuters story quoting Bashar al-Assad, defiant as ever, claiming he wouldn’t share the fate of Muammar Gaddafi or Hosni Mubarak. It was, of course, a bold claim. Like a moth declaring itself flame-proof. It drives me to review this trio -- Mubarak, Gaddafi, and Assad -- through the cracked lens of history.

Mubarak, Egypt's perennial patriarch, ruled for 30 years, presiding over a regime that mixed repression with an occasional nod to democracy, like a chef garnishing stale soup. But when the Arab Spring rolled through, his grip loosened. His people toppled him, and the once-mighty Pharaoh found himself behind bars, exchanging his throne for a prison cot.

Gaddafi, meanwhile, was Libya’s self-styled revolutionary King of Kings, reigning with a mix of absurdity and terror. I particularly recall his swag, flanked by two gun-toting lady bodyguards as also his theatrical speeches. But his eccentricities masked brutality, and his end came in a culvert, captured and killed by those he once ruled with an iron fist. And then there's Assad, the reluctant eye doctor turned dictator.

Unlike his counterparts, Assad clung on, his power supported by allies who viewed geopolitics as chess and Syrians as pawns. Assad turned Syria into a dystopian spectacle, proving that sometimes history isn’t just a cycle but a slow, grinding spiral. The fate of these leaders -- whether jail, death, or dogged survival -- reads like entries in dark humour. They follow a pattern: rise to power, suppress dissent, rule like gods, and then tumble spectacularly.

Stalin, the original paranoia czar, ended up felled not by revolt but by a cerebral hemorrhage. He left behind a legacy of purges and purgatory. Idi Amin, Uganda’s mercurial tyrant, fled to Saudi Arabia, living out his days in strange comfort -- a man whose culinary tastes reportedly included his enemies. Ceaușescu of Romania? He was yanked from his palace and promptly executed; his god-like self-image shattered by a firing squad.

Pol Pot, the Khmer Rouge leader responsible for one of the 20th century's most horrifying genocides, deserves a prominent (and infamous) spot in the Dictator's Almanac. Here's how we can integrate him into the satirical yet sobering narrative: Dictators may vary in their methods, but their outcomes rhyme like a tragic poem. Some, however, go above and beyond in their pursuit of infamy. The architect of Cambodia's "Year Zero," stands out for his macabre zeal in turning his country into a patent nightmare.

Pol Pot decided that education, intellect, and even wearing glasses were marks of treason against his agrarian utopia. He emptied cities, forced millions into labour camps, and turned the Cambodian countryside into a killing field. His vision for a "pure" society was so extreme that it made Orwell’s 1984 look like a sunny utopia. But how did his story end? Did he fall in a blaze of justice? Not quite.

After orchestrating the deaths of nearly a quarter of Cambodia's population, he lived out his final days in a jungle hut, betrayed by his own comrades, and reportedly dying of a heart attack. His reign, like his life, fizzled out -- not with the dramatic justice the world might have hoped for but with the quiet indignity of irrelevance. Pol Pot underscores the absurdity and tragedy of dictators who attempt to re-engineer society at the cost of millions of lives, often succumbing to their own paranoia or the inertia of their decrepit systems.

These leaders are stark reminders that history’s gravest horrors often come not from outright villains in capes but from misguided zealots with unchecked power. Yet dictators share more than just ignominious ends. They exhibit an uncanny ability to persist long past their expiry dates, fuelled by cults of personality and the wilful blindness of their enablers. Whether it’s Mubarak’s pseudo-democracy, Gaddafi’s "people’s socialism," or Assad’s "anti-terrorism" crusade, they frame oppression as salvation.  They believe they’re immune to history, forgetting that every dictator's shelf life is finite. As the world spins, new candidates join the hall of tyrants. North Korea’s Kim dynasty, Turkmenistan’s Gurbanguly Berdimuhamedow (and his love for golden statues), or Myanmar’s junta -- all continue the ancient tradition of megalomania.

Dictators are like recurring characters in the sitcom of geopolitics -- each one with their peculiarities, yet all bound by the same script: “Rise. Reign. Fall.” Assad might believe he can defy this arc, but history is undefeated. The moral of the story? Whether in jail cells, culverts, or gilded exile, despots always meet their epilogues. The world just waits, popcorn in hand, for the next act.