The Congo: The Short-Sleeved Society

When President Joseph Mobutu showed up in Leopoldville’s King Baudouin Stadium for his first major public appearance last week, the 30,000 people on hand thought it odd that he was in informal khakis instead of his bemedaled full-dress general’s uniform. There was a reason. Mobutu was there to urge his nation to get down to work. For five years, he claimed, politicians had “sacrificed the country for their own interests” and had brought it “hatred, quarrels and corruption.” “The Congo no longer produces,” he said, “the people no longer work.”

All that is going to change, said Mobutu, and it suddenly became clear why he wore no tunic. Pop went the button on one shirt cuff as he told the Congolese to “roll up your sleeves, strip off your ties and get to work.” Pop went the button on his other cuff as his bug-eyed audience began to realize that he meant them to follow suit. “Roll ’em up,” Mobutu called to the uproarious crowd. “You too!” he shouted to his assembled Cabinet ministers, who sheepishly followed orders.

It was just the sort of medicine that the Congo needed, and the rolled-up sleeve became a nationwide symbol overnight. Some took it for more than a symbol. Next day, when two Leopoldville businessmen walked into the post office building wearing neckties and long, rolled-down sleeves, they were immediately arrested and taken off to a police station by an overzealous cop. He had to let them go when the desk sergeant explained that rolled-up sleeves were a figure of speech, not a law.