IJCentral: International Justice Central

Dictators have a style all their own, full of murals, zoos, gaudy furniture and gold

Rock ‘n’ roll legend has it that during the Sixties, a record executive was invited to the baroque mansion of singer Ike Turner. Observing the mirrored ceilings, whale-shaped television and waterfall in the living room, he was moved to remark: “Man, so you can spend a million dollars at Woolworths.”

This came to mind looking at pictures of Moammar Gadhafi’s compound, invaded by rebel forces in the Libyan capital Tripoli. Perhaps it was the surreal teapot-and-teacups fairground ride in his garden. Or the zoo, stocked with animals supplied by African dictators. Perhaps it was the murals, or even the huge gold sofa shaped like a mermaid and bearing the face of his daughter Aisha.

Dictators are generally not keen to allow hoi polloi a peek inside their homes. Not for them the Hello! spread. (It can be inconvenient for the little people to glimpse one’s gold taps when they lack clean water.) But, should you see inside (without an accompanying death warrant), the only thing not to expect, as Peter York noted, in his 2005 book Dictators’ Homes, is good taste. As Gadhafi, Saddam Hussein and countless others before them have shown, there is a definite stylistic thread, a dictator chic, if you like. And dictator chic is about the display of wealth and power in every possible form.

Firstly, there must be gold. Lots of it, in the form of cutlery, taps, weapons, sofas in the shape of family members. Last week, a looter of Gadhafi’s compound was pictured brandishing what appeared to be gold revolver. I’d bet the sofa remains in place - it would require the entire rebel force to lift it.

There should be ornate French furniture - a favourite of the nouveau riche (dictators do not usually come from wealthy backgrounds). Reproduction is preferable, being shinier than the antique stuff. Shiny, whether it be marble floors or planet-sized chandeliers, is a key element of dictator chic.

There must be animals, too; preferably live ones within a private zoo, and if that proves difficult, glorified images of them: fearsome beasts such as eagles, bears and lions. Jean-Bedel Bokassa, former self-appointed emperor of the Central African Republic, took this to its apotheosis with a towering, gold-plated, two-ton throne in the shape of a spread eagle (it went very fetchingly with his red velvet and ermine train).

There should also be murals in abundance. Saddam Hussein’s wall paintings became globally famous. In a typical example, a naked Fabio look-alike wrestled an oversized fanged snake, while a bare-breasted blond looked on.

In another, gold-tipped missiles poked rigidly into the sky. It is fair to say Freud would have not have been bored.

But the cornerstone of dictator chic is “things in one’s own image.” The late Saparmurat Niyazov, president of Turkmenistan, commissioned, among many monuments to himself, a gold statue that revolved to always face the sun. (He said, in a 60 Minutes interview: “I’m personally against seeing my statues in the streets, but it’s what the people want .”) It makes the residences of Stalin and Hitler seem austere.

I might be the only person who quite liked the retro, Orla Kiely-style palm print on Gadhafi’s Bedouin tent (former British prime minister Tony Blair got a close look when he visited; ask him).

But as dictators fall, there are odd reminders that they are human, too. Discovered in the compound were family photo albums (one, curiously, devoted to Condoleezza Rice). There was the melancholic sight of his daughter Hanna’s bedroom, preserved under glass since her death in 1986.

But it is hard to feel much sympathy. For whenever these palaces are finally sprung open, as Gadhafi’s was last week, citizens are overwhelmed by the riches they find inside, riches usually harvested from people who are struggling to feed their children.

Yesterday, as a 10-year-old boy struggled with his loot - including a suitcase, replica gun and satellite television receiver - a soldier reportedly shouted at him to stop.

“Let him take what he wants,” came the response from other Libyans. “It belongs to him.”

Gold mermaid sofa, anyone?

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