Expert Analysis
michael-somare-vs-napoleon-bonaparte
# The Conqueror and the Father: Napoleon Bonaparte and Michael Somare
In the spring of 1815, Napoleon Bonaparte stood on the field of Waterloo, watching his Imperial Guard—the elite of his Grande Armée—shatter under British volleys. Half a world away and a century and a half later, Michael Somare stood before a flagpole in Port Moresby on September 16, 1975, watching the Australian flag descend and the red, black, and gold of Papua New Guinea rise for the first time. One man commanded armies that had terrorized capitals from Madrid to Moscow; the other presided over a birth, not a conquest. Yet both shaped the destinies of nations, and both left behind questions that history still debates: What does it mean to lead? And what kind of power endures?
Origins
Napoleon was born in 1769 on the island of Corsica, a Mediterranean rock that had only recently become French. His family was minor nobility, poor enough that he wore threadbare coats to military school, where his classmates mocked his accent. The French Revolution, which erupted when he was twenty, tore apart the old order and opened a path for talent. “The word ‘impossible’ is not in my dictionary,” he later declared, and his early life proved it: a Corsican outsider who became an artillery officer, then a general at twenty-four, then the master of France.
Michael Somare was born in 1936 in the village of Rabaul, on the island of New Britain, then part of the Australian-administered Territory of Papua and New Guinea. His father was a policeman, his mother a village woman. He grew up in a world without roads, without electricity, without written laws—a world of a thousand languages and clans that had known each other through warfare and marriage for millennia. “I am a product of my people,” Somare often said, and his education came from mission schools and teacher training colleges, not from the military academies of Europe. The century that separated their births was not just time; it was a chasm between two civilizations.
Rise to Power
Napoleon’s path was forged in gunpowder. In 1793, at the siege of Toulon, he devised the artillery plan that drove the British from the harbor. In 1795, he saved the revolutionary government from a royalist uprising with a “whiff of grapeshot”—cannon fire into a Parisian crowd. By 1796, he commanded the Army of Italy, a starving, ragged force that he turned into a conquering machine. “I see only the goal, the obstacle must give way,” he wrote. He gave it victory after victory, and then he used those victories as political capital. In 1799, he staged a coup and made himself First Consul. In 1804, he crowned himself Emperor.
Somare’s rise was slower, quieter, and built on words, not swords. He entered politics in the 1960s as the territory moved toward self-government. He founded the Pangu Pati, the first major political party, and argued for independence while others feared it. In 1972, he became Chief Minister. He negotiated with Australian officials, traveled to villages to explain the idea of a unified nation, and built a coalition out of tribes that had never been united. “We are a young nation,” he said, “but we have ancient roots.” His power came not from conquest but from consensus—and from the simple fact that no one else could hold the country together.
Leadership & Governance
As a ruler, Napoleon was a paradox. He centralized power absolutely, creating a police state that spied on its own citizens, yet he also gave France the Napoleonic Code—a system of laws that guaranteed equality before the law, religious toleration, and property rights. He reformed education, built roads, and stabilized the currency. But he could not stop conquering. From 1805 to 1812, he defeated Austria, Prussia, and Russia in a series of campaigns that military historians still study for their brilliance. His strategy was speed, concentration, and the decisive battle. “The art of war is simple,” he said. “Find out where your enemy is. Get at him as soon as you can. Strike him as hard as you can, and keep moving.”
Somare governed differently. His Papua New Guinea was a nation of 600 islands, 800 languages, and no national army. His military score of 30.2 reflects a leader who never commanded troops in battle—because his battle was different. He focused on nation-building: building schools, health clinics, and roads; creating a constitution that balanced the power of provinces against the center; and managing the immense challenge of development with almost no revenue. His political score of 72.0 and leadership score of 80.9 show a man who held a fragile democracy together through sheer patience and personal authority. “My job,” he once said, “is not to fight wars but to prevent them.”
Triumph & Tragedy
Napoleon’s greatest moment was the Battle of Austerlitz in 1805, where he crushed the combined armies of Russia and Austria, a victory so complete that he dictated the peace terms that night. His worst moment was the invasion of Russia in 1812. He marched 600,000 men into the vastness of the Russian winter; fewer than 100,000 came back. The disaster broke his aura of invincibility, and by 1814, his enemies had marched into Paris. He abdicated, returned for a brief “Hundred Days” in 1815, and was finally defeated at Waterloo. Exiled to the remote island of Saint Helena, he died in 1821 at fifty-one, a prisoner of the British.
Somare’s triumph was the independence of Papua New Guinea itself—a peaceful transition from colony to nation, a rare thing in the post-colonial world. His tragedy came later. In his final term as Prime Minister, from 2002 to 2011, he grew old and ill. Political instability mounted. In 2011, while he was hospitalized abroad, the Supreme Court removed him from office, and a chaotic power struggle followed. He died on February 25, 2012, and was given a state funeral—but his final years had been marked by decline and division, not the unity he had once symbolized.
Character & Destiny
Napoleon was driven by ambition, by a belief that he was destined for greatness. “What is history,” he asked, “but a fable agreed upon?” He shaped his own fable, controlling his image, his memoirs, his legacy. But his ambition was also his flaw: he could not stop. He needed war to maintain his power, and war destroyed him. His total score of 82.4 reflects a man of immense talent who overreached.
Somare was driven by duty. He did not seek power for its own sake; he accepted it because his people needed him. His strategy score of 56.4 is low, but that may be the wrong measure. His strategy was not military but political: to keep a nation together long enough for it to find its own feet. He succeeded—Papua New Guinea remains a democracy, fragile but alive. “I am not a great man,” he said. “I am a man who did his duty.”
Legacy
Napoleon left behind a legend. His name is synonymous with military genius, his code influenced legal systems across Europe and the Americas, and his wars reshaped the map of the continent. But he also left behind a million dead and a legacy of conquest that still haunts Europe. He is remembered as both a liberator and a tyrant.
Somare left behind a nation. Papua New Guinea is poor, corrupt, and troubled—but it exists. Before Somare, it was a collection of tribes administered by a distant colonial power. After him, it was a country with a flag, a constitution, and a place in the United Nations. He is called the “Father of the Nation,” and that is not a metaphor. He gave his people a future they did not have.
Conclusion
Napoleon and Somare seem to inhabit different worlds—one a conqueror, the other a builder; one a European emperor, the other a Pacific islander. But both faced the same fundamental question: How do you lead people who do not want to be led? Napoleon answered with force, and his empire crumbled. Somare answered with patience, and his nation endured. In the end, the conqueror of Europe died alone on an island, while the father of a nation was mourned by millions. Perhaps that is the truest measure of their difference.