Courage and integrity are rarely mentioned in the same breath when it comes to discussing Arab rulers and what are essential qualities of leadership. The current crop at the top tend not to measure up in terms of either of them.

As if the war in Gaza wasn’t a daily reminder of the lack of moral fibre across the Arab world, I was given a sharp reminder today upon learning of the death of Liamine Zéroual.

Unlike most Arab rulers who are so addicted to power that they cannot walk away from the job, Zéroual had no such qualms when he quit as President of Algeria in April 1999.

This man was defined by the Algerian Revolution; his spirit burned fiercely during that dark period in his country’s history.

To outsiders he was simply a former president, but to millions of people across the Arab world he will always be remembered as the mujahid who delivered liberty to his people.

Sadly, his passing has been largely ignored by the Arab media and not even deemed worthy of a mention in the Western media. That is why I feel compelled to salute and remember the man from the Aurès Mountains who has returned to the soil of Algeria soaked by the blood of its martyrs; the soil that forged him.

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Zéroual should be honoured as a rare leader who prioritised service to his people over power. He wasn’t born in a state handed to him on a plate by British and French colonialists. He started in his native Batna as a soldier of the shadows who stepped into the limelight only when the republic was screaming for a courageous leader.

A handful of emirs in the Gulf are today facing the eternal abyss, but they will not go to their graves with such ringing endorsements as Zéroual is. Most of them are cowards who kneel before the worldly superpowers instead of God, while presiding over the destruction and genocide in neighbouring Gaza.

Tragically, the courageous leaders of Gaza have already been taken, each one paying the ultimate price for refusing to let the flame of legitimate resistance be extinguished. That can never be said of most of today’s Arab rulers. Their exits, unlike the great leaders such as Yayha Sinwar and Ismail Haniyeh, will be quiet. Their names will be spoken in a whisper; old men who were handed their grand titles and positions in an outdated system run by and for authoritarians and autocrats.

None were born from the flint and cedar that made Liamine Zéroual. From their childhood these Arab rulers were swamped with riches and privilege of a kind that was denied him.

The sound of petrodollars accumulating in their treasuries is music to their ears, whereas it was the Sirocco that whispered into the ears of Zéroual, inspiring his quest for revolution, liberty and freedom. He did not fight for a title or a throne; he fought so that the word “Algerian” would never again only be spoken of in hushed tones.

When the “Black Decade” threatened to tear out his heart and soul; when brother turned against brother and the darkness seemed endless, Zéroual did not flinch. He did not seek the presidency; the presidency sought him. He stood at the helm battered by rivers of blood, his face a mask of stone, his heart a compass pointed towards peace.

He knew that it was time to step aside when he realised that power was not a prize worth keeping. His timing was everything. He was the soldier who knew when to strike; the leader who knew when to speak; and — most remarkably — the statesman who knew when to leave.

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The most enduring quote of his that I found was this: “I did not come to the Presidency to serve myself, but to serve the State. When the State no longer needs me to lead, it is my duty to become a citizen once more.”

By walking away from the palace to return to the quiet streets of Batna, he gave the ultimate gift to the people, demonstrating that the Republic of Algeria is greater than any one man. He lived with the dignity of the poor and the authority of the just.

How many Arab rulers go to their graves with such a clean pair of hands? He never once betrayed the oath of November 1. The revolution will remember him. The nation remains.

While others die clutching at their thrones desperately, Zéroual goes to his final resting place in Batna with open hands, having already given his power back to the people who forged him.

In an era of shallow kings, emirs, crown princes and silent collaborators, he embodied the honourable belief that the highest office is not a prize to be hoarded, but a duty to be returned to the people with one’s soul intact.

May the Almighty make his grave a place of eternal light and raise him with the righteous on the Last Day. Amen

The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.

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