Ivory Coast's president has made it clear he will leave office only with his boots on, which illustrates a fundamental problem that has bedevilled Africa since the end of colonialism: when politics is the only vehicle for a man of ambition, he will not leave his job quietly.
Laurent Gbagbo says any attempt to remove him from power by force could start a war in West Africa. This is in spite of his losing the recent presidential election to his rival, Allassane Ouattara, who is being backed as the winner by the international community.
In economically advanced societies, politics is but one option open to its captains of society. In the UK, the unloved Gordon Brown reluctantly slunk out of Number 10 with the reasonable assurance of a peaceful, and lucrative, retirement on the talk circuit.
It would be simplistic, of course, to blame the continent's penchant for coups solely on economics. Ethnic conflict, power-hungry despots and outside meddling have also played their part. But Africa is almost unique as a continent where few options for advancement exist outside power politics.
Take Mr Gbagbo. A man of humble birth who became a schoolteacher, he was also physically brave. He has been imprisoned as an opposition leader and survived civil war. Now, after almost 10 years of leading the West African country, he is faced with the unappealing choice of giving up his office.
It's not hard to see why he is so reluctant. African leaders and their acolytes grow wealthy while their opponents are frequently forced to live like bandits, on the run and in fear for their lives.
The presidency, on the other hand, is the channel for World Bank loans, some US$800 million [Dh2.93 billion] this year in the case of Ivory Coast, and has a hand in mining, farming and other profitable ventures.
A growing oil and gas industry, worth more than $1bn a year, has also raised the economic stakes in the country.
It is likely therefore that Mr Gbagbo is not only thinking of his own welfare, but also of that of his vast army of hangers-on - the generals, officials and functionaries who depend on his patronage for access to this wealth. With a new boss comes sweeping management changes.
Fortunately, a new generation of African leaders seems aware of the problem. Most of them have condemned Mr Ggabo's actions. Nigeria's Goodluck Jonathan has reportedly offered him a "dignified retirement", and the African Union has insisted a handover of power must take place.
Inspired perhaps by South Africa, which has had three peaceful presidential changes since apartheid ended in 1994, African leaders are now quicker to speak out against power grabs and coups. Indeed, South Africa has a number of former presidential contenders, such as Cyril Ramaphosa, who turned to business once their political aspirations were crushed.
Once seen as a serious rival of former president Thabo Mbeki, and backed by business and the trade unions, Mr Ramaphosa was eventually outmanoeuvred and sidelined in the race for South Africa's leadership.
As a former union activist himself, he could easily have used his street cred to foment unrest against the government.
Instead, he has moved on to become a billionaire businessman and seems content to spend his time in boardrooms instead of manning barricades.
As for Mr Mbeki, he was voted out by his own party in 2007 and is now running a suitably obscure foundation where he can do what he always did best - promote African causes.
So it is possible to give the great and good something to occupy themselves with, other than revolution. But in order to do so, free economic activity is needed.
While South Africa has a diversified economy, Ivory Coast does not. It is still heavily dependent on agriculture, in spite of the efforts of Mr Ggabo himself to diversify the economy. Still, the international community should not back down on insisting he pack his bags.
Only when Ivory Coast becomes safe again for investors will its economy be able to resume growing.