Crisis in Zimbabwe: The Long Road to Ruin
Louise Ferreira traces the development of the Zimbabwean crisis.
In the twenty-first century, ‘crisis’ has become an empty term, reflecting political discourses as opposed to actual problems. People have come to accept, and subsequently ignore, issues bearing this name.
Considering the frequency of media-induced moral panic, it may (at times) even be justified for the public to ignore this buzzword. But what happens when a country really is in crisis and the government denies its existence? Public ignorance, or apathy, is quite concerning. The denial of responsibility and accountability by political leaders with the power to effect change is beyond alarming.
This is what happened in Zimbabwe.
In the 1990s, southern Africa appeared to be finally settling down after years of unrest. A decade later, a country once considered “the breadbasket of Africa” is in ruins, with a plethora of problems. Disregard for fundamental human rights has seen Zimbabwe plagued by poverty, disease and unemployment. Crisis may have crippled the global economy, but Zimbabwe has been hit by runaway inflation and historic highs of unemployment.
Censorship and sham elections have burnt any remnants of an accountable government. Consequently, Zimbabwe has been left with a totalitarian leadership denying the very existence of any crisis.
Yet the tide may be turning. A tentative truce has been declared between President Robert Mugabe and long-time rival Morgan Tsvangirai. However, it is too early to prophesise regarding the future of this unity government.
Moving forward cannot be accomplished without looking back. How did a prosperous nation such as Zimbabwe find itself on the verge of collapse?
In the late 1990s, Mugabe sent troops to the Democratic Republic of the Congo to support Laurent Kabila’s forces in the civil war, despite Zimbabwe’s lack of sufficient resources. The displeasure of the international community was evident as the IMF cancelled all aid to the country.
“Accepting aid from the West would be tantamount to admitting that Africa was incapable of governing itself.”
Economic chaos was causing food shortages, and rioters dominated the capital, Harare, in January 1998. A proposed land reform program saw mounting anxiety amongst white farmers: over 1,500 white farms – about 5 million hectares of land – would be redistributed, possibly without compensation.
In 1999, Mark Chavunduka and Ray Choto, respectively editor and reporter of Zimbabwean daily The Standard, were arrested and tortured for publishing an article detailing a planned coup. Shortly afterwards, Mugabe proclaimed his support of their (illegal) detention by the military, furiously attacking judges of the country’s Supreme Court who had called for the journalists’ release. But more arrests followed, as well as continued impingement upon judicial and press freedom.
At this point, it was a mystery why Zimbabwe’s neighbours, the members of the Southern African Development Community (SADC), said nothing. Zimbabwean-born Zerene Haddad, a 23-year-old student at the University of Cape Town, does not mince words. “I definitely feel South Africa and SADC could have done more … it was blatantly obvious which direction the country was going in.”
The silence of South Africa was deafening, despite its knowledge of the ongoing human rights abuses in Zimbabwe. Mugabe continued to run his “personal fiefdom,” as TIME magazine described it. A deft political sidestep saw the South African Minister of Foreign Affairs, Alfred Nzo, justify their non-intervention with deference to Zimbabwe’s sovereignty.
Loyalty bound Mugabe and Thabo Mbeki, the South African president from 1999 to 2008, both of whom had fought against oppressive white regimes. Memories of “Comrade Mugabe” and his safe haven for ANC activists during Apartheid prevented Mbeki from criticising Zimbabwe’s deterioration.
Mary*, a 21-year-old Zimbabwean student at UCT, explains: “I feel like [Mbeki] was almost manipulated by the president in Zimbabwe. It’s the whole thing about ‘I helped you [during] apartheid, so help me now, you can’t turn your back on me because I took your people in’ … Mbeki forgot to look at the bigger picture.”
Mugabe proposed an amendment to the constitution that would allow him to seize white farms without paying restitution. The only avenue of redress was through Britain, the erstwhile colonial oppressor, to which farmers could appeal for compensation. In a referendum held in February 2000, the controversial amendment was overwhelmingly rejected by 55 per cent; days later, the first farms were invaded.
The timing of the forced land redistribution was problematic as well. Says Zerene, “[It] should have occurred in the 1980s, right after independence. Suddenly, it could be used as a [political] tool”. Many white farmers – and their black workers – were murdered.
Most of the farms were given to people who had little knowledge of agriculture. “Zimbabwe is a landlocked country. We live on farming … and if you’re going to go and kick out the people who know what they’re doing, obviously you’re just setting yourself up for a downfall,” says Mary. Her assessment is well-supported; agricultural output declined by almost 75 per cent between 1999 and 2002.
It is impossible to know exactly why Mugabe refused to acknowledge the devastation of his country; one can only speculate that for a dictator desperate to hold on to power, admitting mistakes is political suicide. Also, accepting aid from the West would be tantamount to admitting that Africa was incapable of governing itself. Whether his denial stemmed from delusion, malice, or simple obliviousness, the result was a tragic detachment from his own people, and an abandonment of the needs of the Zimbabwe people.
It is unusual to understand political turmoil through statistics alone. Yet a horrific picture is evidently painted, as three million residents had left Zimbabwe by 2002. Life expectancy had fallen to the mid-30s by March 2007, and more than 80 per cent of the population lived below the poverty line. In 2008, hyper-inflation peaked at 231 million per cent, the unemployment rate was 94 per cent, and acute food shortages meant that millions were hovering on the edge of starvation.
Astonishingly, Mbeki maintained “quiet diplomacy”. “It made the people of Zimbabwe feel that there was no support from outside”, says Zerene.
Zimbabwe had stumbled into dictatorship. From there, it quickly became a terrifying freefall into crisis. Former union leader Morgan Tsvangirai’s Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) became a target of intimidation and violence by Mugabe’s Zanu-PF. Party members, and those suspected of association with MDC, were targeted, attacked and murdered. Mary’s father lost his job because he was suspected to be a supporter.
The MDC won nearly half of the seats in the June 2000 parliamentary elections; however, in 2002 Tsvangirai lost to Mugabe in a presidential election widely considered to have been rigged. With the last vestiges of democracy fading, Zimbabwe was suspended from the Commonwealth, a move surprisingly (and belatedly) supported by Mbeki and Nigerian president Olusegun Obasanjo. Tsvangirai has twice been arrested (and acquitted) on trumped-up treason charges, and was severely beaten by police in 2007.
The reason for elections in March 2008 were unclear, since little more than a rigged result was expected. The presumption may have been correct, but a picture began to emerge that nobody quite dared believe: Tsvangirai had beaten Mugabe.
But graceful defeat was not within the government repertoire. Final results were withheld for over a month, and Mugabe demanded a recount. Tsvangirai’s victory was begrudgingly conceded by May, but it was claimed he had not succeeded in securing an outright majority. A run-off election was therefore required.
“Acute food shortages meant that millions were hovering on the edge of starvation.”
Almost immediately, Zanu-PF supporters launched a violent campaign of intimidation against the MDC. Tendai Biti, the MDC Secretary-General, was arrested for treason, and Tsvangirai fled the country. After hundreds of his supporters were killed or beaten, he withdrew from the run-off election, saying it had been compromised and that he could not ask people to risk their lives to vote. South African condemnation was too little, too late; the world displayed outrage at Mugabe’s tactics. Yet elections continued and citizens were forced to bear responsibility for a landslide victory for Mugabe.
At his inauguration, Mugabe unexpectedly bowed to public pressure, announcing his intention to share power with the MDC. Talks began, but broke down several times. In the midst of this tense situation, Zimbabweans faced a new crisis: cholera.
The disease had infected over 20,000 by mid-December, and claimed 1,100 fatalities. Yet Mugabe announced, to the disbelief of the international community, “there is no cholera”.
Both Zerene and Mary were “past anger” when they heard of Mugabe’s denial of the crisis. “I was very hurt … the anger’s there, the disappointment’s there, but the hurt [was the worst]”, Mary says. Her family told her that where they lived, the situation was under control, although water purification tablets were necessary: “When I went home… [I saw] the sewerage flowing freely along the roads. In the townships children were playing around in the sewerage.”
But perhaps 2009 bears a new, crisis-free (or at least reduced) chapter for Zimbabwean history. On Friday, 30 January, the formation of a unity government was announced. Government control would be shared and balanced: Mugabe is to remain President whilst Tsvangirai fills the new post of Prime Minister.
Renewed farm invasions have raised further concerns, and Tsvangirai was recently injured in an alleged assassination attempt. But the incident was confirmed as an accident, and the power-sharing relationship may mark a step towards recovery for Zimbabwe.
“We’re all just sitting and waiting, because I think it’s pretty hard to say … The only way the MDC can come out of this successfully is if they deliver, and they can’t do that if they don’t get help from SADC [and] the Western powers”, Zerene says.
Scepticisim is to be expected from a nation that has suffered such a crisis; optimism is implausible. Yet Mary remains hopeful: “I’m very positive about this… As much as things are bad in Zim, I still feel it’s home, and that’s what everyone feels.”
The plight of the Zimbabwean people serves as a potent reminder of the overwhelming need for accountability in government. African history is easily forgotten by the international community; but its lessons demand a restoration of responsible governance and fundamental human rights to assist in diverting Zimbabwe from its road to ruin.
