Imagine a scene in a science laboratory. Three scientists are busy on an experiment to produce urgent scientific solutions to a huge problem. Somehow, two of the scientists agree on the chemicals. But as the experiment goes on, the air is flooded with nasty odours. The reluctant scientist is discovered to have poured sand and dust into the test tubes.
This is the Zimbabwe political scene. The inclusive government is indeed an experiment, with Zanu-PF pouring sand into the political goulash, while the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) formations try hard to make the political experiment work fruitfully. Eyed by restive supporters, the MDC runs the risk of being viewed as bandwagoners of the Mugabe gravy train.
As a shaky two-year arrangement, the new government brings two disparate political parties into the semblance of a government. Zanu-PF’s primary task and goal is to retain power. The MDC perseveres in trying to prove it can deliver effective and efficient service. Thus, in this marriage of antagonistic partners, their intentions are as far apart as the north and south poles.
President Robert Mugabe’s patronage crew were only compelled to sign a distasteful agreement for the purposes of international legitimacy, resuscitation of their shrunken financial load on the gravy train and the avoidance of public unrest by the impoverished citizens who have nothing to lose any more except their bondage.
Without legitimacy, Mugabe knows his political demise is near. So, the logic was to bring the MDC into government and pretend, theatre-style, that the two were sharing power. Experience tells us that dictators never risk sharing power with former enemies. They give away only mirages of power.
The collapsed economy shows its ugly head in all government institutions such as education, health, public services and finance. A fundraiser and legitimacy arm had to be found in the popular MDC, hence they were given the finance portfolio and other service ministries with no real power on the political shelf. (Poor Tendai Biti, a minister of finance without finance, a cow without an udder.)
Having lost the 2002 and 2008 elections, the only viable solution for Mugabe was to swallow a bit of his pride and put up a charade called the “inclusive government”, a misnomer for an exclusive government. Twenty-nine years of looting and plundering the economy sharpened the appetite for the fruits of power among Mugabe’s elite. That appetite still lives in their blood, hearts and souls.
An inclusive government depends for its survival on the goodwill, honesty and openness of the participants. Mugabe has always publicly claimed he is, like the pope, infallible in the exercise of his quest for more power, not less.
Zanu-PF rule is only describable with the help of a new word, arrogantocracy, rule by arrogance. Mugabe is arrogant enough to tell the Western governments from which he seeks aid “to go to hell” or “to go hang”. That attitude has filtered down to his key allies. As the agreement was being negotiated and typed, some of Mugabe’s ministers were, in circus monkey-style, tinkering with it under cover of backstage darkness.
Mugabe runs a government entirely dependent on his patronage. Some of his ministers have been in office for 29 years, in the process acquiring wealth beyond measure. Normally people get fed up holding on to the same job for that long, but Mugabe’s allies cling to power like ticks to a corpse. The economic benefits are too juicy to part with and the consequences of departure too bitter to swallow.
The two MDC formations know only too well that they won the 2008 general elections despite the rigging and violence. Sharing power with a dominant loser seems a politically demeaning insult to electoral democracy.
Zimbabwe has had a “soft” military coup since 2002. Prior to that election, the service chiefs publicly announced their refusal to salute a candidate not chosen by them. They had still not changed that view in 2008. The service chiefs are happy to have inherited the joint operations command (JOC) created by the Ian Smith regime as an informal coordination team to fight the then “terrorists”, but now rulers. Just as he inherited the colonial laws intact, Mugabe happily inherited the JOC and left it intact for future use.
That meant even if the opposition won the elections, which it did, the commanders would not tolerate its leader as head of state. A “soft” military coup without bullets and bloody corpses in State House!
Echoing the voice of his service chiefs, Mugabe warned the nation: “The pen [ballot paper] cannot be mightier than the gun. Don’t waste your ink.” Militaristic language in defiance of democracy, by a political hostage.
Having massacred innocent citizens and looted their property in the midlands and western provinces in the 1980s civil war, the Zimbabwean military went on to Mozambique. The president then, Samora Machel, was facing a devastating civil war. Machel rewarded the Zimbabwe military with a free hand to plunder the minerals and natural resources of that country.
The next adventure was the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) in the 1990s. Zimbabwe’s military saved Laurent Kabila’s power from collapse. It is on record that Zimbabwean army chiefs registered thousands of private companies whose activities covered all areas in milking the DRC economy.
It was only a few months ago that the current vice-president, Joice Mujuru, wife of a former army commander, attempted to export four tons of rough DRC gold to Zurich for processing. Wealth and military power seem to enjoy a fruitful marriage in Zimbabwe.
Wielding so much power, the JOC determines economic and monetary policy as well as who, from Mugabe’s inner circle, should be in the Cabinet. For their regular JOC meetings, it is reported they either use the offices of the president or those of the central bank chief, an arrogant personal banker of the president. Thus, the JOC determines who gets the cash or who starves.
Zimbabwe’s military coup is of a special kind: hold the defeated president hostage until such time that he is able to negotiate a general amnesty covering all the crimes committed in the past three decades. This coup is also manifested in the way Mugabe has militarised all institutions in which the government has a voice — railways, grain and food distribution, the airline, oil procurement, national parks, prisons, secret police, election commission, broadcasting, sports and more.
So, it would seem the service chiefs are not about to allow this unity government to function and deliver on what the MDC politicians promise the citizens. Zanu-PF ministers are silent on any promises in this fragile government.
The allocation of ministries tells it all: soft and troublesome ministries to the MDC and powerful ones to Mugabe’s team. As an election strategy, Mugabe made the MDC run ministries in which it is likely to antagonise its support base: labour unions, women’s groups, human rights activists and lawyers, medical unions, students and teachers.
Zanu-PF is already eyeing the elections within two years and would not cherish the idea of allowing the MDC ministers to deliver on their promises for political mileage. Structures for election rigging, violence and electoral chicanery are not about to be dismantled. Army officers and militia still ominously camp in the villages, waiting for the next kill.
An urgent crisis of expectation overwhelms the inclusive government, the functioning of which is hampered by absolute lack of trust between the two major signatories to the political agreement.
Mugabe has never been known to respect his signature. He will one day sign for the rule of law and the following day throw the papers away. His police and secret services continue to behave as if the unity agreement never existed. Mugabe probably glows with an inner smile as his military commanders defy the legitimate prime minister who should, in fact, be president.
All the harsh, cruel laws crafted to kill citizens’ rights and freedoms are still intact, with no immediate sign of their urgent repeal or erasure. The victims of those laws are the innocent citizens pursuing their professions and attempting to live normal lives in an abnormal political set-up.
The Global Political Agreement is like a patient attended to by several doctors. Some doctors argue that the patient is dead, others believe he is alive and can be saved. Meanwhile, the patient dies and decays. Known criminals are still paraded and hailed as “heroes” of Zimbabwean sovereignty and patriotism. The orphans, widows and cripples of the political violence continue to starve and suffer the indignity of their forgotten scars and mutilated limbs.
With typical Mugabe arrogance, when cholera wiped out more than 4 000 innocent lives, Mugabe declared the disease eradicated – and his media man then claimed: “The president was only joking.”
Mugabe’s gospel of “aid with no strings attached” does not sell well to those whose purses contain the economic carrot. It is only a fool who lends money without any condition, they seem to say — from experience.
Faced with a Zanu-PF leadership whose sole vision is greed for money, power and privilege, human rights are thrown to the dogs. Selective justice still flowers. Abductions and torture still persist like an ominous ghost. Innocent citizens are dragged to court as “dangerous traitors” who deserve to be hanged so the president can sleep “with his conscience”.
One hundred days in the office of solitude, not years, and the jittery Zimbabweans hope the experiment will not fail and lead to the catastrophic break-up of the state.
Chenjerai Hove is an award-winning Zimbabwean novelist