Like a tide, Zimbabwe has ebbed in and out of the mind's eye. Waves gathered in the distance as UN reports and newscasters warned repeatedly of an impending humanitarian crisis. Storm clouds collected as the economy splintered, inflation exploded and supplies of staple commodities ran dry. And, as 2005 came and went, the government - Mugabe the crazed pirate at its helm - wrecked further havoc on its own shores; deliberately and systematically strangling the poor with forced evictions, mass demolitions and no recompense.
The aftermath of Operation Murambatsvina, `Clear the Filth' in the predominant local language, bears many similarities to the natural disasters that dominated last year. The urban poor were hit hardest. Their homes were reduced to smithereens, they became nomads overnight - cut off from essential services and any way of making ends meet - taking refuge in churches, schools and, for many, shelters concocted from scrap. Yet their plight has nothing to do with nature's wrath; it is solely manmade, a result of social engineering of the cruellest kind, utilitarian by calculation but similarly blind to the inherent worth and the fundamental rights of each individual, wherever he or she may reside.
The UN has called for the prosecution of those who, in the course of Operation Murambatsvina, have violated national and international law. Last week, the African Commission on Human and Peoples' set out the human rights violations that had occurred, the first overt African denunciation of the mass evictions. The jury is no longer out. The actions of the Zimbabwean Government have gone beyond the usual thorn in the diplomatic flank, blame has been attributed, the international community is on red alert. So why, you ask, has more not been done?
Since independence in 1980, Zimbabwe was a Petri dish for policies that were far from home-grown. At the outset, Mugabe was a darling of the donors; pliant, cooperative and open to suggestions of how best to modernise and open the country to foreign investment. He borrowed heavily (mistakenly advised that debt repayments would decline massively) and by 1987 Zimbabwe's debt repayments had risen from 16 to 37% of export earnings. Unable to meet repayments, loan conditionalities led the Government to slash public spending, fire thousands of workers and privatise state industries. The IMF now acknowledges that reforms to the health sector, which had steadily improved throughout the 1980s, were stalled and services fell into decline. A degeneration that did not bode well for an HIV pandemic that has engulfed 25% of adults between the ages of 15 and 49 (the average life expectancy is under 40).
By the late 1990s, the agricultural powerhouse was moribund. Mugabe's policies looked increasingly desperate and destructive. In response to mounting international criticism, his grip on power became more tenacious, his insularity increased and brinkmanship took over. Then, in 2000 to 2001, the land seizures began. Though the UK was criticised for its failure to acknowledge the historical benefits of reaping Zimbabwe's harvests and inadequate provisions for the re-distribution of land, it became clear that Mugabe's appropriations moved Zimbabwe towards intractable cronyism and corruption rather than a more egalitarian distribution of resources. Yet Mugabe, suspended from the Commonwealth and increasingly ostracised within diplomatic ranks, ploughed on.
When pressed about the rationale behind farm seizures and, latterly, the forced evictions, one Zimbabwean diplomat mounted an impassioned defence: "We are not blind to the cost of our actions. The price is high and it will be felt for years to come. We have been toyed with for too long. To extract ourselves from the control of others and to restore order in our country merits this cost. When we have finished, we will be in control of our own destiny and we will be the envy of all our neighbours, some even say so now." Refrains such as this have shored up a stubborn block of internal support. The Government insists that Operation Murambatsvina was conceived to restore order and reduce urban crime. Mugabe's political opponents argue that it is a form of retribution against those who voted against him and a preventative measure against any mass uprising precipitated by deteriorating conditions. Yet the logic behind demolitions, evictions and the forced relocation of thousands - severing 90% of affected HIV patients from their treatment, exacerbating unemployment and entrenching poverty further - is impossible to comprehend, on any of these grounds.
Still the conditions were not ripe for a reversal of or even a halt to the Government's actions. Though Zimbabwe appears isolated, Mugabe has been able to call in historical debts as well as forging new allegiances that have kept him insulated from international sanction. Throughout the independence movement in Southern Africa, Mugabe's party, ZANU-PF, stood alongside parties such as the ANC. Many at the heart of the ANC are guided by a loyalty that stems from the dark years of apartheid, during which Mugabe sheltered many ANC activists. Compounding this is widespread support for the goal, if not the methods, of land reform (an issue that continues to plague the South African Administration) and sympathy for claims that foreign control of natural resources and industry amount to neo-colonialism.
Mugabe has influential backing in recasting Zimbabwe's lot. The Chinese, industrial giants across the African continent, prop up the flailing State with loans, investment and devour Zimbabwe's products in lieu of payment. `We have turned East,' said Mugabe, `where the sun rises, and given our back to the West, where the sun sets.' It is this powerful partnership above others, and China's pivotal role in the Security Council, that continues to insulate Zimbabwe from the full force of international pressure.
The catch is that the Government's actions - flouting national and international provisions for due process of law, guarantees of legal remedy for those whose rights have been violated, denial of basic services and restrictions on freedom of movement - are most appropriately denounced as violations of fundamental human rights. The UN's Special Envoy described Operation Murambatsvina as having been executed in an `indiscriminate and unjustified manner, with indifference to human suffering'. The real grounds for objection are not that Mugabe has misjudged the means to achieve his desired end. It is the instrumentalism with which his methods are applied; one that subordinates the basic interests of each and every human being to the machine of national development. His policies may be loathed politically and mocked as deranged but it is the violation of basic human rights that cannot be ignored.
Last July, Australia, Canada and New Zealand addressed a letter to the President of the Council emphasising the UN Special Envoy's finding of `the failure of the Government of Zimbabwe to protect its people,' stressing, `the linkage between humanitarian and human rights crises and peace and security." In an unusual turn of events, prompted by a letter from the UK ambassador to the UN, a majority of Council members then voted to hear the recommendations of the Special Envoy to Zimbabwe; a move that despite fierce opposition brought human rights concerns into the hub of the Security Council if not the heart of its debate.
In this, like so often before, Zimbabwe is at the heart of the experiment. For, as Zimbabwe turns to the East, shunning the political constraints of Western Aid in favour of investment with no questions asked, there is an acknowledgement by others that the international community must be able to respond to these kinds of concerns. Now that the illegality of the Government's actions has been declared and an African institution has raised its voice, diplomatic pressure may find greater traction. But Mugabe has friends in unusual places. He might even prove capable of keeping his word - remaining in power until 2008 when he `will want some rest' - surviving Zimbabwe's long and painful experiment intact.
This article can be found in the current issue of Diplo Magazine
