Exit Mugabe
With his ouster from the
presidency of Zimbabwe last week, old man Robert Mugabe’s dream of dynastic
reign in a republican setting came to a rude closure. His iron grip on power
was broken and his hope of posthumous rule through forced spousal succession –
what his former allies in the war veterans association dubbed “coup by marriage
certificate” – was upended.
The 93-year-old had the
record of being the world’s oldest president, and that isn’t counting his being
the most enduring ruler in Africa’s peculiar club of power gnomes, having held
fort for 37 years. His sole peer in the cohort is Angola’s Eduardo dos Santos,
who stood down from office a few months back. Mugabe had been the only leader
his country ever had since independence from Britain.
The nonagenarian
actually planned to hold out for much longer. He was already served up by
Zimbabwe’s ruling party as its candidate in the general election due next year.
The ticket positioned him as the world’s oldest contender on the hustings – and
that, without formidable challenge from the country’s splintered opposition.
And with the inexorable swamp-in of degenerative elements of mortality, Mugabe
schemed to install his overly ambitious but upstarting wife, Grace, as
successor. He progressively sidelined veterans of the anti-colonial struggle
like him, whose credentials resonated with the power elite, so to entrench his
wife who had nix exposure to that historical cause. At the last count, he
sacked his long-time ally and next ranking member of the ruling party, Emmerson
Mnangagwa, as deputy president at the open bidding of Grace. His swing was
widely construed as a ploy to install the wife in Mnangagwa’s office and, thus,
position her as heir to the presidency.
Curtains fell on the
Mugabe universe last week when soldiers rolled out their tanks to seize the
country’s nerve centres. The same military had over the years been the spine of
his political clout and sustained affront on basic democracy norms, obviously
owing to a shared history of resistance to Britain’s colonial hegemony that was
cast off in 1980. Mugabe at Independence assumed republican leadership of his
country, but subsequently slipped into despotic trenches where he hoped to
cement a dynastic reign over the country. What he seemed not to have reckoned
on is that for every representative who veers off into the narrow and
self-serving corridor of despotism, there always comes a breaking point where
co-travellers get to reappraise the journey. And when that reappraisal shows
the despot up as too far gone on his solo trip, he gets taken off track, unless
he has formidable structures of his own to overawe the original base.
Mugabe crossed that
breaking point last week, and he apparently didn’t have a counter-structure
when his erstwhile power base – the military – moved to cut him out. His final
point of departure with the military, as it seemed, was his emasculation of
liberation struggle veterans within the ruling party, which peaked with the
removal penultimate week of 75-year-old Mnangagwa as deputy president, just so
to empower a factional band of youths loyal to 52-year-old Grace. He had in
2015 sacked another deputy president, Joyce Mujuru, without incurring
repercussions; but there is always a red line not to be crossed.
The putsch in Zimbabwe
left unique imprints on global benchmarks for the practice of democracy and
tolerance level for its interruption by sleigh of arms. For instance, coups are
by their very nature ambush crafts; Zimbabwe’s is the first in common knowledge
of which advance notice was openly served before it was carried out. The closest
in comparison was Egypt’s 2013 coup where Army chief Fattah el-Sisi pressed
then President Mohamed Morsi to rein in polar revolts that had pitched the
country on a cliffhanger before soldiers struck. Less than 48 hours before the
act, the Zimbabwean military chief announced to a press conference in Harare
that his squad was poised to strike if the purge of Independence veterans
within the ruling party continued. But the jackboots couldn’t wait for that
warning to register before they butted in.
Of course, the military
in Zimbabwe has insisted its intervention was a cleansing act of sorts, not a
coup, and it has managed to conduct the country’s affairs since then as a dicey
balancing act. Whereas it effectively severed Mugabe’s hold on power and kept
him under house arrest while negotiating his future with him, the old man was
retained in nominal status of leadership, such that he made a public appearance
on Friday to open the graduation ceremony at Zimbabwe’s Open University in
Harare where he is chancellor. Word as at the weekend was, he was doubling down
on remaining president until the upcoming elections.
But Zimbabweans, almost
without exception, were euphoric over the military intervening to terminate
Mugabe’s autocracy that has seen their country from a great promise of
prosperity at Independence to the basket case it is now. Perhaps in effect, the
international community seemed thrown out of step on the standard tack of
rejecting putsches against constitutional governance for whatever reason
offhand. And that is really unhelpful for securing the culture of democracy
against military adventurers in restive climes like we have in Africa.
‘For every representative who veers off into the narrow
corridor of despotism, there comes a breaking point where co-travellers
reappraise the journey’
In response to the
Zimbabwe putsch, Nigeria’s President Muhammadu Buhari glibly called for
preservation of the constitutional order, which the military action seemed
anything but. Not that he was alone. The leader of Zimbabwe’s neighbour and
regional powerhouse, South African President Jacob Zuma, initially rejected
“unconstitutional changes” to the government in Harare offhand; but he dialed
back soon after to canvass amicable resolution of the impasse, while urging the
Zimbabwe defence forces to “ensure...maintenance of peace.” He has since headed
up regional mediation efforts to ease Mugabe out. Also, the African Union (AU),
which in the past summarily kicked out countries like Mali and Mauritania
because of military coups, is quavering for now on declaring Zimbabwe’s as a
coup and acting accordingly.
Further afield, former
colonial overlord, Britain, just about cheered the removal of Mugabe, even
though by force of arms. United Kingdom Foreign Secretary Boris Johnson, in a
statement to the House of Commons last week, flayed the old man’s legacy and
suggested that a transition offered a “moment of hope” for Zimbabweans. The
United States stopped barely short of an endorsement. Secretary of State Rex
Tillerson urged quick transition to civil rule, but also said the crisis
offered Zimbabwe an opportunity to reroute its course.
And the United Nations
(UN), as at the weekend, was unsure what to make of the Zimbabwe experience.
The British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) reported Secretary General Antonio
Guterres to have described the situation as confusing, saying: “I never like to
see the military involved in politics, but I have to recognise it’s a confusing
situation. I hope first of all that there is no bloodshed, that this is done
peacefully. I hope that (it) will…lead to a political and democratic solution,
and that the next elections that are scheduled are free and fair elections for
the people of Zimbabwe to choose their own future.”
The point here is, Mugabe
did so much damage to the economy and democratic culture in his country that
the method necessitated to get him out now in some way imperils democracy
across the African continent. That is the legacy the nonagenarian is
bequeathing to posterity.
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