Beyond black and white in Zimbabwe

The World Cup qualifying football match between Zimbabwe and the Central African Republic was a peculiarly symbolic affair. Zimbabwe were two-nil up when a tackle in the 37th minute earned the CAR midfielder, Potasse Taraine, a red card. Scarcely had the referee reached for his top pocket when the CAR captain, Azo Alain, was upon him, felling him with a running punch and chasing him around the pitch.

A full-scale punch-up ensued which brought not only officials but riot police on to the pitch, complete with batons, dogs and canisters of tear-gas. It took 15 minutes to restore order. In politics as in football it is almost impossible to predict what will happen next in Zimbabwe. Those who are supposed to provide leadership are acting irresponsibly and those who are supposed to maintain order are either unable or unwilling to do so.

One moment the country's President, Mr Robert Mugabe, is declaring a truce between "war veterans" and farmers and the supreme court has convicted the veterans' leader, Mr Chenjari "Hitler" Hunzvi, of contempt. The next, white farmers have fled their homesteads, two women have been raped and the political opposition have been branded as lackeys of foreign interests.

The situation does not so much vary from day to day as spin off in myriad contradictory directions within the same day. Take last Tuesday. The morning started with reports that a white farmer near Bulawayo had been injured. A couple of hours later, after the farmer had been confirmed dead, Mr Mugabe was on television delivering his independence day speech.

He spoke of reconciliation and described white deaths as "regrettable". Soon after, he had branded white Zimbabweans as "enemies of the state" and blamed them for bringing the attacks on themselves.

One step forward, two steps back; political progress followed by pernicious pogroms. Inflation, unemployment are up; foreign reserves, fuel supplies and political trust are down.

Zimbabwe wasn't always like this. When Mr Mugabe took over in 1980 he was the toast of the liberal world. He did not have the stature of Nelson Mandela, but he did have democratic legitimacy and vowed to work towards reconciliation in the interests of the many rather than the few, which was more than can be said for his predecessor, Mr Ian Smith.

As recently as three years ago the country was regarded as one of Africa's success stories. Economic growth, at 8 per cent, was strong, and investment was pouring in.

Although Amnesty International criticised the country's proposed constitutional reform - which was rejected by the voters last month - it nonetheless concluded that "the draft constitution represents major human rights improvements compared to the present constitution".

However, even as the world has praised Mr Mugabe it has expressed concern over the cronyism and despotism that has become endemic through his 20 years in power. During the 1980s he cemented his rule through a murderous campaign against the Ndebele in general and his former liberation allies, the Zimbabwe African Peoples Union (ZAPU), in particular. He only abandoned his commitment to one-party rule, under considerable duress, about five years ago.

The financial world has been disdainful of his economic performance partly because it has concentrated on the interests of the poor. Much of spending has gone to health, infrastructure and education. At 92 per cent Zimbabwe has one of the highest rates of literacy in Africa.

However, his claims that the democratically decided priorities of his government were being overruled by economic imperialism have been undermined by his tendency to line the pockets of the political elite and to use inflationary pay rises to buy off discontent among civil servants. Moreover, his senseless war in the Congo is costing money his country simply does not have.

Ironically, the one area in which he gains most sympathy is land reform. The first law passed by South Africa's African National Congress in 1994 was to permit those evicted from their land during apartheid to reclaim their property, and a recent survey showed that a slim majority of South Africans believe Zimbabwe's squatters were right to seize land.

Ever since Zimbabwe was liberated from white minority rule the question of the redistribution of land has been simmering. It has been an essentially political issue, although race has never been far away.

Contrary to what many white farmers say, Zimbabwe was not an oasis of racial harmony before Mugabe started to stoke up tensions. The white-owned estates are collectively the country's largest employer and pay the lowest wages. Maids earn more than farm labourers, and many white farmers treat staff with racist contempt.

However, it has not merely been a tale of racial conflict. In the cities a black middle class is thriving. In the countryside some white farmers accept that black workers are staff rather than hired chattels. Black Zimbabweans want land reform not to spite whites but because they feel it is just and because it is what they fought for 20 years ago.

While Mr Mugabe has painted himself as the champion of the land-less in recent months, it has been the land-less who have been forcing him to act.

Almost two years ago squatters occupied white farms, pointing to family grave sites and grinding stones used by their mothers to illustrate how their land was seized by British colonialists without compensation. Their immediate actions were directed at white farmers, but they were motivated by frustration after years of waiting for the government to tackle the issue.

Nor is the death of white farmers anything new. As far back as 18 months ago one farmer was killed and a white couple assaulted.

"Our hard-won peace and stability are threatened by our people's urgent need for fertile land," said the then minister of state, Mr Joseph Msika. "I shudder to think what the future holds for us if we do not achieve an equitable distribution of our land." Welcome to the future. Mr Msika is the Vice-President, equitable distribution has not been achieved and the entire nation is shuddering with the consequences.

At the Old Vic pub in Bulawayo members of the ruling ZANU-PF party are drinking Mikuyu Pinot Noir. Those who checked into the adjacent Rainbow hotel paid in cash, huge wads of Zimbabwean dollars which bear testament to the 50 per cent inflation for which their government is responsible. If there was ever an illustration of an effete ruling elite, it is this.

A few miles away, in the plush suburb of Hillside, big men are weeping at the funeral of the white farmer, Mr Martin Olds, who was murdered by squatters last Tuesday.

Following Mr Olds's death we learned that "he had the gentlest eyes you have ever seen". What we did not hear was that his objectionable manner made him deeply unpopular with black people in the district of Nyamandlovhu.

During the liberation war he served in the Grey Scouts, a mountain reconnaissance team that fought to preserve minority rule. He had been in trouble with the police for shooting at poachers; he had promised the same treatment for squatters.

From the pulpit the Rev Paul Andrianatos says that voting for ZANU-PF "would be a vote for the devil", before comparing Mr Mugabe to Hitler. If ever there was an illustration of a besieged, privileged and panicked minority, it is this.

Mr Mugabe is not the devil any more than Mr Olds was an angel. That doesn't mean the former deserved to rule any more than the latter deserved to die. What is going on in Zimbabwe is not a black and white issue. It is about politics, fuelled by history and propelled by self-interest.