Introduction: Politics, Patronage and Violence in Zimbabwe

This special issue is about politics, patronage and violence in Zimbabwe. These themes provide a means of exploring Zimbabwe's dramatic upheavals in the light of broader debates in African studies over the character of the postcolonial state, the cultural politics of opposition and the role of patronage economies. The articles collected here do more than simply examine these issues at a key juncture in Zimbabwe's history. They also provide a riposte to some conventional Africanist views and open up new avenues of inquiry.

Zimbabwe's recent history provides a novel take on these themes, as the country's ‘crisis’ provoked scholars to engage in new ways with debates previously deemed almost irrelevant. While clearly the ‘crisis’ is rooted in long-standing tendencies, Zimbabwe's powerful state bureaucracies, its liberation struggle history, its substantial formal sector and its strong post-independence history of service provision had all seemed to mark it out as different from, if not an ‘exception’ to, the experience of those African countries in West and Central Africa that had often provided the empirical basis for theories of state ‘failure’ and social and political disorder. There seemed little point in engaging with debates that assumed that African states were ‘weak’, or with ideas about neo-patrimonial rule that hinged on the legitimacy of tradition or family, leaving no space for the narrative and ideological weight of liberation struggle legacies or the inheritance of centralised bureaucratic states. Other themes also lacked resonance. Corruption, for example, although present in Zimbabwe as everywhere else, had not been a defining feature of governance up to the late 1990s, and where it had come to light it had caused scandal and outrage. Debates over civic activism and the labour movement invited comparison with other southern Africa nations, given their long-standing shared histories of mobilisation, and the institutional and personal connections within nationalist and labour as well as religious movements that spanned regional borders.

But the decade of change that culminated in the political violence of 2008, hyperinflation, deindustrialisation, collapsing services and mass impoverishment have prompted scholars to engage in new ways with wider debates in African studies over the transformation of state institutions, the consequences of patronage, informality and elite accumulation, and the political and social effects of truncated horizons for youth. The context for the research for the articles in this issue was the window of relative stability provided by Zimbabwe's regionally negotiated Global Political Agreement (GPA) and subsequent establishment of the ‘Inclusive Government’ in early 2009, which brought the opposition Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) parties into government alongside the Zimbabwe African National Union (Patriotic Front) (ZANU[PF]), the liberation movement that had ruled Zimbabwe since independence. Rather than providing a basis for political transition, however, it is clear in retrospect that the Inclusive Government created space for ZANU(PF) to rebuild its power. The context for writing this introduction is the aftermath of the 2013 parliamentary and presidential elections in Zimbabwe, which Brian Raftopoulos describes as ‘the end of an era’. In this election, ZANU(PF) won an overwhelming, if still controversial, victory over its main opponent, Morgan Tsvangirai's Movement for Democratic Change (MDC-T). This is thus a good moment to ask how ZANU(PF) managed to rebuild in the wake of what had seemed in 2008 to be irreversible decline. It is also a good movement to reflect on the rise and fall of the MDCs, and a particular type of opposition politics. Can theoretical debates over postcolonial African transformations help to shed light on Zimbabwean trajectories? Conversely, what can analysis of these trajectories contribute to broader debates over state institutions in Africa, the cultural politics of opposition, and the dynamics of patronage?

Collectively, the articles here provide a counterpoint to pervasive political science modes of theorisation on these topics. They are all grounded in qualitative empirical research (most relying on interviews), attuned to material and normative questions, and insistent on the importance of institutions and history. We have grouped the articles around four themes: (1) the transformations to state institutions and ZANU(PF); (2) the cultural politics of opposition; (3) the political economies of resource control; and (4) the 2013 elections.

Transformations to State Institutions and ZANU(PF)

The first set of articles focuses on the profound transformations to state institutions and their relationship to ZANU(PF) since 2000. Collectively, they reject the assumptions of political science that commonly assume ‘weakness’ and ‘disorder’, and which diminish state institutions to a façade for ‘real’ or ‘shadow’ economies.1 They also argue against ‘culturalist’ explanations of corruption in favour of interpretations that stress politics and history.2 They find it more useful to build on anthropological explorations of the postcolonial state that have advocated careful empirical research into the actual functioning of state institutions and the language and ideas of ‘stateness’.3

The emphasis on institutions necessitates an appreciation of the legacies of Rhodesia's strong, centralised state bureaucracies, which were notable for their capacity for repression alongside their developmental ambition. Like its South African counterpart, the Rhodesian state was ambitious and interventionist on a scale that colonial powers to the north could only dream of.4 Ideas of legitimate statehood hinged centrally on law and expertise: these offered Africans avenues for imagining and demanding citizenship, at the same time as they underpinned violent dispossession, economic inequality and racist constructions of political subjectivity.5 The liberation struggle brought to a head the contradictions of settler rule. In doing so, it placed claims to authority on both the terrains of law and bureaucracy and on a revolutionary ‘people's power’ that combined populist, redistributive agendas with commandist, secretive and intolerant practices.6

Commentators on the early years of independence worried over the obstacles to transformation posed by Zimbabwe's powerful inherited state. ZANU(PF) rule was criticised for being too technocratic and too centralised – for not disrupting the old order sufficiently.7 The ruling party's violent intolerance and narrow vision of the nation was increasingly noted in the first decade of independence, but came into stark relief in the 1990s as the extent of the violent repression of ZAPU in the 1980s became clear and as a critical, rights-oriented discourse spread in the civil sphere following the signing of the Unity Accord between ZANU(PF) and the Zimbabwe African People's Union (ZAPU).8 The costs of economic structural adjustment, which began to bite in the early 1990s, became a particular focus of popular antagonism as well as academic criticism.9 As unemployment rose, salaries stagnated and rural livelihoods were undercut, analysts described a state unable to meet expectations over services and welfare, and a party leadership that was losing its connection to its popular base.10

Revisiting the first decades of ZANU(PF) state-making is an essential task if we are to make sense of the far more stark dramas of the post-2000 period. A number of articles presented here insist on the importance of this longer history.11 They emphasise that repressive and partisan pressures within the state were not new to the post-2000 period but stress the commitment among civil servants to a professional ethic, which was central to ZANU(PF)'s legitimacy and to civil servants' sense of self-worth, in institutions ranging from the agricultural extension agency to the security forces. Within that meta-narrative, they note the importance of disaffection among civil servants in the 1990s, marked by strikes and opposition activism, and ZANU(PF)'s angry reaction to what it saw as an unacceptable challenge to its authority from within the state, quite distinct from a professional ethic. Key moments of transition that reshaped state institutions included the violent, politicising onslaught against the civil service that began in 2000, the nadir of politico-economic crisis in 2007–08, which incapacitated the state as never before, and the new political competition within state institutions that followed the establishment of the unity government in early 2009. Alongside these chronological shifts, the authors stress that there were important contrasts among the fates of state institutions that were shaped by their particular histories, purposes, expertise, and economic and political utilities.

Susanne Verheul, Jocelyn Alexander, JoAnn McGregor and Miles Tendi focus – respectively – on the Attorney General's office, the Zimbabwe Prison Service, urban local government, and the military. All emphasise the uncomfortable articulation of contrasting, historically shaped commitments to normative constructions of statehood and political legitimacy and the heated contestation over practices of patronage, corruption and coercion that both linked and distinguished them.

Verheul and Alexander explore the point of view of civil servants, insisting on the importance of investigating from an insider's perspective the ways in which formal state institutions actually functioned under the partisan pressures of ZANU(PF). Verheul's concern is with the ‘practical and conceptual’ place of law and judicial institutions, as viewed from within the Attorney General's office. She does not accept that this institution can be accurately described as ‘disorderly’ or ‘hollowed out’, and insists that formal state institutions continued to matter despite the proliferation of what Christian Lund calls ‘twilight institutions’.12 She identifies law as a central mode of state-building that had long been used in a double-edged manner to produce state power and demand the rights of citizens. After 2000, she finds that the rule of law was deeply compromised by ZANU(PF)'s politicisation of the judiciary together with economic decline, growing corruption and the partisan distribution of resources in return for ZANU(PF) loyalty. This was not, however, the whole story: Verheul describes a functioning, powerful institution that was divided between two ‘registers’, that of the ‘good boys’, who represented a corrupt and partisan judiciary, and that of the ‘rebels’, who rejected the abrogation of the rules of law as shameful and incompatible with their identity as professionals committed to attaining justice. The rebels were willing to pay a heavy price for their views, including exclusion from the perks of patronage as well as ‘threats, arrest, imprisonment or reassignment’. Under the Inclusive Government, they held out hope of an eventual return to what they considered ‘normal’. For Verheul, the existence of such normative debates at the heart of a state institution indicated the contradictory co-existence of strength and profound division.

Alexander's article focuses on the prison service, which, like the Attorney General's office, falls under the Ministry of Justice. Drawing on a growing body of anthropological work on African public services, she insists on the importance of asking how the state's own actors understood authority and went about constructing it.13 Prison officers interacted with the protagonists in Verheul's accounts, but the service had a distinct ethos derived from its history and its post-2000 designation as a part of the security sector. This meant it was subject to ‘militarisation’, defined as the posting by ZANU(PF) of military men to state institutions and their engagement in partisan politics and networks of accumulation and patronage. These strategies were not entirely new, but the scale of their implementation was. Militarisation produced a heated contestation over the very constitution of ‘statehood’. In an echo of Verheul's findings, it divided the prison service between ‘professionals’ and ‘soldiers’. The professionals embraced an historically rooted state ideal founded on the value of rules and expertise. They constructed a narrative of decline in which these essential attributes of statehood were comprehensively subverted by the soldiers. The soldiers instituted a partisan and disciplinary surveillance over the professionals, justified by their own narrative of an ongoing liberation struggle. The result was a state institution made up of actors who did not share a common set of norms or purposes, though all engaged to some degree in ‘militarised’ practices, notably corruption both as means of elite accumulation and bare survival. Alexander stresses that this battle was far from resolved in the era of the Inclusive Government: debate over the public interest and the purposes of state institutions continued, marking the powerful half-life of professionalism as statecraft in Zimbabwe.

McGregor's study of urban local government takes a different point of view – that of MDC councillors – and documents ZANU(PF) strategies with regard to the Ministry of Local Government and urban governance more widely. Urban local government posed a different challenge to ZANU(PF) than the Ministry of Justice: it was an electoral ‘battlefield’ and so attracted legal, coercive and patronage strategies that targeted not only councillors and civil servants but also the urban public on a large scale. Like Verheul and Alexander, McGregor finds the dominant political science focus on weakness unhelpful, and draws instead on anthropological approaches to the local state.14 She emphasises the effects of ZANU(PF)'s investment in surveillance, a mode of control more subtle than overt coercion, and hinging on powerful centralised institutions. Indeed, the broader African literature on this topic invites comparison with the continent's ‘strong’ states.15 The key agents of surveillance were the party itself, the intelligence service and partisan militia, with support from the police and other arms of the state. Surveillance was used to control MDC councillors and supporters by invoking the threat of physical violence or dismissal (as well as their actuality), and to manipulate political loyalties through the partisan allocation of essential resources such as housing, market stalls and urban land. McGregor shows how MDC councillors were deprived of resources, mobility and political efficacy. ZANU(PF)'s powers were inadequately conveyed through the metaphors of ‘informality’, ‘network’ or ‘parallel’ structures, because the party's exertion of control was organised, hierarchical and operated inside as well as outside the state. McGregor's work adds to the picture of a state progressively ‘deprofessionalised’ by ZANU(PF). It also shows the intense political contestation over practices of corruption on the part of both MDC councillors and ZANU(PF) loyalists.

These three papers underline a further notable feature of post-2000 Zimbabwe: the ways in which ZANU(PF)'s strategies of political control and accumulation devastated the capacity of state institutions to deliver public goods. Verheul shows how the delivery of justice in any meaningful sense was deeply undermined by the rise of the ‘good boys’. Alexander shows how the soldiers' reign in the prisons produced a new form of state punishment in which thousands of prisoners, the vast majority convicted of petty crimes or no crime at all, died of starvation and disease. McGregor illustrates the terrible effects on the delivery of the most basic of urban services and maintenance of infrastructure. All three note that these effects were double-edged: they were a product of strategies that produced power for ZANU(PF), but they dramatically clashed with widespread normative expectations of the state, rooted in its history of professionalism and service delivery, and thereby constituted a substantial challenge to ZANU(PF)'s legitimacy.

Miles Tendi's article also addresses central questions about ZANU(PF)'s exercise of power, by examining the viewpoint of ZANU(PF) elites themselves. He questions two widely held positions of the post-2000 period: first, the view that the leaders of Zimbabwe's security forces unwaveringly support ZANU(PF) and President Robert Mugabe and, second, the contention that military commanders came to dominate ZANU(PF)'s civilian leadership, notably in the run-up to the violent elections of June 2008 when some commentators have suggested a de facto coup. Tendi argues that such views are based on shaky evidence, and presents an alternative view of party-military history in which ZANU(PF) is consistently in charge. He argues that the then Zimbabwe Defence Forces commander Vitalis Zvinavashe's infamous 2002 assertion of loyalty to ZANU(PF) was not directed primarily at the MDC's claims to power and that Zvinavashe's support for Mugabe wavered, due to the economic costs and violence of the post-2000 period. If security force elites were not wholehearted in their support for Mugabe, Tendi argues that the party nonetheless retained control over the military. This power was constructed through the grounding of legitimacy in a historical narrative of the 1970s liberation struggle that asserted the party's dominance over the gun – ZANU(PF)'s internal ‘patriotic history’. In addition, Mugabe controlled military appointments directly, exploited his seniority in terms of liberation struggle credentials, and excluded the military from the key locus of authority – the politburo. Patronage was also important, as military men were appointed to state offices that they could use for personal accumulation, as we have seen. Importantly, many military leaders were ideologically committed to ZANU(PF) rule, setting them apart from their West African counterparts, and underlining once again the importance of liberation struggle history.

Tendi's article helps us to link the inner workings of ZANU(PF) to its outward expressions in the histories of particular state institutions. It indicates the centralised nature of authority in the party, its historical construction, the limited range of tools available for transforming the state, and the contentiousness of post-2000 strategies within ZANU(PF) itself. This first group of articles thus sheds new light on how and with what consequences ZANU(PF)'s strategies of coercion and patronage transformed state institutions. These changes also profoundly altered the sphere in which opposition politics developed.

The Cultural Politics of Opposition

The post-2000 transformations of state institutions and remaking of ZANU(PF) powers were prompted by the formation of the MDC in the late 1990s and the very real threat it posed to ZANU(PF) rule. The second group of articles provides new insight into the opposition movement's development, tensions and cultural politics: Blair Rutherford, Sam Wilkins, Dan Hodgkinson and Thys Hoekman discuss farm worker, student and youth activism, and negotiations over power-sharing. They reveal the difficulties of mobilising in rural areas from the moment of the MDC's inception, provide new insight into the party's youthful urban support base, and shed light on the nature of tensions within the MDC and between it and a broader civic leadership. In so doing they contribute to key debates over the character of the MDC as an opposition movement, the movement's social base in the high-density townships, and broader understandings of youth in Africa.

Existing scholarship on the MDC has documented the party's emergence from the widespread disaffection and protests of the late 1990s and specifically from within trade union, intellectual, church and student circles.16 Objections to the costs of structural adjustment and mobilisation over constitutional reform brought these groups together, creating an inclusive, popular movement. Raftopoulos has shown the importance to the MDC of its labour movement roots, which provided strongly developed structures with a national reach that had the political muscle to bring the country to a standstill through strikes,17 while Dorman's account stresses the importance of church and NGO networks.18 Building on these accounts, LeBas stresses the ‘vibrant civil society base’19 of the MDC's early days, noting that its leaders – who largely had trade union histories – brought others in, using their long-standing connections with civics. She argues that ‘the resulting coalition effectively incorporated all associational networks outside the state realm’.20 In her account, the unravelling of this inclusive movement was owed to the violent closure of political space from 2000 and the ‘defensive radicalization’ it produced.21 By 2003, the MDC structures had been forced underground and it was no longer possible to organise mass demonstrations. Internal party democracy had been undermined by the growing dependence on ‘parallel’ informal networks, youth and ‘security’ wings. These shifts and the resort to intra-party violence by party youth contributed significantly to the MDC's devastating split in 2005.22

This narrative of inclusivity, repression and defensive reaction has perhaps created a tendency to romanticise the MDC's early life. Aspects of this account are challenged here – particularly the degree of difference between MDC and ZANU(PF) networks in the early days, the timing of the resort to ‘defensive’ violence and the development of militancy within sections of the MDC youth. The articles discuss youthful masculinities and provide new perspectives on the rise of violence within parts of the MDC youth wing and the university student movement. One important strand of writing on African urban youth emphasises the role of economic austerity in undermining routes to social adulthood, marriage and advancement.23 In contrast, Hodgkinson and Wilkins show here that, the resort to militant modes of masculinity notwithstanding, youthful aspirations remained diverse and often continued to embrace the goal of a professional future, however unreachable for most. Zimbabwe's strongly embedded valuation of education and expertise has been reproduced across generations in the high-density townships no less than within the civil service. The politicised assault on these values appears to have heightened rather than diminished their normative appeal.

Rutherford looks back to late 1999, and to the connections between mobilisation over farm worker rights and activism in the towns. He uses the case of a labour protest on a commercial farm in rural Mashonaland to explore the links between rural protest in the early days of the MDC and urban civic activism. This labour protest was not just a local dispute confined to the farm, but grew into something more significant that was closely shaped by political and civic activism in the towns. It brought farm workers, including many women, out of their rural homes and into the streets of Harare in protest. Rather than emphasising the disjuncture between MDC and ZANU(PF) modes of mobilisation, concerns and political rhetoric in this moment, Rutherford emphasises their mutual influence and entanglement. Chenjerai, the leader of the farm workers, had multiple political networks among city lawyers, ZANU(PF), and the Zimbabwe Congress of Trade Unions (ZCTU). All these networks were potentially useful to the farm workers, but while they followed Chenjerai, for a long time they did not know which party he belonged to. His mode of political leadership was not distinct from that of ZANU(PF). Quite the opposite: his leadership style was authoritarian and top-down, there was little space to question his tactics, and he wasted no time in explanation. Rutherford's account of ‘poritikisi’ on the farm also reveals other aspects of the 1999/2000 transition, particularly the difficulties of reaching farm workers other than through unaccountable patrons, whose paternalism and attitudes marked a continuity with long-standing modes of ‘domestic governance’ and lack of full citizenship on the farms.24

Continuities and change in post-independence opposition activism are also central to Hodgkinson's account of student politics. Student activism has a long history in Zimbabwe, and there are resonances between post-2000 student protest and prior episodes of campus politics during the struggle for independence and in the late 1980s: students played an important role in challenging ZANU(PF) before as well as after the birth of the MDC. Hodgkinson is intrigued by the phenomenon of ‘hardcore activism’ among students from 2000, the defining features of which were a gendered ‘confrontational assertiveness’ linked to the performance of a particular mode of masculinity. He situates the increasing prominence of this strand of masculinity in the context of subjection to acute political violence and deepening economic hardship and its effects on students' status and aspirations, and also traces its history in a long-standing strand of politicised gender identity represented by the ‘University Bachelors’ Association'. This comprised ‘male students who lionised revolutionary struggle’ and who engaged in ‘aggressive debate’ and ‘working-class camaraderie’. After 2000, violent confrontations between student activists and ZANU(PF) created a ‘hardened and militarised self-image that extolled bravery in demonstrations’. The expressions of masculinity this encouraged, Hodgkinson argues, ‘banished fear, preached violence’ and also ‘encouraged heavy drinking’, as well as associating ‘submission with sexualised emasculation’. As Hodgkinson points out, understanding student politics matters in the broader history of opposition politics not least because their modes of activism shaped generations of the country's political leaders.

The role of higher education as a route into political leadership or professional work makes students an elite among the country's youth. Wilkins' article also contributes to debates over youth activism and ambition in Zimbabwe, but does so through a very different prism – that of grassroots MDC activists in the high-density suburbs. Wilkins focuses his discussion on heroism, in particular the insight provided by the memory of one of the MDC's most prominent official heroes, Tonderai Ndira – a youth activist from the Harare suburb of Mabvuku-Tafara who was assassinated in 2008. Ndira was a member of the MDC's ‘drugs section’ – a security arm of the party formed in 2000 ‘to provide the physical muscle to counterbalance the government's use of force during the MDC national campaigns and protests’. The role of the drugs section was protection and confrontation: it was infamously ‘heavy-handed’, as its own members recall, indicating an important role for youth violence in the MDC's earliest days. Based on interviews with MDC members in Mabvuku, Wilkins provides a complex account of Ndira's memory. Some aspects of memory were beyond debate – namely that ‘Ndira was brave, charismatic, a “man of the people”, a born leader and the hero of Mabvuku’. Nonetheless, Wilkins finds Ndira's memory to be mediated by the diverse aspirations of Mabvuku youth – while some invoked the militarised identity of the street-fighter, others found scope for Ndira to be peacemaker, politician, strategist and patron of Mabvuku, a man who paid young boys' school fees. The creativity of the reception, and not only the production, of memory allowed young men with diverse ambitions to appropriate their hero to futures that valued education as much as street-fighting, and reflected their desires to be lawyers, political analysts and professionals. Wilkins uses individual accounts of Ndira's memory to illuminate social values and the shaping of personal meaning on the part of youth in Zimbabwe's townships today.

By late 2008, the toll of a decade of extreme economic decline combined with violent confrontation had shaped the politics of opposition in profound ways, and brought the MDC to the negotiating table with ZANU(PF). While political violence, state incapacitation and hyperinflation had severely undermined ZANU(PF)'s legitimacy, the opposition was also weakened, not least by the split in 2005. Despite winning the 2008 elections, the MDC parties agreed to a power-sharing arrangement in which they were in practice subordinate partners. Existing scholarship on the GPA negotiations has focused on the role of South Africa in particular in producing this outcome. Thys Hoekman's article provides a new dimension. He explores the MDC-T's abandonment of its key historical allies, namely the civic movement and western governments. Hoekman's view on the transition period reveals starkly that Morgan Tsvangirai's MDC-T entered the negotiations as a very different organisation to the one it had been in 2000. Hoekman forefronts Tsvangirai's strategy of sidelining civics during the negotiations – to the point of misinforming them on progress and setbacks and trying to fan internal divisions within important antagonists, such as the National Constitutional Assembly (NCA) and the student movement. This strategy, he argues, was ‘largely informed by the MDC-T's fear that civics would turn popular sentiment against the agreement if they knew of its actual contents’, and it reconfigured the relations between the party and civic organisations in profound ways. Hoekman also analyses the failed attempts of western governments to convince the MDC-T not to sign: the desire on the part of the MDC-T leadership to shrug off the ZANU(PF) label ‘puppet of the west’ in part led to this stance as the MDC-T sought (but largely failed to gain) greater regional legitimacy. It was also significantly motivated by a desire to alleviate the hardships being visited on its supporters in this period. Hoekman argues that both civics and western governments could have been used to combat the powerful pressure from the Southern African Development Community (SADC) to sign the GPA. The consequences of failing to do so were deeply destructive, showing how the ‘short-term interests driving decisions may have long-term costs’.

The process and outcome of the negotiations undoubtedly weakened the MDC-T in important ways, not least in terms of its ongoing rupture with the NCA and student movement. Even more destructive to the MDC-T's capacity to rebuild and strengthen its position over the course of the Inclusive Government, however, was ZANU(PF)'s command of resources and its capacity to use this to political advantage through a developing political economy of patronage.

Patronage Economies

The development of economies of patronage has been a major feature of the last decade, closely linked to the transformation of state institutions and remaking of ZANU(PF) powers discussed above. Control over land and mineral resources has been the source of immense political capital for ZANU(PF), as partisan access has been used to win votes in the countryside and towns and to undercut the MDC-T, which has had little or nothing in terms of material reward to offer its supporters. The combination of deindustrialisation and the disappearance of urban jobs has been matched by a resurgence of livelihoods hinging directly on access to land and minerals – small-scale mining in diamonds and gold as well as agricultural production – combined with a dramatic mushrooming of trading economies in these and other products that stretch across regional borders.25 The surge in ‘survivalist’ forms of livelihood has developed in the context of accelerating hyperinflation and it has had complex relations with shifting modes of party-state regulation. Resource control has also been a key basis of elite accumulation, as senior party-military figures and ZANU(PF)-aligned businesses were afforded privileged access to land and mineral concessions.

The debates over these processes initially focused on the politics of land redistribution associated with ‘fast-track’ land reform from 2000,26 but increasingly have also come to reflect the importance of mineral economies, particularly diamonds.27 Zimbabweanist scholars seeking to understand the emerging political and moral economies of resource control have begun to engage with broader theoretical debates over resource conflict, ‘primitive accumulation’ and spoils politics.28

The articles here that discuss control of resources contribute to these discussions in new ways. Collectively, they show that the engagement with broader Africanist debates over the political economy of resource control can mislead insofar as patronage in the Zimbabwean context is not the product of state retreat or neo-liberalism, while culturalist explanations for patron–clientelism do not convince. Rather we argue here that the emergence of patronage economies linked to ZANU(PF) control should be seen as part of an historically grounded state-making project. Over the period of the Inclusive Government, ZANU(PF) capitalised on control over land to consolidate its power base in rural resettlement areas and the countryside more broadly, as well as increasingly also using control over peri-urban land to build political support and control in the towns, as McGregor shows. Edging back from a situation of acute loss of legitimacy during the nadir of 2008, ZANU(PF) has been able to formalise partisan regulation over land and mineral resources, thereby consolidating control over earlier patterns of chaotic survivalism. This has been done in various ways: in some instances through military intervention, as in the diamond fields, and in others through building control through (partisan) state authorities. Violence and coercion was part of this process, but so too were systems of surveillance and state regulation that created insecurity and promoted compliance, with the threat of material punishment constituting a powerful inducement to perform political loyalty to ZANU(PF).

Showers Mawowa's article in this issue fills an important lacuna in scholarship on the political economy of mineral control by focusing on small-scale gold mining, which provided income to an estimated 2 million panners by 2008, i.e. approximately one in six of the country's population. Mawowa provides a detailed case study of ‘Totororo’ in Midlands Province, which started off as the site of a gold rush but was later formalised through the process of state registration as a small mine. He provides fascinating detail regarding the political control over competing gold-mining tunnels and syndicates. The article stresses the growth of artisanal gold mining as a ‘survival enclave for the poor’, but argues against any narrow survivalist account of the sector. Small-scale gold mining could initially be cast as a form of primitive accumulation, but Mawowa argues that there was a shift to the formalisation of party-state control that reduced levels of violence and created a new order that enabled elite accumulation. This process appears to have narrowed opportunities at the bottom to clients of the registered mine holders, consolidating ZANU(PF)'s hold over the resource and the capacity to use access to gold mining work as patronage. On the other hand, it is not clear how narrow the benefits in the sector are, as ‘a view of highly restricted elite gain could not accommodate some of the majestic rags-to-riches stories that circulate in the goldfields’. Mawowa argues that analysis of these emerging patronage economies must incorporate ‘the shifting, diverse often contradictory interests of the large range of players involved in the networks and hierarchies of extraction, trade and regulation, ranging from the key players in Zimbabwe's unfolding political story at the top to the local subsistence farmers and rural and urban poor at the bottom’.

Zamchiya's study returns to the topic of patronage and land reform, where the contours of debate have been established by a sizeable body of academic work. He focuses on how to conceptualise the role of politics in processes of social differentiation, arguing that other key scholars – perhaps most notably Ian Scoones et al. – have downplayed the role of politics in their accounts of production, accumulation and emerging rural inequalities.29 Using a case study of Chipinge District, Zamchiya reveals ‘the important extent to which factors like the politicisation of the state and patronage networks tied to ZANU(PF) explain differences in crop production among small-scale farmers’. He links the role of politics in the emerging patterns of differentiation to four specific issues. First, inequalities in land access, whereby ‘those with political influence, notably civil servants, war veterans and traditional leaders’ gained access to more and better arable land than ‘other beneficiaries’. Second, unequal ‘crop inheritance’ from the former owners, which produced significant differences in revenue: in Chipinge, those with political capital ‘inherited’ gum and macadamia plantations while others got bare land. Third, Zamchiya emphasises the inequalities in farmers' access to state disbursement of fertiliser, farm equipment and seed. These inputs were highly politicised and ‘mediated by a partisan bureaucracy’; indeed, patronage politics in this domain was ‘so overt’ that it made newspaper headlines and was taken up by national MDC leaders. Fourth, labour mobilisation was politicised: former farm workers were at times required to render free labour during periods of peak seasonal demand in exchange for residence rights.

These two articles on patronage and the politics of resource control show how ‘technical’ questions around production and extraction need to be situated in the context of an understanding of the interactions of ZANU(PF) and state bureaucracy. An important question, and one that remains difficult to answer, concerns the trajectory and reversibility of the development of partisan patronage in the Zimbabwean context. The ‘dominant’ political science approaches on the African postcolonial state can seem teleological in their assumption of a one-way path towards the unmaking of bureaucratic regulation, yet the Zimbabwean case suggests a more complex dynamic.30 A great deal of Zimbabweanist scholars' engagement with broader debates over patronage was stimulated by the extreme moment of 2008: as we have seen, this juncture marked an unprecedented challenge to ZANU(PF)'s power and legitimacy. The period of the Inclusive Government, however, produced important shifts in state-making and politics as well as continuities, crucially in terms of ZANU(PF)'s command of the security arms of the state.31

An important part of the story of the past five years of ‘power-sharing’ is how it enabled ZANU(PF) to rebuild its support base and party structures in the aftermath of near collapse. Although much is still unclear, there are discernible new processes of regulation and formalisation that are not about neo-liberal transition and which draw heavily on ZANU(PF)'s coercive capacity, ideological appeals and hierarchical party structures. These emerging, partisan modes of control do not constitute a ‘return’ to the professional bureaucratic state of the 1980s, but nor are they akin to the extreme depredations and violence of earlier years. The articles in this volume provide insight into both the ‘decline’ up to 2008 and the subsequent processes of ‘formalisation’ linked to ZANU(PF)'s political revival. Further understanding of these dynamics can be gleaned from the debates over the 2013 elections themselves.

Understanding the 2013 Elections

The ZANU(PF) victory in the 2013 elections was intimately linked to the remaking of state institutions and political parties, and the increasing importance of patronage economies. Explanations for the result offered in the immediate aftermath of the elections focused on the extent to which they could be considered ‘fair’ – most observers agreed they were ‘free’ in the sense that there was little in the way of overt violence. Clearly there were extensive violations of the Constitution and the Electoral Act.32 It is also, however, clear that this does not tell the whole story.

The most detailed analysis of voting patterns to date has been undertaken by the Solidarity Peace Trust (SPT).33 It shows just how difficult it is to read the effects of fraud of various kinds on the results, and cautions against any direct equation of abuses with ZANU(PF)'s successes. It insists that the information available is inconclusive,34 though some patterns are nonetheless clear: substantial numbers of voters were turned away and bussed in in the MDC-T stronghold of Harare; ‘assisted voting’, amounting to coerced voting for ZANU(PF), occurred in some rural constituencies; and very substantial increases in voter turnout correlate with ZANU(PF) victories in rural Mashonaland (though not elsewhere). SPT notes the stability of the size of the opposition vote from 2000 to 2013. In contrast, the ZANU(PF) vote varied very significantly. It dipped dramatically in 2008 before rising by some one million votes in 2013. This jump is hard to explain. SPT notes that ‘as all elections have been mired in controversy since 2000, analysing the figures may reveal more about how ZANU PF manipulates apparent support than anything else’.35

In the face of flawed and partial data and the withdrawal of the MDCs' legal appeals, which might have produced further evidence of systematic abuses, it falls for the moment to qualitative analyses to shed additional light on the 2013 results. Three authors do so in this issue. The articles by Phillan Zamchiya and Miles Tendi draw on their close access to the campaigns of the MDC-T and ZANU(PF) respectively in the run-up to the 2013 poll. Brian Raftopoulos's article situates the 2013 election in an analysis of shifts in political economy and regional politics.

Zamchiya provides an account of the processes of decision-making within the MDC-T and its performance on the campaign trail. He identifies a rupture between the MDC-T's ‘technical team’, made up of experts drawn from the party's secretariat, academia and elsewhere, and certain of its political leaders, notably Morgan Tsvangirai himself and the party's powerful national organising secretary Nelson Chamisa. The technical team counselled that the MDC-T risked defeat, but the leadership ‘was blinded by ambition, suspicion of intellectuals, the animated atmosphere at political rallies, and a creeping sense of a divine ordination to govern’. Zamchiya argues that MDC-T rallies were ‘electrifying confidence boosters’ in which Tsvangirai appeared as a ‘statesman’ and delivered an appealing message concerning ‘social and economic values consistent with a social democratic state’. But there were worrying signs amid the jubilation. The party suffered from a severe dearth of campaign funds, and Tsvangirai failed to counter effectively Mugabe's invocation of liberation struggle history and indigenisation. The MDC-T found itself virtually unable to campaign in parts of ZANU(PF)'s stronghold of Mashonaland, where a ‘harvest of fear’ was reaped directly from ZANU(PF)'s violent campaign in June 2008. Crucially, the party was deeply divided – as had become glaringly apparent in its primary elections, which had resulted in ‘animosity’ so ‘vicious’ that 28 MDC-T candidates contested the elections as independents, further dividing an already divided opposition vote. These divisions were crucial in silencing the technical team's warnings.

The explorations of opposition politics by Wilkins, Hoekman and Hodgkinson in this issue and by Raftopoulos and others elsewhere give some indication as to the roots of this divisiveness in the MDC's history.36 The history of ZANU(PF), however, remains far more inaccessible. As Tendi writes in his campaign piece, ‘ZANU(PF) is an opaque political party’. It is a striking feature of Zimbabwe's rich scholarship that the country's ruling party should be so little understood.

Tendi's account of ZANU(PF)'s 2013 campaign is especially valuable in this light. He argues that key to understanding ZANU(PF) in 2013 were the dominance of Robert Mugabe (including over the military) and the shock of ZANU(PF)'s 2008 loss. Tendi emphasises that Mugabe understood this loss as a ‘personal humiliation’ and a victory for his enemies in the west. The party began to work towards an eventual electoral victory almost immediately following its defeat: it had learnt from 2008 that it needed electoral legitimacy, crucially in the region, which meant eschewing overt political violence. The party calculated that ‘anything better than the farcical 2008 run-off was likely to be acceptable to SADC’; it focused on rebuilding party structures, voter registration and systematically blocking the democratic reforms demanded by SADC. Mugabe's 2013 campaign was lavishly funded, complete with hats, shirts, vehicles, entertainments, food, social media and high-tech sound systems. Mugabe invoked liberation struggle history, emphasised the ZANU(PF) policies of indigenisation and land reform, and extolled the virtues of a peaceful campaign. Tendi stresses Mugabe's wit and sharpness on the campaign trail and the key role of others such as Vice President Joice Mujuru, who presented a younger face and focused on service delivery in addition to liberation struggle history. Tendi notes that there were signs of renewed divisions during the ZANU(PF) primaries, but the party's politburo and commissariat department were able to enforce discipline. ZANU(PF) proved far more effective in this regard than in 2008, Tendi argues, partly because, following the demise of heavyweights Zvinavashe and Solomon Mujuru, there were ‘no longer any party elites of similar stature and power to Mugabe, around whom organised internal dissent’ could gather.

The extraordinary revival of ZANU(PF)'s fortunes between the years 2008 and 2013 is the central subject of Brian Raftopoulos's 2013 Journal of Southern African Studies' Annual Lecture, reproduced here. He eschews any monocausal explanation rooted in coercion or fraud, though he acknowledges the importance of both, and asks us to step back and consider the broader shifts in political economy since 2000 and their effects on the nature of political mobilisation, as well as regional and international influences. Raftopoulos traces the history of ZANU(PF)'s effective obstruction of constitutional and other reform under the unity government, noting its canny use of the courts (run by Verheul's ‘good boys’) to force an election in advance of reforms and to defend that position with an appeal to sovereignty. SADC's acceptance of the result effectively shielded ZANU(PF) from the criticisms of international actors such as the USA.

Raftopoulos considers the sheer scale rather than the fact of the ZANU(PF) victory to require explanation. Echoing Tendi, he considers that ZANU(PF)'s success was in part owed to its ability to block reform, use ideological appeals, and unite what had been a divided party, as well as its intimidation of civic activists and use of the memories of past violence. His central argument, however, concerns ZANU(PF)'s ‘social base’, which he sees as rooted in ‘a combination of the ideological legacies of the liberation struggle, the persistent memories of colonial dispossession, and the land reform process’, and as having been ‘renewed and expanded within context of the radical changes in Zimbabwe's political economy since 2000’. Raftopoulos reinforces the findings of Zamchiya, Mawowa and McGregor, identifying key elements of this social base among smallholders who received Fast Track land, the fast-growing informal mining sector, and the urban informal sector. Weaknesses in the MDC were also profound. They included ‘underdeveloped organisational structures, lack of leadership accountability, and a growing culture of intra-party violence’, alongside ideological weakness owed to too easily ceding a radical redistributive agenda and the discourses of sovereignty and patriotic history to ZANU(PF).

For Raftopoulos, ZANU(PF)'s resounding victory and SADC's acceptance thereof marked the end of the brand of opposition politics that had played out since the 1990s. The political terrain had shifted inside and outside Zimbabwe. In the resurgent language of an authoritarian nationalism and anti-imperialist pan-Africanism, claims to sovereignty and economic redistribution were de-linked from claims to rights and the ‘struggle for a broad democratic agenda’ was made much harder.

Conclusion

The 2013 elections provide a fitting conclusion to this issue: understanding them requires us to look back and rethink successive layers of the Zimbabwean past. They have provoked profound revaluations of the character and history of Zimbabwean institutions, political cultures and economies. All of this has provoked a fruitful engagement with themes in broader African studies debates. For many authors herein, historical and anthropological approaches have offered great insight while they have remained sceptical of the ability of certain influential political science approaches to explain change. The poor fit between Zimbabwe's politics and history and the assumptions in broader debates of a peculiarly African state weakness together with political and social disorder can nonetheless produce useful new insights. This disjuncture has contributed to the development of new approaches to the state, political parties and patronage that are more attuned to the diverse workings of history, memory and cultural politics in southern Africa – as well as elsewhere.

Additional information

Notes on contributors

Jocelyn Alexander

Jocelyn AlexanderDepartment of International Development, University of Oxford, 3 Mansfield Road, Oxford, OX1 3TB, UK. E-mail:[email protected]

JoAnn McGregor

JoAnn McGregorDepartment of Geography, School of Global Studies, University of Sussex, Falmer, Brighton BN1 9SJ, UK. E-mail:[email protected]

Notes

This special issue began as a workshop on politics, patronage and violence in Zimbabwe, held at the Department of International Development, University of Oxford, on 6 October 2012. Our thanks are owed to the participants in that workshop, many of whose papers are included in this issue, to William Beinart, Nic Cheeseman and Shane MacGiollabhui for acting as discussants, and to the Department for its support.

¹ Although we do not have the space to explore it fully here, the authors recognise the diversity in political science literatures. Their focus is on criticism of concepts most closely associated with P. Chabal and J-P. Daloz, Africa Works: Disorder as Political Instrument (Oxford, James Currey, 1999) and J-F. Bayart, The State in Africa: The Politics of the Belly (London, Longman, 1993), while building on recent critiques and on anthropological scholarship on the state, cited below.

² The articles draw on empirically grounded approaches such as those of G. Blundo and J-P. Olivier de Sardan in Everyday Corruption and the State: Citizens and Public Officials in Africa (London, Zed Books, 2006) and J. Roitman, Fiscal Disobedience: An Anthropology of Economic Regulation in Central Africa (Princeton, Princeton University Press, 2005).

³ On ‘stateness’, see T.B. Hansen and F. Stepputat, ‘Introduction: States of Imagination’, in T.B. Hansen and F. Stepputat (eds), States of Imagination: Ethnographic Explorations of the Postcolonial State (London, Duke University Press, 2001), p. 14. Key recent works that focus on public servants include contributions to G. Blundo and P-Y. Le Meur (eds), The Governance of Daily Life in Africa: Explorations of Public and Collective Services (Leiden, Brill, 2009) and T. Bierschenk, ‘States at Work in West Africa: Sedimentation, Fragmentation and Normative Double-Blinds’, Working Paper no. 113, Department of Anthropology and African Studies (Johannes Gutenberg University, Mainz, 2010). Other important – though not necessarily compatible – approaches in anthropology can be found in C. Lund, ‘Twilight Institutions: Public Authority and Local Politics in Africa’, Development and Change, 37, 4 (2006), pp. 685–705, A. Sharma and A. Gupta, The Anthropology of the State: A Reader (London, Blackwell, 2006) and V. Das and D. Poole (eds), Anthropology in the Margins of the State (Oxford, James Currey, 2004).

⁴ See discussion in T. Lodge, ‘The Southern African Post-Colonial State’, Commonwealth and Comparative Politics, 36, 1 (1998), pp. 20–47 and R. Southall, Liberation Movements in Power: Party and State in Southern Africa (Woodbridge, James Currey, 2013).

⁵ Interesting work on expert knowledge can be found in S. Dubow (ed.), Science and Society in Southern Africa (Manchester, Manchester University Press, 2000) and W. Beinart and J. McGregor (eds), Social History and African Environments (Oxford, James Currey, 2003). On Zimbabwe, M. Drinkwater's book, The State and Agrarian Change in Zimbabwe's Communal Areas (Houndsmills, Macmillan, 1993) was groundbreaking. On law, see the insightful study of G. Karekwaivanane, Legal Encounters: Law, State and Society in Zimbabwe, c.1950–1990 (DPhil Thesis, University of Oxford, 2012).

⁶ See Brian Raftopoulos's discussion in this issue. There is a growing literature on the complex political inheritances of liberation movements. See e.g. Southall, Liberation Movements in Power, H. Melber, Limits to Liberation in Southern Africa: The Unfinished Business of Democratic Consolidation (Cape Town, HSRC Press, 2003), and M. Sithole, ‘Zimbabwe: In search of stable democracy’, in L. Diamond, J. Linz and S. Lipset (eds), Democracy in Developing Countries, Volume 2, Africa (Boulder, Lynne Rienner, 1988).

⁷ See J. McGregor, ‘The Politics of Disruption: War Veterans and the Local State in Zimbabwe’, African Affairs, 101, 402 (2002). This was a preoccupation of much of the literature on rural state-making. See among others W. Munro, The Moral Economy of the State: Conservation, Community Development, andState Making in Zimbabwe (Athens, Ohio University Press, 1998) and J. Alexander, The Unsettled Land: State-Making and the Politics of Land in Zimbabwe 1893–2003 (Oxford, James Currey, 2006).

⁸ On the history and consequences of the 1980s violence, see Catholic Commission for Justice and Peace/Legal Resources Foundation, Breaking the Silence, Building True Peace: A Report on the Disturbance in Matabeleland and the Midlands, 1980–1988 (Harare, CCJP/LRF, 1997) and J. Alexander, J. McGregor and T. Ranger, Violence and Memory: One Hundred Years in the ‘Dark Forests’ of Matabeleland (Oxford, James Currey, 2000).

⁹ See, for example, P. Gibbon (ed.), Structural Adjustment and the Working Poor in Zimbabwe (Uppsala, Africa Institute, 1995) and A.S. Mlambo, The Economic Structural Adjustment Programme: The Case of Zimbabwe, 1990–1995 (Harare, University of Zimbabwe Press, 1997).

¹⁰ For an excellent review of this period and the literature on it, see J. Muzondidya, ‘From Buoyancy to Crisis, 1980–1997’, in B. Raftopoulos and A. Mlambo (eds), Becoming Zimbabwe: A History from the Pre-Colonial Period to 2008 (Harare, Weaver Press, 2009), pp. 167–200. For a specifically rural view, see Alexander, Unsettled Land, Chapter 8.

¹¹ For the best study of the longue durée of Zimbabwean history, see Raftopoulos and Mlambo, Becoming Zimbabwe.

¹² Lund, ‘Twilight Institutions’. Also see Hansen and Stepputat, States of Imagination.

¹³ Important works are Blundo and de Sardan with Arifari and Alou's Everyday Corruption and the State and Bierschenk's ‘States at Work in West Africa’.

¹⁴ Key among them, Hansen and Stepputat, States of Imagination.

¹⁵ See A. Purdekova, ‘“Even if I Am Not Here, There Are so Many Eyes”: Surveillance and State Reach in Rwanda’, Journal of Modern African Studies, 49, 3 (2011), pp. 475–97, and D. Bozzini ‘Low-Tech Surveillance and the Despotic State in Eritrea’, Surveillance and Society, 9, 1/2 (2011), pp. 93–113.

¹⁶ See B. Raftopoulos. ‘The Labour Movement and the Emergence of Opposition Politics in Zimbabwe’, in B. Raftopoulos and L. Sachikonye (eds), Striking Back: The Labour Movement and the Postcolonial State in Zimbabwe (Harare, Weaver Press, 2002). S. Rich-Dorman ‘Rocking the Boat? Church NGOs and Democratization in Zimbabwe’, African Affairs, 101 (2002); A. LeBas, From Protest to Parties: Party-Building and Democratization in Africa (Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2013).

¹⁷ Raftopoulos, ‘The Labour Movement’.

¹⁸ Dorman, ‘Rocking the Boat?’

¹⁹ LeBas, From Protest to Parties, p. 199.

²⁰ LeBas, From Protest to Parties, p.181.

²¹ LeBas, From Protest to Parties.

²² On the MDC split, see B. Raftopoulos and K. Alexander (eds), Reflections on Democratic Politics in Zimbabwe (Cape Town, Institute for Justice and Reconciliation, 2006).

²³ Particularly influential are J. Ferguson's Expectations of Modernity: Myths and Meanings of Urban Life on the Zambian Copperbelt (Berkeley, University of California Press, 1999) and Global Shadows: Africa in the Neoliberal World Order (Durham, NC, Duke University Press, 2006). In the Zimbabwean context, Jeremy Jones's work on youth in the townships has been groundbreaking. See his ‘“Nothing is Straight in Zimbabwe’: The Rise of the Kukiya-kiya Economy', Journal of Southern African Studies, 36, 2 (2010), pp. 285–99.

²⁴ For more on this, see B. Rutherford, Working on the Margins: Black Workers, White Famers in Postcolonial Zimbabwe (London, Zed Books, 2001).

²⁵ See Journal of Southern African Studies (JSAS) Special Issue ‘The Zimbabwe Crisis Through The Lens Of Displacement’, 36, 2 (2010), introduced by A. Hammar, L. Landau and J. McGregor, ‘Displacing Zimbabwe: Crisis and Construction in Southern Africa’, JSAS, 36, 2 (2010), pp. 263–83

²⁶ For an entrée to the now extensive literature on land, see L. Cliffe, J. Alexander, B. Cousins and R. Gaidzanwa, ‘An Overview of Fast Track Land Reform in Zimbabwe: Editorial Introduction’, Journal of Peasant Studies, 38, 5 (2011), pp. 907–38 and the discussion in Zamchiya, ‘The Role of Politics and State Practices in Shaping Rural Differentiation: A Study of Resettled Small-Scale Farmers in South-Eastern Zimbabwe’ in this issue.

²⁷ On diamonds, see D. Towriss, ‘Buying Loyalty: Zimbabwe's Marange Diamonds’, Journal of Southern African Studies, 39, 1 (2013) pp. 99–107; T. Nyamunda and P. Mukwambo, ‘The State and the Bloody Diamond Rush in Chiadzwa: Unpacking the Contesting Interests in the Development of Illicit Mining and Trading, c.2006–2009’, JSAS 31, 1 (2012), pp. 145–66, and the extensive reporting by Global Witness, Human Rights Watch and Partnership Africa Canada.

²⁸ See, for example, D. Moore, ‘Progress, Power and Violent Accumulation in Zimbabwe’, Journal of Contemporary African Studies, 30, 1 (2012), pp. 1–9, and B. Magure, ‘Foreign Investment, Black Economic Empowerment and Militarised Patronage Politics in Zimbabwe’, Journal of Contemporary African Studies, 30, 1 (2012), pp. 67–82.

²⁹ I. Scoones, N. Marongwe, B. Mavedzenge, F. Murimbarimba, J. Mahenehene and C. Sukume, Zimbabwe's Land Reform: Myths and Realities (Oxford, James Currey, 2010).

³⁰ See, e.g., the critiques including Hansen and Stepputat, States of Imagination; Lund, ‘Twilight Institutions’.

³¹ On power-sharing, see Brian Raftopoulos (ed.), The Hard Road to Reform: the Politics of Zimbabwe's Global Political Agreement (Harare, Weaver Press in association with Solidarity Peace Trust, 2013); D. Matyszak, Law, Politics and Zimbabwe's ‘Unity’ Government (Harare, Konrad-Adenauer Stiftung, 2010); International Crisis Group (ICG), ‘Resistance and Denial: Zimbabwe's Stalled Reform Agenda’ (ICG, Johannesburg/Brussels, 2011); N. Cheeseman and M. Tendi, ‘Power-Sharing in Comparative Perspective: The Dynamics of “Unity Government” in Kenya and Zimbabwe’, Journal of Modern African Studies, 48, 2 (2010), pp. 203–99.

³² For a summary of reporting, see Solidarity Peace Trust, The End of a Road: The 2013 Elections in Zimbabwe (Johannesburg, SPT, 2013), Appendix 6.

³³Ibid.

³⁴Ibid., p. 31.

³⁵Ibid., p. 44.

³⁶ See especially Raftopoulos and Alexander, Reflections on Democratic Politics.