Zimbabwe: continuities and changes

ABSTRACT

November 2017 will forever be etched in the minds of Zimbabweans, as the moment involving the end of Robert Mugabe’s 37-year rule and the beginning of a post-Mugabe ‘era’ under the leadership of Emmerson Mnangagwa. It also might be considered as a watershed moment in Zimbabwean history, or at least as having the potential to be so. However, identifying key moments in Zimbabwe’s history, and continuities and changes over time, involves engaging in historical periodisation. Periodising the past is never straightforward and leads to contestations at an analytical level. Further, periodisation often has a pronounced political dimension, such that Mnangagwa’s ZANU-PF is engaged in periodisation in seeking to distance itself from Mugabe’s rule. This opening article addresses these points, and it seeks to show how the following articles (mainly written, unknowingly, at the cusp of Mugabe’s endgame) facilitate reflection on continuities and changes in contemporary Zimbabwe.

KEYWORDS:

• Zimbabwe
• Mugabe
• Mnangagwa
• periodisation
• transitions

Introduction

As the current drought in Zimbabwe takes hold, and water sources continue to dry up (such as at Mana Pools), there has been an explosion in the crocodile population taking easy advantage of dying and dead wildlife. It is no longer the case that crocodiles have to sit idly in quiet or still waters, waiting to pounce on unsuspecting wildlife as they approach the edges of the water source. Quiet waters though, rather than turbulent flows of water, are still the ideal place for crocodiles to lodge themselves to ensure survival. The same, it appears, is the case with ZANU-PF under Emmerson Mnangagwa (known as ‘the Crocodile’) in post-Mugabe Zimbabwe.

Quite often, particularly during important episodes of national reconstruction, ruling parties and their states request a healthy quietism on the part of their citizens. Reconstruction requires a national, coordinated and unified effort, with social and political disturbances only serving to delay and disrupt reconstruction. In the case of South Africa, with the end of Apartheid, the new ANC government began to speak of ‘the struggle days’ (prior to 1994). Now that these days were over, popular struggles should be shelved, with citizens focusing on engaging with the post-Apartheid state on a partnership basis only. In Zimbabwe, in the years immediately after the rise of the opposition MDC party in the late 1990s and its involvement in concerted action against ZANU-PF’s rule, it was not uncommon to see ZANU-PF members wearing ZANU-PF t-shirts with the slogan ‘no to mass action’. This occurred at the time of mass mobilisation in the form of the nationwide land occupations of white commercial farms and other landholdings, and when ZANU-PF was seeking to reconstruct the countryside via fast track land reform and complete the so-called unfinished business of the land revolution. This of course implies that political activism per se was not the problem.

The use of the ‘term’ crocodile with reference to Zimbabwean politics long precedes the emergence, development and consolidation of Mnangagwa’s power, notably in relation to the infamous Crocodile Gang of the early 1960s – of which Mnangagwa was not a member, though he was involved in acts of sabotage at the time. Because of Mnangagwa’s nickname (The Crocodile), it is tempting for many scholars (including ourselves) to make use of the term in framing studies about his life and politics. This was done for instance by Ndlovu (2018) in his book about Mnangagwa titled Jaws of the Crocodile, though this was in large part a journalistic account. Intriguingly, Godwin’s memoirs of the fast track years, based on a local idiom, is titled When a Crocodile Eats the Sun (2006), with the crocodile existing in Mugabe’s days – implying perhaps that there is more than one crocodile, at least temporally.

The title for this special edition on Zimbabwe is titled ‘Crocodiles in Still Waters’. This is drawn from the idiom ‘it is in still waters, where the crocodile lives’ (or, in Shona, often translated as ‘dziva rakanyarara ndiro, rinogarwa negwena’). While not wanting to stretch this idiom to the extreme, it captures a key point relevant to this article and the journal edition as a whole. We use ‘crocodiles’ rather than ‘the crocodile’ because the form of politics currently embodied and expressed in Mnangagwa’s rule is not specific to him, but resonates with Mugabe’s rule as well.

Zimbabwean society under Mnangagwa is in some way ‘in transition’, or at least that is how Mnangagwa’s ZANU-PF would characterise present developments, even depicting it as a perpetual transition involving a lengthy process of fundamental reconstruction of Zimbabwean economy and society. Times of transition require, according to political rulers, ‘still waters’ – or patience and silence on the part of citizens so as not to disrupt the inevitable march of progress. However, still waters are often deep and murky waters and, certainly, Mnangagwa’s Zimbabwe is in ‘deep water’ in being marked by troubling and turbulent currents raging below the surface. Despite attempts by Mnangagwa’s ZANU-PF to keep the waters calm (and thereby place Zimbabweans in a constant state of waithood), as Mugabe’s ZANU-PF did so often in the past, there is important political work being done outside mainstream (party) politics. The articles in this special edition, while written in the main at the cusp of Mugabe’s endgame, highlight the importance of casting one analytical eye on the crocodiles (political rulers) while also keeping the other eye firmly fixed on the emerging ripples (of activism) which may ultimately disturb the stillness of the waters.

From Mugabe to Mnangagwa

The 21st of November of 2017 will forever be remembered as the day that marked the end of Robert Mugabe’s 37-year rule in Zimbabwe and heralded the formation of a ‘post-Mugabe’ ZANU-PF government. In the unbridled and immense celebrations which took place in the following days, it was a watershed moment in terms of the expressive outpouring of emotions by the Zimbabwean people. As well, depending on the unfolding of processes in the years to come, it may also be interpreted as a watershed moment at an analytical level. After all, embedded in key moments in history are complex bundles of opposing tendencies out of which alternative social trajectories may arise. In other words, the fall of Mugabe can only be named analytically as a watershed moment ex post facto (or retrospectively), a claim consistent with Alain Badiou’s innovative argument about a potentially transformative event in history (Badiou 2005).

While it may be the case that the shift in presidency of both the ruling ZANU-PF party and the Zimbabwean state should be understood and analysed, first and foremost, in terms of high-level factional struggles within ZANU-PF (with military intervention added into the equation), a more society-centred analysis might also want to foreground the significance of popular struggles in the months leading up to the events of November 2017. Certainly, in the light of these struggles, many citizens of Zimbabwe felt a sense of fulfilment when hearing about the fall of Mugabe.

Prior to Mugabe’s removal, the country had been rocked by a number of protests and the emergence of bold citizen-led, urban-driven and loosely-established hashtag-based formations. These included Occupy African Unity Square (OAUS), #ThisFlag, #Tajamuka/Sesjikile (‘we have rebelled’) and #Sokwanele (‘we have had enough’). From May 2016 to July 2016, the country experienced 25 protests, including eight in June and three major ones in July. The grievances of the protesters included discontent around human rights abuses, the prevalence of corruption, the collapse of the economy, lack of jobs and massive deficiencies in service delivery. Diverse groupings in (mainly) urban society organised protests or participated in them, such as vendors’ associations, nebulous underground movements, public transport operators and commuter omnibus touts, cross border traders, and those frustrated with their formal institutions (such as trade unions). Many of the protestors had not been central to public activism previously, and they operated outside of organised civil society formations, but not necessarily in a manner inconsistent with the demands and aspirations of mainstream civil society. Overall, the response of the Mugabe-led state to the protests in mid-2016 was typical and predictable – beatings and arrests.

Over one year later, soon after the military coup and the unceremonious departure of Mugabe (in late November 2017), an air of excitement, expectation and hopefulness seemed to prevail across many parts of Zimbabwe. However, this was quickly dashed. Any optimism that characterised the Zimbabwean story in the months after November 2017 seems to have faded into the sunset and, in its place, there is a renewed sense of despair, disappointment and confusion. Certainly, the current Zimbabwean government, under President Emmerson Mnangagwa’s ZANU-PF, suffers from serious legitimacy challenges and it has not been able to take advantage of the goodwill that emerged soon after the coup.

Economic crises are rampant in post-November 2017 Zimbabwe, and even more so since the national elections in July 2018 which confirmed Mnangagwa’s rulership. All major indicators reveal low levels of economic performance nationally, as manifested in: shortages of fuel and power cuts; incoherent currency management practices; high levels of poverty, unemployment and inequality; deindustrialisation, company closures and limited utilisation of factory capacity; and collapse of basic infrastructure. As well, there is runaway inflation (including for food commodities), with the year-on-year inflation rate for the month of December 2019, as measured by the all-items Consumer Price Index, standing at 525%, soaring from 66.8% in March 2019.¹

Unlike in 2008 (just before the Government of National Unity from 2009 to 2013), the shops are now full, but consumers do not have the capacity or endowments to purchase basic commodities. Their formal or informal economy earnings have been eroded by the shift from the official 1:1 parity between the United States Dollar (USD) and the Real Time Gross Settlement (RTGS) dollar, based on an acknowledgement that the surrogate currency introduced through the backdoor years ago is not equivalent to the USD. In the meantime, as prices of basic goods are moving in alignment with the parallel exchange rate, salaries and other earnings have mostly been stagnant. Because of this, effective demand for consumer goods has been significantly eroded.

Despite Mnangagwa’s ‘Zimbabwe is open for business’ mantra, sanctions continue to affect economic performance in Zimbabwe. Sanctions were imposed against the country in 2003 through, for instance, the Zimbabwe Democracy Economic Recovery Act (ZIDERA) which was renewed in 2018. The ongoing economic isolation of the Zimbabwean regime leads to limited possibilities for capital formation, such that many businesses are in survival mode. Banks are not lending to business because there is insufficient capital in circulation, while lines of credit are arranged through government – which creates distortions in the market. Zimbabwe is also restricted from participating in opportunities presented within the African Growth Opportunities Act (AGOA), an important piece of USA trade legislation. Since the AGOA came into force in 2001, Zimbabwe has never been eligible for the market access offered under this legislation, which has been extended until 2025.² For instance, South Africa’s exports to the USA under AGOA have averaged US$2 billion per year.

Beyond these economic challenges, there has been an ongoing collapse of social services in post-November 2017 Zimbabwe, especially in the areas of health and education. While budget allocations towards the social sector have increased since 2009 (from 35.9% of the total budget to 42% in 2019), there has not been a significant improvement in the actual delivery of social services. In fact, most of the funds allocated cover salaries. According to www.zimcitizenswatch.org, a site which tracks the conversion of promises made during election campaigns into policy measures, the Mnangagwa government has fallen far short in pursuing and implementing promises meant to contribute towards improved social service delivery.

In the case of health, there is, amongst other problems: a shortage or unavailability of essential drugs; shortfalls in machines to carry out basic procedures; skills migration (for both doctors and nurses); and poor remuneration for doctors and nurses. Overall, public health facilities are in a dilapidated state and, in 2018, there was an increased number of cholera and typhoid cases. The situation for education is similar, with such challenges as: educational infrastructure far below requirements; high levels of teacher absenteeism; skills migration of highly qualified teaching professionals; poor remuneration of teachers; shortage of textbooks; and increasing numbers of school drop outs. Again, major problems continue to exist in social housing, including: weak or no supply of low-priced housing stock; expanding numbers of families on housing waiting lists; inadequate financing mechanisms to support the supply of housing for low-income households; increasing prices of housing stands; and growing numbers of people living in informal settlements.

The main opposition parties, most notably Nelson Chamisa’s MDC, continue to raise serious questions around the authority and validity of the current President, based in part on claims that the elections of July 2018 were rigged. There are growing country risk factors (from the perspective of global capital) associated with the perceived and real lack of adherence to human rights standards, as required under both domestic constitutional imperatives and state obligations under international human rights law. Repeated scenes of post-election violent reprisals against public protests effectively nullify the potency in Mnangagwa’s narrative of ‘the new dawn’, with various pockets of political and civic formations being on the receiving end of brute force from law enforcement agencies since August 2018. Overall, there are high levels of intolerance of dissenting views, limited respect for the rule of law, abuse of electoral processes, and election based or related violence (Murisa 2019).

In fact, the Zimbabwean nation has been gripped with a new fear since the July 2018 elections: whereas protestors were either arrested or beaten up under Mugabe, it is difficult to recall a time when seven protestors were shot with live ammunition in one incident in a brazen and public manner, as happened just after the 2018 elections. As if that was not enough, 17 more people were reportedly shot dead during the January 2019 protests. The clampdown on protests (including bans on protests, such as those of the MDC), the shooting of protestors with live ammunition and the increasing number of shadowy abductions have led many to the conclusion that Zimbabwe is receding even further into authoritarianism. Of course, all this goes contrary to Mnangagwa’s call for a ‘break with the past’ (and for open dialogue), which he articulated in his inauguration speech back in November 2017.

If there is any break with the past in practice, this might appear most clearly on the economic front. A broad range of measures are being pursued, anchored around a new neoliberal offensive in the form of the Transitional Stabilisation Programme (TSP), which includes attracting foreign direct investment. Neoliberal restructuring always takes on variegated forms, with the current one in Mnangagwa’s Zimbabwe shaped, at least for now, by an authoritarian-state mould.

The measures contained in the TSP are similar to the Economic Structural Adjustment Programme (ESAP) of the 1990s, which focused on the removal of subsidies, privatisation of state-owned enterprises, fiscal consolidation, cutbacks on government expenditure, and expanding foreign investment (and, more broadly, re-engaging with international financial circuits). The TSP, framed as an ‘austerity for progress’, sets an economic growth target of 9% annually from 2018, yet these targets have already been revised downwards twice. The envisaged growth is to be driven by economic (and political) re-engagement locally and internationally, which entails repayment of outstanding international debt, productive sector reforms, and respect for property rights, but also political reforms and democratisation, respect for human rights, and national unity, peace and reconciliation. Specific programmes have been proposed, including through the Annual Budget statement, such as reconfiguring non-performing state-owned enterprises, reduction of the state’s wage bill, currency reforms and improving public procurement. The restructuring of state-owned enterprises is to include a variety of processes, such as wholesale privatisation, and mergers of previously unbundled enterprises.

This all seems a far cry from the ‘Mugabe era’, or at least key aspects of this era which readily come to mind. The ‘Mugabe era’, especially in its post-2000 manifestation, will likely be remembered most vividly for its emphasis on a worldview defined by Pan-Africanism and the loathing of imperialist Washington Consensus institutions. In this regard, over the past two years, Mnangagwa has sought to undo many of the radical populist measures that Mugabe had put in place. He has lifted the condition for local ownership in mining investments, made a commitment towards compensating former large-scale white farmers, opened up some form of dialogue on the Gukurahundi massacres, and sought to re-engage the West as opposed to Mugabe’s Look East Policy.

Whether or not these reform initiatives will entail an end – particularly on an impartial basis devoid of ZANU-PF factionalism – to endemic state corruption and well-established elite accumulation by ZANU-PF chefs would likely be subject to significant doubt. To use a term currently popular in South Africa, examples of ‘state capture’ abound in Zimbabwe, often involving a cartel constituted of local businesspeople working with the senior leadership in ZANU-PF (and sometimes in the MDC). These include the following allegations: multiple farm ownership in fast track areas, including 16 farms owned by Grace Mugabe (as claimed by Mnangagwa); issuing of multi-million-dollar tenders to undeserving entities especially at ZESA (the electricity supply authority); and corruption at Hwange Colliery Company Limited and within local authorities. For instance, the MDC-Alliance led Gweru city council is under scrutiny for receiving USD$ 1 million in 2017 from ZINWA (the water authority), which was to be used for the purchase of a pump. However, there is no record on what the money was used for or in which account the money is being held.

In the meantime, Mnangagwa’s government has carried out certain initiatives to address corruption: the establishment of six Anti-Corruption Courts; the amendment in 2018 of the Money Laundering and Proceeds of Crime Act and Exchange Control Act (which empowers government to seize assets of people who fail to disclose the source of their wealth); the recruitment of new commissioners at the Zimbabwe Anti-Corruption Commission on the basis that the previous commissioners were ineffective in combatting corruption; and the arrest of Tourism Minister Priscah Mupfumira and Douglas Tapfuma (former Director of State Residences), though, to date, there have been no convictions for corruption.

Despite seeming tendencies emerging under the Mnangagwa government, it is simply too early to make any definitive claims about the character of the current ZANU-PF government. Certainly, as Ndlovu-Gatsheni (2015) makes clear with his notion of Mugabeism, the modes of rule, sets of state practices and official discursive narratives prominent in the ‘Mugabe era’ are not reducible to Mugabe the person as they are firmly embedded within ZANU-PF organisationally. The transition to Mnangagwa, about which scholarly work is now emerging (Hodgkinson 2019; Beardsworth, Cheeseman, and Tinhu 2019; Tendi 2020), hence may simply involve a shift (and not a dramatic shift) within Mugabeism such that the ‘era of Mugabeism’ remains in place. At the same time, as Ndlovu-Gatsheni also acknowledges, Mugabeism is a complex and contradictory array of tendencies so that, over time, Mnangagwa may prioritise certain tendencies and downplay others.

For now, insofar as it is proper to speak about the ‘Mugabe era’, it might be most appropriate to simply label the Mnangagwa years as the beginning of a ‘post-Mugabe era’, as this at least allows for the recognition of an indeterminate Zimbabwean present and future (as something after Mugabe, but unclear in its form and direction). The prefix ‘post’ (MacKenzie 2001), admittedly resorted to more than necessary in the humanities (both in naming analytical perspectives and in characterising the human condition), entails a ‘temporal negation’ (Rusen 2016): in our case, it involves naming post-November 2017 Zimbabwe in terms of what it is not, as an ‘age of the post-previous’ (Gahan 1991, 155) as Zimbabwean society moves forward in ways still unknown. Even this may be problematic, particularly if there is some un-clarity about what, if anything, is the ‘Mugabe era’. Nevertheless, calling post-November 2017 Zimbabwe the ‘Mnangagwa era’ implies that it is somehow currently possible to identify and ‘fix’ conceptually, in a conclusive manner, the very character of Mnangagwa’s ZANU-PF government. What does seem clear, however, is that there are tendencies (as discussed) which represent both continuities and changes with the life and times of Mugabe. Ultimately, coming to any definitive conclusions will be contingent on periodising Zimbabwe’s past, present and future, and on demarcating clearly-defined beginnings and ends of historical periods. This in turn entails questions around the level of analysis being used (such as state form and practices, or regime of capital accumulation), with any current focus on periodising Zimbabwean history and society being, whether rightly or wrongly, largely state-centred.

Periodising Zimbabwe’s history

Periodising history entails seeking to order and make sense of the past and present, with particular periods consisting of ‘convincingly coherent characteristics of the time’ (Phillips 2002, 366). Further, as Green (1995, 101) argues, ‘all periodizations should be rooted in disciplined concepts of continuity and change. Historical epochs should exhibit important long-term continuities, and moments of transition between epochs should involve the dissolution of old continuities and the forging of new ones.’ Though this tends to fragment historical time (Gangatharan 2008), it is not typically a question of identifying dramatic ruptures across periods. Rather, it normally involves identifying and explaining significant social reconfigurations over an extended period in which there are open-ended struggles between the old (residual) and the new (emergent) (i.e. opposing tendencies and trajectories crystallised in key moments in history). Determining the starting and end points of periods often means identifying events which stimulate and activate sweeping change. A key problem is that transitions, or what Blix (2006) calls periods of passage or zones of indeterminacy, may take a life of their own. As Blix (2006, 55, 56) indicates, ‘every apparent transition is at the same time a potential period [i.e. an endless transition] that awaits discovery’ such that ‘the distinction between true periods and mere transitions threatens to break down’. At the same time, this is not merely an analytical issue, as periodisation is often motivated by political agendas and contestations. Insofar as Mnangagwa claims the emergence of a new period (a new dispensation, or Second Republic), the politics of periodisation becomes clear.

One of Luise White’s works, though about the assassination of ZANU president Herbert Chitepo in the 1970s (White 2003), highlights periodisation politics in Zimbabwe. Specifically, she considers what was at stake in debates which arose around the fast track land occupations (in the year 2000) with particular reference to identifying the ‘founding moment’ (or starting-point) of the Zimbabwean nation. In the late 1990s, war veterans agitated against the ruling party for certain entitlements, including land and pensions. As land occupations unfolded across the countryside in the early months of 2000, it seemed that the war veterans leading the occupations were in some way abandoning ZANU-PF and acting against it, because of the ruling party’s two-decade long failure to address the land question. White argues:

The new entitlements of the war veterans and farm invasions scripted two … . histories of the making of Zimbabwe. In one, the foundation of Zimbabwe was based entirely on the war, now recast as a unified and unflinching struggle for the land … In the other, the founding moment has been reduced to the agreement reached in the negotiations at Lancaster House in 1979. The negotiations … have been revived in political talk in Zimbabwe as an example of how British perfidy subverted the struggle. This particular history … claims that the cease-fire sold out guerrillas, denying them the land they were about to seize in battle (White 2003, 95).

For the war veterans, any history which identified Lancaster House as the founding moment of the Zimbabwean nation became deeply problematic, as Lancaster House resulted in the failure of land reform up until the year 2000. Their version of the past was deeply critical of Mugabe and ZANU-PF and sought to disrupt the discourse (articulated by ZANU-PF at the time) which spoke about a smooth and undisrupted transition between the second chimurenga (the war of liberation in the 1970s) and the third chimurenga (the land occupations and subsequent fast track land reform) (Bhatasara and Helliker 2018). For the war veterans, the Lancaster House Agreement undercut and reversed – and indeed sold-out – the efforts, sacrifices and successes of the guerrillas during the war of liberation. In this way, the founding of the Zimbabwean nation in 1980 was in fact a false start, and it entailed an act of treachery by the nationalist politicians against the guerrilla armies.

Even the ‘Mugabe era’, in terms of the liberation struggle and the nation-building project, is interpreted by ex-guerrilla Sadomba (2011) as predating 1980 and beginning with Mugabe’s takeover from Ndabaningi Sithole of the ZANU presidency in the 1970s. The fact that Sadomba broke from the national war veterans’ association in late 2019 raises intriguing questions about periodisation and as to how he would (and we should) understand the emerging ‘post-Mugabe era’.

If the very foundation (in terms of time and events) of the Zimbabwean nation (and of ‘the Mugabe era’) is subject to political controversies, and to presumably ongoing analytical reinterpretations, then this would likely be even more so when seeking to identify specific periods (or sub-periods) in post-1980 Zimbabwe.

In this context, the year 2000 witnessed the occupations of white-owned commercial agricultural land and other landholdings by war veterans and other occupiers from diverse backgrounds. Soon after the occupations began, the Zimbabwean state introduced and implemented the fast track land reform programme which led to significant restructuring of the countryside. Combined, the land occupations and fast track land reform have sometimes been depicted and interpreted almost as a watershed moment (marking an important shift in historical periods) in reconfiguring Zimbabwean state, economy and society.

This might be evidenced by the explosion of Zimbabwean literature on these two interrelated developments, and the acrimonious scholarly debate which arose immediately around them, though certainly the intensity and perhaps importance of this debate has died down over the years. On the one hand, some scholars spoke about the progressive character of both the land occupations (as a people-driven mobilisation if not movement in some way autonomous from the machinations of ZANU-PF) and the land restructuring process (in undoing the legacy of settler colonialism in agrarian spaces and facilitating the expansion of land-based rural livelihoods including by way of establishing A1 fast track farms). On the other hand, other scholars highlighted the state authoritarianism underpinning fast track land reform, the elite capture of A2 fast track farms, the ruling party’s narrowing of the notion of nationhood and citizenship, and the marked declines in the agrarian and national economies. These two almost polar perspectives, admittedly with a number of intermediary positions between them, formed part of a broader literature on ‘the Zimbabwean crisis’.

Overall, Zimbabwean scholars who engaged in the ‘crisis’ debate, including questions around the causes, characteristics and consequences of crisis, never posited the existence of a complete rupture between pre-2000 and post-2000 Zimbabwe, as if a clean historical break took place (which, of course, never occurs). Certainly, crucial changes took place as conditioned by the events of the year 2000. But, Zimbabwean ‘crisis’ and other scholars often identify and examine the complex economic, political and social pressures dating back to the early years of independence as setting the conditions for post-2000 developments. Any argument to the effect that meaningful continuities exist in moving from pre-2000 to post-2000 Zimbabwe raises doubts about a watershed moment in the year 2000.

At times, there has been a tendency to want to periodise the earlier decades of Zimbabwean history (Rich Dorman 2016). For instance, it is tempting to depict the 1980s as a period of reconciliation, reconstruction and redistribution, though the Gukurahundi in Matabeleland and parts of the Midlands – as well as other political tendencies – should raise serious concerns about such a characterisation. Likewise, the 1990s might be labelled as a period of neo-liberal restructuring because of the structural adjustment programme which began early in the decade. By the second half of the 1990s, the effects of the structural adjustment programme had become clear, as Zimbabwe’s national economy showed signs of severe stagnation. But the 1990s also saw state discourses and practices which seemed to herald the possible and likely end to market-led land reform. Further, the Zimbabwean state was not simply an enabling state for neo-liberal restructuring, as it was also used (as it had been in the 1980s) to intervene quite directly in sectors of the national economy for purposes of elite-based primitive accumulation (in fact, at times, market openings facilitated the latter).

Undoubtedly, shifts or changes in the Zimbabwean economy and polity have taken place since independence in 1980, including even before the turn of the century. But elements of continuity are readily apparent as well. In this respect, any concerted efforts at periodising Zimbabwean developments since the year 2000 may likely be subject to problems as well, such as for instance: a fast track period from 2000 to 2008 marked by dirigisme and radical populism; a government of national unity period from 2009 to 2013 (in which elements of neo-liberal macro-economy policy existed), or any periodisation of Zimbabwe post-2013 after the return of ZANU-PF as the sole ruling party until the fall of Mugabe. Any temptation to periodise Zimbabwean history needs to take into consideration and recognise that periodisation sometimes masks more than illuminates history.

Overall, if not evident in a consistent and complete manner since Zimbabwe’s independence in 1980, and hence subject to ebbs and flows, it is clear that a deeply authoritarian, violent and predatory state has existed in Zimbabwe as a basis for political survival and as the foundation for asset accumulation by ruling party, state and military elites: whether this takes place via major corruption scandals or though intrusive interventions in agriculture, minerals or other economic sub-sectors. In this context, the deeply intertwined ruling party and state (or party-state) has had a troubling and overbearing presence within civil society, while often – but not always – being nowhere to be found when it comes to the day-to-day lives and livelihoods of ordinary Zimbabweans.

In the year 2000 and 2001, as the land occupations progressed throughout much of the countryside, there was significant optimism amongst war veterans that land was finally being reclaimed and returned to the ‘sons of the soil’. War veterans seemed to be living through, and indeed, constructing a watershed moment. Slowly but surely, though, ZANU-PF and the state coopted, institutionalised and subdued the war veteran-led occupation movement. Like these earlier years, November 2017 was also experienced as a watershed moment in the public domain. As such, like these earlier years, post-November 2017 is marked by continuities and changes with the past, particularly if we consider the designation of the Mugabe years (from 1980 to 2017) as manifestations of Mugabeism that transcend Mugabe’s demise and death.

In the end, for some time, Mnangagwa’s ZANU-PF will likely present the Second Republic as in a state of constant becoming, as if Zimbabwe is in perpetual transition. Transitions are ‘a time of waiting’, such that ‘the function of transitions is to instil a healthy quietism [amongst citizens] before the planetary transformation undertaken on behalf of interests that are never acknowledged or discussed’ (Blix 2006, 65). Because of this, and in going beyond the condition of waiting, the revitalisation and consolidation of democratic impulses amongst ordinary Zimbabwean citizens (as witnessed in 2016) become critical in configuring the character of the transition – in a progressive manner – in the years to come, if not ensuring that Zimbabwe moves beyond the transition into a post-Mugabeism world.

Writing at the cusp

In the main, the articles for this special edition on Zimbabwe were written just prior to the events of November 2017. In this sense, they were written (unknowingly) at the cusp of, or just before, ‘the transition’ between Mugabe and Mnangagwa. Because of this, the articles offer insights into some of the key legacies of the Mugabe ‘era’ as well as the tendencies which were, therefore, embedded in Mnangagwa’s rule from the very beginning. Below, we briefly refer to these.

The first article, by Mkandawire, complicates even further the question of trying to periodise Zimbabwe’s past. Rather than speaking about the possible existence of uniform or consolidated transitions in Zimbabwe since independence in 1980, Mkandawire identifies and unbundles a number of uneven and incomplete transitions, and he speaks about the significance of ‘transition overload’.

Gukurume and Nhodo, in their study of forced displacements of local people in the Chiadzwa diamond area in Manicaland, bring to the fore the pronounced presence of state authoritarianism (militarisation and coercion) in the ‘Mugabe era’, but they also provide an analysis of the lived experiences of Chiadzwa people and their local forms of resistance to displacement.

Like diamonds, fast track land reform and agricultural activities have provided a platform (through A2 farms) for accumulation by political and military elites aligned with ZANU-PF. In this context, and in the light of Mugabe’s Look East Policy, Mazwi, Chambati and Mudimu examine contract farming (specifically in the tobacco sub-sector) as it arose in the years subsequent to fast track reform. With a focus on both Goromonzi and Zvimba, they consider land use patterns (including communal farmers, and both A1 and A2 fast track farmers) as well as diverse accumulation trajectories amongst tobacco farmers.

In his article on land reform and whiteness in Zimbabwe, Nel offers a nuanced account and understanding of the differentiated responses (from dropping out, to adapting) and subjectivities amongst white farmers in Matobo (in Matabeleland South), a part of the country which has not received significant attention in the fast track literature. In doing so, he discusses how these developments relate to Mnangagwa’s attempt at re-engaging with white farmers.

In turning from rural to urban spaces, the article by Muchadenyika and Williams considers central-local state contestations as well as challenges pertaining to urban accountability and management in Zimbabwe. In disaggregating the local state, and hence in focusing on both elected councillors and appointed officials, they offer a rendering of urban authorities in Zimbabwe as sites of political tension and conflict. This of course relates to the broader contestations between ZANU-PF and MDC, and the state’s strident attempts to subdue oppositional councils in line with its authoritarian thrust.

State authoritarian (and malpractices) in Zimbabwe is often brought to the fore in relation to national elections, both parliamentary and presidential. In this context, Mwonzora provides a critical analysis of the state-driven biometric voter registration process in contemporary Zimbabwe. However, he concentrates mainly on the ways in which urban-based activist social networks (including via social media) sought to educate the Zimbabwean public about BVR and, simultaneously, to mobilise citizens to register as voters.

In a similar vein, but more broadly, Hove and Chenzi examine social media-based mobilisation and protests (including #Tajamuka and #ThisFlag), mainly in the year 2016, and the capacity of these political initiatives – as counter-publics – to challenge the Zimbabwean government in such a way as to bring about significant reforms. In doing so, they also show the heavy-handedness of Mugabe’s ZANU-PF, not unlike the repressive responses of the state to open protests in the ‘post-Mugabe era’, as noted earlier.

Meanwhile, other forms of civic activism, perhaps less visible to the state (but certainly not without risks to activists), have been taking place in Zimbabwe. In his article, O’Brien examines community mobilisation and activism around HIV in Zimbabwe, based on a study in Harare. Often outside formal civil society organisational formations, and at times at a very localised (i.e. neighbourhood) level, people living with HIV (and those affected by it) collaborate and seek ways to negotiate and claim their rights with regard to HIV, which may lead to wider coalition-building around HIV.

Finally, last but not least, in an important addition to the literature on reconciliation in contemporary Zimbabwe, Jeater considers particular forms of local agency, namely, spirit-oriented systems of reconciliation and healing in Zimbabwe. In the light of the National Peace and Reconciliation Commission, she focuses on three grassroots groups and the multi-faceted and complicated (potential) significance of spirits and spirit beliefs (and spiritual life more broadly) as a basis for dispute resolution, peace and reconciliation.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Notes on contributors

Kirk Helliker is a Research Professor and Head of the Unit of Zimbabwean Studies in the Department of Sociology at Rhodes University, South Africa. In 2018, he co-edited two books published by Routledge titled ‘Politics at a Distance from the State: Radical and African Perspectives’ and ‘The Political Economy of Livelihoods in Zimbabwe’. He supervises a large number of Zimbabwean PhD students, and writes primarily on livelihoods, land struggles, civil society and democratisation in Zimbabwe. He can be contacted at: [email protected]

Tendai Murisa is a development practitioner and researcher with over 17 years working experience in the areas of public policy, agency, social movements, philanthropy, NGOs, and pro-poor development across Africa. He is currently the Executive Director of the SIVIO Institute. He has published extensively on agency, agrarian reforms (especially in Zimbabwe and elsewhere in Africa), citizens and civil society, financial inclusion, social entrepreneurship, and social policy in peer reviewed journals and book chapters. He has edited three books on Zimbabwe and Southern Africa and is a leading voice on agrarian reform issues in Africa and an advocate for strengthening civil society in order to achieve the twin goals of democracy and development. He can be contacted at: [email protected]

Notes

1 http://www.zimstat.co.zw/sites/default/files/img/publications/Prices/CIP_3_2019_0.pdf

2 https://agoa.info/news/article/15362-us-to-consider-zimbabwe-s-eligibility-for-agoa-this-year.html