The crocodile swims in murky waters

Zimbabwe’s new president says he is a democrat. Is he?

Emmerson Mnangagwa says some sensible things, but has yet to win over sceptics

WILL parliamentary and presidential elections, which must be held by late July, be free and
fair? If so, will Emmerson Mnangagwa and his Zanu-PF party, which has run Zimbabwe
since independence in 1980, win? And if they lose, will they hand over power to the victors,
as they have brazenly failed to do in the past? This set of questions hangs over the country.
One certainty, however, is that Zimbabwe is better off now that it is no longer under the
thumb of Robert Mugabe, who ruled it for 37 years. Even better is that it has not fallen under
the sway of his greedy wife, 52-year-old Grace Mugabe, whose tightening grip over her then
93-year-old husband prompted the army to step in, shove the old man into retirement and lift
Mr Mnangagwa into the top spot in November.

Yet the new 75-year-old leader, known as the Crocodile, remains an enigma (see article). He
has made some sensible noises, promising to amend a law that declares that businesses
should be at least 51% owned by black Zimbabweans or the state. He wants to compensate
the 4,000-plus white farmers whose land has been confiscated since 2000, and re-establish
property rights (up to a point) by providing 99-year leases to commercial farmers, white and
black. He has promised fair elections and says he and his party will bow out if they lose.

The mood in Harare, the capital, is jollier than it was under Mr Mugabe. The police, who
routinely plundered drivers at ubiquitous roadblocks, are off the streets. Many Zimbabweans
hope for a rosier future after decades of economic decline punctuated by bouts of horrific
violence orchestrated by the ruling party. Foreign investors are sniffing around for the first
time since the land-grabs began.

But old worries are creeping back. Is Mr Mnangagwa master or servant of the generals who
made him president? Whereas many hoped he would widen his cabinet and kick out the worst
rascals, he has kept some of the nastiest of the old guard. Constantino Chiwenga, the army
commander who led the coup, is his vice-president.

The urge to purge

Mr Mnangagwa’s anti-corruption drive has so far been aimed entirely at his enemies in Zanu-
PF, particularly Mrs Mugabe’s favourites, putting many behind bars. The reviled Obert
Mpofu, who has been accused in parliament of demanding vast bribes when minister of
mines, is now home minister. The Crocodile has not yet dared to scrunch the former first
lady, even though he reckons she tried to assassinate him (with poisoned ice-cream).

The economy is still dire. About 90% of working-age people lack formal jobs. The legions
reduced to hawking on the streets of Harare and Bulawayo, Zimbabwe’s second city, are
preyed on by Zanu-PF thugs demanding pay-offs. Electricity and water are intermittent, even
in hospitals. ATMs are empty. State workers’ wages are paid months late. In a residual
population of 13m, 3m survive on food handouts from America and Britain. Perhaps 3m
Zimbabweans have fled abroad.

The biggest question-mark hangs over the elections. The voters’ roll, which was manipulated
in 2013, has been updated quite well. The electoral commission that used to pander to Mr
Mugabe has a new chairperson claiming independence. Mr Mnangagwa has lifted Mr
Mugabe’s ban on election observers from the West, including the European Union and the
Commonwealth. “I’m very happy that the Doubting Thomases can come in,” he says.

The opposition Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) has been torn by infighting, before
and even during the demise of Morgan Tsvangirai, its founding leader. His death on February
14th provoked a massive outpouring of grief in Harare that rattled the government. It may be
easier for the main opposition, made up of three endlessly splintering? alliances, to sort itself
out now that Mr Tsvangirai is gone. Nelson Chamisa, 40, an articulate lawyer who appeals to
young urbanites, could rally it ahead of the election. It may well sweep the cities, as it has
done before.

But Zanu-PF’s brutally effective machine is expected to wrap up the more numerous rural
populace, who are easier to intimidate. Civic groups say the party’s heavies have persuaded
villagers that how they vote can be detected via the barcodes of their biometric registration
slips. Joice Mujuru, a former vice-president now in opposition who fell out with Mr Mugabe
(and whose husband, a former head of the army, was mysteriously burned to death in 2011),
claims that 3,000 soldiers have already been sent to the countryside in civilian garb to
campaign and bully. Villagers fear that rural chiefs and headmen will withhold food aid if
they suspect them of voting the wrong way. Zanu-PF’s national political commissar
menacingly told a rural gathering that people should remember 2008, when thousands of
MDC activists in the countryside were set upon by Zanu-PF militias and hundreds were
murdered. Many analysts think that Zanu-PF’s rural voting bloc should ensure victory for Mr
Mnangagwa, even without resorting to violence. “Just the memory of 2008 is enough,” says a
former MDC campaigner.

But that is no certainty. If it is a tight race, the ultimate question is whether the army will hold
back. The new head of the electoral commission admits that 15% of the commission’s staff
are retired military officers. In previous elections, army commanders declared that they
would never serve under the MDC. Mr Mnangagwa insists that the generals are not involved
in politics and that “those statements are dead.” But he rejects the idea that General Chiwenga
and the new head of the army should publicly say so. Zimbabwe is in for a nervous few
months.