Africa's colonial trauma

Perhaps the worst thing that could be said about Robert Mugabe is that he has exploited his populus more ruthlessly than the colonialists whose rule he effectively replaced. In what appears to be a terrible (and no doubt subconscious) caricature of the worst aspects of colonialism, he has enslaved the people of Zimbabwe. He has concentrated power in the presidency, used violence systematically to subjugate the population, granted a small elite of his cronies vast privileges and rights above others, undermined the supremacy of parliament, and debauched the currency to the extent that it has effectively corroded almost every aspect of normal economic life. He now appears to be engaged in systematically rigging the election and defying the democratic mandate of the people. In this latter attempt it could be argued that his actions demonstrate his own fundamental feelings towards his fellow Africans more eloquently than any amount of grandstanding on the evils of colonialism.

Compared with Mugabe, the former British colonialists at least established freedom of the press, an independent judiciary, a stable currency, and a functioning economy capable of supplying its own food and exporting surpluses. A significant progressive proportion of the former colonial power believed (no doubt patronisingly but sincerely) in the emancipation of the indigenous peoples — a set of assumptions which eventually culminated in Macmillan’s “wind of change” policies granting independence to Britain’s remaining African colonies.

Those who are not familiar with Africa are perhaps unaware of the degree to which so much of the continent has been genuinely traumatised by colonialism. It could be argued that all colonies are to some extent affected, but the level of African colonial trauma is unusual, and quite possibly unique. After all, colonialism has not held back China, or India, or southeast Asia states such as Singapore or Thailand, from advancing by various paths towards functioning modern states. In Africa, however, a large part of the population unfortunately regards the colonial past as the key or defining aspect of their lives. Decades after the last colonial administrations, certain African leaders continue to use the threat of re-colonisation as a means of unifying a populace against a largely imaginary external conspiracy. Mugabe epitomises this in its most extreme form.

The unique African colonial trauma is not only powerful in its continuing appeal to a significant proportion of the population, but has been potent enough to guarantee Mugabe in power for 28 years. Whenever his administration is threatened, he rushes to reassert what seems to him to be a simple, primal truth. If his country is not eternally “vigilant”, it will be re-colonised by the British. Mugabe invariably portrays himself as the last bulwark against re-colonisation, and justifies all his actions accordingly. This was the centrepiece of Mugabe’s speech at his most recent mass rally.

Africa’s special colonial trauma is by no means uniform across states, and in this at least there is cause for hope. By contrast, Botswana — (and perhaps nostalgically) evoked for English readers in Alexander McCall Smith’s novels — managed a less traumatic and more gentle transition to independence. Its founding political leader, Sir Seretsi Khama, had far easier relations with the former colonialists than Mugabe. After his country’s independence, his BDP party won the general election in 1965 and since then Botswana’s democratic institutions have taken hold and appear to be stable. It is, geographically speaking, a landlocked country with an arid climate which includes large swathes of the Kalahari desert, and its economy continues to have a too large dependence on diamonds. But despite these physical disadvantages Botswana demonstrates the obverse of the special colonial trauma which affects Zimbabwe. The populus, by and large, tends to trust its elected politicians. It is also one of the few African countries where there is a genuine attempt to isolate and limit corruption amongst the political elite.

In other parts of Africa the colonial trauma still holds strong sway, and tragically dominates political discourse. Its prevalence not only explains why Mugabe has been able to enslave his own population in the name of anti-colonialism, but it also helps to clarify why the leaders of neighbouring countries, such as Thabo Mbeki, accord Mugabe such latitude in his attempts to retain power. In the mind of Mbeki, the colonial trauma is of such overwhelming importance that Mugabe’s status as his country’s liberator outweighs and supersedes all the crimes he has committed against his own people.

Britain, and Prime Minister Brown, find themselves in a paradoxical position in attempting to negotiate this delicate situation. On the one hand, any interest in Zimbabwe’s democratic structures (or the lack of them) can be immediately characterised by Mugabe and his allies as an attempt by the former colonial power to reassert its hegemony. This in turn can make such pronouncements — however well-meaning — counter-productive.

A better strategy is to face directly the legacy of colonial trauma, recognise its importance, and begin to help Africa by attempting gently to dismantle its most self-destructive elements. We are fortunate perhaps that the forces of history are on our side. A newer generation of African leaders, who have no direct experience of colonialism, will soon come to power. They do not define themselves as anti-colonial liberators, and will have stronger incentives to make their own countries function effectively in a modern world. Other more intangible factors, such as the rise of a formidable African-American presidential candidate in the United states, may further help the process by subtly moderating the attitude of Africans towards themselves and their social and cultural inheritance.

One thing, however, is certain. The sooner that the last vestiges of colonial trauma are removed from Africa or are superseded by natural political evolution, the sooner African states will be able take their place in the modern world. And if this is so, there can be little doubt that we ought to conduct our policy towards African states largely with this in mind.

Against a background of provocative actions by the Mugabe regime, we should be extremely careful that our actions cannot be used as evidence that we are planning to interfere in that country, and thus as a means by which Mugabe can prolong Zimbabwe’s agony. Against our better instincts, the best we can do is stand back, and offer at most quiet and covert support to those opposition parties who genuinely wish to rid themselves of Mugabe’s dictatorial regime.

Within Zimbabwe itself, Morgan Tsvangirai is one of a newer generation of leaders whose political consciousness has been formed after his country’s independence. On the wider front, both Mugabe and his South African supporter, Thabo Mbeki — two old freedom fighters who embody the colonial trauma at its most extreme — are receding forces in the developing African states. Mugabe’s increasingly desperate regime is engaged in the last desperate throw of the dice. Mbeki’s position has been irreparably weakened by his loss of the ANC leadership to his rival Jacob Zuma, who promises a more pragmatic and less tolerant attitude to Zimbabwe’s electoral violations.

However slowly it happens, and however tortuous the process may appear, we would be justified in assuming that African countries are capable of reforming themselves, and should be left to forge their own destiny. A severe political and social crisis has been averted in Kenya largely through the responsible intervention of other African politicians. Zimbabwe too will emerge from under its present terrible regime, probably sooner rather than later. The country and its people will benefit greatly if it does so under its own auspices and independently of the former colonial power.