It is hardly salutary for a
leader that is known for indecisiveness to be caught in any
uncomfortable situation that requires judgment.
Tichaona Zindoga
It must be worse for Morgan Richard Tsvangirai, leader of the opposition MDC-T, who now faces a five-way conundrum which will determine the fate of the outfit that currently is facing a second split under his watch.
How
Tsvangirai will handle five critical decision points will define the
course of politics in Zimbabwe and seal Tsvangirai’s place in the
history of the country, for better or for worse.
Granted, since
Independence in 1980, Tsvangirai has been the only politician that has
managed to shake the political landscape that has been dominated by the
liberation movement fronted by Zanu-PF and President Mugabe.
The
formation of the MDC in 1999 provided excitement to a political culture
that was beset by complacency and at some point even entertained the
idea of a one-party state.
The MDC was supposed to be a worker’s
party – and stayed true to the definition and ideology in the initial
years, witness its support in urban areas, although there was a strong
identification with the white farming community who provided the money,
and Western ideologues.
In the intervening years, the MDC would
shed off its worker base to become a melting pot of elements opposed to
Zanu-PF, with Western interests becoming louder and louder while
Tsvangirai fronted both Western and opposition interests.
The student movement, also under socio-economic stress, would look up to, and boost, the political muscle of Tsvangirai.
But the initial push failed in the period between 2000 and 2005.
Cracks began to emerge, resulting in the split of October 12, 2005.
Yet
Tsvangirai retained the top seat and in 2008, aided by Western
sanctions on Zimbabwe, the MDC leader had a taste of State power by
securing a place in the inclusive Government.
It would prove a costly miss.
Five
years later, in July 2013, his party dismally lost elections and the
aftermath of the elections is set to test the character of both
Tsvangirai and the opposition movement in Zimbabwe.
Infighting has
again reared its head and Tsvangirai now stands at a crossroads: his
next steps will shape the country’s politics forever depending on how he
manoeuvres five questions.
Intra-party unity: The MDC-T house today resembles a
Royal Rumble match more than it does a political party. For those
unfamiliar with Royal Rumble, it is a wrestling TV show initially
produced by the World Wrestling Federation, in which, according to one
definition, a number of wrestlers aim at eliminating their competitors
by tossing them over the top rope, with both feet touching the floor.
The winner of the event is the last wrestler remaining in the ring after
all others have been eliminated.
The wrestlers may form weak
alliances but at the end of the day, all contrive to be the last man
standing. MDC-T has all the ingredients of a Royal Rumble. Tsvangirai
seeks by means fair and foul to be the last man standing. Will
Tsvangirai pursue the Royal Rumble or will he call it to halt?
Diplomacy:
Tsvangirai is not his sexiest at the moment to his Western donors and
diplomatic friends, from the British Embassy to George Soros. Lately, he
has been castigating these forces for interfering in the affairs of his
party. Will he cut the umbilical cord with the Western founders and
funders? What kind of policies will he pursue afterwards? It is a make
or break decision that he has to take.
Tsvangirai may choose to
continue playing the puppet, under even more constraining conditions, or
choose to break free and court a new politician that can brag about
independence. Either way the stakes are high.
Funding:
This is closely linked to the above. It would seem Tsvangirai, already
suffering from dwindling resources, has been toying with the idea of
finding alternatives to Western funding.
Tsvangirai's (hapless) panacea:
his supporters could sell goats and chickens to fund MDC so it becomes
more independent. The only problem with that is there will not be any
legendary seas to be conquered. There won’t simply be enough.
Grassroots support:
The idea that Tsvangirai has grassroots support has been such a
comforting prospect for him. When factionalism began to shake the party,
Tsvangirai resorted to seeking solace in captive crowds and party thugs
in Harare to reassure him.
Such gangs have been denouncing
Tsvangirai’s internal opponents like Mangoma, even mocking him for being
disabled. Tsvangirai loves that. They will kill for him. However, far
from the mad, rented crowds, Tsvangirai will need to ensure that he has
the numbers.
Already, if the party splits, it means that
Tsvangirai will have roughly a third of the party’s supporters. Such a
trajectory, honed by Tsvangirai himself, does not seem to promise a
fruitful future for him.
Strategy: Whatever the
outcome of the present malaise, the future of opposition politics will
depend on what strategies the main party will employ amid the ever
diminishing returns. Biti tells us that MDC-T’s “change” message is
tired. Perhaps so too are promises of some rich white friends coming to
rescue us poor Zimbabwean folk. The Western friends, if they still are,
are broke themselves. Whither opposition?
Friday, March 14, 2014
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Morgan Tsvangirai is now desperate man
It is now very telling that he appeals to his opponents, with nothing but his ego and fame as bargaining chips.
Tichaona Zindoga
Desperation; it’s like one can see the word written on the wall. It is a tough time for Morgan Tsvangirai, the leader of the opposition MDC-T. Having lost successive elections in the last 15 years, the last of which was on July 31, 2013, he now stares a split in his party as internal opposition to his leadership grows.
The reasons for this growth in opposition are largely because of his electoral failures and the manifestation of a repressive and undemocratic streak in his character.
Over the weekend, Tsvangirai made a curious call that betrayed his desperation as the captain of a sinking ship.
He called on ex-members who left the party and have gone on to form their political parties to come back to his “tent”.
He called on Job Sikhala, a one time legislator on an MDC ticket, who went to join a splinter party and later formed his own MDC-99, to come back into the fold.
He appealed to Welshman Ncube his bête noire in the acrimonious 2005 split; Professor Lovemore Madhuku, erstwhile comrade in the elusive “people-driven constitution”
(in Madhuku’s terms, of course) and now leader of a political party morphed from the National Constitutional Assembly.
The desperation is palpable.
It can be dissected in at least three ways: one, this is a call coming from a man defeated and hopeless.
Such a call could have sufficed — when made in good faith — before July 31.
Tsvangirai would not make such a call, or appeal with an acceptable degree of honesty, when he thought he was going to win the election.
It is now very telling that he appeals to his opponents, with nothing but his ego and fame as bargaining chips.
The second way in which Tsvangirai betrays desperation lies in the substance of the men he is calling on to join him.
They are all electoral losers and Lovemore Madhuku is even failing to set up the political party that he controversially conceived from the NCA.
The project already has been hit by desertions of (perceived) key personages like Takura Zhangazha and Blessing Vava.
Ncube may have been at the helm of an organisationally better MDC but he too proved to be an absolute failure ideologically.
And besides, Ncube has time and again refused, at least publicly, to go back to Tsvangirai owing to personal and ethical differences with the latter.
So, why would Tsvangirai make the appeal?
It may sound ironic that he seeks partnership with those outside when he is failing to hold on to members inside the party.
It can be noted, though, that Tsvangirai, in the unlikely event that these guys heed the call, requires some numbers around him to boost his ego, swell his party loyalty,
delay any precipitous congress or vote of (no) confidence and eventually push dissenters out.
Tsvangirai needs to buy time as he seeks to marshal his increasingly tenuous hold on the levers of power.
The third and probably most poignant indicator of Tsvangirai’s desperation is his invocation of God in his self-serving way, and seeking to project himself as a second pater.
He said at the rally: “God doesn’t destroy; God builds. If you do something wrong to your father and you are outside in the dark, he will call you inside the house. Don’t remain outside, come back to the others because you are a family member. If you stay outside you will die of hunger and be a destitute.”
Politics does not operate in such a godly manner; the skulduggery is rather too much.
Tsvangirai knows it.
When he invokes God and seeks to play the earthly father, he is being dishonest: in this case, he himself looks set to die of hunger and be a destitute.
He has to avoid it at all costs.
Still there is further evidence of desperation in Tsvangirai.
Money has become such a problem.
The donors have become sparse, scheming.
He now calls on ordinary people of Zimbabwe to finance the party, and his own livelihood.
That used to be the preserve of donors, who even financed his personal life.
How times change.
Two weeks ago he said: “Every member of the MDC must now contribute something for the struggle starting from March. We don’t want programmes to stop because we don’t have cash.”
And at the weekend he said: “It is high time that Zimbabweans underwrite their own struggle. You can’t continue to say to donors, ‘thank you’ all the time. If you are proud people you must be able to underwrite your struggle.”
Are these not the same donors and “rich friends” that he was once so proud of, that would bring in billions of dollars to resuscitate the economy and help the same poor people that Tsvangirai now asks to fund him?
And look who is now envying church pastors and competing for alms!
It is a desperate situation and while such times bring the best in some, they bring the worst in dear Morgan.
The latest turn of events brings to the fore the vacillating nature of Tsvangirai.
For those that care to remember, Tsvangirai, until recently, was angling for “national dialogue” which would pave way for another unity government.
During his “state of the nation” address on January 24, he said he had “sincere belief that the political dialogue will assist in developing national consensus on how to move the country forward,” beginning with a “meeting of stakeholders from different backgrounds”.
Or is the new coalition with Ncube, Madhuku and Sikhala what he had in mind?
For those watching him and events in the country with interest, they will realise that Tsvangirai, if on January 24, sought to project himself as changing the game and ready to alter the course of politics in the country, especially by forcing Zanu-PF to the negotiating table, it was just hot air.
That is why January 24 has quickly faded away from people’s minds.
In place of a national dialogue that would see him back to the apex of political play, Tsvangirai now realistically has to dally in the league of minnows like Job Sikhala, who for all is known, does not command any constituency beyond his circle of friends.
And hear how Sikhala shot back at Tsvangirai’s offer: “Tsvangirai knows my phone number. If he is serious, he should not grandstand at rallies; call me so that we can try to find common ground.”
Sikhala makes it clear he knows where Tsvangirai belongs.
He can afford to chide him for grandstanding at rallies, while making it clear that Tsvangirai has to climb down from his not so high horse and approach him.
And Sikhala will play hard to get, as they “try to find common ground”, too!
| Staring irrelevance...Morgan Tsvangirai |
Desperation; it’s like one can see the word written on the wall. It is a tough time for Morgan Tsvangirai, the leader of the opposition MDC-T. Having lost successive elections in the last 15 years, the last of which was on July 31, 2013, he now stares a split in his party as internal opposition to his leadership grows.
The reasons for this growth in opposition are largely because of his electoral failures and the manifestation of a repressive and undemocratic streak in his character.
Over the weekend, Tsvangirai made a curious call that betrayed his desperation as the captain of a sinking ship.
He called on ex-members who left the party and have gone on to form their political parties to come back to his “tent”.
He called on Job Sikhala, a one time legislator on an MDC ticket, who went to join a splinter party and later formed his own MDC-99, to come back into the fold.
He appealed to Welshman Ncube his bête noire in the acrimonious 2005 split; Professor Lovemore Madhuku, erstwhile comrade in the elusive “people-driven constitution”
(in Madhuku’s terms, of course) and now leader of a political party morphed from the National Constitutional Assembly.
The desperation is palpable.
It can be dissected in at least three ways: one, this is a call coming from a man defeated and hopeless.
Such a call could have sufficed — when made in good faith — before July 31.
Tsvangirai would not make such a call, or appeal with an acceptable degree of honesty, when he thought he was going to win the election.
It is now very telling that he appeals to his opponents, with nothing but his ego and fame as bargaining chips.
The second way in which Tsvangirai betrays desperation lies in the substance of the men he is calling on to join him.
They are all electoral losers and Lovemore Madhuku is even failing to set up the political party that he controversially conceived from the NCA.
The project already has been hit by desertions of (perceived) key personages like Takura Zhangazha and Blessing Vava.
Ncube may have been at the helm of an organisationally better MDC but he too proved to be an absolute failure ideologically.
And besides, Ncube has time and again refused, at least publicly, to go back to Tsvangirai owing to personal and ethical differences with the latter.
So, why would Tsvangirai make the appeal?
It may sound ironic that he seeks partnership with those outside when he is failing to hold on to members inside the party.
It can be noted, though, that Tsvangirai, in the unlikely event that these guys heed the call, requires some numbers around him to boost his ego, swell his party loyalty,
delay any precipitous congress or vote of (no) confidence and eventually push dissenters out.
Tsvangirai needs to buy time as he seeks to marshal his increasingly tenuous hold on the levers of power.
The third and probably most poignant indicator of Tsvangirai’s desperation is his invocation of God in his self-serving way, and seeking to project himself as a second pater.
He said at the rally: “God doesn’t destroy; God builds. If you do something wrong to your father and you are outside in the dark, he will call you inside the house. Don’t remain outside, come back to the others because you are a family member. If you stay outside you will die of hunger and be a destitute.”
Politics does not operate in such a godly manner; the skulduggery is rather too much.
Tsvangirai knows it.
When he invokes God and seeks to play the earthly father, he is being dishonest: in this case, he himself looks set to die of hunger and be a destitute.
He has to avoid it at all costs.
Still there is further evidence of desperation in Tsvangirai.
Money has become such a problem.
The donors have become sparse, scheming.
He now calls on ordinary people of Zimbabwe to finance the party, and his own livelihood.
That used to be the preserve of donors, who even financed his personal life.
How times change.
Two weeks ago he said: “Every member of the MDC must now contribute something for the struggle starting from March. We don’t want programmes to stop because we don’t have cash.”
And at the weekend he said: “It is high time that Zimbabweans underwrite their own struggle. You can’t continue to say to donors, ‘thank you’ all the time. If you are proud people you must be able to underwrite your struggle.”
Are these not the same donors and “rich friends” that he was once so proud of, that would bring in billions of dollars to resuscitate the economy and help the same poor people that Tsvangirai now asks to fund him?
And look who is now envying church pastors and competing for alms!
It is a desperate situation and while such times bring the best in some, they bring the worst in dear Morgan.
The latest turn of events brings to the fore the vacillating nature of Tsvangirai.
For those that care to remember, Tsvangirai, until recently, was angling for “national dialogue” which would pave way for another unity government.
During his “state of the nation” address on January 24, he said he had “sincere belief that the political dialogue will assist in developing national consensus on how to move the country forward,” beginning with a “meeting of stakeholders from different backgrounds”.
Or is the new coalition with Ncube, Madhuku and Sikhala what he had in mind?
For those watching him and events in the country with interest, they will realise that Tsvangirai, if on January 24, sought to project himself as changing the game and ready to alter the course of politics in the country, especially by forcing Zanu-PF to the negotiating table, it was just hot air.
That is why January 24 has quickly faded away from people’s minds.
In place of a national dialogue that would see him back to the apex of political play, Tsvangirai now realistically has to dally in the league of minnows like Job Sikhala, who for all is known, does not command any constituency beyond his circle of friends.
And hear how Sikhala shot back at Tsvangirai’s offer: “Tsvangirai knows my phone number. If he is serious, he should not grandstand at rallies; call me so that we can try to find common ground.”
Sikhala makes it clear he knows where Tsvangirai belongs.
He can afford to chide him for grandstanding at rallies, while making it clear that Tsvangirai has to climb down from his not so high horse and approach him.
And Sikhala will play hard to get, as they “try to find common ground”, too!
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