Zimbabwe

The year ahead for Zimbabwe is looking grim. The vast majority of its people will continue to suffer, and its leaders will continue to blame others for their own failures. Friends of Zimbabwe in the United States had hoped that the end of the Mugabe era and the glaring unsustainability of the country’s economic governance model—which has resulted in a shrinking economy and one of the world’s highest inflation rates—would trigger meaningful reforms that could attract international support. As 2020 begins, those hopes have been thoroughly extinguished by President Mnangagwa and his ruling ZANU-PF party, who have established a record of violently intimidating political opponents, protecting corrupt command economy schemes that benefit elites, and disregarding the country’s own constitution. Nearly 8 million Zimbabweans, roughly half of the population, are food-insecure, as years of drought have devastated the country's agriculture. Zimbabwe’s plight is one of many painful testaments to the consequences of climate change in a region that contributed very little to the problem. But the effects of the drought are so severe because the country is in such a vulnerable and weakened state, the result of decades of self-serving leadership. Some suggest that the dire conditions in the country could prompt another party-managed leadership transition. But changing faces at the top of a structure that offers economic opportunity only to the well-connected few cannot bring relief to the country. Only a genuine commitment to a different kind of governance, one that prioritizes citizens’ needs and the rule of law, can lift Zimbabwe out of the painful rut in which it is mired. Zimbabwe’s neighbors in southern Africa have shown little appetite for wading into the country’s toxic politics, but the drag that Zimbabwe’s crisis has on regional growth cannot be completely ignored. Thus former South African President Thabo Mbeki has begun talks with government and opposition leaders in a regionally-backed attempt to find a political framework for the country’s recovery. While few expect miraculous results, it is important to remember that Zimbabwe’s situation is not, and has never been, hopeless.  Many people are simply struggling for survival, but others, like participants in the Citizen’s Manifesto movement, continue organizing to articulate a way forward for the country. Brave lawyers, journalists, community organizers, and others continue to defy intimidation in exposing government corruption and incompetence and insisting on justice. Of course, a robust and expeditious international response to the country's urgent humanitarian needs is essential. But it will be equally important to elevate the voices of Zimbabwean civil society in the difficult year ahead to stave off resignation and find a way out of the crisis. 

Robert Mugabe, who ruled over Zimbabwe for 37 years, died on September 6. His was an undeniably epic life of glaring contradictions. He was a passionate voice for the liberation of the Zimbabwean people from the injustice and humiliation of white minority rule, but a brutal oppressor when those same people sought to exercise political freedom. For a time he helped to build a widely admired national education system, empowering citizens intellectually but then punishing those who used their intellect to challenge his dominance or question his decisions. He was a fierce nationalist and advocate of “Zimbabwe for Zimbabweans” who died in far-off Singapore, having long eschewed the inadequate medical resources of his country’s hollowed-out health system and adopted the elite practice of seeking medical care abroad. He helped to create a state that he then destroyed, and a system that ultimately destroyed him. Finally, he was the indispensable man who became an irrelevance. Once sure that his dominance and the country of Zimbabwe were inextricably linked, his death is of little consequence to that country today. When military officers and leaders in the ruling party ousted Mugabe in 2017, the system of repressive governance that protects a small circle of elites overran its foremost founder, casting him aside in its own interests. Today, the system persists. Opponents of the ruling party are harassed, tortured, and sometimes killed.  For many Zimbabweans, there is little relief in sight from grinding poverty and shrinking opportunities as a consequence of economic mismanagement intended to protect the connected few. The state-dominated media publishes outright falsehoods and wild accusations, often with the aim of instilling widespread fear.  This toxic system is Mugabe’s enduring legacy.

“The good die young, and Robert Mugabe will live forever.” The well-worn phrase no longer applies to the Zimbabwean strongman. On September 6, he died in Singapore at the age of ninety-five.  During his thirty-seven years in power in Zimbabwe, he committed virtually every human rights violation there is. His hands were awash in the blood of Zimbabweans. Within the “liberation movement” that drove the white supremacist government of Ian Smith from power in 1980 (with considerable, if unacknowledged, assistance from apartheid South Africa, which was fearful that the bush war in Zimbabwe might spread south), he exploited ethnic differences to destroy his political enemies. Following independence, he waged war on the Ndebele people, who supported his political rival Joshua Nkomo, using North-Korea-trained troops. Fanning and exploiting racial and class differences, he destroyed the country’s economy, once on the cusp of being one of Africa’s most developed, driving out commercial white farmers. He bought some time by exploiting the country’s diamond riches in cahoots with Chinese companies. He largely perverted the country’s domestic institutions through violence and intimidation, even attacking the Anglican Church. By the time he died, Zimbabwe was an international pariah, an economic basket case, and many or most of the country’s most educated and productive citizens had left the country. Yet, Mugabe benefited from a remarkable Teflon quality. African leaders were loath to criticize him because of the view that he was a leader of Africa’s liberation. Western reluctance to recognize how evil he was is less obvious. A Western drive for “balance” in considering Mugabe was long-standing. When he first came to power, Mugabe preached racial reconciliation and moderation. Western observers, looking for an African hero, saw him as a democrat and reassured themselves that, after all, he was a Catholic (he was educated at a Jesuit school). Whether he ever was sincere in his democracy or his religion, is hard to know. Nelson Mandela was, of course, genuine in his devotion to democracy and racial reconciliation. Mugabe clearly resented him, and has consistently criticized him as “selling-out” South Africa’s blacks to white interests. But Western reluctance to criticize him endured, especially during apartheid South Africa's domination of southern Africa. Western reluctance may, in part, have also reflected guilt over colonialism and white racism. Even the Washington Post’s headline of September 6 trumpeted that he “helped liberate and destroy his country.” Destroy it he certainly did. But his “liberation” for far too many Zimbabweans was the liberation of death. He built a repressive security state that has continued on largely unchanged after a 2017 palace coup removed him from power. The coup was led by his eventual successor (and partner in crime) Emmerson Mnangagwa.  Mugabe’s death changes little for the Zimbabwean people, at least for now. He is likely to be remembered not as a “liberation” leader but instead as a salutary reminder that a single individual with great power and some allies can destroy a country. 

Long-standing financial troubles and drought in Zimbabwe have pushed millions to the brink of starvation.

Four years ago, on July 2, 2015, a Minneapolis dentist killed a well-known Lion, Cecil, in a Zimbabwe trophy hunt with a bow and arrow. Cecil was something of a star in the developed world. He attracted tourists, in part because his black mane made him readily identifiable, in part because he allowed safari sight-seeing vehicles to come up close. He was also part of an Oxford University wildlife study, and wore a GPS tracking collar. Cecil’s killing provoked outrage in Europe and the United States, and the resulting media storm made the dentist an international pariah, at least at the moment. Nevertheless, following an investigation, the Zimbabwe authorities determined that the dentist had a permit and that the hunt was legal. Neither the dentist nor his hunting guide were ever successfully prosecuted in Zimbabwe or elsewhere. Zimbabwean authorities have said the dentist is free to return to Zimbabwe whenever he likes, though not as a big-game hunter However, in the aftermath of the outcry over Cecil, American and British airlines banned the transport of hunting trophies, and the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service added lions to its endangered species list, making it more difficult for Americans to hunt them under American law.  In Zimbabwe the killing caused hardly a ripple. Cecil was hardly known, according to the media. Lions, especially those living in close proximity to farms, are often viewed by local people as a dangerous menace. Some Zimbabweans took the Western hype over Cecil as yet more evidence that Europeans and Americans put a higher value on wild animals than on black people. Some African conservation officials expressed concern that if trophy hunting—and the huge fees that they command—were banned, essential funding for conservation programs would dry up.  Marking the fourth anniversary of Cecil’s killing, the Financial Times (FT) ran a story indicating that there is more money from wild animal tourism than from trophy hunting. The dentist allegedly paid $59,000 to kill Cecil. Charity LionAid (an NGO) has calculated that a male lion in the Serengeti brings Tanzania $890,000 in tourism revenue over a five-year period. Using a different set of calculations, an FT columnist concluded that the tourism value of a lion is about $179,000—still multiple times higher than the return for trophy hunting a lion.  Perhaps the bottom line of the Cecil episode is that it highlights the difficult trade-offs conservation, local opinion, tourism, and trophy hunting impose on African governments, many of which are poor and with limited bureaucratic and administrative capacity. They must balance local community concern about damage inflicted by wildlife on people and crops with often uncritical western support for “conservation”—protection of animals anywhere and all the time. They must also balance the revenue from trophy hunting—easy to determine and immediate—with income from tourism, perhaps harder to calculate and realized over a longer term. These dilemmas highlight the need for a little humility from Western critics from all perspectives.

As Mozambique, Zimbabwe, and Malawi continue struggling to cope with the aftermath of Cyclone Idai, it’s worth noting while the storm was exceptional in its destructive power, the risk of flooding in and around Beira is a chronic problem. As the climate warms, rising sea levels are likely to cause serious ongoing problems for important coastal hubs like Beira even without the increasing frequency of dramatic storms. Of course the immediate humanitarian crisis is where the international community must focus first. But the destruction of infrastructure that was built with climate change adaptation in mind is also worrying, and has implications not just for Mozambique, but also for landlocked states that rely on its ports.  It’s not a novel observation to point out that many of the populations currently suffering most from the effects of climate change had very little to do with generating the emissions causing the problem, but it’s a truth that will increasingly animate relations between African states and global powers like the United States and China in the future. Few would envy the position of U.S. diplomats called on to explain the Trump Administration’s climate policies to the people of southern Africa these days. As Africa becomes more urban, a greater portion of its population directly experiences the vulnerability of many African coastal cities, from giants like Lagos and Dar es Salaam to vitally important but less prominent places like Beira. While Afrobarometer data suggests that in many countries, the general population is not yet widely aware of the science of climate change, these populations are keenly aware of climate change’s effects. The resulting demands on the state – for better infrastructure, better planning, and better crisis response – will be felt by African governments with increasing intensity. Those governments, in turn, will be looking for leverage to demand more urgent action, and more equitable cost-sharing, from the largest economies. When the causes and consequences of a worldwide problem are so disproportionately allocated, it points to fundamental structural flaws in the international system. African leaders and others from the global south have made this point eloquently to date. But as the institutional architecture of the postwar order comes under increasing attack, it’s a truth that will animate alternative ideas and reform agendas.   

Cyclone Idai devastated parts of Malawi, Mozambique, and Zimbabwe this month and dissipated last week. Recovery in the affected countries is starting, but there is still a long way to go. The death toll continues to mount. As of March 24, according to media, it at least 446 in Mozambique, 259 in Zimbabwe, and 56 in Malawi. Local authorities caution that it is likely to go much higher. According to Mozambique Environment Minister Celso Correia, progress is being made to restore basic services in Beira, a major port city that bore the brunt of the storm. Electricity has been restored to water treatment facilities, the port, and to the vital rail lines, as well as some parts of the city. The main road that connects Beira to the rest of the country is expected to open early this week, facilitating the arrival of food and medicine to the city and to its environs. Beira’s population is more than half a million. Its port and rail line connects interior Mozambique and landlocked Zimbabwe and Malawi to the sea. Restoration of the railway is essential for the delivery of international humanitarian assistance to those landlocked countries. The minister’s chief concern now appears to be disease: “We’ll have cholera for sure,” he said, and malaria is “unavoidable,” given the flooding and standing water. The authorities have established a cholera center in Beira, though as yet there are no reported cases. There is also likely to be an outbreak of typhoid, and because of the damage to transportation links and disruption of markets, a food shortage. The deputy director of the UN’s humanitarian operation, Sebastian Rhodes Stampa, reports that two large field hospitals and a water purification system are expected soon. Drones are also being used as part of an extensive effort to access humanitarian needs in central Mozambique. But UN Secretary General Antonio Guterres cautioned that “far greater international support is needed.” The region is the breadbasket of Mozambique; according to the World Food Program, this puts each affected country at risk of food insecurity in some cases on par with that faced in Yemen, Syria, and South Sudan.  

In March, Mozambique, Zimbabwe, and Malawi experienced severe flooding from Cyclone Idai. Around the same time, parts of Missouri, Iowa, and Nebraska experienced devastating flooding along parts of the Missouri River system caused by heavy snowmelt and rain.  Commentators are highlighting the role that climate change played in the “bomb cyclone” in the Midwest. Scientists can link climate change to the general increase in heavy participation over time, but it is much more difficult to identify it with a single event. Some have predicted that above-average flooding will continue. To account for the scale of the destruction—some estimate over $1.3 billion in Nebraska alone—others pointed to the flood control infrastructure, which is not sufficient to contain the greatly increased rainfall of the past few years. Levees, popular flood control constructions in the United States, cannot completely reduce the risk of flooding, yet they encourage construction in floodplains, as do, among other things, federally-subsidized flood insurance and poor regulation.  With respect to Cyclone Idai, commentators point to the fact that, while there has not been an increase in the number of cyclones in the Indian Ocean in the past seventy years, the storms that do occur are more intense. Cyclone Idai is understood to be the worst cyclone on record in the region. There is virtually no flood control infrastructure in place in the African countries affected. Nigeria, for another example, frequently suffers from devastating floods as rivers overflow due to heavy seasonal rains, and has faced criticism for poor responses.   In both the American Midwest and in southeastern Africa, the flooding has led to enormous property damage, displacement of people, and loss of life. But the differences between a catastrophe in a developed country and one of the world’s poorest regions is striking. Around six hundred are reported dead due to Cyclone Idai. Some estimate that the death toll could rise dramatically, absent a major international relief effort. Thousands of those displaced are crammed into inadequate shelters with poor sanitation, increasing the likelihood of disease, and humanitarian workers are planning for the consequences of massive disruption of food chains. In the American Midwest, national media is reporting at least three deaths as of March 21. Tragic though the flooding is, there are in place disaster relief structures and provision for relief and reconstruction, mostly funded by the U.S. federal government. Nobody anticipates food shortages, and though the region affected includes rich agricultural land, nobody anticipates that there will be a major impact from the flooding on the American food supply.  There will be an international relief effort in southern Africa. USAID is already involved and the U.S. embassy in Maputo is asking the U.S. Department of Defense to mobilize a military team to support rescue efforts. Already there is a U.S. Air Force aircraft on the ground at the Maputo airport. No doubt there will be significant relief efforts from other countries. However, the question is whether international efforts will be enough and whether they will be sustained long enough. Flooding is a fact of life and climate change will make it worse. While any one country’s impact on reducing climate change, save for a handful of large polluters, will be minimal, the proper regulation of floodplains, sufficient infrastructure, and advance warning systems will help save many lives.

In the run-up to last year’s presidential and parliamentary elections in Zimbabwe, hope was palpable in Harare. Civil society activists, journalists, and business leaders marveled at how political space had opened up in the wake of the coup that ousted longtime President Robert Mugabe. It was as if an entire country had opened up the windows to let in fresh air. Citizens reveled in their ability to speak freely, and voiced their hopes that unconstitutional laws that had legitimized repression and restrictions on political and civic engagement would be repealed, so that the freedoms they were enjoying didn’t feel contingent on the whims of authorities. Today, President Emmerson Mnangagwa’s government is indeed taking action to address those laws, including the notorious Public Order and Security Act (POSA) and Access to Information and Protection of Privacy Act. These are welcome, long-sought reforms—and they are among the steps necessary for building the confidence that will unlock sanctions relief. However, these victories for Zimbabwe are ringing hollow because they occur against an alarming backdrop of state-sponsored violence and intimidation. In January, the state’s brutal response to popular protests killed seventeen and injured scores more. Within just the last week, two opposition members of parliament, Charlton Hwende and Joana Mamombe, have been arrested and charged with treason. Authorities arrested prominent civic leaders, including Pastor Evan Mawarire and Rashid Mahiya, on similar charges. For Zimbabweans, the windows have slammed shut again. Whereas last year citizens experienced freedom without the legal framework to protect it, now it appears that Zimbabwe will be characterized by repression regardless of the law, helped along by a deeply compromised judiciary. The legal landscape may shift, but fear remains the constant organizing principle for Zimbabwe’s government.

This week’s alarming developments in Zimbabwe have prompted a curious response from President Emmerson Mnangagwa. A massive popular protest against fuel price increases, fed by broader frustration with an economy crippled by a currency crisis and decades of mismanagement, tipped into violence as security forces responded with a heavy hand, arresting over 600 people, leaving eight dead, and dozens injured. Mnangagwa, who departed for Russia just as the price increase came into effect, delivered his remote response to the turmoil in his country in the form of a tweet sent Wednesday morning—a particularly strange choice given that his government cut internet access countrywide in response to the protests, threatening draconian legal action against service providers who do not comply. From Russia, where he aims to drum up investment—particularly in the diamond mining sector, which is dominated by the Zimbabwean security services—Mnangagwa has plans for additional travel to Belarus, Kazakhstan, and Azerbaijan before heading to Davos. The contrast between his jet-setting investment pitch and media photographs of brutalized Zimbabweans and burning roadblocks is jarring—one wonders what sort of investors are eager to jump into this particular market. However, the substance of his message home is even stranger. He expresses his sadness, sends thoughts and prayers to those affected by violence, and assures readers that he understands their concerns. But if he feels a sense of urgency about the meltdown in his country, or a responsibility to rein in the security services brutalizing civilians, he keeps these feelings well-concealed. Instead, he writes as if violence has been perpetrated only by troublemakers abusing the freedoms he allows—ignoring the fact that the security forces under his control have responded to unarmed protesters with live ammunition, have systematically terrorized people in their homes, and have rounded up activists who have had nothing to do with violence. The head of state assumes the role of passive spectator to the state-sponsored repression and resulting chaos that has his citizens living in fear. In his testimony before the House Foreign Affairs Committee in December, Todd Moss of the Center for Global Development noted the Mnangagwa government’s enthusiasm for passive constructions—for example, acknowledging that “citizens died” when in fact innocent citizens were murdered, on camera in some cases, by Zimbabwean soldiers during post-election violence. Moss was onto something. It’s all part of the same leadership style characterized by artful omissions, willful myopia, a failure to take responsibility for the acts committed in the name of the state, and the shedding of crocodile tears.  

The fact that Zimbabwe is experiencing an economic crisis is neither surprising nor terribly illuminating; most saw this coming months ago as it became clear that there was a currency crisis in the offing, likely to come due immediately after summer’s presidential elections. Years of the government’s economic smoke and mirrors created a situation in which much of the dollarized economy was backed by bond notes of questionable value, and characterized by widespread use of electronic money worth far less than advertised. When the new finance minister stated the obvious by noting that this system could not continue, Zimbabweans were quick to remember how their assets had spiraled into worthlessness in the past, and panic buying and shortages predictably ensued. But the government’s reaction to the crisis was not a foregone conclusion, and to date it is deeply disappointing. Contradictory statements about how the government plans to navigate the currency crisis have bred suspicion and fear. So has the state’s heavy-handed approach to managing the fallout. The vice president has threatened and scapegoated business owners, accusing them of price gouging and hoarding. Scores of trade unionists were arrested for protesting, or planning to protest, a new two percent tax on electronic transactions – essentially an attempt to squeeze the deeply impoverished population even more to address economic shortfalls. State media trumpets headlines about breakthroughs with the international financial institutions or new investments from abroad, but closer inspection tends to reveal far less than meets the eye. When creditors agree to a payment plan to clear longstanding debts, it doesn’t mean that new loans are coming, or even that arrears will actually get cleared. When start-up hedge funds commit to try to raise capital for unspecified projects in the future, it doesn’t mean that an influx of dollars has been secured. In their quest to paint a picture of a new dawn, Zimbabwean officials keep overselling small and preliminary steps, undermining their own credibility. Confusion, repression, and misdirection seem to be the distinguishing characteristics of the “new dispensation,” and they contribute to citizens’ fundamental lack of confidence in government. The recent elections were supposed to bolster the legitimacy of the government and give Zimbabwe a solid new basis on which to move forward. But little seems solid and reliable in this new era – including, as the European Union recently noted, the election results themselves.

  The trajectories of the Kenyan elections of 2017 and those just concluded in Zimbabwe have an eerie similarity, and may hint at the future denouement in Zimbabwe. In Kenya, incumbent president Uhuru Kenyatta benefitted from an uneven playing field dominated by his control of state media and the security forces. He ostensibly won the presidency in August 2017, and outside election observers quickly endorsed the outcome. Raila Odinga challenged Kenyatta’s election in the courts, which ordered new elections. They were held in October 2017. Again, Kenyatta was declared the victor after Odinga boycotted the elections. Odinga then, in effect, threatened civil war. The crisis ended with a personal deal between Kenyatta and Odinga, the details of which are not public. Meanwhile, there is anecdotal evidence that Kenya seethes and institutions, such as the judiciary, are undermined.  In Zimbabwe, Mnangagwa benefitted from an uneven playing field, even more so than Kenyatta. He controlled state-owned media and the security services, and benefitted from a long-standing atmosphere of the intimidation of opposition figures. He has been declared the winner, an outcome promptly and shamefully endorsed by African Union observers and those from the Southern African Development Community, but questioned by observers from the European Union, the National Democratic institute and the International Republican Institute, and, most important, the Zimbabwe Election Support Network, a local NGO umbrella that deployed 6,500 observers around the country. The opposition candidate, Nelson Chamisa, claims to have won the election and is challenging the results in the courts with hints that his supporters will take to the streets if necessary. Meanwhile, the Mnangagwa regime is pursuing a campaign of violence and intimidation in opposition strongholds.  There are broader similarities between Kenya and Zimbabwe as well. Both are potentially rich, with abundant natural resources and fertile soil. Both were colonies of white (mostly British) settlement, and a wealthy white-minority dominated both economies, which were characterized by racism and segregation. The overwhelming black and poor majorities in both countries continue to be deeply divided along ethnic lines, and their respective independence struggles were marked by violence, though it lasted far longer in Zimbabwe. As part of the independence process in Kenya, white farmers were bought-out by the British government, but no such land reform took place in Zimbabwe. Instead, white farmers were driven out by Robert Mugabe almost twenty years after independence. In effect, Mugabe destroyed his country’s economy to preserve his power and enrich his supporters. In both Kenya and Zimbabwe, new political elites largely appropriated their country’s post-independence wealth, with little trickling down to the mass of the population. In both, there has been little change in leadership since independence; Kenyan politics are dominated by Uhuru Kenyatta and Raila Odinga, the sons of the most prominent independence-era politicians and, among other things, tribal leaders. In Zimbabwe, Robert Mugabe was deposed by a coup orchestrated by Emmerson Mnangagwa, who had been his violent enforcer. In both countries, elections are the occasion for violence. A way out of the current crisis may be the path followed by Kenyatta and Odinga—a personal deal. There is a history in Zimbabwe of deals between incumbents and opposition leaders following close and dubious elections and hand-wringing by international observers. Notably, Robert Mugabe and opposition leader Morgan Tsvangirai shared power from 2009 to 2013, with Mugabe as president and Tsvangirai as prime minister. In Zimbabwe as in Kenya, politics are highly transactional; it is about personalities and power, not principle. Hence, it is easy to imagine that Mnangagwa and Chamisa could make a personal deal, though what the elements of it might be are at present obscure. The bottom line is that Zimbabwe is in for a bout of violence and intimidation, but at the end of the day there will be a sharing-out of power and wealth by Mnangagwa and Chamisa. Civil war will be avoided, and whatever the settlement is, it will be welcomed and endorsed by foreign governments and businesses. But, there will be little progress in Zimbabwe toward democracy and the rule of law.   

A new International Foundation for Electoral Studies (IFES) report finds women who run for office in Zimbabwe face a variety of persistent challenges, and calls into question the 10-year time limit on Zimbabwe’s quota system. This post is authored by Hilary Matfess, doctoral candidate at Yale University.

The people of Zimbabwe turned out in impressively large numbers—the Zimbabwe Electoral Commission reported 70 percent of voters turned out—on July 30 to choose a way forward for their country. The election, the first without Robert Mugabe on the ballot, was billed as a chance to close a painful chapter in the country's history, and bring real legitimacy, at last, to the government. It was a moment of hope.   By nightfall on August 1, Zimbabwe's military had locked down Harare, the capital city. At least three civilians had been killed by security forces on the streets, and more were badly hurt—whipped, stabbed with bayonets, and beaten. Distrust, anger, and fear have replaced the hope and pride Zimbabweans expressed as they stood in long lines to exercise their franchise.    Some of the coverage of what is happening on the ground has an equivocal flavor to it. The story seems to be about unruly, impatient protestors, a situation spinning out of control, and "unfortunate" violence. But repression has been part of this political exercise from the beginning, and only one side of the political divide in Zimbabwe can activate it. The Zimbabwean military didn't turn on unarmed protesters spontaneously or accidentally. They were given orders to do so, and sitting president and candidate Mnangagwa cannot escape accountability for this decision.    Likewise, the coalition of “securocrats” and ZANU-PF stalwarts that seized power in November of last year made a deliberate choice not to repeal repressive, unconstitutional laws like the Public Order and Security Act, or POSA, that bring a veneer of legality to brutal crack-downs on dissent. They made a choice not to clearly assure the people of Zimbabwe that their will would be respected regardless of the outcome of the vote.    Of course, all parties should act responsibly as they await the results of the presidential election, and as they raise concerns about the unlevel playing field and the mechanics of the electoral process. But it's important to remember that power—in the form of a monopoly on the instruments of violence—has been exercised on the side of the ruling party from the beginning. The violence in Harare, echoing the all-too-familiar violence the country has seen in the past, was a part of that ongoing exercise.