Pain
Pain
Pain
● ●
Africa Spectrum 1/2013: 49-70
Alois S. Mlambo originally presented this paper as his inaugural lecture upon
becoming the new head of the Department of Historical and Heritage Studies at
the University of Pretoria on 30 October 2012. After a review process, it has been
accepted for publication in full length.
The Editors
After many years of bitter armed conflict between the liberation forces and
the colonial state, Zimbabwe gained independence in 1980 amid much joy-
ous celebration over what was expected to be the beginning of a new era of
racial equality, fairness, and constructive and harmonious nation-building
and general welfare that would serve as a shining example to the rest of the
continent. This seemed all the more possible in light of the magnanimous
statement by the incoming prime minister, Robert Mugabe, where he called
for forgiveness for past wrongs and reconciliation between former enemies.
On 17 April 1980, he told a very nervous white Zimbabwean population:
If yesterday I fought you as an enemy, today you have become a
friend and ally with the same national interest, loyalty, rights and du-
ties as myself. If yesterday you hated me, today you cannot avoid the
love that binds you to me and me to you. The wrongs of the past now
stand forgiven and forgotten […]. I urge you, whether you are White
or Black, to join me in a new pledge to forget our grim past, forgive
others and forget, join hands in a new amity and together, as Zimba-
bweans, trample upon racialism, tribalism and regionalism and work
hard to reconstruct and rehabilitate our society as we re-invigorate our
economic machinery (Mpofu 2003).
Yet, hardly two years into independence, the Korean-trained Fifth Brigade
of the Zimbabwean National Army was wreaking havoc in Matebeleland –
whose inhabitants were now denounced as anti-government dissidents who
had to be crushed at all costs – and killed an estimated 20,000 people in the
process. Two decades later, President Mugabe was equally denouncing white
Zimbabweans as enemies of the state, whom he claimed should also be
punished; Mugabe backed violent farm invasions that drove white farmers
and farm labourers off the land. The government was also vilifying black
Zimbabweans who were members of the Movement for Democratic
Change (MDC) opposition party formed in 1999, calling them “sell-outs”,
“traitors” and “puppets of the West”.
By the new millennium, therefore, the idealism of the liberation strug-
gle, with its promise of justice and fair play, had been replaced by a harsh,
paranoid, autocratic, self-serving and arrogant political culture that now
routinely violently suppressed any political dissent, muzzled the press and
systematically undermined the judiciary. The question that arises is why had
Zimbabwe: Identity, Nationalism and State-building 51
Starting with a loose definition of key terms, the lecture discusses his-
torical challenges Zimbabwe has faced in its quest for a common national
identity and an all-embracing nationalism. I will then conclude by briefly
commenting on the role of historians and historiography in the shaping of
the country’s self-perception and their impact on the quest for a national
identity. By way of a disclaimer, however, it must be noted that arguing for
the need for Zimbabwe to develop a national identity is not necessarily an
endorsement of nationalism or the nation-state as the best systems of soci-
etal organisation, but merely an acknowledgement of the fact that these are,
currently, the dominant organising principles of our world.
The term “nation” will be used to refer to “an aggregate of persons, so
closely associated with each other by common descent, language or history,
as to form a distinct race or people, usually organised as a separate political
state and occupying a definite territory” (Fenton 2010: 13), while “national-
ism” refers to devotion and loyalty to one’s own nation. In addition, the
term “national identity” is used loosely to refer to what Anthony Smith
(1991: 14) has defined as the self-perception of
a named human population sharing an historic territory, common
myths and historical memories, a mass, public culture, a common
economy and common legal rights and duties for all members.
As used here, therefore, the term assumes the presence of various common
attributes, such as the “belief in a common culture, history, kinship, lan-
guage, religion, territory, founding moment and destiny” (Smith 1991: 14),
along with other markers of a shared heritage.
British colony and regarded themselves as being “more white than others”
(Mlambo 1998, 2001, 2003).
The Rhodesian government, which was dominated by British immi-
grants at the time, for instance, consistently resisted Jewish immigration
even at the height of Nazi Germany’s purging of the Jews, despite the fact
that the Rhodesian government always wanted to build Rhodesia as a white
man’s country, ostensibly because (European) Jews and other non-British
whites were not the right sort of immigrants! Rhodesians of British stock
disliked the Afrikaners most and marginalised them in white Rhodesian
politics until after the Second World War (Mlambo 2003).
Meanwhile, the rate at which white immigrants were leaving for greener
pastures soon after they had entered the country was so high that white
Rhodesia was truly a nation of immigrants, rather than a society rooted in
the Pioneers of the early colonial period. It is interesting, for instance, that
most of the 1965 UDI rebels who appealed to the free and proud spirit
of their Pioneer ancestors to mobilise domestic support for their defi-
ance of the world were, in fact, not descendants of the Pioneers at all,
as only 27 per cent of the Rhodesia Front Party leadership were Rhodesian-
born (Schultz 1975: 605).2 Thus, even among the dominant white popula-
tion, there was no real sense of nationhood or even a shared vision of what
constituted “Rhodesian-ness”. Add to this already-complex mix the Asian
and coloured communities, with their own distinct cultures, and Zimba-
bwe’s racial, cultural and ethnic complexity becomes more evident.
As if this ethnic and racial diversity were not enough, the Rhodesian
and South African economies, based mainly on mining and plantation agri-
culture, spawned migrant labour systems that drew African labourers from
as far afield as Nyasaland (Malawi), Northern Rhodesia (Zambia) and
Mozambique. This labour system, well studied by historian Charles van
Onselen in his seminal book Chibaro (van Onselen 1976), saw thousands of
non-indigenous African workers pouring into Rhodesia to take up mining
and agricultural jobs that the local Africans shunned as beneath their dignity.
At the end of the contracts, many migrant labourers settled in the country
with local women and raised families.
Further complicating the issue were the divisions among the Africans
fighting colonial rule, which entrenched ethnic/political tensions rather than
promoting unity and cooperation among the African people. While the two
Zimbabwean liberation movements were not entirely ethnically based, as
each continued to have some leaders from each of the two major ethnic
groups, they were essentially ethnically based in terms of general member-
ship. Thus, ZAPU, under Joshua Nkomo, was mainly a Ndebele party, while
ZANU, under Ndabaningi Sithole and, subsequently, Robert Mugabe, was
associated mostly with the Shona majority. ZANU had broken away from
ZAPU in 1963, which was followed by bitter clashes between rival support-
ers of the two parties until they were banned by the colonial administration
in 1964. Their bitter rivalry never really disappeared. It is telling, for in-
stance, that some of the bitterest armed clashes during the years of the liber-
ation struggle were between ZANLA (ZANU) and ZIPRA (ZAPU) fight-
ers3 when they met in the field, testifying to the deep hostility between the
two groups.
The two parties did come together towards the end of the liberation
struggle as the Patriotic Front in order to negotiate the handover of power
to the African majority, but the partnership unravelled soon after the 1979
Lancaster House Agreement when Mugabe’s ZANU-Patriotic Front decided
to contest the independence general elections separately from ZAPU-Patri-
otic Front. The old rivalry soon resurfaced when the ruling party of Robert
Mugabe accused ZAPU of being in league with bandits who had begun to
attack government properties and installations in Matebeleland in protest
against the manner in which their party had been sidelined after independ-
ence. Consequently, the government launched a savage military campaign in
Matebeleland that ended only when ZAPU-PF agreed to merge with ZANU-
PF in the 1987 Unity Agreement that saw the former nearly completely swal-
lowed up by the latter.
On the surface, the Unity Agreement appeared to have resolved the
ethnic conflict of the dissident war, but the massacre of the Ndebele citizens
by the Fifth Brigade had sown seeds of deep resentment among some Nde-
beles, not just against the ruling ZANU-PF government but, as it was to
turn out, against the Shona people in general. The result was the emergence
in later years of a Ndebele ethnonationalist movement calling itself the
Mthwakazi Liberation Front (MLF), which advocated for the secession of
Matebeleland and the establishment of an independent Ndebele state.
In any case, there had always been tensions along class, gender and
ethnic lines in the anticolonial movement even before the armed struggle,
and nepotism, acquired land for resettlement did not always go to the needy
poor majority but to members of the powerful ruling elite.
Thus by 2000, two decades after independence, land distribution re-
mained highly skewed against the African majority. This was potentially
dangerous if some demagogues of the ruling party should ever need a cause
with which to inflame anti-white sentiments for selfish party gains. This is
precisely what occurred after 2000 when, facing declining political popular-
ity, the ruling party used white farmers as scapegoats for Zimbabwe’s eco-
nomic and political problems as a way of reviving popular support.
Meanwhile, the autocratic nature of colonial rule which had not allowed
African people space to voice their grievances freely or to challenge the
political status quo came back to haunt the postcolonial efforts at nation-
building. Just as in the colonial period, Zimbabwe’s new rulers, themselves
direct victims of this autocracy, were quick to resort to the various instru-
ments of state repression to silence political dissent. After all, many of those
who formed Zimbabwe’s independence government in 1980 were members
of what anticolonial struggle activists had come to identify, proudly, as
“prison graduates”. In fact, the first independent cabinet comprised the
“who’s who” of Rhodesia’s political prisoners. Among these were Joshua
Nkomo and Robert Mugabe, who each spent no less than ten years in de-
tention for advocating political rights for the African majority.
Therefore, the programmed default position for many of the postcolo-
nial leaders was, unfortunately, repression and the use of violence when they
felt threatened by alternative political imaginations. It seems the lesson had
been well learnt that political dissent was best handled by the police, prisons
and the security intelligence services rather than through dialogue and nego-
tiation. In fact, the culture of intolerance for political opponents was inher-
ited lock, stock and barrel by the new ruling elites and deployed effectively
against political opponents.
In his work on postcolonial governments emerging from former libera-
tion movements in Southern Africa, Henning Melber (2003a, 2003b, 2008)
has pointed out the irony of the fact that those who had struggled to end
colonial injustices tended to exhibit the very negative and repressive charac-
teristics of the systems that they fought so hard to overthrow when they be-
came rulers of their countries. It is as if, in fighting against colonial domina-
tion and racial discrimination, liberation movements inadvertently became the
very thing they were fighting against. This would seem to be the case here.
Meanwhile, matters came to a head in 2000, when the then-ruling party,
ZANU-PF, was confronted for the first time since independence in 1980: its
challenger was the strongest-ever political opposition to its rule, the Move-
ment for Democratic Change (MDC). The MDC had been established in
Zimbabwe: Identity, Nationalism and State-building 61
1999 by a coalition of civil society bodies led by the workers who were un-
happy with the way the country was being governed, the deteriorating eco-
nomic situation, and the continued use of the Lancaster House Constitution
of 1979, which, in any case, had been amended umpteen times to suit the
whims of the ruling party. Working through an organisation called the Na-
tional Constitutional Assembly (NCA), established for the purpose of cre-
ating a new constitution, civil society pushed for this change.
Determined to snatch back the initiative, the ZANU-PF government
hijacked the process and proposed a new constitution of its own. However,
the proposed constitution’s increase in presidential powers and the new
clauses allowing government to acquire white-owned farms without com-
pensation made the NCA and the MDC determined to campaign for a “no”
vote in the 2000 referendum held to test public opinion on the matter. The
“no” vote won overwhelmingly.
Incensed by this defeat and further alarmed at the remarkable showing
of the recently established MDC in the national elections of the same year,
the ruling party lashed out at those it considered its enemies – namely, white
farmers, whom it accused of being the funders and brains behind the for-
mation of the MDC; farm workers, many of whom it suspected of voting
against the government in the referendum and at white farmers’ instigation;
and MDC supporters, who posed such a strong challenge to ZANU-PF’s
hitherto unchallenged dominance. The result was commercial white farm
invasions characterised by widespread violence across the land. The interna-
tional outcry that accompanied these activities and the violations of human
rights they entailed led to the country being ostracised by mostly Western
governments and to the subsequent economic meltdown that kicked off the
Zimbabwean crisis of the first decade of the new millennium.
In this heated atmosphere, the national project quickly unravelled, as
reverse racism against whites peaked, while black-on-black violence was
widespread as members of the opposition MDC were targeted by the
ZANU-PF militia and by some former fighters of the liberation war. All this
mayhem occurred under the slogan of “Zimbabwe will never be a colony
again”, since the ruling party made the charge that the reaction by Western
powers to ostracise Zimbabwe’s government and impose travel restrictions
on some of its members were attempts by Britain and its Western allies to
re-colonise the country. Thus, supporters of the ruling party now divided
Zimbabweans into patriots (those in support of government policies and farm
invasions) and “sell-outs”, “traitors” or “puppets of the West”, which in-
cluded anyone critical of any aspect of ZANU-PF’s policies and practices. It
was not enough anymore, it seems, for one to have historical and ancestral
62 Alois S. Mlambo
African struggle movements were divided along largely ethnic lines, in what
Zimbabwean political scientist Masipula Sithole has characterised as “strug-
gles within the struggle” (1979). Meanwhile, postcolonial government poli-
cies and practices did little to unify the country.
As of the end of 2012, Zimbabwe was still a very divided country, one
characterised by tensions between some Ndebeles and the state – arising
from the Gukurahundi massacres in the 1980s – as well as between the state
and its supporters, on the one hand, and whites (particularly former white
farmers), on the other hand, over the controversial land reform programme
that displaced them from the land. There were also tensions within the Afri-
can population, in general, over political differences in which ZANU-PF
supporters stand antagonistic to opposition movements such as the MDC
and other smaller parties with regard to issues of governance and human
rights. Indications are that there may be politically and/or ethnically inspired
divisions within ZANU-PF itself.
Thus, while all these groups and subgroups claim to be Zimbabweans,
there seems to be no agreed understanding of what being Zimbabwean really
entails, with some claiming to be the real patriots as opposed to others who,
ostensibly, are not. In short, Zimbabwe still has to transform itself from the
geographical expression established arbitrarily by British colonialism in 1890
and enthusiastically imagined by the anticolonial nationalists of the 1960s into
a true nation with a common identity, common values and a shared vision for
the future. In answer to the earlier question of whether Zimbabweans exist,
therefore, the answer would have to be: “Not yet.”
Revolt in Southern Rhodesia (1967) and The African Voice (1970), which initiated
the trend of celebrating the dynamism of precolonial African nationalism
and fired the imagination of nationalists of the 1960s, providing them with
convenient usable myths about their past and martyrs for the anticolonial
cause. It was Ranger’s depiction of precolonial Zimbabwean societies that
inspired Mugabe to make his 1977 statement affirming the existence of a
precolonial Shona nation. Ranger had painted an inspiring picture of a he-
roic indigenous struggle against European colonialism during the 1896–1897
Chimurenga wars of resistance which, in his view, were collaborative and
well-coordinated Ndebele and Shona nationalist wars of resistance. Ranger’s
oversimplification and, arguably, romanticisation of the precolonial Zimba-
bwean past were subsequently heavily criticised by scholars such as Julian
Cobbing (1977) and David Beach (1979).
At the time, however, Ranger’s approach seemed to be a logical response
to a colonial historiography that seemed determined to deny Africans any
meaningful past. Typical of this Eurocentric scholarly approach was Professor
Hugh Trevor-Roper’s 1960 public lecture which categorically asserted that
there was no African history before the arrival of the white man on the conti-
nent. In 1969, this highly respected Oxford Don again repeated the argument,
labelling the entire African continent, including Ethiopia and Egypt, as “un-
historic” (Trevor-Roper 1965: 9-11), arguing that
perhaps in the future [he was probably thinking of centuries ahead]
there will be some African history to teach. But at present there is
none: there is only the history of Europeans in Africa. The rest is
largely […] darkness. And darkness is not a subject of history.
He added, in what can be regarded as a forerunner of the “West-and-the-
rest” worldview, which is very much in vogue in some sections of Western
societies today:
The history of the world for the past five centuries, in so far as it has
significance, has been European history […]. It follows that the study
of history is and must be Eurocentric. For we can ill afford to amuse
ourselves with the unrewarding gyrations of barbarous tribes in pic-
turesque but irrelevant corners of the globe (Trevor-Roper 1965: 9).
Not surprisingly, therefore, colonial Rhodesian historiography paid scant at-
tention to the history of precolonial societies. At the same time, an orches-
trated campaign was made to deny the Africans any usable past. Considerable
energy was expended on denying that there had been any coherent social
and political organisation in precolonial Zimbabwe and that the imposing
stone structures at Great Zimbabwe in Southern Zimbabwe were the prod-
uct of African enterprise. Colonial historians and commentators insisted that
Zimbabwe: Identity, Nationalism and State-building 65
these structures were built by the Arabs, the Phoenicians, the Queen of
Sheba, King Solomon, or the Portuguese – anyone else but the indigenous
people who were, ostensibly, not sophisticated enough to have constructed
such a wonder.
There was even speculation that the stone structures were probably
evidence of a white civilisation that had existed in the area at some earlier
date. Meanwhile, colonial fantasies about Zimbabwe’s reportedly “savage”
precolonial past fed the imagination of Ryder Haggard and his King Solomon’s
Mines and the various accounts of Zimbabwe as an exotic and rich Eldorado
that exercised the late-nineteenth-century European imagination.
Indeed, as late as 1997, despite many scholarly works documenting the
existence of several precolonial kingdoms in the country, former Rhodesian
Prime Minister Ian Smith could still write about Cecil Rhodes’ Pioneer Col-
umn that spearheaded the colonisation of Zimbabwe in 1890 in the follow-
ing terms:
[They were] going into uncharted country, the domain of the lion, el-
ephant, the buffalo, the rhinoceros – all deadly killers – the black
mamba, the most deadly of all snakes, and the Matabele, with Loben-
gula’s impis, the most deadly of all black warriors […]. But if the mis-
sion was to raise the flag for queen and country, no questions were
asked. Moreover, their consciences were clear: to the west the Mata-
beles had recently moved in […]. The eastern parts of the country
were settled by a number of different tribes, nomadic people who had
migrated from the north and east, constantly moving to and fro in or-
der to accommodate their needs and wants. To the south were scat-
tered settlements of Shangaans from Mozambique and Northern
Transvaal. Clearly it was no-man’s land, as Cecil Rhodes and the politicians
back in London had confirmed, so no one could accuse them of trespassing or
taking part in an invasion (Smith 1997: 1-2; emphasis added).
Of the long-established kingdoms of Mapungubwe, Great Zimbabwe, Mun-
humutapa and the Rozvi, not a word is mentioned!
It is this self-serving mentality that Ranger was trying to counter by
emphasising African agency and nationalist anticolonial coordination and
mobilisation. In doing this, however, he may have sown the seeds of the
current “patriotic history”, which can be seen as a perversion of Ranger’s
earlier nationalist historiography. In this version of history, the other libera-
tion movement, ZAPU, has virtually been written out of Zimbabwe’s his-
tory and whites now only appear in this narrative as villains, racists, oppres-
sors and exploiters. On the other side of the coin are the numerous, equally
distorted white Zimbabwean autobiographies that have emerged in recent
years that paint a very idealistic and rosy picture of life in the colonial period
66 Alois S. Mlambo
where white employers and their African workers were one continuous
happy family and Africans just loved their white employers! (Buckle 2002,
2003; Barker 2007)
Clearly, historians and historiography are important in shaping society’s
self-perception, particularly societies such as our own that are struggling to
develop common national identities and to establish states that are truly
inclusive, in the wake of rather traumatic, divisive and acrimonious pasts in
which one dominant group presided over a system that marginalised the
majority and effectively wrote them out of history. The danger today, as is
becoming evident in Zimbabwe, is that with the ascendancy of the African
majority to political power throughout Southern Africa there may simply be
an inversion of the previous dispensation, in which history is now used to
marginalise the former dominant white groups, who in turn may well be
written out of national histories.
In view of this real potential danger, it is crucial not only that, as history
teachers, we impart the various skills of research, analysis, ordering and
prioritisation of evidence, argumentation, and effective communication that
history as a subject has always provided students, but also that we teach our
students to be critical and objective about the past, as well as to empathise
with the experiences of other groupings whose historical trajectories may be
different from their own. Whether they become professional historians or
not, we should equip our graduates with the necessary skills to interrogate
the past critically and dispassionately and to produce historical accounts that
are as unbiased as possible so as to provide a context in which members of
past antagonistic groups can understand each other better and, hopefully,
find each other.
They also must be made aware that many cultures and societies have
contributed to our countries and world today and that it was not and has
never been just a matter of “the West and the rest”, in which the rest were
merely passive recipients of the largesse of the West (Ferguson 2011). Ex-
posing students to the complexity of our world and how it has come to be
what it is through, for instance, providing courses on world history and on
the historical experience of other societies in Latin America, Asia and else-
where will open their eyes to the diversity and richness of the human experi-
ence in a global context.
Commenting on how Afrikaner historians had tended to focus in the
past only on the history of whites in South Africa to the exclusion of blacks
and pleading for a more balanced approach to the country’s past, my prede-
cessor as head of the Department of Historical and Heritage Studies, Pro-
fessor Johan Bergh, in his inaugural lecture some 25 years ago, pointed out
that it was essential to understand the fact that the “history of the whites” in
Zimbabwe: Identity, Nationalism and State-building 67
South Africa only made sense “within the context of the history of all the
peoples of South Africa” and called for a new approach that would “give a
rightful place to both whites and non-whites” in the national historical nar-
rative. He concluded his lecture by pledging that, under his leadership, the
Department would be innovative and keep up to date with scholarly trends
in the field and always strive to reflect the diversity of South African society
(Bergh 1987).
I would like to echo his sentiments and to add that, under my watch, the
Department will do its utmost to ensure that its students are not only sensitive
to the diversity and complexity of their own societies but that they are also
made aware of the very rich history and contributions of other societies and
cultures across the globe to our world today and of the fact that globalisation
is not a new phenomenon but a process that is as old as mankind.
Above all, our graduates must be taught to appreciate what historian
Louise White has characterised as the “messy” character of history in that,
by their very nature, historical accounts exclude just as much as they include
and that “there is no perfect closure to any event”. In fact, each historical
narrative contains many silences that are part of the very process of its crea-
tion. According to White:
Not everyone is included in historical texts, let alone when those texts
are joined together to make a narrative of the past. But the very
messiness of the lived past, the very untidiness of the closures, means
that all that has been omitted has not been erased. The most power-
less actors left traces of themselves in contemporary accounts, just as
the most powerful actors crafted versions of events that attempted to
cover their traces or to leave traces of their reinvented personas […].
[T]here can be “a real competition” between political and historical
texts which claim to represent the past […]. Looking at how texts
compete, at what they compete over, and what is at stake in their
competition, is a way to articulate the relationship between them
(White 2003: 2-3).
To put this differently, our students must be taught to appreciate the fact
that the version of the hunt from the point of view of the hunted is as valu-
able as the story of the hunter, if the true history of the hunt is to be fully
captured. At least they should be conscious of the fact that the account of
the hunter is neither the whole nor the only truth about the hunt. Ignoring
this fundamental fact in the study of our collective pasts will simply take us
down the “patriotic history” route which, through a selective presentation of
the past, seeks to promote narrow, selfish agendas and does as much vio-
lence to that past as the earlier colonial historiography in which precolonial
Africa was presented as nothing more than one big void or total “darkness”.
68 Alois S. Mlambo
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