Swaziland: Virgin territory

Swaziland’s King Mswati III was again in the news recently when he issued an injunction that the kingdom’s young maidens should abstain from sexual relations for the next five years, and wear traditional symbols of chastity. He also amended the dress code for women. The edict was ostensibly aimed at curbing the spread of HIV/AIDS, which now infects some 25% of the country’s adults. Shortly after this Canute-like performance the King himself took a new wife, his eighth, a 17-year-old schoolgirl. Newspaper reporters had a, predictably, field-day, reminiscent of a few months back when the Speaker was dismissed for having stolen cow dung from the royal kraal for allegedly nefarious purposes.

Unfortunately, such diversions apart, there is a far more sinister side to life in this beautiful part of Southern Africa. Quite apart from the consequences of the ravages of the HIV/AIDS virus, the Swazi body politic suffers from a form of institutional sclerosis that threatens the stability of the kingdom.

Swaziland’s constitution, or the lack of one, and the associated matter of human rights lie at the heart of Swaziland’s political turmoil. For the past 50 years the kingdom has been struggling to find a way of marrying the demands of the ‘modern’ bureaucratic state with the power and privileges accruing to those owing their position to a neo-traditional system centred upon the ruling Dlamini royal lineage.

At independence in 1968, Swaziland had a parliamentary multiparty system dominated by the Dlaminis’ own political creation, the Imbokodvo National Movement (INM), which had taken all the seats in the pre-independence elections of 1962 and 1967. During the next few years King Sobhuza II outmanoeuvred the relatively small group of modernists who sought to reduce his role to that of a constitutional monarch or figurehead, and although the terms of the largely British-designed constitution forced him to rule through parliament, no laws were passed without his approval. In the elections of 1972, however, it appeared that the INM’s parliamentary monopoly had been breached when three opposition members were returned by the electorate. Failing to overturn this result, in April 1973 King Sobhuza suspended the constitution, which he declared unsuitable, and appointed a royal commission to make recommendations on a constitutional system more amenable to Swaziland’s traditional elite.

The commission’s findings were never published, but in 1977 – as the life of parliament was about to expire – the King announced that Swaziland would now be ruled through ‘traditional institutions’, and that in future members of parliament (MPs) would be elected by an indirect system centring upon regional committees (tinkhundla). In essence this system was designed to prevent the modernists and reformers gaining even the smallest foothold in the political arena. Despite the apparent reintroduction of constitutional institutions, Swaziland was now an absolute monarchy, in which unauthorised public meetings were prohibited and preventive detention was used to deter opponents.

Despite the myths perpetuated, often in good faith, by the ‘traditionalist’ camp, the Swazi kingdom is neither very old in historical terms, nor have its institutions been cast in stone. Indeed, one of the underlying reasons for King Sobhuza’s success as a leader was his ability not only to modify and transform Swazi tradition when occasion demanded, but even to re-invent it. It was due in no small part to Sobhuza’s own personal charisma and stature that certain institutions and practices advocated by him came to be accepted by the majority of his subjects as essentially ‘Swazi’ and therefore immutable.

King Sobhuza’s own presence and personal skills might have kept this unusual political system working, but as he was now 80 years of age, provision had to be made for the succession, never an easy process in Swazi history. Before matters could be finalised, Sobhuza died suddenly, in August 1982.

As so often in Swazi history, the death of the King ushered in a time of troubles, for the succession goes almost invariably to one of the late King’s youngest sons. A series of palace coups and counter-coups ended only in 1986 with the accession to the throne of Prince Makhosetive as Mswati III. As an absolute monarch aged just 18 years, Mswati III faced a formidable challenge in trying to restore the unity of the Dlaminis, at the same time as he sought policies to combat the substantial economic and social problems confronting the kingdom.

By 1988 it was clear to most observers that the political and governmental system was in need of radical change. Sobhuza’s experiment had failed to meet the demands made of it. Efforts to reform this system and the resistance to change by so-called ‘traditionalists’ have continued to provide the dominant theme in Swaziland’s history ever since.

By the end of the 1980s, coherent opposition to the status quo was emerging from the ranks of organised labour and the students at the national university, who were willing to defy legislation that branded virtually all criticism as subversive. By the beginning of 1991, events in South Africa – and the keener interest being shown in Swazi affairs among foreign aid donors – nudged the King and his followers towards the path of reform. In September 1991 a consultative commission, known as Vusela (Greeting) I was established, to canvass Swazi opinion on constitutional matters. The commission was dominated by conservatives, and proved a disaster, simply heightening political tensions. Its successor, Vusela II, was a little more progressive, and recommended a fairly substantial reform of the system, though it stopped short of calling for the reintroduction of party politics. The political struggle now moved to focus on this issue, with the reformists drawing encouragement from the democratic revolution in South Africa. Strikes, political violence and arson raised the stakes in the political arena, and the conservatives and traditionalists found themselves under increasing pressure to dismantle the system that assured them of their privileged place in society.

Understanding the complexity of Swaziland’s political and social turmoil is made more difficult by pervasive rumour and intrigue. More than that, the duality of the political system is reflected in that of world views. There is a substantial part of Swazi society, including most of the leadership, whose view of causation relies upon a belief in the supernatural. In other words, many of the people involved sometimes act according to assumptions about causal relationships that would make little sense in the modern, industrialised world. The rituals and symbols of kingship, for example, are more than mere tokens: to the key participants they are real, of frightening power and efficacy.

This situation will obviously compound the problems of finding a way for Swaziland’s political and social order to undergo an orderly transformation into a modern democratic system, since this would involve an assault on the entire mystery of Swazi kingship and its religious and magical significance in the social fabric of rural Swazi society. By the same token, it is evident that the demands for democratic modernisation being heard from young town-dwellers, students and organised labour in Swaziland have received a sympathetic hearing among South Africa’s ruling circles, which will prevent any thought of outright suppression. King Mswati’s late father Sobhuza dealt with political crises using a combination of charisma, political nous or guile. It is open to doubt whether Mswati III has inherited or yet developed these talents, and it seems probable that the next few years will see the royal house put to its severest test in a century.

Numerous cabinet reshuffles have been seized upon as signs either of impending change or of a hardening of the political arteries. More often than not, however, it appears that these were mere attempts at procrastination. The deliberations of the most recent constitutional review commission, appointed in 1996, were ponderous and it was forbidden to recruit constitutional experts to assist it in formulating a draft, the completion date of which was postponed several times. Most human rights and pro-democracy bodies in the kingdom rejected the report before it was even delivered to the King in February 2001, four months after its completion. Mswati III’s ill health prevented him making any pronouncements on its findings in the first half of the year, but decrees were issued reiterating the ban on political parties and other provisions of the key 1973 decree. Though this represented a slight softening of a highly authoritarian diktat issued the previous month, it was a strong indication that the conservatives centred around the queen mother’s court were consolidating their ascendancy.

This was borne out on 11 August when King Mswati revealed the long-awaited review. The chairman of the commission told the crowd at the royal kraal that their investigations had demonstrated that the people were satisfied with the existing system. His deputy added for good measure that the King’s powers would be enlarged and that the country did not want trade unions.

The gauntlet has been cast down. In the past the palace has had to contend with a fairly narrowly based modernising opposition based on the professional classes, trade unions and students. The extension of the royal prerogative in more absolutist terms over rural chiefs, already presaged in two of the eastern chieftaincies, and the broader adoption of dictatorial initiatives in personal matters, may yet change the political equation. – RC

Kenya: The countdown begins

Recent occurrences in Kenya’s political life indicate that the countdown to the 2002 presidential and legislative elections has begun in earnest and that the country is in for a turbulent run-up to the polls expected in December next year. Political realignments involving the ruling and opposition parties, rejection of government’s anti-corruption legislation and proposals for constitutional reform, and the rapid deterioration of the country’s economic prospects have combined to create an environment in which fundamental change, though essential and indeed possible, certainly is not assured.

Current reform initiatives

There are several reform initiatives in various stages of progress currently under way in Kenya. Considering that the ruling Kenya African National Union (KANU) party has been in power since independence in 1963, it is not surprising that the momentum for change is generally found outside the party ranks, and that KANU’s commitment to real reform is viewed with some scepticism. The International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the World Bank have made further development aid to Kenya conditional on progress with anti-corruption measures, and a commitment to privatisation that would be signalled by the selling off of the state telecommunications company and Kenya Commercial Bank.

Progress has been limited in all areas, particularly in the crucial fight against endemic corruption. On 14 August this year the parliamentary opposition denied President Moi the two-thirds vote required to revive the Kenya Anti-Corruption Authority (KACA). It rejected the proposed legislation on the grounds that the bill failed to provide adequate independence to KACA or to go far enough in creating powers to prosecute corrupt officials.

The consequences of this legislative setback are vast. Most significantly, it prevents the release of some $300 million in aid urgently needed by the economy. Furthermore, it will reinforce the widely held view that Kenya’s political leaders continue to hold the country ransom to their own agendas. This increases the risk of even more Kenyans becoming alienated from the formal political process and seeing non-parliamentary groups and power bases as more credible change agents. The opposition’s co-operation that led to the defeat of the bill indicates a hardening of their resolve and a new capacity to work together to defeat KANU.

Another reform measure currently mired in controversy concerns constitutional reform. Although the constitution has been amended more than 30 times since its adoption in 1963, these reforms were generally minor and have failed to keep up with the requirements of a modern democratic state. Particularly contentious issues include the concentration of powers vested in the office of the president, electoral reform and the country’s administrative and judicial dispensation. The Constitutional Review Act of 1998 set the framework for substantial review to be completed before the 2002 election. KANU has endeavoured to limit the process predominantly to a parliamentary one, whereas civil society has demanded a more inclusive approach. Religious and opposition leaders have initiated a people’s constitutional review process known as the Ufungamano, running independently of the parliamentary one. The head of the Review Commission, Professor Yash Pal Ghai, is attempting to reconcile the two processes, but has warned that it is possible that this will not be completed in time for implementation before the 2002 elections. There is concern that this delay may lead to a repeat of the situation in 1992 and 1997, when promised electoral and constitutional reform failed to materialise before the elections causing some parties to boycott the polls. Such a development would benefit the ruling party and is one of the reasons that KANU hard-liners are determined to delay or prevent constitutional reforms that could weaken the party’s dominance.

Another reform initiative whose future seems increasingly uncertain concerns the much needed clean-up of the civil service. This is another reform initiative adopted at the insistence of the World Bank and the IMF that appears to be bogged down after an apparently encouraging start. The appointment in 1999 of Richard Leakey and a team of well-respected technocrats from outside the ranks of KANU and government, brought hope of a credible process of national recovery and a clean-up of corruption and inefficiency in the civil service. Political interference since then culminated in April 2001 in the firing of Leakey and the resignation of most of the technocrats who had become regarded as an unwanted, externally imposed and funded threat to the President’s power base. The new head of the civil service, Dr Sally Kosgey, is from the same Kalenjin ethnic background as the President, and being very loyal to him is not expected to rock the boat.

Election politics

After considerable civil agitation President Moi eventually yielded to demands for a constitutional amendment to empower multiparty politics in Kenya in 1991. Since then there have been elections in 1992 and 1997, revealing similar patterns which may be repeated again in 2002. In both cases KANU exploited long-entrenched ethnic tensions and fears in the campaigns in preference to tabling ideological agendas. Many observers of these elections saw KANU’s hand in the inter-ethnic conflicts and violence that preceded the polls in the coastal and Rift Valley regions. Regional and ethnic differences in the opposition ranks were exploited to ensure that a significant number of votes for the opposition were dissipated and split among several small parties.

In understanding the politics of the previous elections it is helpful to regard the Kenyan multiparty system as a collection of ethnic-based parties rather than a modern secular system of competing ideologies. It is still too early to speculate on whether 2002 will be a repeat of the previous elections. Already the ruling KANU has formed an alliance with the National Development Party (NDP) led by Raila Odinga. The final details of the merger have yet to be announced, but the strong Luo base of the NDP was a significant part of its appeal to KANU. After several years of vociferous antagonism between the two parties, a period of parliamentary co-operation began in 1998. Common ground has been found in restricting constitutional reform to a parliamentary process, and more recently in advocating a ‘Majimbo’-type government for Kenya. This envisages a ceremonial-style president with a prime minister as head of government and decentralised regional governments. It is being proposed ostensibly as a means of reducing ethnicity and corruption in government and of distributing national resources more equitably. It is being heavily promoted to the people and to the Constitutional Review Commission by Odinga, who is expected to be a leading candidate for the position of prime minister.

Recently there has been considerable discussion between opposition parties and leaders regarding electoral alliances. Acutely aware of their failures in previous elections, the leaders of the Democratic Party, and Ford-Kenya and KANU dissidents under the leadership of Simeon Nyachae, have agreed with Charity Ngilu of the newly launched National Party of Kenya, on a timetable for establishing an alliance leading to a coalition government. This alliance will have to choose its presidential candidate from the competing aspirants and then build an electoral union strong enough to withstand the KANU/NDP onslaught that its strong Kikuyu support base will inevitably attract. KANU’s very robust style of campaigning includes near monopolisation of state radio, television and print media for party political ends and the use of the police and army to monitor and disrupt opposition meetings.

KANU itself is not as united as it has been hitherto, and there are several factions competing for power and favour. Already some dissidents have been expelled, and more are expected to follow. President and party leader Moi has recently caused considerable confusion within the party ranks by saying he is backing “the young generation” in preference to the older hard-liners he has historically been aligned with. He has told Kenyans to “expect a new political landscape by the end of the year”, while not yet having publicly pronounced on whether he intends to seek another term in office or not. The constitution would need to be amended before he could legally seek another term, and his age is also a factor militating against his re-election. He has advised questioners, however, to wait and then “follow me” when the time comes. Only the foolhardy would entirely discount Moi from a dominant role in the future dispensation, either in government itself or from the position of party chairman with trusted loyal supporters in the cabinet. What is also apparent from early manoeuvrings is that nobody in KANU can feel confident of the endorsement and patronage of President Moi, so crucial to any ambitious politician. In recent weeks several senior party and cabinet individuals previously regarded as front runners and reasonably secure of their futures, have been shaken and undermined by Moi’s statements.

The outlook

What is certain at this time – some 15 months from the election – is that the political life of Kenya will be dominated from now on by anticipation of the election and the battle to achieve or retain power. The broader economic and social interests of the country will again be subservient to the narrower interests of party, coalition and individual. Strategic thinking will be dominated by short-term expediency.

In the process some predictions can be made with certainty, including that the plight of the many starving Kenyans will worsen along with the economy, that no political leaders dare feel secure or confident in their post-electoral prospects, and that the dominant figure at least until the end of next year will be Daniel arap Moi. – RR

Lesotho: The art of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory

Any political commentator still under the impression that the acceptance of the forms and institutions of multiparty democracy constitute a sufficient base for political tolerance and the abjuration of violence, would do well to ponder the case of Lesotho.

In 1993 the tiny and impoverished mountain kingdom held its first genuine multiparty elections in almost 30 years. Since then, the political scene has been characterised by constant inter- and intra-party feuding, which has sometimes reached murderous proportions, and sporadic outbreaks of mutiny and unrest within and between units of the armed forces, culminating in an attempted coup in 1998 that was put down only by the intervention of South African and Botswanan forces, at severe cost in human life and the destruction of the capital’s commercial district.

Since the ostensible cause of these troubles had been the conduct and outcome of the latest general elections, a remedy was sought in reform of the constitutional system to allow for the broader representation of the kingdom’s political parties, most of which felt marginalised by the ruling party’s virtual monopoly of representation since 1993.

South African mediation between the various political camps succeeded in achieving the government’s consent to the formation of an Interim Political Authority (IPA) to prepare the ground for new elections, planned for 2000. The bickering in and around this body, however, suggested that few of the lessons that led up to the tragedy of 1998 had been learned by the political class. The constitutional principles emerging from the IPA’s deliberations were extremely vague, and the burning issue of how to introduce a system of proportional representation remained unaddressed for many months.

Finally, in December 1999, the IPA stipulated that the configuration of parliament should be changed to increase the number of seats to 130; the additional 50 being elected according to the principle of proportional representation.

The elections were to be held by June 2000, as agreed with the Commonwealth, the United Nations (UN) and the Southern African Development Community (SADC).

By February 2000, however, these arrangements had begun to fall apart when the Constitution Amendment Bill was presented to parliament. Unexpectedly, the ruling Lesotho Congress for Democracy (LCD)-dominated legislature decided to make several amendments, principal among which was reducing the proposed number of seats to 120, including only 40 on a proportional basis. The government rejected heated claims by the IPA and opposition parties that it had reneged on an agreement to which it had been a signatory, arguing that parliament remained sovereign.

Delay followed delay and deadline after deadline was missed, with blame being cast back and forth between government and the IPA. SADC was eager to avoid entanglement in these squabbles, and seemed unwilling to commit any pressure in support of its own creation, the IPA. As a result the government was able gradually to gain the upper hand in the dispute about constitutional reform and the related matter of the timing of the elections.

The Senate’s resistance to government amendments was overcome by the unsubtle suggestion that the upper house might itself become the subject of reform and even abolition, which would have a decisive effect on the residual status and powers of the traditional leaders and, by extension, that of the royal palace. The government’s heavy-handed tactics failed to elicit much response from the international community, by now heartily sick of having to reiterate appeals for reasonableness and concessions.

Having secured its way over the redesign of parliamentary representation, the government was content to allow the Independent Electoral Commission to make the final decision on the method of registration, which was to take place from 13 August to 9 September 2001, with the final register being available some time in early 2002. This would suggest that elections could be held in April or May 2002 at the earliest. In the event, the registration process had to be extended by three weeks for logistical and organisational reasons, suggesting that further delays are possible.

Given the political climate over the past year or so, the run-up to elections will be marked by continued feuding within as well as between the leading parties. Personal exchanges of a virulent and public nature have been the stock in trade of the leading members of Lesotho’s political class since the resumption of democratic competition. This trend shows no signs of abating.

Divisions within the opposition Basotho Congress Party (BCP) were already in existence from the time of the LCD’s secession from the party in June 1997, and a running battle over the leadership subsequently emerged between Tseliso Makhakhe and Molapo Qhobela. The BCP’s annual congress at the beginning of 2001 witnessed another round in the bitter personality struggle, which led to the holding of two rival conferences and subsequent court actions about the control of the party and its national executive.

The other principal opposition party – the Basotho National Party (BNP) – has also been riven by deep factional divisions. General Lekhanya’s forthright leadership style and his attempts to marginalise the pro-Jonathan elements in the party have tended to cause friction within the BNP since he took the helm. The latest spat is with the party’s secretary-general, who has responded to allegations of incompetence by withdrawing his support for Lekhanya, in the process reminding him of his unacceptable past as a military ruler. The outcome of this dispute is still at issue, though Lekhanya appears to hold the upper hand.

It might have been expected that the ruling LCD would seek to take advantage of its opponent’s discomfiture by emphasising the need for party unity. Characteristically for Lesotho, this has not proved the case. The LCD has split over control of its national executive committee. In many respects the LCD has merely carried forward the factionalism that characterised Ntsu Mokhehle’s BCP: the conservative grassroots, led by Shakhane Mokhehle, justice minister, party secretary-general and younger brother of the late prime minister, and the intellectual and youth groups, led by Pakalitha Mosisili and supported by most of his cabinet. At the January 2001 party conference, a dispute arose ostensibly as to whether the prime minister or the national executive committee should have the power to appoint ministers. This quickly developed into a fight for the secretary-generalship, which Shakane Mokhehle lost by the narrowest of margins to an ally of Mosisili. Allegations of irregularities began quickly to surface, and legal action was pursued, culminating in the victory of Mosisili’s faction and a cabinet reshuffle, which saw the exclusion of Mokhehle and the demotion of his political ally, Deputy Prime Minister Moape, whose resignation from cabinet was announced on 28 September.

The Mokhehle faction will renew its court battle against the Prime Minister in October, ignoring the criticism of Justice Michael Ramodibedi earlier in August. On that occasion the learned and evidently frustrated judge criticised the politicians for using the courts to resolve their differences before exhausting internal remedies. He ascribed these failings on the part of the politicians to a lack of trust and political tolerance among party members and added, more pertinently:

“At the root of this unholy war lies endless power struggles in which people jostle for positions in the management of political parties which in turn obviously provides access to funds and even fat allowances.”

– RC

Zambia: Who’s the boss?

For the past two years or more, the Zambian political debate has hinged upon the question of whether President Chiluba intended to alter the constitution to allow himself an attempt at re-election for a third term in office. Namibia’s President Nujoma had done this and a number of other heads of state, including Malawi’s President Muluzi and Togo’s Eyadema are said to be considering similar steps. What is unusual about the Zambian case is the intensity of the opposition Chiluba’s apparent ambitions unleashed within the ruling Movement for Multiparty Democracy (MMD). Early dissenters in cabinet were dismissed, but this did nothing to deter a mounting wave of discontent. By the middle of April the ministerial revolt had expanded to include the Vice-President, General Christon Tembo, seven other ministers, 13 deputy ministers and another 40-odd backbenchers.

A party convention, hastily organised with funds evidently filched from a state account, and from which anti-third term delegates were hounded, voted overwhelmingly to alter the MMD constitution to allow Chiluba to remain as head of the party, thereby paving the way for his presidential candidature should the national constitution be amended. This latter move, however, was obstructed by the courts, which refused to recognise the MMD’s expulsion of the dissidents, allowing them to retain their seats and thus denying the option of passing a constitutional amendment by a two-thirds majority in parliament. The option of attempting a referendum to secure a third-term amendment was unpromising given the constraints of time and the public mood, with the result that Chiluba – now facing a body of MMD parliamentarians moving for his impeachment on a range of charges – decided to take a different tack.

Early in May Chiluba announced publicly that he had decided to resist the public’s demand that he make himself available for re-election. He purged the cabinet of his opponents and appointed Enock Kavindele Vice-President in Tembo’s place, signalling that Kavindele – for all his lack of popular following – might be the anointed one. As yet, however, the MMD’s national executive committee made no decision on this score, and it was only towards the end of September that Chiluba indicated that he was throwing his decisive weight behind Levy Mwanawasa, who had been a voluntary exile in the political wilderness for seven years.

Mwanawasa’s nomination incensed Michael Sata, the MMD’s National Secretary and Minister without Portfolio, who had expected that after Chiluba’s withdrawal the choice might fall upon him. He immediately resigned his positions, and accused Chiluba of having rigged the nomination. This drew him into immediate conflict with Vernon Mwaanga, who as Minister of Information is destined to play a key role should the MMD’s triumvirate succeed at the polls. Sata, who enjoys the nickname, King Cobra, had been central to the party since his elevation to National Secretary in 1995, after which he earned the reputation of being the President’s ‘hatchet-man’, and earned the grudging admiration of his opponents for his organisational and tactical skills.

Even as his old allies were preparing to terminate his membership of the MMD, Sata announced his intention to contest the party’s candidacy, claiming to have sufficient support within the MMD to do so, particularly from the eastern regions. This seems merely to have hastened his suspension from the party on 28 September. According to newspaper reports, his immediate response was to register a new party, the Patriotic Front. As a man more to be feared then admired, however, Sata’s presidential chances appear so slim as to be virtually invisible.

What are we to make of Mwanawasa’s sudden elevation from the very fringes of the party? He is a highly regarded lawyer and was active in the early days of the MMD, eventually being elected vice-president of the party. From 1991 to 1994 he served as Zambia’s vice-president, but in the light of a growing perception that he might constitute a threat to Chiluba’s hold on the MMD, he was increasingly sidelined and resigned his cabinet and party positions in 1994, following his criticism of the MMD’s lack of commitment to human rights and good governance. It is Mwanawasa’s evident commitment to the core values that saw MMD elected in 1991 that have apparently made him an attractive candidate, though whether he can continue to present himself as ‘Mr Clean’ in his present political company remains to be seen.

Other, cogent, doubts have been expressed about his physical and mental capacity to withstand the rigours of the presidency without ‘political intensive care’. These refer to the injuries and other consequences of a severe motor accident in 1991, which have evidently left him forgetful and inconsistent.

The most significant challenge to Mwanawasa’s candidature comes from what is, in essence, an offshoot of the MMD, the Foundation for Democracy and Development (FDD) – the core of which comprises the dissidents whose opposition thwarted Chiluba’s efforts to secure an overt third term. Here much will be determined by the party congress that decides on the presidential candidate. Christon Tembo has emerged as a strong contender, but there are several others who have indicated their ambitions, and the rivalry is bound to resurrect some unwelcome political skeletons.

The FDD support in Lusaka and the south is fairly strong, but recent by-election success probably provides a misleading indicator as to its national strength.

Anderson Mazoka’s United Party for National Development (UNDP) has failed to assert its presence outside of the Lozi and Tonga areas of the south, despite its serious claims to advocate new policies.

Ben Mwila’s Republican Party, likewise, has yet to suggest that it enjoys a national following or that it represents anything more than the interests of marginalised ex-MMD stalwarts.

Of the other parties, the United National Independence Party (UNIP) is still riven by internal rivalries, which have just seen Francis Nkhoma’s claims to the party presidency, from which he was suspended in November 2000, upheld by the Lusaka High Court. This judgement will certainly have repercussions within the UNIP, whose organisational history since the retirement of Kenneth Kaunda has not been smooth. In particular, this will complicate the electoral chances of Tilyeni Kaunda, who replaced his brother, Wezi, as the chosen political heir after the latter’s murder.

Despite speculation that Chiluba would attempt to further wrong-foot his opponents by calling a snap election, it now appears that logistical problems will prevent this occurring, and the date is most likely to fall in late November or early December.

The poor turnout for voter registration would suggest that many Zambians have lost faith in most of the existing political class, seeing the current jostling and manoeuvring for place and position as essentially self-seeking. Certainly, the cynics have a point. Why have so many of the ‘insiders’ waited until their own political ambitions were threatened to reveal what they know about the character of the Chiluba administration?

Those who had served at the heart of government must surely have been aware of the malfeasance they now find so distasteful. Some, indeed, probably profited from it in their time near the top.

There is ample evidence that Zambia is enmeshed in deep systemic crisis. The economy’s growth, based as it is on the narrow foundations of copper, fails to translate into improved standards of living. The scourge of HIV/AIDS adds an almost unbearable burden to a demoralised nation. Only those with connections to State House seem to be able to assure themselves of an escape from destitution. No policy options are on offer, only the appeals to regional loyalties. Whatever happens in the elections due before the end of the year, the Zambian people are unlikely to be the winners. – RC