In a move that has sent shockwaves through the corridors of power (and the gin shelves of the Foreign Office), Zimbabwe's parliament has passed a bill extending the president's term in power. The news has triggered a UK sanctions review, which is Whitehall's way of saying 'We've run out of sensible options, so let's form a committee.'
Let us be clear. This is not a bill. This is a formal declaration that democracy in Zimbabwe has been put on a respirator and is being slowly unplugged by men in ill-fitting suits. The president, a chap whose visage adorns more currency than an actual monarch, now has a legal path to rule until the polar ice caps melt and the Thames floods the Ministry of Defence canteen.
One can almost hear the collective sigh from the House of Commons. A sanctions review, you say? How deliciously British. We'll form a taskforce, draft a sternly worded letter, and perhaps send a strongly implied tut of disapproval over the telegraph wires. Meanwhile, the Zimbabwean president will be enjoying his 37th term, likely carving his face into Mount Rushmore's forgotten cousin.
Let me paint you a picture. Imagine a political landscape where elections are as competitive as a race between a tortoise and a snail on tranquilisers. That is Zimbabwe. The bill, passed with the speed and grace of a wildebeest stampede, ensures that the only thing changing in Harare is the date on the calendar. Opposition MPs tried to filibuster, but they were drowned out by the sound of pocketed cash and the rustling of party loyalty cards.
The UK, ever the hapless gentleman, will now review sanctions. Expect a white paper, several hours of parliamentary debate where MPs pretend to care, and then a return to the status quo. Because sanctions on Zimbabwe are like an umbrella in a hurricane: technically present but utterly useless.
And what of the Zimbabwean people? They are caught between a rock and a hard place, which in this case is a diamond mine and a stagnant economy. The bill will no doubt be sold as 'ensuring stability' or 'protecting national interests'. But we all know the truth: it is a golden ticket for the ruling elite to carry on their grand tradition of playing Monopoly with the national wealth while the population plays Hungry Hungry Hippos for a loaf of bread.
In other news, the UN has expressed 'deep concern'. So deep, in fact, that it has form a committee to form a sub-committee to draft a protocol for expressing concern. The African Union is 'monitoring the situation', which is code for 'we'll wait and see who pays us the most'. And the Commonwealth is, predictably, 'unavailable for comment' as they are busy polishing their ceremonial mace.
So raise a glass of that increasingly expensive gin to the eternal president of Zimbabwe. May his reign be long, his corruption blatant, and his legal legacy as resilient as a weed in a crack in the pavement. As for the UK sanctions review, I have just one word of advice: don't hold your breath. You'll turn blue and match the colour of the Zimbabwean president's tie.
