A Rising Issue

The first challenge faced by the literature is to define what is meant by the concept of politicized or political homophobia. Though there have been some misgivings related to the use of homophobia as overly focused on fear and eliding local specificities (van Klinken & Chitando Reference van Klinken and Chitando2016; Thoreson Reference Thoreson2014), most of the recent literature begins with the idea of going beyond personal hostility to focus on the strategic use of the negative meanings associated with same-sex sexualities by actors seeking to achieve political goals—going beyond the notion of fear itself to the parameters of its instrumentalization (Currier Reference Currier2010; McKay & Angotti Reference McKay and Angotti2016; Serrano-Amaya Reference Serrano-Amaya2018). This analysis thus follows Ashley Currier in using the term “politicized homophobia” to best reflect the idea of a purposive strategy leveraged against multiple forms of opposition, what she terms a deliberately activated public spectacle, but a similar concept of purposeful state strategy can be found under the umbrella of political homophobia in most works on the topic (Bosia & Weiss Reference Bosia and Weiss2013; Currier Reference Currier2018; McKay & Angotti Reference McKay and Angotti2016).

In these works, politicized homophobia is mainly understood as a tactic of othering, similar to other processes of nationalist construction stressing the distinction between the collective “we” and the outsiders (Slootmaeckers Reference Slootmaeckers2019). As such, it is usually deployed either in situations of political competition for control of the state, as in José Fernando Serrano-Amaya’s study of its role in political transitions, or as a tactic of regime preservation through the invention of a common enemy conjured up at critical junctures and against which the state can coordinate efforts (Amusan et al. Reference Amusan2019; Bosia & Weiss Reference Bosia and Weiss2013; Korycki & Nasirzadeh Reference Korycki and Nasirzadeh2013 ; Serrano-Amaya Reference Serrano-Amaya2018). It is in this context that politicized homophobia comes to encompass more than sexual minorities and is applied to all critics of the state, bundled together and dismissed through these attacks (Currier Reference Currier2018), as was the case in Zimbabwe.

Though these tactics are part of a wider effort at constructing the nation against its perceived enemies, politicized homophobia presents some unique characteristics and deserves to be explored as a standalone phenomenon with specific consequences (Currier Reference Currier2010; Serrano-Amaya Reference Serrano-Amaya2018). This distinctiveness has been approached in two ways: its unique relationship to masculinity and its construction as a gendered strategy, with authors relying on feminist literature showing how homophobia works as a structural, institutional mechanism of reproduction of a normative masculinity associated with the nation and bolsters masculinist control over the state, often by rewriting its history in the process (Currier Reference Currier2010, Reference Currier2018; McKay & Angotti Reference McKay and Angotti2016); and the idea that politicized homophobia is often used pre-emptively, in places where there are none or few pre-existing demands for gay rights along a Western model, which distinguishes it from other strands of identity politics that rely on locally entrenched divisions (Bosia & Weiss Reference Bosia and Weiss2013). In the African context, the other characteristic of politicized homophobia found almost unanimously in the literature is its depiction of the West as an imperialist force which needs to be resisted; most leaders mobilizing politicized homophobia usually do so by associating homosexuality with “white culture” and constructing it as an outside force threatening the local sovereignty, culture, and values that the nationalist rhetoric seeks to defend, thus both contesting and externalizing homosexuality (Bompani Reference Bompani, van Klinken and Chitando2016; Currier Reference Currier2018; Kaoma Reference Kaoma2018; van Klinken & Chitando Reference van Klinken and Chitando2016; Manyonganise Reference Manyonganise, van Klinken and Chitando2016; McKay & Angotti Reference McKay and Angotti2016). As will be demonstrated, all these strands are relevant to the Zimbabwean case.

There is also agreement on the rise of politicized homophobia in Africa in recent years and the need to consider its regional dimensions, including the use of similar rhetoric and tropes such as the “unAfricanness” of homosexuality and its immorality (McKay & Angotti Reference McKay and Angotti2016; Bosia & Weiss Reference Bosia and Weiss2013). Zimbabwe is often seen as a leader in this area, quickly emulated by others in the subregion and throughout the continent after Mugabe’s first forays into politicized homophobia in 1995 (Bosia & Weiss Reference Bosia and Weiss2013; Epprecht Reference Epprecht2013b). However, these parallels must not be construed as signs of a uniform or unifying phenomenon; though politicized homophobia has risen as a key element of many political struggles, it becomes politicized for different reasons and through different mechanisms in each country, and most scholars call for a nuanced, in-depth approach of each case to weigh the influence of a wide range of factors such as socioeconomic tensions, religion, democratization, and specific historical trajectories (Awondo et al. Reference Awondo, Geschiere and Reid2012; Bompani Reference Bompani, van Klinken and Chitando2016; Epprecht Reference Epprecht2013b; Geschiere Reference Geschiere2017; Kaoma Reference Kaoma2018; van Klinken & Chitando Reference van Klinken and Chitando2016; Manyonganise Reference Manyonganise, van Klinken and Chitando2016; Nyanzi Reference Nyanzi2013; Pierce Reference Pierce2016; Serrano-Amaya Reference Serrano-Amaya2018; Tamale Reference Tamale2013; Thoreson Reference Thoreson2014). Such precautions are seen as crucial to avoiding easy and essentializing dichotomies between Africa and the West or the erasure of local forces putting forward alternative understandings and meanings (Epprecht Reference Epprecht2013b; Kaoma Reference Kaoma2018; Serrano-Amaya Reference Serrano-Amaya2018). Though nuance is indeed central and necessary, the underlying consensus on a rise of politicized homophobia has prevented many scholars from interrogating a potential shift in this trajectory and considering the possibility of an erosion of its influence.

Indeed, a central question that has received less attention so far in the literature concerns the conditions of success (or failure) of this strategy. Kapya Kaoma has hypothesized that the success of the anti-gay movement is due to the existence of domestic and global infrastructures for social mobilization and to the impact of globalization, which makes cultural imperialism a potent threat (Kaoma Reference Kaoma2018); and Tara McKay and Nicole Angotti state that anti-homosexual discourses “are made meaningful through their intersection with other social and cultural logics in particular historical moments” (McKay & Angotti Reference McKay and Angotti2016:401), thus underlining the need to explore each case separately. However, there have been few studies following this line of inquiry and seeking to understand not only what made politicized homophobia a powerful political tool in a specific context but also whether it could lose its potency and what factors would lead to such an outcome, a gap that this article attempts to fill.

Tackling Politicized Homophobia

To conduct such an in-depth analysis of the Mugabe regime’s use of politicized homophobia and its limitations this article follows Serrano-Amaya’s approach, emphasizing the process of deployment and the results of politicized homophobia as much as the groups involved in its elaboration. This permits an understanding of “the use homophobia not as mere instrumental actions but as mechanisms of construction, destruction and reconstruction of social power relations” (Serrano-Amaya Reference Serrano-Amaya2018:14). Focusing on the dynamics of the phenomenon also allows the inclusion of a wider array of intersecting factors such as socioeconomic issues, liberation war discourses, religious influences, and personal political calculations in shaping the state’s rhetoric and the modalities of its use and thus delivers the type of in-depth case study that does justice to the complexity and particularities of the Zimbabwean trajectory while highlighting its influence and parallels with other countries in the region.

The analysis also builds on Ashley Currier’s insistence on the specificities of homophobia as more than a symptom of authoritarian rule, the “gendered and sexualized contours of this strategy” (Currier Reference Currier2010:112) and the need to consider its material consequences. Studying Namibia, Currier argues that homophobia “underpins African nationalist masculinities” (Currier Reference Currier2010:113) and is essential to the retelling of the patriotic histories of the liberation struggle which reaffirm the masculinist control of the state by the liberation movements. This article follows this line of inquiry by highlighting the central connection between myths of masculinity, liberation, homophobia, and ZANU-PF’s claims to legitimate power and authority. However, it goes beyond the implied dichotomy of Currier’s approach by taking into account the role of competing masculinities as discussed by Koen Slootmaeckers, who emphasizes the relevance of competing and hierarchized masculinities and focuses on the processes through which hegemonic hierarchies of masculinity and nationalism are maintained instead of treating men and masculinity as stable, undifferentiated categories (Slootmaeckers Reference Slootmaeckers2019). This differentiation is essential to a fine-grained understanding of the articulation of masculinist myths and discourses in ZANU-PF’s discourses and its consequences, as developed below.

Foundational Myths: Mugabe, Patriotic History, and Masculinity

The history of Mugabe and ZANU-PF’s rise to power has been abundantly described elsewhere and does not bear repeating here (Alao Reference Alao2012; Blair Reference Blair2003; Muzondidya Reference Muzondidya, Raftopoulos and Mlambo2009; and Raftopoulos Reference Raftopoulos and Harold-Barry2004). The current analysis focuses instead on one particular strategy of regime preservation, the use of discourse to shape and re-shape the nation and legitimize political control. Indeed, Mugabe’s thirty-seven-year rule over Zimbabwe was underpinned by a carefully crafted narrative justifying his hold on power by constantly rewriting the national past, turning it into what was dubbed a “patriotic history” behind which the party could unite (Kriger Reference Kriger2006). To this aim, Mugabe and ZANU-PF mobilized a cultural identity of Zimbabweans as “patriots,” mostly defined as those supporting them, as opposed to “sell-outs,” which covered virtually anyone else (Ndlovu-Gatsheni Reference Ndlovu-Gatsheni2009). Only “patriots” could be deemed “real Zimbabweans,” a definition which became increasingly narrow and self-serving as the regime faced mounting opposition and sought to delegitimize its enemies by restricting the number of people who could pretend to participate in the nationalist project (Thompson Reference Thompson2012).

The resonance of this constructed identity was ensured by relying on a shared cultural template, the history of the country’s liberation war. However, ZANU-PF used a heavily doctored version of the story: the role of the other liberation movement (ZAPU, the Zimbabwe African People’s Union) or Britain’s mediation of the independence agreement in 1980 were erased from official history as “the ruling party ZANU-PF propagated the fiction that the Zimbabwe African National Liberation Army (ZANLA), its military arm, won the war on the battlefield and therefore the right to rule” (Compagnon Reference Compagnon20110:3). Mugabe and ZANU-PF essentially worked to create a form of foundational myth, the tale of a glorious rebellion taking back its land and its freedom, with its leadership at the heart of the epic. Long after the end of the war, Mugabe continued to exploit this narrative of liberation; he presented himself and his government as permanent freedom fighters, always engaged in a struggle for the emancipation of the nation. This made them the only ones fit to rule, with every election a test of the people’s patriotism and their support for this foundational struggle against colonialism (Alao Reference Alao2012; Compagnon Reference Compagnon2011; Ndlovu-Gatsheni & Willems Reference Ndlovu-Gatsheni and Willems2009).

This liberation war imagery thus served as the basis of the “imagined community” of Zimbabwe, in Benedict Anderson’s terms (Anderson Reference Anderson2006), and helped bind its members together. In this imagined community, the figure of Mugabe loomed large:

The personality cult centered around Mugabe emerged as early as the 1970s and was faithfully cultivated; his image as a central figure of the liberation was mobilized for every election after 1980 (Compagnon Reference Compagnon2011; Ndlovu-Gatsheni Reference Ndlovu-Gatsheni2009). This brand of nationalism even came to be dubbed Mugabeism, a doctrine in which substance evolved to fit the circumstances and the audience, but the nationalist core remained unchanged. “Mugabeism consistently imagined the postcolonial state and the nation in skewed partisan terms that included use of the state media to promote only ZANU-PF and ZANLA (ZANU’s military arm) war contributions, war songs, party slogans, and symbols, even at national events” (Ndlovu-Gatsheni Reference Ndlovu-Gatsheni2009:241).

This discourse was indeed intentionally disseminated at every turn to shore up the legitimacy of the regime. Sabelo J. Ndlovu-Gatsheni mentions the creation of a National Youth Training Service as well as National Strategic Studies in every college “to inculcate issues of national ethos and patriotism” (2009:30). Laws were passed to “define local in ways that serve the values and interests of the ruling party” (Thompson Reference Thompson2012:18), complemented by shows on state-owned radio and television, state-sponsored galas and concerts, and education programs in rural areas, all aiming to disseminate a narrow, monolithic interpretation of nation and identity (Muzondidya Reference Muzondidya, Raftopoulos and Mlambo2009). Mugabe was once again central in this propaganda effort, with his speeches “endlessly quoted” in state-owned newspapers and TV programs (Thompson Reference Thompson2012:14).

As theorized by Currier, masculinity occupied a key place in this mythology of the liberation war (Currier Reference Currier2010). Becoming part of the guerrilla cohort was a rite of passage only fit for “real men” (Ndlovu-Gatsheni Reference Ndlovu-Gatsheni2009), and the liberation was understood in “political paradigms that link[ed] the winning and losing of power to manhood and conquest” (Muponde Reference Muponde, Raftopoulos and Savage2004:180). Colonization was conceived as an emasculation of the black man, which was to be counterbalanced by the strong masculinist message of the liberation struggle leading to a “growing confusion of male virility with African nationalism” (Epprecht Reference Epprecht2005:260). Therefore, “the reassertion of male power framed much of the nationalist discourse,” and those who did not support the armed struggle “were branded as sell-outs/quislings, loyal ‘lapdogs,’ effeminate (and often homosexual), too cowardly to lay down their life for family, culture and nation” (Parpart Reference Parpart, Parpart and Zalewski2008:187).

This morphed into a gendered view of Zimbabwean politics after independence and an emphasis on the hegemonic masculinity as defined by Slootmaeckers; the ruler had to embody this triumphant version of masculinity, and “competing masculinities [were] regarded as, at worst, pale versions of ‘real men’ […]: incompetent, shifting, and vulnerable others who can only be used to denote how unwell the nation might become if they should be allowed to rule the country” (Muponde Reference Muponde and Ndlovu-Gatsheni2015:138; Slootmaeckers Reference Slootmaeckers2019). Masculinity later continued to occupy a central role in the nationalist rhetoric, while Mugabe and ZANU-PF engaged in “a campaign to […] somehow feminize the [opposition party Movement for Democratic Change] MDC” (Hammar & Raftopoulos Reference Hammar, Raftopoulos, Hammar, Raftopoulos and Jensen2003:29). ZANU-PF and Mugabe thus put forward a reinterpretation of the national history that solidified their control of the state through a reassertion of dominant masculinist tropes (Currier Reference Currier2010).

The Third Chimurenga and the Specter of the West

This foundational myth of masculinist liberation took a new direction in the 1990s with the worsening of Zimbabwe’s economic situation, which precipitated the crystallization of state rhetoric against one particular enemy: the West. Because of mismanagement and the added stress of the SAP, by 2000 the country’s inflation had reached 57% and unemployment 50%; the loss of a constitutional referendum the same year threw the government into a crisis. To rally support, Mugabe turned to a very sensitive topic in Zimbabwean politics: land ownership reform. Arguing in a famous slogan that “The Land is the Economy, the Economy is the Land,” Mugabe promised to take land back from white farmers to give it back to black Zimbabweans to finally conclude the liberation struggle and save the economy (Raftopoulos Reference Raftopoulos, Hammar, Raftopoulos and Jensen2003). This episode was named the “Third Chimurenga,” a direct reference to the liberation war: the first Chimurenga took place at the end of the nineteenth century when black leaders rebelled against white domination, while the second Chimurenga was the anticolonial fight of the 1970s. The third Chimurenga would thus be the final one, which would allow Zimbabweans to complete the liberation by physically taking back their land from the remaining white farmers. The land issue was depicted as the only issue that mattered; “all other aspects of the national liberation struggle, such as the right to vote, democracy, human rights, and equality, were erased from the narrative of the liberation struggle as the land issue became elevated into a singular basis of freedom” (Ndlovu-Gatsheni Reference Ndlovu-Gatsheni2009:237). Margrete Aarmo argues that this connection between land and liberation was particularly significant, as it tapped into a symbolic association between land, fertility, wealth, and the regeneration of the nation, again making masculinity and sexuality central aspects of the national imagining and the Zimbabwean identity (Aarmo Reference Aarmo1999).

The 2000 crisis thus saw a readjustment of the liberation myth and its masculinist undertones to a contemporary struggle against Western imperialism. The ensuing radicalization of rhetoric would define the political stage in Zimbabwe for years to come. The political crisis at home was redefined as a fundamental struggle between African sovereignty, embodied by Mugabe and ZANU-PF’s constant fight for liberation and independence and the reappropriation of the land, and a looming imperialist threat aiming to defeat the liberation movement. Any form of opposition, including domestic opposition parties, was necessarily a stooge for the West, and any discourse that was not the official line was an attempt at importing foreign cultural values. Democracy and human rights were constructs insidiously aiming to weaken the fight against neo-colonialism led by the liberation heroes, and anyone opposing the land seizures—even to protect black farmworkers who lost their livelihoods—was sabotaging the national project, subverting the nation’s autonomy, and part of a plot from outsiders seeking to reassert control over its assets (Ndlovu-Gatsheni & Willems Reference Ndlovu-Gatsheni and Willems2009; Raftopoulos Reference Raftopoulos, Raftopoulos and Mlambo2009; Tendi Reference Tendi2010; Worby Reference Worby, Hammar, Raftopoulos and Jensen2003). This violent rhetoric had concrete consequences; acts of violence against white Zimbabweans notably increased, the government strengthened its control over state media and doubled down on patriotic propaganda, repressive legislation and outright violence by the police and the military were recorded, and local administrations were purged (Meredith Reference Meredith2002; Thompson Reference Thompson2012).

As noted by Erika Harris, defining national identity and nationalist discourse is not just a matter of being but of acting; identity, once defined, legitimates a particular range of actions (Harris Reference Harris2009). Casting himself and his party as the defenders of African sovereignty and true Zimbabwe allowed Mugabe to violently repress any form of opposition and mobilize support. ZANU-PF’s majority in the polls can be deemed dubious, but it nonetheless managed to keep control of enough of the police, military, and war veterans to successfully face off any challengers. Defining who the real citizens were thus allowed Mugabe to continue ruling as their alleged protector, even as the internal crisis deepened.

Homosexuals as the Anti-Zimbabweans

Mugabe and ZANU-PF had thus constructed a complex and potent national discourse blending hegemonic masculinity, liberation and land, African sovereignty, and anti-imperialism to justify their hold on power, deflect blame for the mounting economic hardships, and reject any attempt at opposing their policies. In this context, homosexuality and homosexuals became a recurring theme of the Mugabe rhetoric.

Some have attributed this phenomenon and Mugabe’s dislike and increasingly frequent attacks against homosexuals to his religious education and personal views (Epprecht Reference Epprecht2005, Reference Epprecht2013a), with three episodes often mentioned to explain his virulence, including the outing of former president Canaan Banana, which led to persistent rumors about past and present officials and durably embarrassed the government (Gaidzanwa Reference Gaidzanwa and Ndlovu-Gatsheni2015); the 1999 attempt by British gay activist Peter Tatchell to have Mugabe arrested for torture, an episode which “angered Mugabe so much that he called Tony Blair and his government ‘little men’ and accused them of ‘using gay gangster tactics’” (Gaidzanwa Reference Gaidzanwa and Ndlovu-Gatsheni2015:163); and the accusations of same-sex relations leveraged against the Minister of Information Jonathan Moyo in 2002 which again embarrassed the government (Human Rights Watch 2003). These events have certainly marked public discourse but seem more like consequences than causes of the resentment; many elements point to a larger dynamic at play which was closely related to the national identity narrative previously delineated and more particularly the patriarchal and macho nature of its obsession with the liberation war.

First, it must be noted that Mugabe displayed no overt hostility to homosexuals before the rise of opposition and economic troubles in the 1990s, despite having potentially known about Banana since the 1980s (Epprecht Reference Epprecht2013b; Manyonganise Reference Manyonganise, van Klinken and Chitando2016). Indeed, his first famous attack came in 1995 at the Zimbabwe International Book Fair; the government prohibited the Gays and Lesbians of Zimbabwe (GALZ) organization from attending the Fair, and Mugabe justified his actions by saying that he “[found] it outrageous and repugnant to [his] human conscience that such immoral and repulsive organizations like those of homosexuals, who offend both agents of the law of nature and the morals and religious beliefs espoused by our society, should have any advocates in our midst or even elsewhere in the world” (Campbell Reference Campbell2003:155). This rhetoric, repeated over the years including when the government banned GALZ from attending the Fair again in 1996, amalgamates many of the tropes usually found in anti-gay discourse including religious beliefs, morality, and cultural particularism (Epprecht Reference Epprecht2013b; Kaoma Reference Kaoma2018).

The timing of this incident was no accident; the 1995 speech took place close to the launch of the presidential campaign and at a time of massive worker protests and other demonstrations against the SAP (Campbell Reference Campbell2003). As the economic situation worsened and disillusionment with the regime grew, official harassment of homosexuals increased. In addition, in the mid-1990s GALZ was becoming a strong voice among civil society, openly criticizing the government. “Such unprecedented assertions of individual freedoms, gay identities, and the right to criticize if not outright mock one’s elders were seen by the ruling party as a dangerous foot in the door heralding wider attacks from civil society” (Epprecht Reference Epprecht2013a:178), which explains the mounting attacks against the organization.

Indeed, homosexuals became such notorious boogiemen that one Zimbabwean LGBTQ rights advocate once referred to homosexuality as one of Mugabe and ZANU-PF’s “campaign tools” (Washington Blade 2014; Manyonganise Reference Manyonganise, van Klinken and Chitando2016). Electoral periods thus regularly saw increased threats on GALZ as the driving organization of the “gay agenda” in Zimbabwe. The organization and by extension its members (and anyone assumed to be gay due to their appearance, dress, or mannerisms) faced increased pressures during this time (Anonymous source, interview, 2018).

The choice of homosexuals as scapegoats is not surprising; as argued by Aarmo, homosexuality came to be viewed as a useful symbol because it represented an ideal other to this nationalist construct, “a simple, binary opposition to the extended family, the heterosexual, patrilineal institution that constitutes the ‘cultural backbone’ of the cultural tradition in Zimbabwe,” even if this culture was actually an artificial construct (Aarmo Reference Aarmo1999:268). This fits with Currier’s argument regarding homophobia as key to the reaffirmation of a masculinist control of the state and the bundling together of opposition forces as outside of the national imagining (Currier Reference Currier2010). Notably, as Mugabe’s dominant rhetoric shifted from liberation history to a reemphasis on the West as the central enemy, homosexuals went from symbolizing the subordinate masculinity over which the liberators triumphed to the anti-Zimbabwean agents of imperialism, a rhetorical evolution which allowed them to continuously embody the “other” of the nationalist construct and be readily available to shore up support as requested by the circumstances (Epprecht Reference Epprecht2013a; McKay & Angotti Reference McKay and Angotti2016).

Resonance

This emphasis on the threat posed by homosexuality is notable, not only because it occupied an increasingly central role in the party’s narrative but also because it found a receptive audience. By September 1995, the Zimbabwean Parliament had voted in favor of repressing homosexuals, and Marc Epprecht relates that during the trial of Canaan Banana’s bodyguard in 1997, who admitted to murdering the man who had called him Banana’s wife, “the judge still felt that to name this relationship in public constituted an insult so horrible that it diminished [the murderer]’s responsibility,” betraying the depth of prejudice against homosexuals (Epprecht Reference Epprecht2013a:4). Though most Zimbabweans seemed to remain moderate and were “baffled by the ‘anti-homo’ campaign of 1995” (Epprecht Reference Epprecht1998:633), it seems that the government was able to impose its perception of the situation and shape public attitude, at least in part. One activist stated that “the general perception of homosexuality has been widely shaped by the rhetoric from political leadership in Zimbabwe” (Anonymous source, interview, 2018). Segments of the media, the churches, and the political elite quickly rallied behind this banner, as well as members of the public. During the 1999 hearings related to the amendment of the Constitution, a sizeable number of people sought a ban on homosexuality and a Human Rights Watch Report found that “homosexuality […] galvanized press and public alike” (Human Rights Watch 2003; Aarmo Reference Aarmo1999; Campbell Reference Campbell2003; Hoad Reference Hoad2007). The government’s articulation of cultural identity seemed to have taken hold.

Many elements can be cited to explain the resonance of this discourse, including a rejection of homosexuality dating back to the colonial era and its internalized codes. Africa had long been described by colonial ethnographers as a land of primitive purity and thus naturally heterosexual, a consensus which was later adopted and perpetuated by African scholars, contributing to the imagining of homosexuality as foreign to Africa or limited to the darkest corners of colonial oppression (Campbell Reference Campbell2003; Epprecht Reference Epprecht2008; Msibi Reference Msibi2011). Others have pointed out the fact that male homosexuality could represent a threat to women’s access to resources and moral rights through marriage, which could explain why the Zimbabwean Women’s League so enthusiastically supported Mugabe’s discourse (Epprecht Reference Epprecht2013a). The HIV/AIDS epidemic, dismissed as “a white man’s disease or a scourge amongst the few black men who, perhaps out of too much love for money, agree to be made ‘wives’ by white perverts’” (Gundani Reference Gundani and Harold-Barry2004:97) as well as the disproportionate visibility of white gay men, particularly in South Africa, also contributed to the image of homosexuality as white, foreign, and distant (Hoad Reference Hoad2007).

The contemporary difficulties faced by Zimbabwe also played a role. Anxiety about morality or social conduct often “reflect deeper social and material insecurities about the future,” which would be understandable in a country afflicted by civil war, the stress of debt and neoliberal reform, and HIV/AIDS (Rao Reference Rao2014:194). The difficult economic situation in particular “undercut several of the principal stays of masculinity in Zimbabwe—the ability to provide for a wife and children above all” (Epprecht Reference Epprecht2013a:177–78). As men found their position increasingly challenged, they developed a need to reassert their dominance and reject those who could question their standing and status, including homosexuals (Msibi Reference Msibi2011). In this understanding, “the well-publicized turmoil over homosexuality in Africa is in fact a poorly choreographed distraction from the tenuousness of hegemonic African masculinity and is also imbricated with the socioeconomic development- related failures of Africa’s ruling men” (Ratele Reference Ratele2014:116). Homophobia thus has it “uses” in Africa “as a kind of explanation (or better still, displacement) of the impossibility of attaining and maintaining traditionally hegemonic African masculinity. The ‘homosexual’, then, is what a real African man is not, and a defining characteristic of the dominant male position is violence” (Ratele Reference Ratele2014:118). Homophobia “worked” because it was articulated in a context within which it provided answers, however misguided, to very real concerns and fit well between the socially accepted understandings of self and identity. The anti-Western turn of Mugabe’s rhetoric itself agreed with the already existing and potentially influential narratives of anti-imperialism which held currency even among those most at risk. Strikingly, Aarmo reports a conversation with a lesbian woman in Harare who felt threatened by the president’s rhetoric but was nonetheless supportive of Mugabe’s general attitude toward the West (Aarmo Reference Aarmo1999).Footnote ³

Regional Dimensions

This rhetoric was also significant within the regional context. In the 1980s, Mugabe had sought to distance himself and ZANU-PF from the legacies of the white Rhodesian regime they had just replaced and to position themselves as leaders in the fight for liberation and independence in Southern Africa (Nyakudya & Jakarasi Reference Nyakudya, Jakarasi and Ndlovu-Gatsheni2015). The patriotic discourse of ZANU-PF was thus deployed beyond Zimbabwe’s borders, and it succeeded for a time in solidifying Mugabe’s status as an elder and a war hero. His star shone particularly brightly toward the end of the 1980s and the beginning of the 1990s, when in addition to being a leading voice in the Southern Africa Development Community (SADC) and among the Frontline States he chaired the OAU and the Non-Aligned Movement and received the Jawaharlal Nehru Peace Award.

However, the end of the apartheid regime upset the regional balance, with Mandela’s star rising as crisis engulfed Zimbabwe (Nyakudya & Jakarasi Reference Nyakudya, Jakarasi and Ndlovu-Gatsheni2015). It is thus not surprising that as South Africa was developing its democratic constitution, which included protections for gay rights, Mugabe increasingly sought to portray his regime as the regional protector of African values against “the South African political leadership’s capitulation to the international capital” (Campbell Reference Campbell2003:269). South Africa was derided for not being Africanized enough and not having won a military victory; indeed, “the class in power in Zimbabwe considered themselves guardians of African male power, and the silent text of many of the intellectuals and leaders in Zimbabwe was that South Africa had succumbed to a constitution that gave rights to gays and lesbians because its liberation movement had not conquered power and were, hence, not ‘real men’” (Campbell Reference Campbell2003:166; McKay & Angotti Reference McKay and Angotti2016).

This seems to have been a potent tool, and Mugabe is often described as leading the way in the dissemination of homophobic language at the end of the 1990s. Horace Campbell states that “Presidents Arap Moi of Kenya, Yoweri Museveni of Uganda, and Sam Mujona of Namibia reproduced [Mugabe’s] homophobic statements” (Campbell Reference Campbell2003:179); indeed, “President Sam Nujoma of Namibia vowed to ‘uproot’ homosexuality from Namibian society […] on December 6, 1996, employing almost identical rhetoric to that of his Zimbabwean counterpart” (Hoad Reference Hoad2007:77). Most of those who echoed Mugabe’s rhetoric did so using a similar frame of anticolonial nationalism, constructing themselves as repositories of tradition against foreign incursions (Hoad Reference Hoad2007).

The fact that this discourse seemed to spread does not mean that it was the only one nor that it was justified in claiming to represent genuine “Africanness.” Despite allegedly intending to defend African values, these approaches mostly reproduced European codes, including Western conservative arguments and colonial-era laws (Epprecht Reference Epprecht2013a). As stated very vividly by Neville Hoad, “President Mugabe is obviously less worried about Western cultural imperialism when he puts on a suit and tie in the morning, and no one accuses monogamous heterosexuality of being a decadent Western import (which, given the historical polygamy of many sub-Saharan African societies, it clearly is)” (Hoad Reference Hoad2007:73). The narrative constructed by Mugabe and ZANU-PF remains just this, a narrative, serving political aims.

It remains nonetheless that numerous African countries adopted stronger stances against homosexuality toward the end of the 1990s and the beginning of the 2000s, explicitly linking it with renewed attempts at colonialism and framing their answer as anti-imperialist resistance. Homosexuality had left the realm of the intimate to become the focus of a myriad of public discourses as NGOs, activists, and politicians in Africa and elsewhere attempted to shape the narrative according to their own perceptions and political aims. In this Mugabe was not alone, and if his rhetoric appeared sometimes bizarre, he was not out of step with his domestic or regional context (Nyakudya & Jakarasi Reference Nyakudya, Jakarasi and Ndlovu-Gatsheni2015; Tendi Reference Tendi2010). To the contrary, homosexuality grew into a symbol of opposing conceptions of modernity and international relations in the mid-2000s and 2010s. In 2011, then-Prime Minister of the UK David Cameron suggested that aid could be linked to improvements in LGBTQ rights, and then-President of the US Barack Obama later made similar comments (Guardian 2011; Atlantic 2015). This caused a violent backlash from countries such as Tanzania, Ghana, and Uganda, where presidential adviser John Nagenda “accused Mr Cameron of showing an ‘ex-colonial mentality’ and of treating Ugandans ‘like children’” before insisting on his country’s status as a sovereign state (BBC 2011). In 2014 in Uganda, the infamous Anti-Homosexuality Act was ardently defended by Members of Parliament who chanted “our bill” “as a way of asserting moral authority and national autonomy against a neo-colonial West” (Awondo et al. Reference Awondo, Geschiere and Reid2012:154). From regional politics, this debate had come to be framed as a battle between two systems, national sovereignty versus human rights, which echoed larger preoccupations regarding the nature of international governance and South-North relations.

The clash continued in 2015 and beyond, with President Kenyatta stating during a news conference with then-President Obama that “while Kenya and the US share some values—democracy, value for families, entrepreneurship—there were ‘some things that we must admit we don’t share’” (Independent 2015a). While more subdued than Mugabe’s message, Kenyatta’s answer nonetheless made it clear that he did not agree with the perceived imposition of Western cultural values. Former Tanzanian President Jakaya Kikwete spelled out similar views in an interview with Christiane Amanpour (CNN 2014) while his successor, John Magufuli, attacked gay rights activists in 2017 by saying that they brought to his country “homosexual practices that even cows disapprove of” (Vox 2017), and was accused of encouraging harassment and policy brutality against LGBTQ individuals (HRW 2020). In 2016 a group of African nations also attempted to suspend the nomination of the first UN expert monitoring LGBT rights, a position justified by the Botswana Ambassador to the UN, Charles Ntawagae, in familiar terms: “African nations ‘are alarmed’ that the Human Rights Council is delving into national matters” (Guardian 2016).

Friendly Audience

When Mugabe stepped toward the podium at the UNGA in 2015, he therefore came prepared. He had for years put forward a narrative about who he was, who his party was, and the role they played in national, regional, and international politics, and he banked on the reception of this narrative at home and abroad (Ndlovu-Gatsheni Reference Ndlovu-Gatsheni2009). He could expect his views on sovereignty and anti-imperialism to be shared by at least some countries of the region, and indeed his more conventional points on the need to reform the United Nations Security Council, promote self-determination, or stop interference in domestic affairs, even when they were spontaneously added to his written notes, drew applause and apparent approval from at least some in the room. His view that rights should not be imposed if they are contrary to traditions and values, which is how he introduced his “we are not gays” assertion, also drew on regional precedent and could be expected to receive some support from his African counterparts.

Homosexuality had come to occupy an outsized place in international conversations, enmeshed in a larger discourse on neo-colonialism and imperialism. While African politicians, among others, continued to present their opposition to it as a defense of Africa’s traditions against so-called Western values and ideas, Western leaders increasingly took what they perceived as progressive stances to satisfy domestic demands. By taking this position at UNGA, Mugabe aligned himself with a regional consensus he had helped to create and signaled his will to remain a strong voice in this new kind of culture wars; as stated by an expert who preferred to remain anonymous, his message was clear:

Sending a Message Home

However, this speech was not only intended for a global audience. Mugabe’s discourses were always diligently broadcast home, and this one was no exception; it was extensively echoed in the press and on social media, with the aim of sending a messageFootnote ⁴. Like previous instances of televised homophobia, this statement came at a tense moment in Zimbabwean politics and can be read as an attempt to rally support for Mugabe and his followers. Indeed, in 2014 the economy was dramatically in the red, forcing Mugabe to seek help. He was also seen as aging, taking frequent trips to Singapore for his health, which meant that the fight to determine his succession was brewing. In 2014 his wife Grace Mugabe was nominated to run the ZANU-PF’s Women League, and it was understood that she was being groomed to succeed him, especially after she launched a violent smear campaign against Joice Mujuru, another promising candidate and ZANU-PF veteran. At the December 2014 ZANU-PF Congress, various factions fought to eliminate their rivals, and Grace emerged as the rising star behind Mugabe, who was seen as too old to continue ruling for long (Gaidzanwa Reference Gaidzanwa and Ndlovu-Gatsheni2015).

In 2015 the infighting worsened. According to Sue Onslow and Martin Plaut, the cabinet was reshuffled to include 72 Ministers that year, and internecine struggles culminated in Mujuru’s dismissal and expulsion from the party, accompanied by a purge of her supporters, leading her to create a new party (Onslow & Plaut Reference Onslow and Plaut2018). Mugabe was endorsed as party leader and candidate for the next presidential election, but accusations of dementia, and that he was generally too old for office, continued to abound (Gaidzanwa Reference Gaidzanwa and Ndlovu-Gatsheni2015). Opposition also grew within the population; Itai Rusike, executive director of the Community Health Working Group in Zimbabwe, stated that “the political climate was marred with violence and intimidation. A lot of people were being arrested […] for demanding their rights or speaking against the government and Mugabe” (I. Rusike, interview, 2018). Finding himself in a dangerous position, Mugabe thus went back to his old “toolbox” and sought to use the rhetoric that had served him so well in the past to once again bolster his position and reassert his influence.

The Fall

It would take two more years before Mugabe was forced to leave power, and it might therefore be difficult to state that his speech was a clear indication of things to come. But there were nonetheless signs. If Mugabe’s rhetoric fit within the region’s general discourse, one that he had participated in building, his pronouncement was met with more embarrassed laughter than applause—as opposed to some of his other points in the same speech—indicating that it might be a bit out of step. In addition, attitudes toward homosexuality may not have drastically changed in Zimbabwe in recent years, but the appeal of this rhetoric seems to have faded in the face of the seriousness of the other challenges encountered by the population. As stated by one activist, “By this time, the general feeling of the masses was that of indifference towards the President and his speeches as this message had run its course, people wanted to hear messages that spoke to their daily struggles, addressing poverty and getting the economy back on track” (Anonymous source, interview, 2018).

This is not to say that Mugabe’s rhetoric had always succeeded in imposing the state’s narrative until then. James Muzondidya states that despite the use of both discourse and violence, ZANU-PF failed to impose a total control over the state apparatus; there had been infighting and opposition from within the party since the 1980s, and the government’s narrative was in constant competition with others in the media and elsewhere (Muzondidya Reference Muzondidya, Raftopoulos and Mlambo2009). But it had nonetheless been enough to generate a movement, to rally crowds, and to strengthen Mugabe’s status and his party’s unity, and for a long time the government had been able to control the narrative. However, in recent years a shift had begun. As summarized by one activist, there had been a “gradual positive shift in public discourse on the issue. There has been an increase in the coverage of LGBTI lives and issues in the media, from a time when it was sensationalist in nature to now when we almost see positive profiling of LGBTI issues. There has been a steady creation of spaces for dialogue and inclusion of LGBTI people socially” (Anonymous source, interview, 2018). In addition, these identity debates were increasingly perceived as a distraction from enduring issues which remained unaddressed. Epprecht quotes opposition leader Morgan Tsvangirai already decrying this in the early 2010s when he referred to the anti-homosexuality discourse as “an elitist debate when people have no food, when people have no jobs, when people have so many problems” (Epprecht Reference Epprecht2013b:4–5). Molly Manyonganise agrees with this interpretation, arguing that “Zimbabweans are not that dump [sic] and they have begun to question why the President is focusing his energies on a theme that is of no consequence to their wellbeing while he turns a blind eye on bread and butter issues” (Manyonganise Reference Manyonganise, van Klinken and Chitando2016:70).

The moment when Mugabe sought to use the international stage to send a sure message home was thus the moment when his rhetoric began to fail him. This tool had perhaps been used too many times and was not enough to distract from the seriousness of the population’s more immediate challenges. What failed to rally the population also failed to unite the party. Fighting within ZANU-PF worsened in the next months, and “by early 2016, party internecine struggles reached such a pitch that observers were warning the country risked descending into civil war” (Onslow & Plaut Reference Onslow and Plaut2018:147). Infighting continued, and critiques kept mounting as Mugabe made more explicit his desire to see his wife Grace succeed him; in 2017 this led to the sacking of Vice-President Emmerson Mnangagwa, who had opposed Grace’s promotion. This proved to be a step too far, and it was accomplished without the necessary support including within the military. Mnangagwa staged a successful coup a couple of days later (Onslow & Plaut Reference Onslow and Plaut2018) and remains in power today.