Mugabe and the White African

By Daniel Nelson A former South African army captain who moved to Rhodesia in 1974 and is now one of Zimbabwe’s last white farmers, Michael Campbell is not the obvious choice as the sympathetic subject of a documentary. But as the film follows his dogged resistance against the Zimbabwe government’s attempts to bully him off his farm, your admiration for his cussedness increases. This 74-year-old man, and his son-in-law Ben, are as bull-headed as Robert Mugabe. The farmer and the president are worthy opponents, but the cards are stacked in Mugabe’s favour. Government supporters are free to use violence, and they do, repeatedly – against property and people. In an attempt to hold onto his 3,000 acre farm despite mounting intimidation, Campbell takes his case to a southern African court based in Namibia. Here, too, Mugabe displays contempt for due process, as his legal team successfully requests postponements on the flimsiest of grounds. It looks as though the court will continue to crumble in the face of realpolitik but finally it digs in: the presiding judge heroically says that the court is trying to build an edifice of justice and that it can see no justification for another delay. The Zimbabwean lawyers walk out, and the judges find in favour of Campbell and also rule that his safety must be protected. It’s a bitter-sweet moment of triumph: Campbell is not there to see it because he is still recovering from injuries inflicted by government thugs in an attempt to frighten him into dropping the case. Even more poignantly, the verdict is the first time an African citizen has won a case at an international court. Realpolitik wins out, however: a coda to the film reveals that the thugs return and burn down the farm. The personalities of the Campbell family is what makes the film: the voices of black Zimbabweans are largely out of range. “If we had more Campbells standing up in Zimbabwe we would have had a better Zimbabwe,” says their black lawyer, but the views of the farmworkers can only be guessed. The film doesn’t even touch on the thoughts of other whites, many of whom dislike the Campbells for rocking the boat. And though it’s a riveting story and provides vivid illustrations of some of the effects of Mugabe’s rule, it’s a shame that it doesn’t put the land-grab into a historical context. The case was won partly on a southern African treaty declaration barring member states from discriminating against anyone on the grounds of race, ethnic origin and culture. But swathes of the country’s land were taken by colonial settlers and a plan for its return – part funded by Britain – was a key component of the independence package. Yes, Mugabe is using land seizures as a cheap way of gaining political support; yes, his ruthless political methods have undermined the rule of law; yes he has subverted the aim of the land policy by awarding the land to cronies rather than to landless peasants. Nevertheless, I feel there should be at least a better explanation of the history of the land dispute, not least to help understand why it continues to inflame political passions. * Mugabe and the White African is showing at the London Film festival on 21 and 23 October

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