PROFILE: MORGAN TSVANGIRAIMorgan Tsvangirai sat down with his bitter rival Zimbabwe's President Robert Mugabe this week - it was a move that underlined his fearless political pragmatism, writes Joe Humphreys.
AT THE BEST of times, Morgan Tsvangirai tends to look a bit despondent. So, you can understand that when he met Robert Mugabe this week for the first time in almost a decade he bore all the joie de vivre of a condemned man shaking hands with his executioner.
Tsvangirai's wariness was, of course, entirely justified. Little over a year ago Mugabe's thugs beat the opposition leader to within an inch of his life. Last May, in the wake of Tsvangirai's victory in the first round of Zimbabwe's presidential election, his party - the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) - uncovered an assassination plot again him.
Since the poll, the party has cited the murder of at least 80 of its supporters.
Mugabe's brutality has been such that many were surprised that Tsvangirai had agreed to talk to him. And, within hours of the pair signing a memorandum of understanding opening the way for two weeks of supposed negotiations, some of Tsvangirai's own party members were openly questioning whether their leader had made the right decision.
Mugabe has repeatedly used the pretence of talks to sow division in the opposition, and to neutralise international criticism. But Tsvangirai felt he had little choice but to do business with the 84-year-old dictator, given his party had made capital of Mugabe's refusal to negotiate in the past.
To describe Tsvangirai's career trajectory as a rollercoaster would be something of an understatement. Since he founded the MDC in 1999, the former trade unionist has been written off more times than a Harare taxi cab. He has been accused down the years of naivety and courage in almost equal measure, and has also fought off claims of using strong-arm tactics in the MDC in a bid to maintain party unity.
A turning point for Tsvangirai came in March 2007 when he was severely beaten by police at a banned prayer meeting outside the Zimbabwean capital. As his biographer Sarah Hudleston recalls: "He wasn't near the demonstration but when he heard what the police were doing, he went there knowing full well what would happen to him. If that is not an example of leading from the front and showing solidarity I don't know what is."
The incident thrust Tsvangirai into the international limelight, and galvanised his party for what it called a "final push" to oust Mugabe. "I think he has matured hugely," says Hudleston. "He once said: 'Had we won the [ parliamentary] elections in 2000 we would not have known what to do. We were not ready to run the country.' I think he could do a pretty good job now. He is a good manager, and would get the best people in to help him do the job."
Born in March 1952, Tsvangirai grew up in the deprived rural area of Gutu in racially segregated southern Rhodesia. The eldest son of a bricklayer, he was fortunate enough to receive a basic schooling at a time when the whites-only government gave blacks limited access to education.
In his late teens, he began work as a textile weaver and later found a job in a mine in Bindera, north-east of Harare. It was here he cut his teeth in activism, rising to senior positions in the mineworkers' union.
He also joined the ruling Zanu-PF party but soon he found it clashing with his democratic principles.
In the late 1980s, Tsvangirai became head of the Zimbabwe Congress of Trade Unions. But it was another decade before he really emerged as a political force, organising a series of "stay-away" strikes in 1997 and 1998 against tax increases.
He formed the MDC in 1999, which won a large share of the vote in the following year's parliamentary elections, while also unexpectedly defeating a 2000 constitutional referendum sponsored by Mugabe.
Tsvangirai performed respectably in a March 2002 presidential election despite Zanu-PF's control of all internal media. Since then he has suffered constant intimidation, including repeated arrest and detention.
In 2004, he was acquitted of treason for an alleged plot to assassinate Mugabe in the run up to the 2002 elections. Tsvangirai had been recorded on video speaking to a former Israeli spy about such a plot in what bore all the hallmarks of a Mugabe-sponsored "sting" operation.
Tsvangirai's progress has been greatly marred by internal divisions in the MDC. A serious split emerged in 2005 when he overruled a decision by the party's leadership to take part in elections for the senate and ordered a boycott.
Tsvangirai has also come under fire for his mixed record in alliance-building. At an early stage, the MDC leader spoke up for white farmers in Zimbabwe who were being run off their land by Mugabe, and has also advocated liberal policies aimed at encouraging inward investment.
Tsvangirai thought it better to have the farmers stay in the country and feed the people rather than hand their land to Zanu-PF. But his tactics have bolstered a perception regionally that he is too eager to build bridges with the West.
No one views Tsvangirai with more suspicion than South Africa's president Thabo Mbeki, who brokered this week's meeting as part of his much-maligned policy of "quiet diplomacy" on Zimbabwe.
Mbeki got off on a poor footing with Tsvangirai some years ago when the MDC leader - frustrated at a lack of support from South Africa's ruling African National Congress (ANC) - sought help from that country's main opposition party, the Democratic Alliance (DA).
"In terms of the unique dynamics of South African politics, it was a monumental blunder," political analyst William Gumede writes in his biography of Mbeki. "The DA eagerly embraced Tsvangirai as Their Man in Zim and the MDC as a natural ally. The predominantly white party was quick to draw parallels between the ANC and Zanu-PF, playing into the hands of right-wing prophets of doom who warned that Zimbabwe's land grab was a dress rehearsal for South Africa's future."
MBEKI HAS HIS own, more selfish reasons, for disliking Tsvangirai. As a regional political figure, Tsvangirai is closely allied to Cosatu, South Africa's trade union umbrella group, which has been one of Mbeki's fiercest critics in the South African political arena. Other African leaders have expressed reservations about Tsvangirai, suggesting snootily that he might have the acumen to run a junior ministry but not a presidential office. A common smear is to liken Tsvangirai to Frederick Chiluba, who came to power in Zambia on the back of trade union support only to leave political office under a cloud of corruption allegations.
Even within his own party, the "Chiluba" tag has been raised. The leader of a breakaway MDC faction Athur Mutambara - who was also party to this week's agreement - warned last year of a "false revolution" under Tsvangirai. "We have a lot of respect for the bravery shown by our brother, Morgan Tsvangirai," Mutambara said. "But, however, bravery alone is not enough. Guts alone are not enough . . . He must have a value system that is different from the status quo value system."
Tsvangirai has given ammunition to his detractors by apparent occasional indecision. Before last month's run-off ballot, he chose to spend several weeks overseas, drumming up international support - even helping to set up a branch of the MDC in Northern Ireland. The move was understandable from the viewpoint of self-preservation but it eroded some confidence in his leadership. So too his decision to seek overnight refuge in the Dutch embassy in Harare after announcing he was withdrawing from the run-off poll because of ongoing violence.
IN TSVANGIRAI'S DEFENCE, he is performing a particularly delicate high-wire act. Moreover, as Hudleston notes, "Whatever, he does he will get criticism . . . Everyone in Harare is an expert."
A Zimbabwean-born journalist, who now lives in exile in South Africa, Hudleston believes Tsvangirai is "too trusting . . . He is open to talk to everyone." She says he has hidden qualities too, as a doting father of six grown-up children. Citing a humorous, playful streak in the politician, she recalls that when she first met Tsvangirai he told her with mock offence: "Robert Mugabe does not think I am good looking enough to be president of Zimbabwe."
In the new talks with his enemy, some believe Tsvangirai will sell himself short. But Hudleston has no doubts about his ability, saying: "He can stand up to anyone at the negotiating table. The only place he can't stand up on an equal footing is in the fields and in the homes where people are unprotected [ from violence]."
Brokering a transition to democracy will be a tall order. But Tsvangirai has repeatedly exceeded expectations. Zimbabwe hopes he can do it again.
CV - MORGAN TSVANGIRAI
Who is he?Morgan Richard Tsvangirai (pronounced "Chang-ger-eye"), president of the leading faction of Zimbabwe's Movement for Democratic Change (MDC). He won the first round of the country's presidential election but withdrew from a run-off ballot on June 27th because of murderous attacks against his supporters.
Why is he in the news?He this week signed a "memorandum of understanding" with his tormentor Robert Mugabe, Zimbabwe's ruler since the country's independence in 1980, starting two weeks of "talks about talks" aimed at resolving Zimbabwe's political crisis.
Most appealing characteristic:His willingness to stand up to a bully.
Least appealing characteristic:His penchant for cowboy hats.
What he says about Mugabe:"Mugabe has declared war, and we will not be part of that war. Our victory is certain, but it can only be delayed."
What Mugabe says about him:"We are not going to give up our country for a mere X on the ballot. How can a ballpoint pen fight with a gun?"
