Mark Steyn: I'd invest in Botswana, but forget Zimbabwe

CALGARY - Oh dear, oh dear. Not only did I call the long-toed salamander a "three-toed salamander" (see yesterday's apology), but, as Douglas M. Gibson cruelly pointed out on the page opposite, I also erroneously referred to the harlequin duck as a "hurricane duck." I gotta stop writing the column on crack.

Mr. Gibson does, though, remind me why I quit the "Nature Notes" feature and took up political commentary. If you're pontificating on wildlife, people expect you to know stuff. You can't get away with writing about "the funny-looking furry creature with the sort of triangular rubbery feet." If you're the ballet critic and you say "the head guy in tights came out and did a kind of a twirly thing on his toes," your authority will be greatly diminished.

But, when it comes to geopolitical commentary, anything goes. As readers may recall, yesterday I threw away my media accreditation badge and flounced off in a huff. (I believe the guy wandering around the Media Centre claiming to be "Mark Steyn" is, in fact, Mustapha Jihad from Yemen, who found it in the lap-dancing bar I left it in.) But those doughty representatives of the press who stayed within the perimeter fence in Calgary were rewarded late on Wednesday night with an official briefing on the leaders' dinner up the road in Kananaskis. Not a briefing by an official who'd been at the dinner, but a briefing by an official who'd spoken to someone who knew someone who'd been at the dinner -- his cousin's a busboy, I believe. So off went the world's press to crank out reams of "analysis" and "interpretation" about what some guy who'd spoken to some guy who'd spoken to some other guy who'd asked Romano Prodi if he wanted a doggy bag reckoned had happened at the dinner. On such a basis, it doesn't really matter whether you write Bush Isolated On Arafat Question, Bush Receives Full Support On Arafat, Bush Mistakes Long-Toed Salamander For Hors D'Oeuvres, or Bush And Chirac Delight Colleagues With Sonny And Cher Medley.

So, when I'm asked what I make of the "action plan" on Africa, I can say without a moment's hesitation: who knows? Might work, might be meaningless. The précis delivered by Tony Blair with a coherence that puts our own Prime Minister to shame sounded impressive: new Western commitments on conflict resolution, famine, disease, education, you name it, matched by African commitments on governance -- democratic elections, independent judiciaries, rule of law, proper commercial systems, etc. If it all comes together, it could well restore African living standards to near pre-decolonization levels. But will it?

Let's start by saying that "Africa" is a meaningless term. I'd be perfectly happy to invest in Botswana but I wouldn't give a dime to Zimbabwe, and it's unfair to lump Botswana and Zimbabwe together merely because of geographical proximity, just as it would be unfair if Western policy towards South Korea and North Korea were dictated by a pan-Asian initiative. Indeed, it is, if I may borrow a leaf from the anarchist butt-barers, racist.

But a useful guide to the prospects of NEPAD is the previous conduct of its architects. Representing Africa in Kananaskis were Olusegun Obasanjo of Nigeria and Thabo Mbeki of South Africa, the continent's heavyweights. These men were also two-thirds of the Commonwealth troika on Zimbabwe. When Robert Mugabe stole the election earlier this year, Messrs Obasanjo and Mbeki flew to Harare for a "working lunch" with the old mass murderer. Their suggestion was that he form a coalition government including members of the party he'd stolen the election from. Mr. Mugabe laughed so hard his Chinese- made rubber penis fell off. To be honest, Mr. Mbeki's heart wasn't really in this "compromise" proposal: Indeed, after Mr. Mugabe's cheerfully straightforward fraud, intimidation and violence paid off on election day, Mr. Mbeki's government had sent him a congratulatory telegram.

Back in London, Messrs Obasanjo and Mbeki were leaned on by the third member of their committee, Australian Prime Minister John Howard, to suspend Zimbabwe from the Commonwealth for a year. Mr. Obasanjo had little choice, given that the damning report by the election observers had been co-authored by a Nigerian, but Mr. Mbeki held out until it became clear he was out-voted. He refused to make any public remarks supporting the decision to suspend Zimbabwe. He's still staying silent. Last week, with half his people on the brink of starvation, Mr. Mugabe ordered commercial farmers -- i.e., mostly white men -- to cease all operations. You can't ask for a clearer example of the destructive behaviour NEPAD is meant to stop, yet neither Mr. Mbeki nor Mr. Obasanjo nor any other African leader will speak out against Mr. Mugabe, nor Malawi's self-proclaimed dictator Muluzi, nor Madagascar's Ratsiraka, who'd rather tear his country apart than admit he lost the election. Mr. Mbeki has committed Africa to self-policing its commitments to good governance. Yet he has a consistent track record of going out of his way to kiss up to even the most psychotic dictators in the dubious name of "African unity."

Now, if the admirable Mr. Howard were a member of the G8, it's just about conceivable that he'd insist Mr. Mbeki stick to the commitments he'd made. But Australia isn't in the G8, and Canada is. And, at the last Commonwealth Conference, Jean Chrétien boasted about the "compromise" he'd brokered on Zimbabwe, in which Mr. Mugabe went uncriticized save for a call for "all parties" to refrain from violence, which must have brought a chuckle to the bruised and bloody faces of Zimbabwean opposition supporters. Mr. Chrétien's faintheartedness was in marked contrast to Tony Blair, who sternly declared that "there can be no question of Mugabe being allowed to stay in power with a rigged election."

But Mr. Mugabe rigged the election, and he's stayed in power. And all Tony's tough talk meant nothing. It was just the usual Blairite posturing. So, if African countries fail in their NEPAD commitments on good governance and Mr. Mbeki insists in the face of all the evidence that they're in full compliance, how likely is it that Blair and Chrétien will call them on it? Don't hold your breath.

Meanwhile, Mr. Chrétien has spent $300-million on a two-day summit. Three hundred million doesn't sound a lot, but it represents three times Canada's annual share of the budget to secure the former Soviet nuclear materials -- supposedly one of the big breakthroughs of this conference. M. Chrétien is the WorldCom of G8 leaders, spending big to boost his stock and cover the thinness of his assets. By his next G8 conference, he'll either have imploded or he'll be announcing a grand action plan for the entire galaxy.

Still, I hope the $300-mil impressed international markets more than the locals. Don Martin wrote a heart-wrenching column in the Calgary Herald about making the cut of those dozen lucky hacks ferried up daily to Kananaskis itself, spending half a day on the bus, going through three security checks, and being rewarded on finally penetrating the inner sanctum with a press release that had already been handed out in Calgary. Heigh-ho, Don. The checkpoints are coming down. What say you and I drive out to the woods tonight and enjoy a tasty harlequin duck ? l'orange under the stars?

Not only did I call the long-toed salamander a "three-toed salamander" (see yesterday's apology), but, as Douglas M. Gibson cruelly pointed out on the page opposite, I also erroneously referred to the harlequin duck as a "hurricane duck."

On the previous Thursday a very dreadful thing had happened. Drawing on the observations of a lifetime, and after due cross-examination of the head keeper and half an hour with the encyclopaedia, William had composed a lyrical but wholly accurate account of the habits of the badger; one of his more finished essays. Priscilla in a playful mood had found the manuscript and altered it, substituting for “badger” throughout “the great crested grebe.” It was not until Saturday morning when, in this form, it appeared in the Beast that William was aware of the outrage.
His mail had been prodigious; some correspondents were sceptical, others derisive; one lady wrote to ask whether she read him aright in thinking he condoned the practice of baiting these rare and beautiful birds with terriers and deliberately destroying their earthy homes; how could this be tolerated in the so-called twentieth century? A major in Wales challenged him categorically to produce a single authenticated case of a great crested grebe attacking young rabbits. It had been exceedingly painful.
-- Evelyn Waugh, Scoop.

Dear boy, when I saw the Scoop excerpt, I couldn't see the name of the poster -- but knew immediately it must be you!

The best line among so many, of course, the famous: "Feather-footed through the plashy fen passes the questing vole." (At a risk of offending her FR admirers, Peggy Noonan's less successful columns sometimes bring that line to mind)

Anyway, you've done me a favour. After dragging Scoop off the bookshelf, I plan to spend the rest of an indolent Saturday rereading it. Then I might get to Black Mischief, Vile Bodies and the Crouchback trilogy. Thanks for sending me back to the greatest book about journalism ever written.

*** Let's start by saying that "Africa" is a meaningless term. I'd be perfectly happy to invest in Botswana but I wouldn't give a dime to Zimbabwe, and it's unfair to lump Botswana and Zimbabwe together merely because of geographical proximity, just as it would be unfair if Western policy towards South Korea and North Korea were dictated by a pan-Asian initiative. Indeed, it is, if I may borrow a leaf from the anarchist butt-barers, racist.

Bump!

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