Let’s be honest: Britain never opposed Zimbabwe taking back its land

Tendai Ruben Mbofana

If we were to take recent claims, made when President Emmerson Mnangagwa addressed visiting Zambian President Hakainde Hichilema, that Western sanctions were imposed because Zimbabwe “decided to take back the land”, one is compelled to ask: how true is this?

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This narrative, repeated for over two decades, has become so entrenched in official discourse that many Zimbabweans accept it unquestioningly.

Yet it collapses under the weight of historical facts, legal realities, and the government’s own record.

It is a convenient political slogan, not an honest account of what transpired.

To begin with, it is important to recall that the issue of land reform in Zimbabwe was never in dispute.

All stakeholders—including Britain, the United States, and the broader international community—accepted the need for land redistribution.

The problem was never the principle; it was always the method.

Even the Lancaster House Agreement of 1979 acknowledged that land was a fundamental matter requiring redress after decades of colonial dispossession.

Britain committed to financially support a “willing-buyer, willing-seller” programme, and for the first two decades of independence, that process continued relatively smoothly.

However, the Zimbabwean government’s preferred narrative deliberately overlooks key facts.

Yes, Britain pledged to assist Zimbabwe financially in funding land purchases from white commercial farmers.

But there is a critical question the government never answers: what happened to the money that was actually provided?

A deeper look at the early land reform programme shows just how badly the funds provided by Britain were abused.

Throughout the 1980s and 1990s, Britain disbursed more than £44 million specifically for land acquisition and resettlement support under the “willing-buyer, willing-seller” framework, with the clear expectation that the land purchased would benefit the landless poor and relieve overcrowded communal areas.

Instead, government audits and independent studies revealed that a significant portion of the land acquired with British support ended up in the hands of cabinet ministers, senior civil servants, military commanders, ruling-party loyalists, and even their relatives.

Some politically connected individuals received more than one farm, while others acquired highly productive estates far larger than the recommended maximum size.

At least 5 million hectares of redistributed land were identified in audits as having been diverted to elite beneficiaries rather than ordinary peasants.

In several cases, farms bought using British funds were later turned into private business ventures or simply left idle by those who had obtained them for patronage rather than production.

The scandal was so deep-rooted that in 2001, then Agriculture Minister Kumbirai Kangai, who oversaw resettlement, was charged with misusing more than Z$228 million earmarked for land purchases.

This pattern of elite capture became so blatant that even the government’s own commissions—such as the 1994 Rukuni Commission and the 1998 Donor Conference reports—expressed alarm at how redistribution had been hijacked by the politically connected.

It was this persistent misallocation of land, the diversion of British funds, and the complete lack of transparency in how resources were managed that convinced Britain that further financial assistance would simply feed corruption rather than genuine resettlement.

The famous 1997 letter from Britain’s Secretary of State for International Development, Clare Short, addressed to Kangai, was often misrepresented in later Zimbabwean discourse to suggest Britain opposed land reform.

In reality, Short made it clear that her government would not fund a programme that had already been hijacked by political elites, diverting resources away from the intended beneficiaries.

She emphasized that Britain remained willing to support land redistribution—but only if it prioritized poverty alleviation, transparency, and fairness, rather than serving narrow political interests.

Short also cautioned against rapid or chaotic acquisitions, warning that such actions could undermine agricultural productivity and investor confidence.

Far from opposing land reform, the letter was a critique of mismanagement and corruption, signaling that financial support would be conditional on genuine, accountable resettlement, not a political agenda.

It was not Britain reneging on its Lancaster House commitments; it was Zimbabwe’s failure to honor the agreed principles, especially transparency, equity, and accountability.

Still, even this dispute did not justify the violent and unconstitutional path Zimbabwe later chose.

The government’s claim that it embarked on a sudden, chaotic, and forceful land grab only because Britain refused to provide additional funds is misleading at best.

What ignited the violent seizures was political desperation.

After suffering a humiliating defeat in the February 2000 constitutional referendum—its first major electoral setback since independence—ZANU-PF panicked.

With parliamentary elections only months away, the ruling party resorted to mobilizing war veterans and youth militias to violently invade farms, blaming white commercial farmers for its political troubles and attempting to galvanize rural support through coercion.

This was in total violation of Zimbabwe’s own laws.

The constitution at the time required lawful acquisition, due process, and compensation.

Even the government’s own Land Acquisition Act did not permit violent occupation.

Instead of adhering to legal procedures, the state not only condoned but actively facilitated illegal invasions, which often included beatings, torture, property destruction, and even killings.

The message was unmistakable: political survival came before legality.

To then retrospectively claim that sanctions were imposed simply because Zimbabwe “took back the land” is a distortion.

Western targeted sanctions, introduced mainly by the United States and European Union, were specific and narrow.

They were aimed at certain political leaders, entities, and companies linked to state repression and corruption.

They did not restrict trade with Zimbabwe, did not block foreign investment, did not prevent Zimbabwe from selling its minerals, and did not bar the country from accessing international markets.

Zimbabwe continued to trade globally, borrow from international financial institutions (at least until it defaulted), and engage in commerce like any other sovereign state.

What the Zimbabwe government labels “economic sanctions” were largely self-inflicted.

International financial institutions such as the IMF and World Bank halted new lending because Zimbabwe defaulted on loan repayments—not because of sanctions.

The government accumulated massive arrears, mismanaged the economy, printed money recklessly, and fueled the mid-2000’s hyperinflation.

These were choices made in Harare, not Washington, London, or Brussels.

Even the United States’ Zimbabwe Democracy and Economic Recovery Act (ZIDERA) is often misrepresented.

It did not ban Zimbabwe from borrowing; it simply instructed U.S. representatives in multilateral financial institutions not to support new loans unless Zimbabwe met certain governance benchmarks.

This is not a blockade.

Countries far poorer or more politically troubled than Zimbabwe continue receiving support because they remain in good standing with lenders.

Zimbabwe lost that standing through economic mismanagement and catastrophic policy decisions.

None of this is to say the sanctions were justified.

Their impact is debatable.

Yet the government’s insistence that sanctions are the primary cause of Zimbabwe’s economic collapse over the last 25 years is simply untrue.

The decline began long before targeted sanctions were imposed in 2002.

The economy was already reeling from corruption, entrenched patronage networks, and massive unbudgeted expenditures such as the 1997 war veterans’ payouts, which alone drained the Treasury of billions of Zimbabwean dollars and triggered rampant fiscal instability.

The government’s involvement in the Democratic Republic of Congo war, from 1998 to 2003, further compounded the problem, consuming vast sums in military spending while neglecting critical domestic investment in infrastructure, agriculture, and social services.

These financial pressures fueled chronic budget deficits, forcing the Reserve Bank to print money excessively, which accelerated inflation and eroded the value of the local currency.

Investor confidence collapsed as political and economic mismanagement made long-term planning impossible, while foreign direct investment dried up amid uncertainty over property rights, contract enforcement, and the rule of law.

Ordinary Zimbabweans bore the brunt: savings were wiped out, wages lagged far behind rising prices, and essential imports became prohibitively expensive, setting the stage for the hyperinflation crisis of the early 2000s.

In short, the economic damage was systemic, stemming from policy mismanagement and elite self-enrichment long before targeted sanctions were ever imposed.

What is striking is that those who govern Zimbabwe rarely admit these documented facts.

Instead, they find solace in a narrative that absolves them of accountability.

The story of “land reform being punished by the West” is emotionally charged and politically convenient.

It allows the ruling elite to present itself as a heroic defender of sovereignty and anti-colonial justice, while masking the violent, chaotic, and self-serving manner in which land redistribution was carried out.

It is entirely possible to support the principle of land redistribution while simultaneously condemning how it was implemented.

It is possible to question the effectiveness and fairness of targeted sanctions while also acknowledging that they were not the cause of Zimbabwe’s economic ruin.

And it is possible to seek a balanced understanding of history without resorting to slogans.

If Zimbabwe wants a meaningful conversation about sanctions today—particularly regarding their removal—then honesty must be the starting point.

Those in power need to acknowledge that Britain did not refuse to fund land reform out of malice; it stopped because funds were misused.

They must concede that land seizures were unlawful, violent, and politically motivated.

They must recognize that corruption, economic mismanagement, and disregard for the rule of law—not sanctions—destroyed Zimbabwe’s economy.

Truth matters.

Without it, Zimbabwe will continue to chase shadows, misdiagnose its problems, and perpetuate myths.

And those myths, no matter how loudly repeated, will never offer the economic recovery, justice, or dignity the people desperately deserve.

• Tendai Ruben Mbofana is a social justice advocate and writer. Please feel free to WhatsApp or Call: +263715667700 | +263782283975, or email: mbofana.tendairuben73@gmail.com, or visit website: https://mbofanatendairuben.news.blog/