Finally, all that cheatin's over

Why wait for the Zimbabwe elections to conclude, when we can have Zimbabwe-style justice right her in the U.S. of A.

High school student faces 38 years in prison for hacking grades

He won't do any or much time, likely, is the truth (though any time would be an abomination).

But does anyone think that such penalties would actually deter cheating and swapping grades in the future?

Good luck with that, I'd say.

Finally, we can stop worrying about such shenanigans from the always deterable next generation. God knows such hoodlums have wreaked enough havok as it is.

Now back to dirty politics as usual.

Force as a governing philosophy, numero tres

I tell you. When you observe the brilliance and effectiveness of force as a governing philosophy in Robert Mugabe's Zimbabwe, I don't know how you can really question it, frankly. You gotta see the pictures of this remarkably effective form of governance.

And, of course, the economic results of a repressive economy:

"In her pink-and-yellow Indian sari, Neeti Patel sees the customers come into her shop, look longingly at the sandwiches, and walk back out empty handed.

It's not that her prices are high – a sausage sandwich sells for a mere 30 million Zimbabwe dollars, or about $1.25. The problem is that Zimbabwe's skyrocketing inflation – now the world's highest, running at more than 100,000 percent a year – keeps her costs rising. A 30-pound bag of potatos cost 90 million in the first week of March. Now that same bag costs 160 million, and her potential customers simply don't have the money."



And this account, really, should be fairly convincing, I think.

'All Robert Mugabe's campaigning goes on after dark'

"Last weekend we had a big pungwe - a political indoctrination meeting - on the farm. It was after Mugabe had come to our little town of Chegutu, southwest of Harare, and addressed the crowd with threats of 'war'. A pungwe starts when the shadows lengthen and the sun goes down and darkness falls over the land. It does not stop till after the sun has risen again.

All our workers had to go, as well as all their wives with babies and any children over the age of 12. Some of them didn't go; so the mob sent little bands of chanting youth militia with sticks to fetch the absentees, drag them out of their houses and beat them for non-attendance. Through the night we heard the chanting and the slogans and the re-education speeches ringing out into the cold darkness for hour after hour after hour. On and on it went, striking fear into my heart. I got up and paced around in the cold night, listening...

It was a frosty morning. 'The major [Major Tauye, brought in from the Army to run pungwes in Chegutu district] was waving his gun around everywhere,' he went on.

I learnt that the MDC polling agents were made to put their forehead on the ground and lift their whole bodies up on their toes and then hold the position as they shook in the cold. After some time they were given sticks and had to beat each other.

The Major then said: 'You say we beat you! We don't beat you! You are the ones that beat!'

'Will the people vote?' I asked.

'We are in pain but we cannot speak because we do not know who will tell. Even if we make a report the police will not help,' Amon said.

I had seen the hope for a better future draining out of him. He had been kicked off one farm already and I sensed he was worried we would throw in the towel too.

'I will not leave,' I said. 'They must shoot me if they want me off...'

We drove through the gate and down the drive. Straight ahead there was a line of large rocks blocking the road. As we got closer, men wielding sticks got up and started coming menacingly towards us. Our presence had the effect of a stone thrown into a hornets' nest. Soon the rocks started to fly in our direction. I saw figures running through the bush to try to get around behind us and cut us off. 'OK, let's get out of here,' I said and reversed as fast as I could.

Between the Etheridges and ourselves we have spent nearly 30 hours at the police station this week making reports and failing to get a reaction.

Yesterday we finally saw our first observers. We met them at the police station. Having the observers there worked like magic: police reacted and even moved quickly after we reported that all the Etheridges belongings - the ones that had not yet been stolen - had been dumped on the side of the main road.

When the observers left to come to my house, James's wife Kerry and his brother were ambushed and started getting beaten with sticks. The police stood by because they had not brought bullets for their guns and the senator's men were armed. They had to run for it and managed to get away.

While I was on the way back to my family with the observers, our workers were rounded up by youths with sticks going to the pungwe. They started demanding that Laura come out of the house and they beat one of our dogs with a stick at the gate. Then before I got there they headed off again, running across the veldt like a pack of wild dogs seeking their next prey.

The observers didn't know about pungwes; and they have been advised not to go out after dark, so I suppose they will never see them. Almost all Mugabe's campaigning goes on after dark. The pungwes have spread like a great cancer even to town.

Owen, one of our workers in Chegutu, said he has had to go to all-night pungwes for the past three nights.

'Will you be an MDC polling agent again?' I said to Lorence, another worker, this morning.

'Ah no.' he said. 'We are too afraid for that. We need to get out of here before the pungwe tonight because they are going to beat us.' I got them into town and gave them fifteen billion dollars each for their bus fares to a 'safe' house 80km away.

As I went around town I talked to people. It was tense. They were full of fear and terrible stories about atrocities taking place; but we were together. I could sense a strong undercurrent of solidarity in the common load of suffering that we are all bearing."

Humanity has been seriously resistant to giving up force as a governing philosophy and embracing more genuine freedom and democratic engagement for much of its existence.

And the situation in Zimbabwe should illustrate why. Because force is so effective as a governing philosophy, clearly.

Either that or our fears plunge us down destructive pathes, perhaps.

All I know is that Zimbabwe makes the case better than most around the world, today.

Robert Mugabe is either a genius or a madman. Perhaps we are all mad. Or just damned foolish. Or just so effective that the results are just too difficult to recognize (or make themselves known).

Robert Mugabe takes force as a governing philosophy seriously. Maybe we should too. And be done with this handwringing and pussyfooting.

This is the direction that philosophy takes us in.

Thank goodness that there is at least one regime in the world tough enough to take it seriously.