Mourning Zimbabwe: the black armband protest

Sport is not what it used to be. It still excites and incites the passion of the everyday fan, but it no longer represents the Corinthian spirit. Amateurism died a long time ago. And whilst athletes are becoming quicker, stronger and faster, they are also becoming far wealthier. Athletes have short careers and are more than entitled to make their money in this time; but the role of the corporation is changing the way athletes behave.

Long gone are the 1970s when athletes were given an extra few pounds to wear a pair of Adidas trainers. Athletes are now the stars and ambassadors for multinationals brands. What they do and how they do it makes us want to be like them, and of course, more importantly, what they wear only helps them further. However, the burden of corporate sponsorship does not allow for controversy. Multinationals are like any other company and do not like reputational issues. Nike no longer wants to be associated with Lance Armstrong or Oscar Pistorious; and for obvious reasons. Football club boardrooms seat directors of communications. Huge marketing and PR arms are in place to ensure nothing taints the brand. To some extent, boring is good.

Politics is reflected in this. At his peak in the early 1990s, Michael Jordan was seen to be a model for all Democrat voters. Yet, the canny Chicago Bulls guard simply replied to any questions about politics that “Republicans buy sneakers too.” Political statements, for the sake of corporate sponsorship, are now rarer and to some extent, not worth the trouble.

The most famous political statement of all was the ‘black power’ salute of Mexico 1968. In front of a global audience, Tommie Smith and John Carlos gave a fisted salute whilst accepting their Olympic medals. The protest was not a black power as initially perceived, but an attempt to highlight the struggle for equality for black Americans. Symbolic for sport both now and in 1968, the salute did nothing further than tarnish the two athletes’ careers from that day onward.

It is hard to believe, but it is now ten years ago, since the 2003 Cricket World Cup, where two brave Zimbabwean cricketers made a political gesture that would change their lives forever. Captain Andy Flower and Henry Olonga, the country’s first black international, both wore black armbands during the opening game of the competition to highlight what they saw as “mourning the death of democracy in Zimbabwe”.

Both men released a prepared press statement ahead of the side's first match.

The gesture appears small, but its symbolism was enormous. Robert Mugabe, the man who had led the country to independence in 1980, had slowly and stealthily increased his grip on the running of the nation. Although people often portray Mugabe’s clampdown on opposition from the start of the millennium as to when he became paranoid, the wily old tyrant had been locking up and murdering political opponents since he rose to power. It was not until the country overwhelmingly defeated a referendum that would have enshrined Mugabe as Zimbabwe’s perpetual leader that he decided to turn on the country’s white and wealthy minority.

The expropriation of white farm land was certainly accepted as a hangover from Zimbabwe’s colonial past. The majority of white people were actually in favour of a redress, yet Mugabe’s henchmen set about the land grab vengeful and violently. Although seen by the Western media as a racist attack, it neglected to highlight the black opposition to Mugabe. White farmers, in most instances, had the means to move to other parts of the world. The black labourers simply did not.

For Flower and Olonga, this was not a protest drawn on racial lines. Flower saw that instances of political violence were being suppressed by the secret police. The tactics used by Mugabe were simply destroying the fabric of Zimbabwean society. The fact that only two men wore armbands, one black and one white, showed that Mugabe was dividing a nation, not just one race.

Both men then went out and played the match as if nothing happened. The only stark difference being a visible, yet indelible, piece of black tape around their arms that sent a simple, but clear message. It was a gesture, yet one that both men knew would have consequences.

As Zimbabwe exited the tournament, both men left the continent as death threats were issued, both heading for the UK. Flower joining Essex on the county cricket circuit, whereas Olonga was forced into hiding following a charge of treason by the Zimbabwean Government. Even ten years on, both men have yet to set foot into the country since.

Mugabe

Even despite the protest, worse was to come for Zimbabwe: manipulation of elections, political oppression and a destroyed economy. For millions of Zimbabweans, remaining in the country was a choice between life and death. Like the country’s economy, the national cricket team followed the same path, imploding as politics began to interfere with team selection. In 2004, the once proud and effective Zimbabwean cricket team withdrew from the ICC.

Since the decade has passed, both men have continued with their careers. Flower as the head coach of the English cricket team, whereas Olonga has become a public speaker and opera singer.

Flower and Olonga were not particularly close and to this day, they only speak on occasion. Yet at a time when they saw what was happening to their friends, family and fellow countrymen, they recognised that they had an opportunity to show what was happening from within the borders. It was not a publicity stunt, nor a cry for help; it was for them about the right thing. Only with hindsight did they understand that it would change their lives forever.

To this day, Mugabe may be creaking, but his grip on power remains strong. As elections approach in the months to come, it is too early to guess whether change may emerge. For Flower and Olonga, both exceptional cricketers, perhaps one day they will be able to return to a Zimbabwe they loved. Until then, their gesture will remain symbolic.