Military corruption in war: stealing and connivance among Zimbabwean foot soldiers in the Democratic Republic of Congo (1998–2002) Translated title: Corruption militaire pendant la guerre : vol et connivence parmi les fantassins Zimbabwéens en République démocratique du Congo (1998-2002)

Introduction

The article examines the ways in which Zimbabwean soldiers deployed in the Democratic Republic of Congo war (DRC) (1998–2002) connived and stole army rations from their war trenches to resell to civilians and Congolese soldiers, a practice which is understood as corrupt and unprofessional.¹ Hence, the central analytical question on which this article is based has to do with the ways in which soldiers become corrupt in wartimes, a practice which this article views as unprofessional conduct. While military professionalism is a diverse, contested term which mutates over time and is often defined by the context, this article draws from the ‘moral ethics in war’, which have to do with the ability of the officer corps to remain disciplined and honest, to act with integrity and to remain committed to the dictates of war (Kohn 2009). In brief, the commander should be able to lead with honour while his members follow with precision. Thus, when foot soldiers steal army rations it provides us with a vantage point in which we can begin to unpack the ways in which the military profession is challenged by the context of war, in ways that soldiers themselves never anticipated at a time of their deployment. This reveals not only the different ways in which professionalism is deployed but, importantly, how understanding of the concept travels, mutates and is practised. This article also shows the fundamental challenge to soldiers in war: that the military is deployed in close proximity to civilian communities, where it is exposed to civilians’ everyday life in the diurnal course of war and ultimately becomes embedded in it.

The article shows that over time these practices and the lack of concern for rules and regulations became widespread in the DRC war and continued in the Zimbabwean army barracks in the aftermath of war. This article adds to these existing debates by revealing the ways in which military professionalism gets challenged in the context of war. The article draws from the stories of Zimbabwean army deserters in exile in South Africa. Below, I present how the Zimbabwe National Army was professionalised and why the Zimbabwe National Army (ZNA) was deployed in the DRC war, a war which was political and driven by the greed of individual politicians. For soldiers who fought in it, it was a war in which the professional conduct of the ZNA degenerated. The article also provides an account of how these former soldiers were interviewed, after which I present and analyse the ways in which soldiers stole army rations and reveal how the soldiers appointed as quartermasters connived with military police, forming thievery networks to circumvent arrest.

The Zimbabwe National Army

In 1980, Zimbabwe gained independence from British rule, and this marked the birth of a new Zimbabwe National Army which witnessed an integration of two black guerrilla armed groups (the Zimbabwe African National Liberation Army, ZANLA, and the Zimbabwe People’s Revolutionary Army, ZIPRA) and the white Rhodesian forces (White 2007; Alexander 1998; Alao 1995). On integration, the British Military Advisory Training Team (BMATT) was invited to ‘standardise’ the new Zimbabwean army along professional lines. The standardisation of the army was implemented through training centres, training manuals, through what soldiers ate, through their clothing, following British Army routines and lifestyles. However, after 2000, Zimbabwean soldiers – especially senior army officers employed in public institutions – became increasingly involved in politics, violence and in major corruption, thus losing their former professionalism (Alexander 2013; McGregor 2013). This loss of professionalism by senior officers was largely reported outside the military institution (Maringira, Gibson and Richters 2015; Maringira and Carrasco 2015). The military corruption was a symptom of many of Zimbabwe’s public institutions (Verheul 2013; Alexander 2013; McGregor 2013), for example the judiciary, local government and state prisons. This article reveals petty corruption by foot soldiers within the military itself in the context of war. In 2001, BMATT withdrew from Zimbabwe as a result of the political crisis in the country (see Tendi 2013). Interestingly, the withdrawal of the team coincided with the DRC war.

For the former soldiers whose stories are presented in this article, ‘being British’ increasingly became part of how they imagined a professional army to be and behave: eating standard food dishes, wearing high-quality uniforms, and generally considering the welfare of soldiers. The fantasy of a ‘British way of life’ included, for example, eating bacon, mashed potatoes, and some baked beans for breakfast, and for lunch meat and then apples for dessert. Contrary to the imaginary of a ‘British’ way of soldierly life, the DRC war involved lack of and intermittent provision of combat uniform, and food shortages. While in some cases the ZNA failed to provide food to soldiers in the DRC, the little which was provided was susceptible to mismanagement by senior army officers, those appointed as quartermasters, and others. This negatively affected the ZNA. The stealing of army rations and ultimately the shortage of food in the DRC war trenches reveals a way of life which was similar to that of Congolese soldiers. This negatively affected the majority of ZNA foot soldiers who were once used to professional support and administration of their welfare.

Zimbabwe soldiers in the DRC war

In August 1998 the Zimbabwean government sent its troops to the DRC war to rescue the Laurent Kabila-led government, a mission that was named ‘the rescue of Kinshasa’ (Rupiya 2002). The DRC war was legitimised under its Southern African Development Community (SADC) name ‘Operation Sovereign Legitimacy’. The majority of the former soldiers whose stories are presented in this article show that at the time of deployment in the DRC, soldiers had little or no understanding of why and for how long they would be fighting in the DRC. Initially the Zimbabwean government was of the view that the DRC war would be a short-term deployment, but it became a longer-term intervention than was initially anticipated (Rupiya 2002). The war was later called ‘the Great War’ or ‘African World War’ (Prunier 2009; Reyntjens 1999) because of its complexities as a post-colonial African conflict that involved five to six countries allied on each side, and because of the millions of deaths recorded.

The Zimbabwean soldiers were deployed alongside Angolan and Namibian troops, though these countries had fewer troops than Zimbabwe. The reasons for intervention were both economic and political. It was economic in the sense that senior military officers were accused of being involved in corrupt activities (see Nutt and Smith 2011; Mhanda 2011; Makumbe 2002). While there have been such allegations against the military high command, there have been ultimately limited studies on the ways in which the military, in particular foot soldiers, ganged up to steal and sell army rations in the same war, as discussed in this article. Politically, the DRC was a SADC member state and Zimbabwe’s intervention in the Congo war was meant to respond to and strengthen the existing SADC regional policy on stability, defence and security among member states: i.e. if a member state is faced with a security threat, then member states can intervene. Zimbabwe deployed more than five different battalions in different regions of the DRC. Some battalions served in the eastern DRC, while others were deployed on the northern front (Maringira 2016c, 2015; see also Rupiya 2002). Each of the battalions worked closely with the soldiers of the Congolese Armed Forces (FAC), i.e. the army of the DRC.

In 2002, the Zimbabwean government withdrew its soldiers from the DRC, citing many economic and political reasons. Economically, the DRC war had proved to be an expensive operation – far more costly than initially anticipated by the SADC regional member states. The war appeared to be more of a Zimbabwean affair than a Congolese one, which saw Zimbabwean soldiers sacrificing their lives for the freedom of the Congolese government and its populace. Zimbabwe came under pressure both from international and local institutions to withdraw its troops from the DRC. Human rights and civil society reports cited the deployment of soldiers as one of the factors responsible for economic and political decline in Zimbabwe (see Maclean 2002; Makumbe 2002). The human rights groups accused the government of Zimbabwe of channelling and sponsoring army resources to resuscitate and sustain the DRC war. After their withdrawal from the DRC war, there followed media reports that more than a battalion of Zimbabwean soldiers had deserted and/or resigned from the army, citing both economic and political reasons (Maringira 2017a, 2017b, 2016a, 2016b; see also Baldauf 2007). While the human rights discourse often argues that much of the national budget in Zimbabwe is channelled to the army, sometimes the resources are not perceived to substantially benefit the ordinary foot soldier, either in the field or the army barracks. Foot soldiers accused the army of failing to take care of them as professional soldiers. The resources were instead withheld and grossly abused by a few high-ranking officials in the army. Many of the soldiers note that instead of being recognised as professional soldiers, they were now living like ‘militias’. The failure of the ZNA to look after its own soldiers in war and the barracks partly motivated these soldiers to engage in corrupt practices: stealing fuel, fresh beef, water purification pills, raincoats and other items to sell or, at times, exchange for cannabis. Below, I describe how I met and interviewed these former soldiers, once deployed in the DRC war, now living in South Africa.

In contact with the former soldiers: methodological approach

Even though I was deployed in the Democratic Republic of Congo as a Zimbabwean soldier, the experience of being in the war is not enough to tell the story on which this article is based. In collecting the stories of other former soldiers, I understand the rationale and the context on which these stories were told. In 2009 I met with a former soldier in the city of Johannesburg. Our relationship goes back to our wartime experiences. On greeting each other using army salutations, we soon went back in time to when we were soldiers. We spoke at length about what we used to do in the war and in the Zimbabwean army. Since I had just arrived that year, I asked him whether there were other former soldiers around, especially those with whom we had trained or been deployed together in war. The former soldier was astonished to hear that I did not know that there was a ‘battalion’ of soldiers around the city. The idea of a battalion in the city was somehow metaphorical as it represented at least two issues about former soldiers: numerically, it revealed more than a thousand soldiers and a ‘rhizomatic network’ of a cohesive unit of former soldiers. I later asked him if he could share with me the contacts of our compatriots in the city. After parting I phoned one of the former soldiers and he was quite happy to know that I was also in Johannesburg. He also gave me other contact details and all the former soldiers expressed gratitude, suggesting that we meet and have a chat in the city. I organised our informal meeting and we met at a restaurant located in the central part of the city. While eating we talked about our past, a past lived in the military. One of the former soldiers (Alpha Romeo – he and others interviewed are referred to by pseudonyms in the article), who used to work as a quartermaster (a soldier appointed to store army food in war and army barracks) in the DRC war started to talk about how he used to steal food meant for soldiers and sell it in the nearby villages to civilians.

In one of our intriguing conversations Alpha Romeo said: ‘Do you still remember I used to keep food meant for soldiers in DRC war, and I used to sell it to civilians?’ We all laughed and in response another former soldier added: ‘Even me, when I drove through civilian communities, I would sell the food that you used to ask me to deliver to the war front.’ While we laughed, one of our former platoon commanders interjected and said: ‘what you all comrades were selling was very little as compared to commanders’ sales, it was business for them.’ Out of this conversation, I was drawn into thinking about doing research on these former soldiers in the city, and asked them after our meal if I could do research on them. They all agreed, and one former soldier said: ‘you can ask us whatever you want, comrade, we know you will not disappoint us, you are not a civilian.’ Such a response reveals the relationship we had as former soldiers, a relationship forged through the military and being in the army. Interestingly, in Cape Town, like many of the migrants, some of the former soldiers felt they were living too far away from Zimbabwe, hence they were also interested in being heard by the Zimbabwean government, especially regarding their concerns about the military, which they felt had deeply disappointed them as professional soldiers. For these former soldiers, their expectations of what a professional military should look like in practice were no longer in existence. Thus, from their understanding of what research could do to change lives, they felt that this was one of the outlets through which their deep concerns could be heard.

On thinking about these former soldiers’ experiences of war, at first I struggled to frame the kind of questions I would ask them. I drafted some open-ended questions but because these former soldiers thought I knew what I was asking them, their responses were intermittent and short. I had to rethink about my approach and I came to the conclusion that asking each one for their life history would work. When I asked them about their life story, each one could speak for at least four hours. It was a story in which their military life would be ‘told and given meaning’ (see Eastmond 2007). While they were telling their life stories, I was silently telling my own story, that of war and barrack life as a soldier. Even though I found it difficult to distance my own experiences from theirs as they talked, an understanding of the combat narrative allowed me to reflect and analyse the unprofessional military practices defined by my participants as ‘wartime initiatives’.

I collected 58 life stories, coupled with some follow-up interviews, as well as engaging in ‘informal’ conversations. While I collected most of the life histories in former soldiers’ places of residence, follow-up interviews and informal conversations were carried out when walking together, eating at restaurants, having a drink outside and sometimes driving out. In doing this research I told the former soldiers that their names would not be used, and I rather resorted to using military code names such as Alpha Romeo, Oscar Papa, Charlie Mike, etc. I recorded all the life histories with their consent. In situations where they felt the conversation was becoming too sensitive for them, they only needed to ask me to switch off the recorder. Nonetheless, small stories and informal conversations were not recorded, but immediately after our talk I would write all down in my fieldwork diary. While there were many war and barrack-time themes which emerged in this research, for the purposes of this article I chose to focus on quartermasters, cooks in war, drivers and troop medics: what these former soldiers did during the war and barrack duties – namely selling army rations and other wartime resources such as malaria drugs, water tablets and army radio batteries for personal gain – contrasted with military professionalism in the context of war.

Stealing, conniving and reselling in war

The phenomenon of soldiers’ corruption in the context of war is not a new phenomenon in Africa, or indeed beyond. Thus, the issue of stealing in war to sell, and or trade with civilians and other friendly forces, is not unique to Zimbabwean soldiers. In the Liberian war, military corruption was rampant in the context of war (Tuck 2000). In the DRC war, among Congolese soldiers, corrupt activities by the military have been presented as driven and motivated by low salaries among the rank and file (Verweijen 2013). This has been similar to Ugandan soldiers deployed in the same war (Roger and Mwenda 2003). The Congolese soldiers, in particular army generals, turned into businessmen (Roger and Mwenda 2003). In the same war, the state police and the military engaged in unruly and illicit behaviour (Eriksson Baaz and Olsson 2011). This is what Verweijen (2013) refers to as ‘military entrepreneurialism’, i.e. generating personal revenues through bribery and corruption. While at a time of deployment in the DRC war (1998–2002), Zimbabwean foot soldiers saw themselves as professionals, the context of war led to the effective deprofessionalisation of many of them. Following this, the article presents how junior soldiers (both commissioned and non-commissioned officers) in strategic positions such as quartermasters, troop medics, cooks and paymasters preyed on army rations and other resources around them, stealing and selling them as spoils of war.

For soldiers whose narratives are presented in this article, the motivation to steal and resell varies: in some situation it was to get money for beer drinking in the nearby villages, to buy cell phones to communicate in the context of war with those at home and girlfriends. Similarly, writing on Soviet army soldiers who fought against the Mujahedeen in Afghanistan in the 1980s, Alexiev (1988, 53) revealed that Russian soldiers stole military goods and equipment such as gasoline, boots, blankets and food, and sold them to civilians, sometimes in exchange for drugs. For Zimbabwean soldiers deployed in the Mozambique war (1986–1992), scholarly writing describes how soldiers stole army rations and other goods and sold them to the local civilian population (see Young 1997). However, in the Zimbabwean liberation war, in the 1970s, in a situation where liberation guerrillas ran out of food, they had to suspend their activities to seek food from civilian communities (see Alexander and McGregor 2004; Mazarire 2011; Mhanda 2011; Chung 2006; Young 1997). This was referred to as chirenje, meaning ‘individual initiatives’ in war. Young guerrillas were assigned to do chirenje i.e. to solicit food for their commanders. However, chirenje is somewhat different from stealing army rations as took place in the DRC war. In figurative ways, chirenje represents ‘heroism’ and ‘discipline’ among liberation movements of the colonial era, i.e. the ability to ‘ask’ for food from civilians in a disciplined manner. The only similarity is that chirenje and stealing in the DRC war were both seen as ‘wartime initiatives’, i.e. what soldiers could do to survive in the context of war. As Oscar Papa puts it,

Quartermasters, medics and cooks

While escorts were selling fuel and food along the way, soldiers appointed as quartermasters were carrying out much looting. A point to note here is that, during the war, the quartermaster is responsible for storing and distribution of army rations. However, these quartermasters differed in their positions. While some were responsible for supplying the whole eastern or northern front, others were at brigade level, and some were stationed at company level. So those responsible for the whole northern or eastern front could steal more than those at brigade level because of the larger quantities of army rations they stored. This also applied to those at brigade level; they could steal more than those at battalion and/or company levels.

Quartermasters, especially those based at the Forward Logistics base in Lubumbashi Central Business District were responsible for supplying the whole eastern front; hence, they would even sell 500 kg of fresh beef in a single transaction. Generally, 10 kg of meat sold at 8500 Congolese francs (equivalent to US$5) during the DRC war.

In the central part of Lubumbashi city, the practice of selling huge quantities of fresh beef became popular among Congolese and civilians. The beef was stored in cold storage in the city, guarded by a section of soldiers under the surveillance of at least two military police personnel. Syndicates of thieving emerged in that context to allow the sale of fresh beef. Infantry soldiers working as guards could obtain their own benefits, though less compared to those obtained by quartermasters and the military police. The beef cold storage place became a wholesale site. It was busy with civilians and Congolese soldiers trying to obtain fresh beef from soldiers manning the main gate. Sierra Tango, who had been working with the battalion quartermaster at Lubumbashi airport, asserts:

But the question is how junior soldiers learnt to steal and sell rations belonging to soldiers: rations meant for war, in a war context. According to Oscar Papa,

This syndicate also involved army cooks. As Charlie Romeo notes,

Congolese soldiers who lacked the financial wherewithal to buy from Zimbabwean quartermasters became ‘sales representatives’ in combat, i.e. interfacing with civilians in need of fresh beef, sugar, tea leaves, cooking oil, dried beans, mealie meal, cornflakes, etc. The above examples reveal profound unethical practices in both armies. The practices of stealing and selling military goods also created social relations. As Alpha Mike, states, ‘despite selling to the civilians and Congolese soldiers, they also became our friends, we talk about life in general with them.’ For Whisky Tango, who was deployed at Kasenga,

From the Congo war to the barracks again

Even in Zimbabwe the ZNA was not properly ‘providing’ for its soldiers. Brigade and Battalion commanders misused army vehicles. Instead of carrying soldiers to and from work, vehicles were used on brigadiers’ farms. In addition, soldiers’ combat clothing became scarce. Charlie Sierra notes that

Conclusion

The article has demonstrated the ways in which Zimbabwean soldiers’ professional ethics were challenged by corrupt activities and, importantly, how such unprofessional practices were transposed back to the Zimbabwean army barracks in the aftermath of war. However, what this article reveals is that war is in itself a context where soldiers are faced with the challenge of defining themselves in relation to the situation that they are operating in, partly because of the nature of soldiers’ operations. Thus, the justification of engaging in the corrupt activities of stealing and selling army rations gives us a sense of soldiers’ understanding of what professionals think about themselves in situations where they are challenged by the war. Following this, the article contributes to our understanding of military professionalism as a social practice which goes beyond our understanding of civil–military institutional relations and the state, but which can be defined and understood from individual soldiers’ practices in the context of war. The article helps us to understand how the war changes soldiers and in particular the military institution in terms of discipline and loyalty.

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author.