UK Foreign Office Discovers Mugabe Plot Was Real, But Not Really
Here’s our take on the news that the UK briefly considered doing to Robert Mugabe what it already did to Saddam (but then chickened out like a nervous party guest who brought dip but forgot chips) — based on reporting from newly released government files.
The Great Zimbabwean Fantasy: A Brief, Uncomfortable Flirtation
In a move that proves history’s most effective tool may be collective embarrassment, newly declassified British government documents reveal that back in 2004, Downing Street flirted with the idea of treating Zimbabwean strongman Robert Mugabe the same way the West treated Saddam Hussein in Iraq. Yes, that Saddam. The one with the butter‑mountain ambitions and flair for questionable WMD claims.
These files, quietly gathering dust until now, show Tony Blair’s Foreign Office debating whether to go full “we did it once, let’s maybe not do it again” on Mugabe — who by all accounts was extremely fit for someone in his early 80s at the time and had the political longevity of a cockroach in a nuclear winter.
Zimbabwe Policy Options: When Bureaucrats Dream Big
The infamous briefing paper, titled “Zimbabwe: Policy Options,” was aimed at solving the puzzle of Mugabe’s relentless grip on power — a grip so strong it could probably do its own taxes. It surveyed every conceivable action short of teaching him calculus, including sanctions, asset freezes, aid cuts, and even removing the UK ambassador as a mild social signal of disapproval. But then, tucked between “cut foreign aid” and “consider giving him a thoughtful Spotify playlist,” was the boldest idea of all: deploy military force.
The memo acknowledged that Britain had just been involved in overthrowing Iraq’s Saddam Hussein, a decision now deeply remembered for its spectacular strategic outcomes and absence of ISIS, I mean anything good. Citing lessons from Afghanistan, Iraq, and Yugoslavia, the paper noted that changing governments from the outside is valmost impossible” — closely resembling many people’s experiences trying to fix a malfunctioning microwave.
So naturally the memo suggested, in precisely serious bureaucrat language, that if the UK really wanted to change Zimbabwe’s direction, it would have to “do to Mugabe what we just did to Saddam.” This was essentially the diplomatic equivalent of saying, “We have a hammer. Now what do we do with these existential problems?”
But Then Someone Remembered Reality
Before anybody could chalk “Operation Get Mugabe” on the war room whiteboard, someone pointed out a few practical complications: no international support, potential illegality without a UN resolution, and the uncomfortable fact that Zimbabwe didn’t actually have oil fields shaped like Instagram logos. Also, invading might endanger British citizens on the ground, which is always awkward when the Home Office gets calls from relatives asking whether pension payments will continue.
One official reportedly bluntly concluded that armed intervention was “not a serious option.” And honestly who could blame them? Britain was being asked if it wanted to play Big Brother in Africa again after Iraq, but with even less support and fewer good press photos. “It would also be opposed by African countries,” the memo added, which to diplomatic ears sounds a lot like “Yep, this would be really awkward.”
Lessons Learned — Or Forgotten
At the end of the day, Britain chose the tired classics: isolation, criticism, and quietly supporting opposition forces. It was the foreign policy equivalent of passive‑aggressively ignoring someone while using slightly colder sentences in emails. Mugabe ended up staying in power until a military coup in 2017, proving that sometimes bureaucratic hesitation doesn’t topple tyrants, but it does preserve awkward national archives for decades.
The whole revelation seems to confirm what historians have been saying all along: if there’s one foreign policy strategy perfect for solving complex problems, it’s an official paper suggesting every option except the one that might actually work. And if there’s a lesson here for future governments, it’s probably this: maybe don’t link your tough guy moves to the guy whose legacy is mostly confused tweetstorms and destroyed geopolitical landscapes.
If you want a take that’s a bit more deeply weird, like what if they’d actually done it, I can do that too. Just not while I’m still trying to figure out what happened in the first place. Auf Wiedersehen!
I am a Lagos-born poet and satirical journalist navigating West London’s contradictions. I survived lions at six, taught English by Irish nuns, now wielding words as weapons against absurdity. Illegal in London but undeniable. I write often for https://bohiney.com/author/junglepussy/.
As a young child, I was mostly influenced by the television show Moesha, starring singer and actress Brandy. Growing up, I would see Brandy on Moesha and see her keeping in her cornrows and her braids, but still flourish in her art and music, looking fly. I loved Moesha as a child, but now I take away something more special from it. Just because you’re a black girl, it doesn’t mean you need to only care about hair and makeup. Brandy cared about books, culture and where she was going — you can do both.
