Why did Andrew Mitchell reinstate aid to Rwanda on his last day at DfID?

The "aid success story" in Rwanda was key to detoxifying the Tory brand. Is that why Andrew Mitchell personally intervened to restore its budget, despite fears that the country is funding violent rebels in the Congo?

David Cameron used his appearance yesterday at the UN General Assembly to re-confirm British support for increasing aid to meet the UN target of 0.7 per cent of GDP. Coming at a time when billions have been cut from defence budgets dear to Tory hearts, and billions more will have to be cut from welfare, it is a remarkable display of international solidarity. Or is it? While there’s no doubting the Prime Minister’s personal commitment to the poor of Africa, it does not explain why ring-fencing aid is such a high priority in such difficult times.

International aid was critical in redefining the modern Tory party. Aid played, and continues to play, an important part in “Brand Cameron” – which is why there was such anguish when Mitchell went and spoilt it all with his “fucking pleb” rant against the police in Downing Street. As the Daily Mail commented this week: “He lavished billions on foreign aid to detoxify the Tories. Now Mr Mitchell's boorish tirade has set them back years.”

At the heart of the Tory aid project has been Rwanda – a country now boasting impressive growth rates, as it recovers from the genocide of 1994. Having left the Francophone zone behind and joined the Commonwealth, Rwandan president Paul Kagame was an ideal partner for the Conservative Party to embrace.  

All of which explains why Andrew Mitchell went through such contortions to reinstate part of the Rwandan aid budget on 4 September, his very last day in office as Secretary of State for International Development. It had been a job he loved – having served as Shadow Secretary for five years before the 2010 election. Before he left, Mitchell took one final decision. Without consulting his senior officials, I understand, he reversed the cuts that had been made to the Rwandan aid budget less than two months earlier.

The decision flew in the face of the professional advice he had received, and Britain’s Western aid partners have privately expressed their outrage at his action. Mitchell’s successor, Justine Greening, was left struggling to pick up the pieces. 

The initial aid cut had been announced against Mitchell’s judgement, and was only implemented following considerable pressure from Washington, Bonn and the Hague, which had already made the cuts. It followed extensive evidence from UN experts that Rwandan troops and weaponry were slipping across the country’s border to support some of the most notorious rebels operating in Eastern Congo – the M23 (pdf). Their report was backed by evidence supplied by Human Rights Watch.

Andrew Mitchell resisted imposing the sanction as long as possible, but had finally caved in. The decision was grudgingly taken and slipped out in a press release from DFID on 27 July, while the British press and public were immersed in the spectacle of the opening ceremony of the 2012 London Olympics.

Just 53 days after the cut was announced, it was reversed. Explaining this decision, Mitchell said that following the delay in British aid: “. . . I sought assurances from President Kagame that Rwanda was adhering to the strict partnership principles.” President Kagame, a past-master at dealing with Western donors, provided the kind of vacuous assurances he has repeated down the years. Mitchell believed them, announcing as he left for the Chief Whip’s office that: “Britain will partially restore its general budget support to Rwanda.”

The UK remains Rwanda’s largest bilateral aid donor. What is so remarkable about the tenacity of British support, is not that it not just that it flies in the face of years of evidence of Rwandan repression at home or Kagame’s backing for Congolese rebels. It also ignores the evidence of the danger Rwandan government death squads pose to exiles living in London.

In May last year the Metropolitan police took the extraordinary step of issuing several Rwandans with “Threats to Life Warning Notices.” (See an example of one of them here, with personal information redacted.) These stated, in no uncertain terms, that they were in danger of being killed by Paul Kagame’s government.

“Reliable intelligence states that the Rwandan Government poses an imminent threat to your life. The threat could come in any form. You should be aware that othr high profile cases where action such as this has been conducted in the past. Conventional and unconventional means have been used.”

While the Met said it could not provide round the clock protection, it instructed the recipients of these warnings not to carry weapons. Instead a series of measures, including burglar alarms, changes to daily routine and the like were suggested to the frightened exiles.

The British fascination with Rwanda dates back to Clare Short’s time, when she was given the development ministry by Tony Blair following the 1997 election. More than a decade later, long after losing her post, she still took holidays in the country. “The wonderful thing about Rwanda” she explained in 2008 “is that people are full of hope and determination to build a better future.” This, despite repeated warnings from human rights groups of Rwandan political repression, the silencing of critical journalists and repeated interventions in Congo.

Tony Blair took a similar position, continuing to support President Paul Kagame after leaving office through his Africa Governance Initiative. Blair still works closely with the Rwandan president, visiting the country earlier this month.

But Labour’s support only laid the foundations for the Tories, who were soon also won over by Kagame’s cool intelligence and free-market principles. Andrew Mitchell was among the first to be charmed, grasping the part this small Central African nation could play in re-branding the Tory party.

In 2007 he formed Project Umubano. Working in Rwanda and that other war-torn African state, Sierra Leone, the project claims to have sent 230 volunteers – many of them MPs and cabinet ministers - off to sunny climes to do a spot of teaching, building and good works. Stephen Crabb MP was an early convert, describing Kagame as “one of Africa's most competent leaders.”

Among their activities has been the encouragement of that most English of exports, the love of cricket. A Rwandan Cricket Academy was formed and the annual match between Umubano volunteers and a side from the Rwanda Cricket Association was a highlight of every visit.

Umubano was more than just a knock-about holiday in the sun; its real aim was to detoxify the Tory brand. Rwanda provided the prefect backdrop for Cameron to launch his development aid programme in 2007, even if he was criticised for leaving his flooded Witney constituency to do so. As a senior Tory MP complained at the time, "Rwanda always looked a bit like a stunt. Now it looks like a very ill-timed one."

Cameron’s critics were wrong. The strategy paid off, softening the Tory image. The links with Rwanda saw Paul Kagame attend the Tory Party conference in 2007, lavishing praise on his hosts, describing Umubano as an “unprecedented” example of aid.

Just how sensitive the Mitchell camp is about Project Rwanda was recently revealed by the Telegraph journalist, Lucy Kinder, who described how in 2009, as a young volunteer with Umubano she was mercilessly bullied by Mitchell’s staff. Kinder had written an article which was mildly critical. It produced fury from Mitchell and reduced some of his senior aides to tears. Anything that might besmirch the Tory image had to resisted at all costs. "You have betrayed the trust of me and the Conservative Party," Mitchell told her.

The complex web of relations between Cameron, Mitchell and Rwanda perhaps explains why the Prime Minister has continued to support his Chief Whip throughout the “fucking plebs” scandal. The success of “Brand Cameron” owes much to the people of Rwanda. Ditching the architect of Umubano could call into question the Prime Minister’s loyalty to his closet friends and undermine his carefully crafted image.

Paul Kagame. Photograph: Getty Images

Mike Hale is a pseudonym.

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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times