‘‘I’m not Nelson Mandela’’

Morgan Tsvangirai is on tour promoting the New Zimbabwe, but can he honestly bury the past and build

Just before Morgan Tsvangirai walks into the room, the woman sitting next to me says she thinks he is the bravest man in the world. We are sitting in a grand, pillared hall in a building off the Strand in central London. When Tsvangirai is introduced as the prime minister of Zimbabwe, there is long, resounding applause.

The reception for the prime minister is different from the one he received a few days ago in Southwark Cathedral. Tsvangirai, having urged Zimbabweans living in London to return home, was booed by the audience. As one member said simply after the event: “He has lost us.” For many people, the spectacle of Tsvangirai sharing power with Robert Mugabe, the man credited with destroying Zimbabwe, is unbearable, incomprehensible even. During the general election of March 2008, Mugabe’s supporters tortured and killed those of Tsvangirai’s party, the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC). Tsvangirai himself has been subjected to beatings, armed assaults and an attempted assassination.

The two leaders weren’t always pitted against each other. When Zimbabwe gained independence in 1980, Tsvangirai joined Mugabe’s party, Zanu-PF. But his relationship with the government began to deteriorate after he became secretary general of the Zimbabwe Congress of Trade Unions in 1988. Just over a decade later, in 1999, he founded the MDC.

He first stood against Mugabe in 2002, in an election that was widely condemned as unfair. In 2008, he won a higher percentage of the vote than Mugabe in the first round (47.8 per cent to Mugabe’s 43.2 per cent), but withdrew from the second round because of rising violence. Within months, however, Tsvangirai and Mugabe had begun talks, shaking hands for the first time on 21 July.

By September they had reached a deal – brokered by the then South African president, Thabo Mbeki – in which Tsvangirai became prime minister and Mugabe, while continuing as president, ceded day-to-day control of
the government.

Today, Tsvangirai is determined to look to the future. His language skips over what has gone before and plunges forward. It is a fresh start for Zimbabwe. The country is becoming a different place. Inflation is being reined in; hospitals and schools are reopening. Or, to put it another way: “What could possibly go wrong that hasn’t already gone wrong?”

Tsvangirai has to be upbeat. The purpose of his trip – whirling from Barack Obama in the Oval Office to Gordon Brown in Downing Street and covering most of western Europe in between – is to show the world that Zimbabwe is back up and running; that desperately needed aid would not be wasted; that the country is able and willing to re-engage with the outside world. Tsvangirai says he is looking to raise roughly $8bn over the next few years to pump into his country.

Yet the audience won’t let him skate over the past so easily. Will there be a truth and reconciliation commission, in the style of South Africa or Northern Ireland, somebody asks. “I think that is unavoidable given our history of trauma,” he says. He has already used the South African comparison, noting the time it takes for a country to turn itself around and rebuild. But he avoids the personal comparison with that country’s former leader. “I’m not Nelson Mandela,” he says. “Neither do I pretend to be.”

Tsvangirai certainly divides opinion. He is hero-worshipped one moment, then accused of being a power-hungry hypocrite the next. But the main object of fascination is his partnership with Mugabe – the “personal relationship”, as Tsvangirai puts it. “It’s an extraordinary experience.” The audience laughs, amazed at his ability to shrug off years of violence with a genial smile. He describes how Mugabe had been his hero in 1980, winning the general election and becoming Zimbabwe’s first black prime minister. But “over time he has transformed to be a villain”.

When they began to negotiate the power-sharing deal, Tsvangirai hadn’t seen Mugabe for ten years. They had become political opponents – although “not enemies”, he insists. “The first time we had dinner, the two of us, it was quite a dramatic experience.” As though talking about a troubled marriage, Tsvangirai describes how they “have been working through this”, in spite of acrimonious exchanges in the early days of talks. “Do I trust Robert Mugabe?” He pauses. “Obviously, it’s too early to say.” But when it comes down to it, Tsvangirai is “prepared to work with him for the good of the country”. The prime minister is impatient to tackle land reform, public services, economic development, and finally, what everyone is waiting for: a proper and fair election.

I ask him how he sees the future of his country beyond the challenges of transition. “We’ll call it the ‘New Zimbabwe’,” he says, where “democracy is consolidated and prosperity once again becomes a possibility”. He claims the idea isn’t difficult – Zimbabwe simply needs to be restored to its former status as the country with the second-largest economy in sub-Saharan Africa and one of the best education systems on the continent. “But,” he continues sombrely, “for Zimbabweans to share this vision we must never again descend to a situation where we are isolated, marginalised, poor, unable to feed ourselves and in a situation where we have become refugees all over the world.”

That situation, he knows, is all too recent, too raw, and still a reality for many Zimbabweans. There are other obstacles, too – not least the sanctions against Zimbabwe that the British government has said will remain in place despite Tsvangirai’s presence in government. They won’t be lifted, says Mark Malloch Brown, minister for Africa, “until we are convinced that Zimbabwe’s transition to democracy has reached a point of no return”.

Tsvangirai’s vision for his country is bravely, defiantly optimistic. But as he leaves the room to more applause, there is a feeling that goodwill alone will not be enough to help him along the treacherous road ahead.

Sophie Elmhirst is features editor of the New Statesman

This article first appeared in the 29 June 2009 issue of the New Statesman, The Great Escape

Fox via YouTube
Show Hide image

Are smart toys spying on children?

If you thought stepping on a Lego was bad, consider the new ways in which toys can hurt and harm families.

In January 1999, the president of Tiger Electronics, Roger Shiffman, was forced to issue a statement clearing the name of the company’s hottest new toy. “Furby is not a spy,” he announced to the waiting world.

Shiffman was speaking out after America’s National Security Agency (NSA) banned the toy from its premises. The ban was its response to a playground rumour that Furbies could be taught to speak, and therefore could record and repeat human speech. “The NSA did not do their homework,” said Shiffman at the time.

But if America’s security agencies are still in the habit of banning toys that can record, spy, and store private information, then the list of contraband items must be getting exceptionally long. Nearly 18 years after TE were forced to deny Furby’s secret agent credentials, EU and US consumer watchdogs are filing complaints about a number of WiFi and Bluetooth connected interactive toys, also known as smart toys, which have hit the shelves. Equipped with microphones and an internet connection, many have the power to invade both children’s and adults’ private lives.


“We wanted a smart toy that could learn and grow with a child,” says JP Benini, the co-founder of the CogniToys “Dino”, an interactive WiFi-enabled plastic dinosaur that can hold conversations with children and answer their questions. Benini and his team won the 2014 Watson Mobile Developer Challenge, allowing them to use the question-answering software IBM Watson to develop the Dino. As such, unlike the “interactive” toys of the Nineties and Noughties, Dino doesn’t simply reiterate a host of pre-recorded stock phrases, but has real, organic conversations. “We grew it from something that was like a Siri for kids to something that was more conversational in nature.”

In order for this to work, Dino has a speaker in one nostril and a microphone in the other, and once a child presses the button on his belly, everything they say is processed by the internet-connected toy. The audio files are turned into statistical data and transcripts, which are then anonymised and encrypted. Most of this data is, in Benini’s words, “tossed out”, but his company, Elemental Path, which owns CogniToys, do store statistical data about a child, which they call “Play Data”. “We keep pieces from the interaction, not the full interaction itself,” he tells me.

“Play Data” are things like a child’s favourite colour or sport, which are used to make a profile of the child. This data is then available for the company to view, use, and pass on to third parties, and for parents to see on a “Parental Panel”. For example, if a child tells Dino their favourite colour is “red”, their mother or father will be able to see this on their app, and Elemental Path will be able to use this information to, Benini says, “make a better toy”.

Currently, the company has no plans to use the data with any external marketers, though it is becoming more and more common for smart toys to store and sell data about how they are played with. “This isn’t meant to be just another monitoring device that's using the information that it gathers to sell it back to its user,” says Benini.

Sometimes, however, Elemental Path does save, store, and use the raw audio files of what a child has said to the toy. “If the Dino is asked a question that it doesn’t know, we take that question and separate it from the actual child that’s asking it and it goes into this giant bucket of unresolved questions and we can analyse that over time,” says Benini. It is worth noting, however, that Amazon reviews of the toy claim it is frequently unable to answer questions, meaning there is potentially an abundance of audio saved, rather than it being an occasional occurrence.

CogniToys have a relatively transparent Privacy Policy on their website, and it is clear that Benini has considered privacy at length. He admits that the company has been back and forth about how much data to store, originally offering parents the opportunity to see full transcripts of what their child had been saying, until many fed back that they found this “creepy”. Dino is not the first smart toy to be criticised in this way.

Hello Barbie is the world’s first interactive Barbie doll, and when it was released by Mattel in 2015, it was met with scorn by parents’ rights groups and privacy campaigners. Like Dino, the doll holds conversations with children and stores data about them which it passes back to the parents, and articles expressing concerns about the toy featured on CNN, the Guardian, and the New York Times. Despite Dino’s similarities, however, Benini’s toy received almost no negative attention, while Hello Barbie won the Campaign for a Commercial-Free Childhood’s prize for worst toy of the year 2015.

“We were lucky with that one,” he says, “Like the whole story of the early bird gets the worm but the second worm doesn’t get eaten. Coming second on all of this allowed us to be prepared to address the privacy concerns in greater depth.”

Nonetheless, Dino is in many ways essentially the same as Hello Barbie. Both toys allow companies and parents to spy on children’s private playtimes, and while the former might seem more troubling, the latter is not without its problems. A feature on the Parental Panel of the Dino also allows parents to see the exact wording of questions children have asked about certain difficult topics, such as sex or bullying. In many ways, this is the modern equivalent of a parent reading their child's diary. 

“Giving parents the opportunity to side-step their basic responsibility of talking to, engaging with, encouraging and reassuring their child is a terrifying glimpse into a society where plastic dinosaurs rule and humans are little more than machines providing the babies for the reptile robots to nurture,” says Renate Samson, the chief executive of privacy campaign group Big Brother Watch. “We are used to technology providing convenience in our lives to the detriment of our privacy, but allowing your child to be taught, consoled and even told to meditate by a WiFi connected talking dinosaur really is a step in the wrong direction.”


Toy companies and parents are one thing, however, and to many it might seem trivial for a child’s privacy to be comprised in this way. Yet many smart toys are also vulnerable to hackers, meaning security and privacy are under threat in a much more direct way. Ken Munro, of Pen Test Partners, is an ethical hacker who exposed security flaws in the interactive smart toy “My Friend Cayla” by making her say, among other things, “Calm down or I will kick the shit out of you.”

“We just thought ‘Wow’, the opportunity to get a talking doll to swear was too good,” he says. “It was the kid in me. But there were deeper concerns.”

Munro explains that any device could connect to the doll over Bluetooth, provided it was in range, as the set-up didn’t require a pin or password. He also found issues with the encryption processes used by the company. “You can say anything to a child through the doll because there's no security,” he says. “That means you've got a device that can potentially be used to groom a child and that's really creepy.”

Pen Test Partners tells companies about the flaws they find with their products in a process they call “responsible disclosure”. Most of the time, companies are grateful for the information, and work through ways to fix the problem. Munro feels that Vivid Toy Group, the company behind Cayla, did a “poor job” at fixing the issue. “All they did was put one more step in the process of getting it to swear for us.”

It is one thing for a hacker to speak to a child through a toy and another for them to hear them. Early this year, a hack on baby monitors ignited such concerns. But any toy with speech recognition that is connected to the internet is also vulnerable to being hacked. The data that is stored about how children play with smart toys is also under threat, as Fisher Price found out this year when a security company managed to obtain the names, ages, birthdays, and genders of children who had played with its smart toys. In 2015, VTech also admitted that five million of its customers had their data breached in a hack.

“The idea that your child shares their playtime with a device which could potentially be hacked, leaving your child’s inane or maybe intimate and revealing questions exposed is profoundly worrying,” says Samson. Today, the US Electronic Privacy Information Center (EPIC) said in a statement that smart toys “pose an imminent and immediate threat to the safety and security of children in the United States”. 

Munro says big brands are usually great at tackling these issues, but warns about smaller, cheaper brands who have less to lose than companies like Disney or Fisher Price. “I’m not saying they get it right but if someone does find a problem they’ve got a huge incentive to get it right subsequently,” he says of larger companies. Thankfully, Munro says that he found Dino to be secure. “I would be happy for my kids to play with it,” he says. “We did find a couple of bugs but we had a chat with them and they’re a good bunch. They aren’t perfect but I think they’ve done a hell of a lot of a better job than some other smart toy vendors.”

Benini appears alert to security and the credibility it gives his company. “We took the security very, very seriously,” he says. “We were still building our systems whilst these horror stories were coming about so I already set pipelines and parameters in place. With a lot of devices out there it seems that security takes a backseat to the idea, which is really unfortunate when you’re inviting these devices into your home.”

As well as being wary of smaller brands, Munro advises that parents should look out for Bluetooth toys without a secure pairing process (ie. any device can pair with the toy if near enough), and to think twice about which toys you connect to your WiFi. He also advises to use unique passwords for toys and their corresponding apps.

“You might think ‘It's just a toy, so I can use the same password I put in everything else’ – dog’s name, football club, whatever – but actually if that ever got hacked you’d end up getting all your accounts that use that same password hacked,” he says.

Despite his security advice, Munro describes himself as “on the fence” about internet-connected smart toys as a whole. “Most internet of things devices can be hacked in one way or another,” he says. “I would urge caution.”


Is all of this legal? Companies might not be doing enough ethically to protect the privacy of children, but are they acting responsibly within the confines of the law?

Benini explains that Dino complies with the United States Children's Online Privacy Protection Act (COPPA) of which there is no real equivalent in the UK. COPPA says that companies must have parental permission to collect personal information over the internet about children under 13 years of age. “We’ve tried to go above and beyond the original layout of COPPA,” says Benini, when describing CogniToys transparent privacy documents. Parents give their consent for Elemental Path to collect their children’s data when they download the app that pairs with the toy.

Dino bears a striking similarity to Amazon Echo and Google Home, smart speakers that listen out for commands and questions in your home. Everything that is said to Amazon Echo is recorded and sent to the cloud, and an investigation by the Guardian earlier this year discovered that this does not comply with COPPA. We are therefore now in a strange position whereby many internet of things home devices are legally considered a threat to a child’s privacy, whereas toys with the same capabilities are not. This is an issue because many parents may not actually be aware that they are handing over their children’s data when installing a new toy.

As of today, EU consumer rights groups are also launching complaints against certain smart toys, claiming they breach the EU Unfair Contract Terms Directive and the EU Data Protection Directive, as well as potentially the Toy Safety Directive. Though smart toys may be better regulated in Europe, there are no signs that the problem is being tackled in the UK. 

At a time when the UK government are implementing unprecedented measures to survey its citizens on the internet and Jeremy Hunt wants companies to scour teens’ phones for sexts, it seems unlikely that any legislation will be enacted that protects children’s privacy from being violated by toy companies. Indeed, many internet of things companies – including Elemental Path – admit they will hand over your data to government and law enforcement officials when asked.


As smart toys develop, the threat they pose to children only becomes greater. The inclusion of sensors and cameras means even more data can be collected about children, and their privacy can and will be compromised in worrying ways.

Companies, hackers, and even parents are denying children their individual right to privacy and private play. “Children need to feel that they can play in their own place,” says Samson. It is worrying to set a precedent where children get used to surveillance early on. All of this is to say nothing of the educational problems of owning a toy that will tell you (rather than teach you) how to spell “space” and figure out “5+8”.

In a 1999 episode of The Simpsons, “Grift of the Magi”, a toy company takes over Springfield Elementary and spies on children in order to create the perfect toy, Funzo. It is designed to destroy all other toys, just in time for Christmas. Many at the time criticised the plot for being absurd. Like the show's prediction of President Trump, however, it seems that we are living in a world where satire slowly becomes reality.

Amelia Tait is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman.