Israel Loves Mugabe

Why is that?
Two years ago, when I was in Kuala Lumpur as a guest of the Perdana Peace Forum, I had the singularly unpleasant experience of meeting Robert Mugabe. Well, "meeting" him is hardly the word: rather, I espied him, sitting directly across from me, at the opening banquet of the conference. Turning to the person next to me, I asked: "Isn't that guy sitting over there Robert Mugabe?" My friend squinted, and replied: "Sure looks like it."

The table was loaded down with lots of really good food: Malaysian fare, with all its wonderful color and variety. But I seemed to have lost my appetite rather suddenly.

"You mean I have to eat at the same table with that murdering despot?" As is my wont, I was speaking rather loudly. Mugabe looked up, and straight at me. I felt like giving him the finger, but, instead, I got up and exited the room. Better not to make a scene quite yet.

I was upset. I had no idea Mugabe would be attending – he showed up uninvited – and if I had I would never have agreed to come. Yet there I was, 8,000 miles from home, already committed to speak to the conference, and, although Mugabe was nowhere listed as a speaker or official guest, word of his presence would soon get out. What to do?

As exhausted as I was from the 15-hour flight, I was quite prepared to get on a plane, and head home – and that's exactly what I determined to do if the conference organizers could not be dissuaded from allowing Mugabe's participation. As it was, Mugabe was seated right next to the prime mover of the conference, ex-Prime Minister Mahathir bin Mohamad, and Mugabe was constantly whispering in his ear, much to the former's apparent annoyance. There was something distinctly reptilian about the African tyrant's visage and general demeanor: at any moment, I fully expected him to flick a foot-long tongue at a passing fly. antiwar