Going the wrong way

WHEN Robert Chasowa's body was found in the grounds of the University of Malawi's polytechnic campus on September 24th, police said the fourth-year mechanical-engineering student had jumped to his death after leaving a suicide note. He had a gash to his head but no broken bones or ruptured internal organs. The purported suicide note, written in capital letters, bore no date or signature and got his father's name wrong. As it happens, Mr Chasowa, a pro-democracy activist, was wanted by police for publishing details of alleged corruption in high places. This was no suicide, Malawians swiftly concluded, but a political assassination.

Until recently, this impoverished southern African country of 16m people, stretched out along the shores of Lake Malawi, was a darling of international donors. Since President Bingu wa Mutharika (pictured above) came to power in 2004, the economy has flourished, with growth averaging more than 7% a year. Thanks to generous fertiliser subsidies, tobacco production, the economy's mainstay, has soared and a food deficit has turned into a surplus. Child mortality has been halved, the HIV/AIDS pandemic (affecting 11% of the adult population) is under control and Malawi is one of just four countries in sub-Saharan Africa deemed likely to meet most of the UN's Millennium Development Goals by 2015.

But shortly after Mr Mutharika's landslide election to a second five-year term in 2009, things started to go awry. With a majority of over two-thirds in parliament, the once widely admired president began to display a dictatorial streak, postponing local government elections due in 2010 until 2014, enacting several unconstitutional laws, and intimidating many who dared to oppose him.

A law has been passed giving the police the right to search premises without a warrant. Another new law lets the president ban any publication deemed critical of the government. In July police shot dead 20 protesters who had demanded political and economic reforms; the police claimed they were looters. Government critics are subject to what Joyce Banda, Malawi's vice-president (recently expelled by Mr Mutharika from the ruling party), has called a “reign of terror”. Critics of the president have listed arson attacks, death threats and physical assaults. Mr Chasowa's alleged suicide is just the latest and most ominous incident.

An already bad situation is aggravated by the country's growing economic difficulties, which may also explain public demands for reform. In June the IMF criticised Malawi for failing to comply with conditions set for access to a $79m loan that had been previously agreed. This led Western donors, who normally give Malawi around $800m a year in aid, to suspend their budgetary support, which represents about a fifth of total government spending. That is a big blow to a country already short of foreign exchange thanks to a chronic balance of payments deficit.

Matters have been made worse by a recent slump in tobacco prices. Malawi is the world's biggest exporter of burley, an air-dried tobacco used in cigarette blends. Some 80% of Malawians depend on tobacco for their livelihoods. It is the country's second-biggest source of foreign currency after aid. When the price paid to farmers fell to 90 cents a kilo in 2006, lower than production costs, the government decided to introduce an annual minimum price. Invariably set unrealistically high, this caused production to soar, leading to a new price slump. This year a kilo of burley has been fetching only around $1 at auction, disregarding the official minimum of $1.76, which has swelled the ranks of Malawi's malcontents.

The country still has a lot going for it. The land is fertile, the climate clement, water abundant. By and large, people can travel where they want and meet whom they want. The printed press still strives to criticise the government, the judiciary is independent, civil society is vibrant. But all these things are under threat. Talks arranged by the UN between civil-society leaders and the government after July's deadly protests seem to be going nowhere. Pro-democracy campaigners, though weakened, are planning new protests. Mr Mutharika sounds ever more truculent and autocratic.

In a country as poor as Malawi, with average GDP per person of only $350, it is hard to keep up the momentum of mass protests. For most Malawians, getting a hot meal may be more pressing than political or economic reform. But Malawians are getting angrier. Fuel and medicine are running short. Electricity often cuts out. “The situation is really dire,” says a Western diplomat. “Anything could happen.”