Zimbabwe: On full tilt to one-man rule, or a fast-track to a second coup?

Zimbabwe is once again at a crossroads. The country is mired in a deepening economic and political crisis, driven not only by long-standing governance failures but also by the growing instability within the ruling elite. While Zimbabweans have endured decades of economic hardship, recent developments suggest that the ripple effects are beginning to unsettle the upper echelons of ZANU-PF itself.

The causes of the economic malaise are numerous and interconnected. Persistent corruption, the erosion of public trust, and erratic policymaking have hollowed out the economy. Exchange rate volatility, a collapsing currency, chronic energy shortages, dwindling investment, and an unpredictable regulatory environment have all combined to produce a fragile and unsustainable economic model.

Rather than address these structural weaknesses, President Emmerson Mnangagwa has opted to consolidate power, establishing parallel structures both within the state and the ruling party in an effort to secure his political dominance. A key example is the creation of the Mutapa Investment Fund, unveiled shortly after the contested August 2023 election.

The fund centralizes 29 state-owned enterprises under a single entity, valued at US$16 billion, and is shielded from parliamentary oversight. It reports directly to the president, who appoints both the board and its chief executive officer—an arrangement that raises profound questions about transparency and accountability.

Unsurprisingly, the fund has been linked to the enrichment of political allies, most notably Kudakwashe Tagwirei, a prominent businessman with longstanding ties to the president.

Cracks are also appearing within the ruling party. One of the most vocal internal critics has emerged from an unlikely quarter: Blessed “Bombshell” Geza, a former war veteran and long-serving member of ZANU-PF. Geza has become an increasingly strident opponent of Mnangagwa’s leadership, denouncing the marginalisation of liberation war veterans and accusing a small clique within the party of looting the country’s wealth.

In a series of posts on social media, Geza accused 30 individuals—whom he labelled Zvigananda—of monopolising national resources while neglecting those who risked their lives for independence. His call for a national protest on 31 March 2024 tapped into a deep reservoir of frustration. In his own words, Geza spoke of being in the “afternoon” of his life and expressed a desire to leave behind a better Zimbabwe—a sentiment that resonated widely across a disillusioned populace.

The protest itself, however, was subdued. Indeed what was striking about the 31 March protest was not the absence of mass mobilisation, but the fact that the government has become so good at nipping public demonstrations in the bud before they even get going. Where historical demonstrations were met with an an overwhelming security presence and brute force, nowadays potential protestors are quietly rounded up, usually away from the glare of the international media.

So it was that in the days that followed 31 March news emerged that some 98 people had been arrested and remanded in custody charged with “facing charges related to participating in a gathering with the intent to promote public violence”.

In this way, the Zimbabwean government is pursuing the kind of “before the event” invasive policing imagined in the science fiction film Minority Report, which imagined a future governed by the Pre-Crime police, who intervene before an offence has even taken place. The big difference in Zimbabwe, of course, is that the security forces do not target genuine criminals, but those who oppose authoritarian rule.

It is these strategies of “repress in advance” that square the circle between the fact that the police and military were largely absent in many urban areas of the day of the protests, and the aggressive tone of President Mnangagwa’s just speech days earlier, in which he unapologetically endorsed the use of force against dissenters.

The relative ease with which the protests was subverted suggests an important lesson oft-repeated in Zimbabwe over the last few years: given the strength of the state’s coercive capacity, political change is only likely to come from a split in the ruling party and the security forces.

The challenge for President Mnangagwa is that the very tactics he is using to try and consolidate power are likely to exacerbate existing tensions. Many believe that lying behind mooted plans to delay the next elections – something that would in principle benefit everyone currently in parliament by insulating them from the wrath of voters – is a much more singular vision: Mnangagwa wants to stay as president beyond the country’s current term-limits, and then determine his successor.

Some believe that the ultimate plan is to extend the terms of office for the President, Parliament, and Councils by up to three years. This would enable Mnangagwa to remain in power until 2031 – when he will be 92.  At that point, rumours suggest that he plans to have groomed an acolyte whom he trusts – the aforementioned Tagwirei – to take over.

This would see Mnangagwa explicitly renege on the agreement he is widely believed to have made with Constantine Chiwenga, the former army general and current Vice President who led the coup that put Mnangagwa in power. In that deal, the president is said to have promised to make way for his Chiwenga after serving his terms in office, rewarding his deputy – and through him the army – for the role they played in placing him on the political throne.

Thwarting the presidential ambitions of Chiwenga and other leaders within ZANU-PF is a dangerous move. So dangerous, that Mnangagwa has already felt the need to coup-proof his regime through the strategic replacement of General Valerio Sibanda as head of the Zimbabwe Defence Forces.

Sibanda, a key figure in the 2017 coup that propelled Mnangagwa to power, had grown increasingly sidelined amid whispers of discontent within the military’s upper ranks. His removal in late 2023, replaced by a less prominent but fiercely loyal figure, marked a calculated attempt by Mnangagwa to neutralize potential rivals and reassert control over the armed forces.

This reshuffle, combined with the continued elevation of loyalists in the security services and the deployment of military officers into civilian oversight roles, signals a broader strategy to insulate the presidency from the threat of internal dissent. Yet in fortifying his position, Mnangagwa has further blurred the line between civilian authority and military influence, deepening Zimbabwe’s drift toward personalized, securitized rule.

This strategy may not succeed, however, especially if military leaders come to conclude that Mnangagwa’s lack of popularity and old age render him a liability. Two factors will be critical in determining whether the president can hold on.

First, he will need to find alternative sources of government revenue. At present, the country’s economic fabric is under acute strain. The government’s model of elite accumulation is increasingly at odds with the reality of economic contraction, a worsening climate crisis, and the progressive withdrawal of Western aid, particularly from the United States.

As the benefits of patronage shrink and the costs of bad governance rise, the regime may find it harder to sustain the loyalties on which its survival depends.

Second, he will need to find a way to stymie the increasingly public displays of dissent by figures such as Blessings Geza. The fact that open and fierce criticism of the president continues suggests that Geza is operating with the protection of regime insiders, and may be acting as their stalking horse.

The longer this goes on, the weaker Mnangagwa will appear, and the more vulnerable he will become.

Ultimately, the roots of the crisis lie in Zimbabwe’s deeply flawed political settlement. For too long, bad politics—defined by exclusion, authoritarianism, and the capture of public resources—have choked off the possibility of national renewal. A more inclusive political dialogue is urgently needed, one that brings together all stakeholders and sets the stage for comprehensive economic reform, institutional reconstruction, and a return to democratic norms.

Without such a shift, Zimbabwe risks remaining trapped in a cycle of elite dominance and popular disempowerment, with grave consequences for its future stability and development.

Chenayi Mutambasere is a Development Economist and advocate for equitable socio-economic justice across Africa.