HARARE – The corridors of power in Zimbabwe are currently echoing with a word that has become the most dangerous label in the country’s political vocabulary: “unpatriotic.” What started as a whisper in the high-walled offices of Harare has now exploded into a full-blown internal war within the ruling Zanu PF party. Following a series of high-stakes strategic seminars held in Gweru and Harare, President Emmerson Mnangagwa has drawn a line in the sand, leaving many senior officials wondering if their names are on a secret list of those marked for political execution.
At the heart of this intensifying infighting is the controversial plan to extend the President’s rule until 2030. While the cabinet has already given its nod to the draft law, the real battle is not happening in Parliament, but inside the party’s own boardroom. The “unpatriotic” label is no longer just about those who criticise the country from abroad; it has been repurposed as a sharp-edged weapon to prune the party of anyone who dares to question the 2030 agenda.
During a recent strategic seminar for Central Committee members at the Gweru Convention Centre, the atmosphere was described by insiders as “frosty” and “tense.” President Mnangagwa, usually known for his “soft as silk” persona, was anything but soft. He appeared visibly frustrated as he slammed what he called “unruly party members” whose actions are threatening the party’s stability.
“ZANU PF remains a party of results. We have zero tolerance for corruption, negligence, and incompetence,” Mnangagwa told the gathered officials. His voice carried a weight of warning that few could ignore. “We as leaders must be at the forefront of exposing corruption. The Central Committee is the backbone of our party, and I expect this seminar to remain innovative while offering people-driven solutions at the centre.”
But it was when the President switched to Shona that the message became truly personal. He looked directly at the delegates and asked a question that seemed to hang in the air like a heavy mist: “Ngatizvi-vhunzei patigere pano, kuti tirivatungamiri vakavimbika kuMusangano wedu here? Takazvipira here kushandira Musangano neruzhinji rweZimbabwe pachokwadi here? Tinosungirwa kuva vatungamiri vano mira neMusangano wedu nguva dzose.”
For those who do not follow the nuances of party language, this was a direct loyalty test. He was asking them: “Let us ask ourselves where we sit, are we faithful leaders to our Party? Are we committed to serving the Party and the majority of Zimbabwe truly? We are obliged to be leaders who stand with our Party at all times.” In the world of Zanu PF, “standing with the party” is now synonymous with supporting the 2030 extension.
The tension was further heightened by the noticeable absence of Vice President Constantino Chiwenga from some of these key gatherings. In Zimbabwean politics, an empty chair often speaks louder than a thousand words. Rumours of a fierce succession power struggle between the President and his deputy have moved from the shadows into the spotlight. The infighting has deeply divided both the party and the government, with rival factions now openly at odds.
To understand this “internal war,” one must look at the new power blocs emerging from the ashes of the old “G40 versus Lacoste” battles. While the G40 faction was largely dismantled during the 2017 transition, its remnants and the bitterness it left behind still haunt the party. Today, the divide is between the “2030 Loyalists” and the “Constitutionalists.” The Loyalists believe that Mnangagwa needs more time to see his Vision 2030 through to completion. The Constitutionalists, many of whom are aligned with the military wing of the party, argue that the country’s supreme law must be respected and that a transition should happen as scheduled in 2028.
This is where the “secret list” comes in. Sources within the party’s security department suggest that a dossier has been compiled, identifying “chameleon” characters—members who clap the loudest at rallies but plot in the dark. These individuals are being accused of “unpatriotic behaviour” because they are seen as obstacles to the 2030 blueprint.
“Leadership is not conferred by position alone; it is earned by unwavering commitment,” Mnangagwa warned in Gweru. He challenged the leaders to use the media to campaign for party programmes, rather than as a tool to seek “selfish agendas.” This was a clear jab at those suspected of using social media and leaked documents to undermine the President’s authority.
The purge is not just limited to the Central Committee. A few days later, the President took his message to the Politburo, the party’s supreme decision-making body. Meeting at the Museum of African Liberation in Harare—a venue chosen for its deep symbolic connection to the armed struggle—the President reminded the executive structure of their “sacred mandate.”
“This Strategic Seminar takes place at a defining moment in the party’s evolution as we accelerate the realisation of Vision 2030,” he said. “The current development epoch of our nation demands political astuteness from the leadership as well as constitutional consciousness, ideological clarity and disciplined collective action.”
By using terms like “ideological clarity” and “disciplined collective action,” the President was effectively telling the Politburo that there is no room for individual opinions. In Zanu PF, “collective leadership” means following the “correct line” of the party, which is currently the 2030 extension. Anyone who deviates from this line is, by definition, “ideologically bankrupt.”
The President’s frustration is rooted in the fact that despite the cabinet’s approval, the 2030 plan still faces significant hurdles. To change the presidential term limits, the constitution requires two separate amendments and, crucially, the current incumbent cannot benefit from such a change. This means that even if the law is changed, Mnangagwa would technically still have to step down, unless further legal gymnastics are performed.
Those who point out these legal realities are the ones being branded as “unpatriotic.” The term is being used to silence the “Constitutionalists” by suggesting that their loyalty to the law is actually a lack of loyalty to the “revolutionary mass party.”
“Ngatizvibvunzei kuti tiri kuiteyi kushandira musangano wedu nezvigaro zvatiinazvo,” the President challenged the Politburo. “I challenge us to honestly ask ourselves what targets have we set within our respective departments towards the performance and operational efficiency of our colossal mass party.”
This call for “operational efficiency” is seen by many as a precursor to a major reshuffle. The “axe” is expected to fall on those who have failed to show enough enthusiasm for the 2030 project. The party’s constitution, specifically Section 70, designates the Politburo as the administrative organ of the Central Committee. This gives the President, as the First Secretary, the power to enforce discipline through this body.
The “unpatriotic” rhetoric has also filtered down to the provincial levels. In Manicaland and other provinces, public confrontations and “poster wars” have become common. Zanu PF has had to issue stern warnings against public infighting and “secret plotting.” Minister Paul Matuke recently warned that public confrontations weaken the party and that allegations of personal ambition are destabilising the organisation.
But for the ordinary Zimbabwean, this internal war is more than just a political drama. It has real-world consequences. When the ruling party is focused on internal purges and loyalty tests, the business of governing the country often takes a back seat. The “2030 Blueprint” is being marketed as a path to prosperity, but if the path is littered with the political corpses of those who disagreed, many wonder what kind of “unity” will be left.
As the strategic seminars conclude and the delegates return to their provinces, the question remains: who will be the first to go? The “secret list” is said to include both veteran stalwarts and younger “chameleons” who have tried to play both sides of the fence.
The President’s concluding remarks in Gweru were a final warning: “Our conduct must continue to inspire confidence while fostering trust within the party.” But in an environment where “unpatriotic” is the new label for “opponent,” trust is a rare commodity.
The “internal war” in Zanu PF is far from over. In fact, it is just entering its most dangerous phase. As the party prepares for its next annual conference, the “axe” is being sharpened, and the list of “unpatriotic” members is growing. In the documentary-like saga of Zimbabwean politics, the 2030 extension is the plot point that will either cement a legacy or trigger a collapse. For now, every member of the Central Committee and the Politburo is looking over their shoulder, wondering if they have shown enough “unwavering commitment” to survive the coming storm.
The message from the top is clear: toe the party line, or face the consequences. In the new Zanu PF, there is no middle ground. You are either a “patriot” who supports 2030, or you are an “unpatriotic” obstacle waiting for the axe to fall.
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