The political atmosphere in Zimbabwe has been simmering for years, but on Tuesday, 10 February 2026, the tensions within the ruling ZANU-PF party reached a critical juncture. Inside the cabinet room at Munhumutapa Building in Harare, a fierce confrontation unfolded between President Emmerson Mnangagwa and his deputy, Constantino Chiwenga. This dramatic clash, centred on proposed constitutional amendments, has laid bare the deep-seated power struggles that have plagued the party since the ousting of Robert Mugabe in 2017.
At the core of this escalating conflict is the proposed Constitution of Zimbabwe Amendment (No. 3) Bill, 2026. This legislation is the linchpin of what has become widely known as the “2030 Agenda”—a strategic manoeuvre by Mnangagwa’s faction to prolong his tenure beyond the constitutionally mandated end of his second term in 2028. The bill proposes significant alterations, including extending presidential terms from five to seven years. More controversially, it seeks to replace direct presidential elections with a system where Members of Parliament would elect the head of state, a model reportedly inspired by South Africa and Botswana.
This “2030 Agenda” is widely seen as a profound betrayal of the unwritten “gentleman’s agreement” that underpinned the 2017 military intervention. During the coup that ousted Robert Mugabe, it was understood that Mnangagwa would serve a maximum of two terms, thereby paving the way for Chiwenga, the architect of the coup, to assume the presidency in 2028. This implicit agreement, however, appears to have been discarded by Mnangagwa, leading to the current deep-seated animosity.
Chiwenga, however, reportedly balked at the suggestion, perhaps to maintain the narrative that the military was not staging a coup, but rather a “military-assisted transition.” This warning, dismissed at the time, now resonates with a chilling prescience as Chiwenga finds himself increasingly sidelined.
The cabinet meeting, intended to rubber-stamp these amendments, quickly devolved into a heated exchange. Attorney-General Virginia Mabhiza, tasked with outlining the legal framework of the proposed changes, cited South Africa and Botswana as examples for the new electoral system. This reference proved to be a catalyst for Vice President Chiwenga’s anger. A retired army general, Chiwenga was instrumental in the 2017 military intervention that brought Mnangagwa to power. He abruptly interrupted Mabhiza, vehemently stating that South Africa was “not independent” and should not be mentioned in the same breath as nations whose liberation was achieved through armed struggle. This forceful interjection immediately shifted the mood in the room, highlighting the deep ideological divisions within the party.
President Mnangagwa, visibly displeased by the interruption and his deputy’s outburst, intervened to restore order. He admonished Chiwenga, urging him to calm down and reminding him that “we all must be honest about the ethos of the liberation struggle.” However, Chiwenga, undeterred, insisted on completing his prepared remarks, further challenging the proposed changes. This defiance prompted a sharp retort from Mnangagwa, who, in a clear assertion of his authority, reportedly barked, “I’m the president!” This moment underscored the profound power imbalance and the President’s determination to maintain control.
For Chiwenga, the 2030 Agenda represents a profound betrayal of the very foundation of the 2017 coup. The understanding that Mnangagwa would serve two terms before handing over power to Chiwenga was, for many, the core of the post-Mugabe transition. The proposed extension of Mnangagwa’s term until 2030, coupled with the change in the presidential election method, is seen as a direct repudiation of this agreement, effectively closing the door on Chiwenga’s long-held ambition to succeed him. This move is perceived by Chiwenga and his allies as a direct challenge to his political future and a subversion of the original transition plan, fulfilling Mugabe’s earlier prophecy of Mnangagwa’s “use and dump” strategy.
Chiwenga’s opposition stems from a deep concern that abandoning the “one man, one vote” principle—a fundamental tenet of the liberation struggle—would render the presidency susceptible to manipulation by powerful, wealthy individuals within the party. He passionately argued that the amendments constituted a “negation” of the very values for which they had fought. He found an unlikely ally in Anselm Sanyatwe, the recently retired Zimbabwe National Army commander who now serves as the Sports Minister. Sanyatwe openly accused Justice Minister Ziyambi Ziyambi of overstepping his mandate by expanding the constitutional amendments far beyond the original resolution passed at the ZANU-PF National People’s Conference in Mutare in October 2025.
The animosity between Mnangagwa and Chiwenga has been escalating for several months. In October 2025, the rivalry took a more sinister turn when Mnangagwa publicly accused Chiwenga of incitement and treason. This accusation followed Chiwenga’s presentation of a comprehensive corruption dossier to the ZANU-PF politburo. The dossier alleged that the party and the state had been “captured” by Kudakwashe Tagwirei, a controversial business tycoon. Mnangagwa swiftly dismissed the dossier as “fundamentally flawed” and “treasonous,” interpreting it as a thinly veiled attempt to unlawfully remove a constitutionally elected president.
In a calculated effort to diminish Chiwenga’s influence, Mnangagwa has systematically stripped his deputy of key responsibilities. He notably removed Chiwenga’s oversight role of the Ministry of Defence and War Veterans, reassigning him to the less influential portfolio of “procurement and research.” This systematic dismantling of Chiwenga’s power base aligns with Mugabe’s earlier warning that Mnangagwa would purge those who helped him ascend. Further consolidating his power, Mnangagwa oversaw the retirement of Zimbabwe Defence Forces commander, General Phillip Valerio Sibanda, in November 2025, replacing him with Lieutenant General Emmanuel Matatu. These strategic military reshuffles are widely interpreted as a deliberate move to neutralise Chiwenga’s support base within the military’s upper echelons, effectively completing the “use and dump” cycle that Mugabe had foretold.
Despite the internal dissent, the 2030 Agenda continues to gain momentum. ZANU-PF provincial structures have been mobilised to endorse the presidential term extension, and with the party commanding a two-thirds majority in Parliament, the passage of the bill appears almost inevitable. Even the opposition Citizens Coalition for Change (CCC) has faced accusations of potential complicity, with some observers suggesting that opposition Members of Parliament might support the amendments, as it would inadvertently extend their own parliamentary terms by two years.
However, legal experts have voiced serious concerns regarding the profound implications of such constitutional changes. Professor Lovemore Madhuku, a respected constitutional lawyer, has argued that altering the method of electing a president fundamentally undermines the spirit of the 2013 Constitution and may necessitate a national referendum. Similarly, legal scholar Thabani Mpofu has labelled the proposed changes as “fraudulent,” asserting that “Parliament is not parliament Almighty!” and that converting a five-year mandate into seven years constitutes a subversion of the democratic will of the people.
As the government proceeds with gazetting the Constitutional Amendment No. 3 Bill, Zimbabwe finds itself at a critical juncture in a high-stakes political chess match. Mnangagwa’s “long game” is clear: to entrench his power and secure his legacy well into the next decade. However, Chiwenga’s “Plan B”—rooted in his liberation credentials and his enduring connections within the security apparatus—suggests that the battle for Zimbabwe’s political future is far from concluded.
The palpable tension in Harare reflects a government deeply divided. While the ruling party projects an image of “stability” and “continuity,” the reality is a leadership consumed by internal strife. The rhetoric of economic development and “Vision 2030” is increasingly overshadowed by the raw and relentless pursuit of power. As one cabinet minister aligned with Mnangagwa candidly observed, the paramount issue is undoubtedly “succession politics and how leadership will be determined going forward.”
For the ordinary citizens of Zimbabwe, the ramifications of this power struggle are profound. While the political elite engage in constitutional debates and military appointments, the nation continues to grapple with pressing economic challenges. The intense focus on the 2030 Agenda has diverted crucial attention from the urgent need for comprehensive reforms and genuine democratic progress. Instead, the country is witnessing what many describe as a “constitutional coup,” meticulously designed to benefit a select few at the expense of the broader populace.
The coming months will be pivotal. As the bill enters a mandatory 90-day public consultation period, both factions will face immense pressure. The question remains: will Chiwenga successfully rally sufficient support within the party and the military to thwart the 2030 plan? Or will Mnangagwa’s calculated dismantling of his rivals’ power bases ultimately prevail? One undeniable truth is that the “one man, one vote” principle, once the rallying cry of the liberation struggle, has now become the ultimate prize in a power struggle that threatens to redefine Zimbabwe for generations to come.
Ultimately, the 2030 Agenda transcends a mere timeline; it stands as a testament to the enduring complexities of power politics in Zimbabwe. The echoes of the 2017 intervention resonate, now haunting the very architects of that transition. As the President and his deputy engage in a battle of wills, the very soul of the nation hangs precariously in the balance, caught between a leader determined to cling to power and a successor equally determined not to be overlooked.
Follow @MyZimbabweNews
