Zimbabwe came to a standstill on March 31. As the military filled the streets in response to a planned protest, citizens stayed inside, fearing clashes between demonstrators and state authorities. Zimbabwean President Emmerson Mnangagwa’s efforts to extend his second term in office until 2030—formally known as the 2030 agenda—has spurred calls for a public uprising. Mnangagwa, banned by the constitution from running for a third term, is attempting to extend his current one with the support of the ruling Zimbabwe African National Union-Patriotic Front (ZANU-PF). If successful, there will be time to amend the constitutional term limit to provide Mnangagwa with a third one.
The protests against the 2030 agenda were called for by Blessed Geza, a former member of ZANU-PF’s Central Committee and an associate of the war veterans, an aging but influential group of guerrilla war fighters who helped create contemporary Zimbabwe in 1980. The group’s role in ending white minority rule is central to ZANU-PF’s legitimacy. Many veterans occupy and influence key roles in the military and intelligence services. A subset of the veterans access state spoils and power, and in turn, enforce the party’s rule.
The March protest was underwhelming, ending with minor clashes and a few dozen arrested. However, the unrest came when Mnangagwa sacked or demoted several top officials within the security forces to ensure loyalty among the senior brass. While seemingly unrelated to the unrealized uprising, the two actions highlight the ZANU-PF’s intensifying internal power struggles.
Tensions are simmering amid multiple crises—a fractured political opposition, a fraying economy, and a civil society under siege—creating a perfect storm for intraparty conflicts to erupt and push Zimbabwe toward crisis.
The conflict within ZANU-PF is a continuation of an unresolved, decades-long power struggle over party leadership. Mnangagwa himself came to power amid heightened divisions in ZANU-PF when he and his principal deputy, Vice President Constantino Chiwenga, collaborated to remove then-President Robert Mugabe from power in 2017. Mugabe was one of ZANU-PF’s principal founders as a guerrilla movement amid the 15-year bush war that preceded independence. When he became Zimbabwe’s first head of state in 1980, white minority rule ended.
Despite Mugabe’s brutal elimination of dissent, intraparty succession tensions simmered for decades. Initially emerging in the 1990s as Mugabe aged and the country began to experience severe monetary crises, Mnangagwa—then the justice minister and previously the first minister of state security—competed with Solomon Mujuru, the country’s first military commander, over who would succeed Mugabe. Mnangagwa wanted the presidency himself, and Solomon Mujuru backed his wife, Joice Mujuru, one of the most senior female combatants in the bush war and the leader of ZANU-PF’s women’s wing.
Joice Mujuru came out on top in 2004, becoming the vice president of Zimbabwe and second in command of ZANU-PF. Nevertheless, Mnangagwa and his allies continued to organize against Mujuru, principally on unproven accusations that she sought to overthrow Mugabe. She was removed in 2014, and Mnangagwa quickly replaced her. But Mnangagwa’s promotion did not end the contestation. Rather, it created new dynamics concerning who would succeed Mugabe.
The Mugabe family wanted to maintain power by having Robert’s wife, Grace Mugabe, assume the presidency. She was supported by Generation 40 (G40), an organized faction of ZANU-PF claiming to promote generational change within party leadership, and ZANU-PF’s youth league. This threatened the power of the military and veterans, despite their prior staunch support for Mugabe. The war veterans had benefited immensely from Mugabe’s presidency, receiving stipend payments and control of seized land. In turn, they reliably enforced the party’s coercive actions. When the war veterans’ leaders denounced Mugabe, they were arrested for insulting him.
While an unprecedented level of division within ZANU-PF existed, the notion of it being a generational battle was absurd; both parties—the G40, which supported Mugabe, and the war veterans and military, which supported Mnangagwa—wanted to ensure their continued power and the lucrative exploits that came with it.
Despite both men being bush war veterans and Mnangagwa being accused by many of having done some of Mugabe’s dirtiest bidding, Mnangagwa’s presidential aspirations quickly overcame his loyalty. He was dismissed from the vice presidency in November 2017 on the basis of insubordination.
The military and war veterans’ anger, spurred by their ally’s ouster, proved to be too much for the 93-year-old but notoriously shrewd Mugabe. The military took to the streets and arrested key officials, and after a week clinging to power, Mugabe resigned amid impeachment proceedings. Mnangagwa quickly succeeded him.
Mugabe’s removal was historic; he had helmed Zimbabwe for 37 years and withstood international pressure only to be forced from power by those who used to unconditionally back him. But his removal changed little. ZANU-PF maintained power through two elections that domestic and international observers accused of being tainted, and living standards did not improve.
Additionally, despite collaborating to oust Mugabe and ensure their continued power, tensions between Mnangagwa and Vice President Chiwenga have existed since the outset. Chiwenga made his ambitions to govern Zimbabwe clear. His assistance was based on the presumption that he would assume the presidency in 2023, after Mnangagwa had served one term.
After Mnangagwa announced his intention to run again in 2023, tensions intensified. Internal party elections in 2020 and 2021 were marred by intimidation and violence. In several cases, candidates backed by Chiwenga’s allies withdrew after facing physical attacks by opponents within the party, underscoring deepening divisions.
And despite ZANU-PF’s unity during the 2023 election, Mnangagwa soon thereafter sacked or demoted Chiwenga’s allies. Discussions of the 2030 agenda emerged in 2024, shattering any illusion that Chiwenga would assume power. He began to mobilize and recruit allies within influential institutions, leveraging grievances about the Mnangagwa’s familial influence over sectors of the military and economy.
As with Mugabe’s ouster, war veterans are now turning on Mnangagwa, despite their previous efforts to bring him to power. In 2017, divisions within the ZANU-PF were framed as a generational threat to the military’s power, ensuring unity. However, now, despite differences in regional origin, Mnangagwa and Chiwenga have minimal factional differences. The overt power competition risks institutional splintering—such as within the security forces. In 2017, the military backed Mnangagwa and the police backed Mugabe. Nevertheless, all military brigades were unified.
The reach of Chiwenga and Mnangagwa and grievances within the military pose a real risk of fractured allegiances between brigades, making mutiny and unofficial command-sanctioned violence by soldiers probable. The recent dismissal of Chiwenga’s allies demonstrates Mnangagwa’s grapple for total control, but changing military leadership is insufficient to quell divisions and can deepen them instead.
Moreover, Mugabe’s removal brought euphoria, with many flooding the streets in support of the military’s action and sustained optimism about potential reform under Mnangagwa. This prevented counteraction by Mugabe’s allies and led to his capitulation. As seen in the turnout during the protests at the end of March, the ability for Mnangagwa or Chiwenga to spur similar mobilization is unclear. While many Zimbabweans are disillusioned with Mnangagwa, Chiwenga is perceived as no better. Any conflict between the two men, therefore, risks remaining solely between elite factions, without physical civilian support in the streets to tilt the scales.
While extending Mnangagwa’s term until 2030 can be done legislatively, an amendment to change term limits would likely require a constitutional referendum. Previous efforts to pass controversial amendments during times of economic crisis have failed, such as Mugabe’s effort in 2000. However, the prospect of mobilization is complicated by the main opposition party being the most divided in its history.
Divisions within the Zimbabwean opposition coalition are common, but they prevent effective campaigning. In the past two years, the opposition has only managed to hold two of its 15 parliamentary seats in by-elections despite winning them in 2023. Even if it receives support from some ZANU-PF factions, the opposition could have difficulty lobbying against a constitutional referendum due to discouraged supporters and a lack of mobilization ability.
Moreover, the opposition has sent mixed messages about agenda 2030, with some expressing openness to the term extension. This creates a situation where the opposition factions and ZANU-PF have aligned, with segments of both supporting or opposing the agenda and an eventual referendum for political expediency. This, combined with the opposition’s overall division, may cause diminished voter participation in the process and risk both camps resorting to voter intimidation. Voter intimidation is a ZANU-PF hallmark, and party figures backing competing sides of a constitutional referendum will foster widespread coercion that transcends typical lines of garnering support for the government and menacing the opposition.
Beyond divisions within the political opposition, efforts to promote order and government accountability in any political crisis are hampered by the government’s recent assault on Zimbabwean civil society. Following Mugabe’s ouster, civil society played a critical role in reform demands during the transition and documented Mnangagwa’s failure to implement them. However, as Zimbabwe edges toward another ZANU-PF power struggle, civil society may now lack the ability to hold those in power accountable.
Specifically, Mnangagwa recently signed into law the private voluntary organizations (PVO) amendment, which places intense restrictions on all nonprofit organizations’ funding and oversight. The law expands government abilities to monitor and intervene in organizations’ work, and it prohibits activities that are broadly classified as political. This allows greater interference and obstruction, going beyond ongoing efforts of the government to do so.
The issue is compounded by Western foreign assistance cuts, which have already disrupted civil society work and will lead to reduced resources and capacity to respond to a political crisis. Moreover, it will likely prevent engagement on the potential constitutional referendum, removing a key source of voter education.
Despite this, Zimbabwe’s civil society has proved to be resilient and able to operate amid immense challenges. Even during the most acute crises, violations were documented, and accountability was demanded. For instance, during the 2008 electoral crisis, civil society held the government accountable and documented widespread irregularities and violence.
But the confluence of increased avenues for government oppression through the PVO amendments and the decrease in funding will impede civil society’s efforts and may force them to operate from abroad or at a diminished scale, hampering these groups’ efficacy.
While Mnangagwa’s attempt to maintain power and the ensuing conflict is nominally a crisis within ZANU-PF, it occurs amid an unprecedented level of division within Zimbabwe’s political opposition and a siege on civil society. This means that efforts to change the Zimbabwean Constitution are potentially unchecked—while political and civic opposition are at a heightened risk of coercion and violence. In a country where the dividing line between the party and the state is nebulous, Zimbabwe will at best face state paralysis due to competing divisions or, at worst, significant outbreaks of violence.
Previous instances of both demonstrate what the perfect storm hitting Zimbabwe could bring, ranging from widespread hardship, regional economic implications, and increased flows of people leaving the country. This would mark the end of the hope that Mugabe’s removal from power would cause tangible change in Zimbabwe. Instead, it marks a transition to a new chapter in ZANU-PF’s grip on the country.
