Tendai Ruben Mbofana
The air is thick with tension as factions within the ruling ZANU-PF party lock horns over the future of President Emmerson Mnangagwa’s tenure.
On one side, loyalists aligned with Mnangagwa are pushing to extend his presidency beyond the constitutional limit of two five-year terms, which would see him remain in power past 2028.
On the other, a faction believed to back Vice President Constantino Chiwenga resists this move, with some voices within the party escalating their dissent into bold calls for Mnangagwa’s immediate resignation.
Amid this cacophony of infighting, one question echoes louder than all others: where is the opposition?
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As Zimbabweans grapple with a crumbling economy, rampant corruption, and a decaying infrastructure, the so-called champions of the people are eerily silent, leaving the citizenry to pin their hopes on warring ZANU-PF factions whose motives may have little to do with the welfare of ordinary people.
The debate over Mnangagwa’s term extension is not merely a procedural squabble; it is a battle for the soul of Zimbabwe’s political future.
The Constitution, enacted in 2013 after a hard-fought referendum, clearly stipulates that a president may serve only two five-year terms.
Mnangagwa, having assumed power in November 2017 following the coup that ousted Robert Mugabe and subsequently “winning” disputed elections in 2018 and 2023, is set to conclude his second term in 2028.
Yet, his supporters within ZANU-PF are undeterred by this legal barrier.
They argue that Mnangagwa needs more time to fulfill his ambitious Vision 2030, a blueprint to transform Zimbabwe into an upper-middle-income economy.
This narrative, however, rings hollow to millions of Zimbabweans who have seen little tangible progress since the heralded “Second Republic” was ushered in with fanfare seven years ago.
Instead of prosperity, the reality for over 80% of Zimbabweans is one of unrelenting hardship.
According to the World Bank, extreme poverty has risen sharply, with more than 49% of the population living on less than $1.90 a day as of 2023.
Unemployment hovers at a staggering 90% in the formal sector, forcing millions into a precarious informal economy where survival is a daily gamble.
Inflation, though tempered by the introduction of the Zimbabwe Gold (ZiG) currency, remains a specter, eroding purchasing power and driving up the cost of basic goods.
Health care systems are in tatters, with hospitals lacking essential drugs and equipment, while schools struggle to function amid chronic underfunding.
Power generation, once a point of pride, has faltered, with citizens enduring rolling blackouts that can last up to 18 hours a day.
These are the issues that gnaw at the core of ordinary Zimbabweans, yet the opposition—historically the voice of the downtrodden—offers no resistance, no outrage, no alternative vision.
The silence of the opposition is deafening, but it is not merely a passive absence.
It is a vacuum that has forced Zimbabweans to look within ZANU-PF itself for salvation, a perilous proposition given the party’s track record.
Recently, voices like that of Blessed Geza, a ZANU-PF Central Committee member and war veteran, have emerged as unlikely beacons of dissent.
Geza and his associates have not only opposed Mnangagwa’s term extension but have gone further, demanding his immediate resignation.
They point to the undeniable: the impoverishment of millions, the unchecked corruption that siphons national wealth into the hands of a privileged elite, and the collapse of vital systems that once sustained the nation.
Their rhetoric is bold, their stance fearless, but their motives remain murky.
Are they genuinely moved by the plight of the people, or are they pawns in a broader power struggle between Mnangagwa and Chiwenga?
History suggests the latter.
The November 2017 coup that toppled Mugabe offers a sobering lesson.
Back then, Zimbabweans flooded the streets of Harare, naively believing that the military’s intervention marked the dawn of a new era.
The masses cheered as Mugabe’s 37-year reign ended, hopeful that Mnangagwa and his allies, including Chiwenga, would deliver the democratic reforms and economic recovery they so desperately craved.
Yet, the “Second Republic” has proven to be a mirage.
Far from alleviating suffering, it has deepened it.
Corruption, already a festering wound under Mugabe, has metastasized under Mnangagwa.
The 2024 Transparency International Corruption Perceptions Index (CPI) ranks Zimbabwe at 158 out of 180 countries, with a score of 21 out of 100,.
The CPI measures perceived levels of public sector corruption, with scores ranging from 0 (highly corrupt) to 100 (very clean).
Zimbabwe’s 2024 score indicates a significant perception of corruption within its public sector, making it the most corrupt nation in southern Africa.
This is not an abstract statistic; it is a lived reality for Zimbabweans who watch as lucrative government contracts—worth millions of dollars—are awarded to shadowy companies linked to the ruling elite.
Meanwhile, the country’s vast mineral wealth, including diamonds, gold, and lithium, is plundered and smuggled to destinations like the UAE and South Africa, leaving little for the people who rightfully own it.
The looting of these resources should be a rallying cry for the opposition, yet they remain mute.
The Citizens Coalition for Change (CCC), once a formidable force under Nelson Chamisa, has disintegrated into irrelevance.
Its leadership fractured after the 2023 elections, with Sengezo Tshabangu—a figure previously unknown to most Zimbabweans—emerging as a self-styled interim Secretary General.
Tshabangu’s ascent was no organic rise; it was a calculated maneuver facilitated by ZANU-PF’s machinery.
With the blessing of the ZANU-PF-aligned Speaker of Parliament, Jacob Mudenda, and a complicit judiciary, Tshabangu orchestrated a wave of recalls that ousted over a dozen elected CCC parliamentarians.
These lawmakers were then barred from contesting the subsequent by-elections, paving the way for ZANU-PF to secure a two-thirds majority in Parliament—a threshold it failed to achieve in the 2023 general elections but desperately needed to push through constitutional amendments, such as Mnangagwa’s term extension.
Tshabangu’s group cannot be called a legitimate opposition.
They are a caricature, a puppet faction propped up to give the illusion of democratic contestation.
Their actions—cozying up to Mnangagwa, attending tours of his Precabe farm in Kwekwe, and endorsing his 2030 agenda—betray their true purpose: self-enrichment at the expense of the people they claim to represent.
The lavish perks dangled by the ZANU-PF government—cars, loans, and parliamentary privileges—have proven too tempting to resist.
In January 2025, Tshabangu openly declared his willingness to support Mnangagwa’s extended tenure, stating, “If our presence here improves your stay in power and makes the people of Zimbabwe happy, then let it be.”
The irony is bitter: an opposition leader cheering for the very regime he should oppose, while the people he claims to serve languish in despair.
So, where is the real opposition?
The CCC’s collapse has left a void that no other party has filled.
The faction led by Welshman Ncube has expelled Tshabangu, but its own legitimacy is questioned, mired in internal squabbles and lacking the grassroots momentum once wielded by Chamisa.
Other opposition figures, like Jameson Timba, have been silenced through arrests and prolonged detentions, as seen in his five-month ordeal in 2024 before a suspended sentence was handed down.
The state’s repressive tactics—beatings, arrests, and torture—have long been tools to crush dissent, but the opposition’s failure to adapt, reorganize, and resist is its own undoing.
The result is a political landscape where Zimbabweans, desperate for change, have no choice but to turn to ZANU-PF’s internal factions, a gamble fraught with danger.
Relying on a Chiwenga-backed faction for salvation is a risky bet.
The Vice President, a former army general who orchestrated the 2017 coup alongside Mnangagwa, is no stranger to power plays.
His supporters’ public opposition to Mnangagwa’s term extension has won him unlikely allies among war veterans and civil society, but his ambitions are unlikely to prioritize the ordinary citizen.
The factional battles within ZANU-PF have historically been about control—of resources, patronage networks, and state machinery—rather than the welfare of the masses.
The 2017 coup promised liberation but delivered continuity; a Chiwenga-led takeover could repeat the pattern.
Analysts like Admire Mare have noted that any pushback against Mnangagwa’s agenda will require a broad alliance of forces—opposition parties, civil society, and dissenting ZANU-PF elements—but without a credible opposition to anchor this coalition, the effort risks being co-opted by self-serving elites.
The absence of a genuine opposition leaves Zimbabweans vulnerable to the same trap they fell into in 2017.
Back then, the euphoria of Mugabe’s ouster blinded many to the reality that power was merely shifting hands within the same party, not transforming the system.
Today, as Geza and others rail against Mnangagwa, the temptation to rally behind them is strong, especially given the opposition’s inertia.
But salvation from within ZANU-PF is a mirage.
The party’s DNA—forged in decades of authoritarianism, violence, and kleptocracy—does not lend itself to the kind of radical reform Zimbabwe needs.
Whether it’s Mnangagwa’s loyalists or Chiwenga’s faction, the endgame is power, not progress.
The question remains: why is the opposition so quiet?
Some argue it has been systematically dismantled—through recalls, court rulings, and state repression—a process that began with Tshabangu’s gambit in 2023.
Others point to internal failures: infighting, lack of strategy, and an inability to capitalize on public discontent.
Whatever the cause, the effect is clear: Zimbabweans are left adrift, forced to choose between a regime that has failed them and a faction whose promises may prove equally hollow.
The opposition’s absence is not just a political failure; it is a betrayal of a people crying out for a voice.
Until that voice emerges—bold, united, and untainted by ZANU-PF’s machinations—Zimbabwe’s salvation will remain a distant dream, caught in the crossfire of a ruling party at war with itself.
- Tendai Ruben Mbofana is a social justice advocate and writer. Please feel free to WhatsApp or Call: +263715667700 | +263782283975, or email: mbofana.tendairuben73@gmail.com, or visit website: https://mbofanatendairuben.news.blog/