Tendai Ruben Mbofana
The recent social media assertions by the Information Ministry Permanent Secretary, Nick Mangwana, regarding the historical interpretation of “one man, one vote” are as startling as they are revisionist.
If you value my social justice advocacy and writing, please consider a financial contribution to keep it going. Contact me on WhatsApp: +263 715 667 700 or Email: mbofana.tendairuben73@gmail.com
In his attempt to defend the controversial Constitutional Amendment (No. 3) Bill (CAB3), Mangwana has reached back into the archives of the Rhodesian Front to find a template for modern Zimbabwean governance.
By doing so, he is essentially arguing that the very system we fought a bloody and protracted war to destroy is the one we should now emulate.
To suggest that the liberation generation did not fight for the right to directly elect their President—but merely for a seat in a parliament that would then choose a leader for them—is a profound betrayal of the democratic aspirations that fueled the struggle.
Mangwana’s argument rests on a narrow, technical reading of the Rhodesian system under Ian Smith.
He correctly notes that Smith was never directly elected by the public, but was instead an MP who led the majority party in a parliamentary system.
He also points to the ceremonial nature of the presidency under the 1965 and 1970 UDI constitutions.
However, the Permanent Secretary fails to address the most glaring flaw in his logic: why would a liberation movement, born out of the fire of systemic exclusion and white supremacy, look to the administrative mechanics of its oppressor as the ideal standard for a free society?
The Rhodesian system was designed by and for a minority to maintain control over a majority.
Its parliamentary structure was not a model of democratic excellence; it was a cage.
To use Ian Smith’s “prime ministerial” path to power as a justification for removing the people’s right to directly elect their own President in 2026 is an insult to the intelligence of every Zimbabwean.
The demand for “one man, one vote” was never just a request for a ballot paper to choose a local representative.
It was a demand for total sovereignty.
It was an assertion that the source of all political power in Zimbabwe must reside in the collective will of the people, not in the hands of a political elite or a caucus of parliamentarians.
When the liberation forces marched and fought, they were fighting for the right to determine the destiny of their nation.
In a modern context, that destiny is personified by the Head of State and Government.
By attempting to decouple the “one man, one vote” principle from the election of the Executive President, Mangwana is attempting to reintroduce a “qualified” form of democracy where the citizens are deemed capable of choosing an MP, but not the supreme leader of the land.
We must also confront the deliberate historical amnesia regarding the 1980 Westminster system.
It is common knowledge that the governance structure adopted at independence was a product of the Lancaster House compromise.
It was a transitional arrangement designed not to “rock the boat” during a delicate period of reconciliation and power transfer.
The maintenance of a ceremonial president and a prime minister, alongside the racially reserved seats in parliament, were concessions, not the ultimate goal of the liberation movements.
We eventually moved away from that system because it did not reflect the aspirations of a truly independent people who wanted a direct link to their leader.
The move toward an Executive Presidency in 1987, and the subsequent total overhaul in the 2013 Constitution, was the natural evolution of our democracy.
The 2013 Constitution was not drafted in a vacuum.
It was the result of an extensive, nationwide outreach program where millions of Zimbabweans voiced their preferences.
The people were clear: they wanted a President who is directly accountable to them through a popular vote.
This was not a “misinterpretation” or a “contemporary lens” as Mangwana suggests; it was a deliberate, conscious choice by the masses to solidify their power.
When over three million Zimbabweans participated in the 2013 referendum, they were reaffirming the “one man, one vote” principle in its most potent form.
They were declaring that no one should hold the highest office in the land without the direct, explicit mandate of the majority of the voters.
CAB3, which seeks to revert to a system where parliament selects the President, is a regression of the highest order.
It effectively strips the individual citizen of their most significant political power and hands it over to political parties.
Under such a system, the President becomes a creature of the legislature, beholden to party whips and parliamentary maneuvers rather than the needs of the grandmother in Binga or the youth in Mutare.
This is the very definition of elitism.
It creates a “democratic floor” that is shaky at best, where the people are relegated to being spectators in the selection of their own government.
Mangwana’s mention of the Capricorn Africa Society and their “qualified” franchise is particularly ironic.
He argues that the liberation struggle was a rejection of the idea that one needed a degree or property to vote.
Yet, by pushing for a system where only MPs—who are often among the most “qualified” or elite members of society—get to choose the President, he is merely recreating a new version of that same elitism.
He is telling the Zimbabwean mother and the Zimbabwean miner: “You are good enough to vote for an MP, but you are not sophisticated enough to choose the leader of the country.”
This is the same patronizing logic that the Capricorn Society used, merely dressed up in revolutionary rhetoric.
Furthermore, we must look at the data of our own democratic history.
In the 2013 referendum, nearly 95 percent of voters supported the new constitution.
This was a clear mandate for the direct election of the President.
To attempt to dismantle this through a parliamentary amendment, rather than going back to the people in a referendum, is a circumvention of the popular will.
If the government truly believes that the people prefer a parliamentary selection process, why not ask them directly?
Why hide behind a “social media history lesson” and a legislative shortcut?
The struggle for independence was about moving forward, not looking back at the Rhodesian Front for inspiration.
Our history is a story of expanding the franchise and deepening the people’s participation in governance.
We moved from no vote, to a qualified vote, to a parliamentary vote under a compromise, to a direct executive vote.
That is the trajectory of progress.
Any attempt to reverse that trend is not “re-examining” the struggle; it is retreating from it.
Mr. Mangwana, the people of Zimbabwe did not fight to replace a white parliamentary elite with a black parliamentary elite.
They fought for the right to look their leader in the eye and say, “I put you there, and I can remove you.”
By removing the direct election of the President, you are taking away that right.
You are telling the liberation generation that their blood was spent so that a few hundred people in a building in Mt. Hampden could decide the fate of fifteen million.
That was never the plan.
The liberation struggle was a march toward the light of full democracy, not a return to the shadows of the Rhodesian system.
We must protect the 2013 Constitution and the direct vote, for they are the truest expressions of “one man, one vote” we have ever known.
● Tendai Ruben Mbofana is a social justice advocate and writer. To directly receive his articles please join his WhatsApp Channel on: https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VaqprWCIyPtRnKpkHe08
Post published in: Featured