Analysis: Examining what a Chiwenga presidency would mean for Zimbabwe

In the waning months of 2025, Zimbabwe’s political landscape remains a contested arena, with no undisputed heir apparent to President Emmerson Mnangagwa’s throne.

Yet whispers in Harare’s power corridors and the inner sanctums of the ruling ZANU PF party swirl around a handful of high-profile names, each vying for the mantle in this opaque succession drama.

That said, as the debate over Mnangagwa’s successor bubbles beneath the surface – quietly intensifying without quite boiling over – Vice President Constantino Chiwenga stands out as the presumptive frontrunner.

Figures like tycoon Kudakwashe Tagwirei and retired army general Philip Valerio Sibanda are gaining traction in elite chatter, but they lack Chiwenga’s potent mix of entrenched state authority, war-of-liberation bona fides, and lingering military clout.

His vice-presidential perch, pivotal part in the 2017 coup that ousted Robert Mugabe, and sustained – if somewhat diminished – sway over the security apparatus keep him a step ahead in this high-stakes game.

It’s precisely this viability, not mere conjecture or partisan daydream, that demands a clear-eyed examination of what a Chiwenga presidency would entail.

Zimbabweans deserve more than rhetoric or tribal loyalties; we must dissect its potential ramifications across institutions, politics, and the economy with unflinching realism.

A Constantino Chiwenga presidency would fundamentally reorganise Zimbabwe’s political landscape. It would not simply be a change of personalities at the top. It would be a reconfiguration of the state’s operating system.

Chiwenga’s worldview is shaped by decades in uniform, an upbringing in liberation war discipline, and a sense of historical duty that places order above consensus. He is not a populist, nor a deal-maker, nor a natural politician. He is a commander.

And a presidency governed by the instincts of a commander would generate ripple effects across ZANU PF, the security state, the economy, and Zimbabwe’s fragile democratic space.

To understand the scenario, one must first understand the man. Since 2017, Chiwenga has been the pivotal figure in the military-political complex that elevated Mnangagwa and removed Robert Mugabe.

His political education has come late, in a sense, and his leadership culture remains fundamentally that of a general staff. He has a deep distrust for chaos, informality and political improvisation.

Where Mnangagwa tolerates factional balances, Chiwenga strives for a single chain of command. This distinction is essential in forecasting how the country would be governed.

The first and most visible feature of a Chiwenga presidency would be the formalisation of militarisation. The 2017 coup produced what scholars termed a securocratic state.

Under Mnangagwa, however, that structure softened into a hybrid system blending political patronage, business networks and military influence. Under Chiwenga, the security sector would again rise to the centre of gravity.

Key ministries, from Home Affairs to Defence to Foreign Affairs, would likely be entrusted to trusted former officers. The bureaucratic culture would become more rigid, with a strong focus on discipline, hierarchy and compliance.

This would not necessarily mean a return to overt military rule, but rather a deepening of military logic within civilian institutions.

ZANU PF itself would undergo a profound internal reconfiguration. Chiwenga has a tense, transactional alliance with Mnangagwa, and his ascendancy would require the removal or sidelining of Mnangagwa’s political and business loyalists.

One should expect a purge reminiscent of the post-Mugabe clear-outs, only executed with greater efficiency. Provincial structures would be brought into line, and the party would revert to a liberation-war-inspired ethos that privileges loyalty over entrepreneurial politics.

The factional “coexistence” that marks Mnangagwa’s tenure would end. In its place would emerge a more unified, but more authoritarian, ruling elite.

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The opposition would face a very different political climate. Chiwenga is not inclined toward political accommodation. He views unrest and mass mobilisation through a security lens, not a democratic one.

A presidency under him would likely impose tighter controls on protests, rallies and civic activities, with expanded intelligence operations targeting civic leaders.

His instinct during the 2018–2020 protests – which saw aggressive military deployments – provides a preview. Dissent would be less tolerated, and opposition would be treated as a national security variable rather than a political competitor. Zimbabwe’s civil liberties, already constrained, would shrink further.

Yet the story is not solely one of repression. Chiwenga’s rigidity also carries potential for a different kind of order. His years in command have instilled a strong distaste for rampant corruption.

He prefers the fear-driven discipline of a command structure to the improvisational looting of political barons. A Chiwenga presidency could produce a paradox: a more repressive but less corrupt state.

Bureaucrats might become more compliant, procurement processes more tightly supervised, and the most brazen patronage networks dismantled. But this discipline would not arise from institutional strengthening; it would arise from fear of punitive enforcement.

Economic governance under Chiwenga would be the most unpredictable dimension. He is not ideologically opposed to markets, but he does not naturally gravitate toward technocratic reform.

His instincts lean toward command-style coordination, crisis-driven intervention, and control of strategic commodities such as fuel, grain and mining outputs. One could expect the return of militarised economic enforcement – from price compliance inspections to tighter controls over forex markets.

The private sector would likely experience greater order but less policy predictability. Investors from China and Russia might flourish, drawn by the familiarity of military-led decision-making, while Western actors could withdraw further.

Yet a different scenario is also plausible. Chiwenga has previously worked closely with technocrats in the health sector.

If he surrounds himself with competent economists, he could preside over a technocratic-cum-securitised hybrid model: tough on corruption, tough on dissent, but moderately open to structured market reforms.

His presidency would ultimately depend on whether he defers to professionals or reverts to command instincts under pressure.

Zimbabwe’s foreign policy would shift in tone, if not direction. Mnangagwa’s “open for business” mantra would be retired in favour of a more strategic, security-aligned diplomacy. China would become the primary anchor, not only economically but philosophically.

Russia, the United Arab Emirates and regional military governments would likely become closer partners. Relations with the West would stagnate or decline, especially if human rights conditions worsened.

The diaspora would be viewed with suspicion, particularly if perceived as aligned with opposition politics. Migration diplomacy, however, might stabilise under a tougher but more predictable security-focused approach.

The national mood under a Chiwenga presidency would be one of solemnity and discipline. Chiwenga is not a charismatic communicator. His leadership style projects severity rather than charm. Public messaging would emphasise sacrifice, patriotism and vigilance.

His presidency would feel like a permanent mobilisation, a wartime posture in peacetime. There would be less political theatre, fewer public rallies, and a more austere State House culture. It would be a sharp break from Mugabe’s or Mnangagwa’s performative politics.

Internationally, Chiwenga would be perceived as a strongman leader. At home, he would be seen as a stabiliser by some, and a threat to democracy by others. Zimbabwe could experience a disciplined but brittle order. Stability achieved through fear is inherently unstable.

A Chiwenga administration might suppress conflict temporarily, only for pressure to build beneath the surface. His success would depend on whether he can transition from military command to political leadership, a shift that few soldier-presidents have made successfully.

In the end, a Chiwenga presidency would not be a continuation of Mnangagwa’s rule. It would be a new political era defined by discipline, securitisation and decisive authority.

It would likely produce improvements in bureaucratic efficiency and reductions in overt corruption, but at the cost of shrinking democratic space and heightened repression.

Zimbabwe would become more orderly, more controlled, and more predictable in some areas, yet more dangerous for dissenting voices. It would be a presidency of iron discipline and uncertain economic direction.

Whether that brings stability or deeper crisis would depend on how Chiwenga navigates the contradictions of ruling as a soldier in a political world.