One would have hoped that the fall of Robert Mugabe in 2017 signalled the end of Zimbabwe’s long dalliance with political theatre. But no. The script has been dusted off, the actors retread the boards, and the plot remains drearily familiar. This week, Zimbabwe’s parliament voted to extend President Emmerson Mnangagwa’s term until 2030, effectively tearing up the 2028 election date set by the constitution. The move, justified by a dubious ‘legal transition’ after the death of Morgan Tsvangirai in 2018, reeks of the old Mugabe playbook: change the rules when the game no longer suits you.
Let us not mince words. This is a power grab, pure and simple. Mnangagwa, who ousted Mugabe on a promise of reform, now presides over a sham democracy where term limits are merely suggestions, and the judiciary and legislature are happy to oblige. The ‘Zanu-PF’ machine, once the engine of liberation, has become a patronage vehicle, and this extension ensures that Mnangagwa will enjoy the spoils for another five years. But the cost is high: Zimbabwe sinks deeper into economic ruin, with hyperinflation, unemployment, and a shattered health system. Yet the ruling elite, like Roman emperors in their twilight, cling to power at any price.
Observe the historical cycle: the collapse of Mugabe’s Zimbabwe mirrored the decline of the Western Roman Empire, where provincial governors raised armies and bought loyalty. Today, Mnangagwa’s Zanu-PF uses state resources and security forces to maintain control, while the opposition is crushed, co-opted, or exiled. The parallels are not merely decorative; they point to a deeper rot. Intellectual decadence has set in. The ruling party no longer offers a vision, only a survival strategy. They have abandoned ideology for cronyism, and the result is a state that functions only for the few.
Some will argue that this is Africa’s eternal tragedy, a continent trapped in cycles of strongman rule. That is lazy thinking. The problem is specific: Zimbabwe’s elite has learned nothing. Mugabe’s folly was the destruction of agriculture and the printing of money. Mnangagwa’s folly is the continuation of the same, but with a smile and a business suit. The West, meanwhile, feigns concern but does nothing, preferring stability over democracy. We saw the same with the fall of the Soviet Union: the West embraced ‘order’ over freedom in many post-Soviet states, and the result was a generation of corrupt autocrats.
So what is to be done? Little, I suspect. The Zanu-PF machine is too entrenched, and the opposition too fractured. But we must name this for what it is: a constitutional coup, dressed in legal robes. The international community should impose targeted sanctions on those who voted for this extension, not the Zimbabwean people. They should support civil society and independent media, not the government. But they will not. They will mutter about ‘engagement’ and ‘dialogue’ while Mnangagwa consolidates his grip.
In the end, Zimbabwe is a cautionary tale for any nation that believes elections alone guarantee freedom. Without strong institutions, a free press, and a citizenry willing to demand accountability, democracy is just a ceremony. Mugabe understood that. Mnangagwa understands it. And now, he has ensured that Zimbabwe will remain a pauper state, ruled by a fat cat of a president, until 2030. The ghosts of the past have returned, and they are hungry.
