(Three Factions, Two Presidencies and One Oligarch)

By Reason Wafawarova

The day Constitutional Amendment Bill Number 3 secured its overwhelming majority in Parliament, many people assumed the battle had ended.

They were mistaken. The parliamentary war is over. The succession war has just begun. Indeed, it is becoming increasingly clear that CAB3 was never the destination. It was merely the bridge.

The real struggle lies beyond it. And perhaps the greatest misunderstanding in Zimbabwe today is the belief that there are only two factions inside ZANU-PF.

There are three. Three factions. Two presidencies. And one oligarch.

The first faction revolves around Vice President Constantino Chiwenga. The second revolves around President Emmerson Mnangagwa and the continuity project around him. The third revolves around businessman Kudakwashe Tagwirei and the ambition of converting economic power into political power.

These three wars overlap. Sometimes enemies become allies. Sometimes allies become enemies. And often, people are fighting each other’s battles without fully understanding whose war they are really fighting.

The irony is that all three factions publicly deny their existence. Yet all three behave exactly like factions.

The Chiwenga faction draws its strength from institutions and sentiment. Retired generals. Significant sections of war veterans. The lower ranks of the military. Elements of the security establishment. The rank and file of ZANU-PF membership. Sections of the business community. And perhaps most remarkably, sympathy from unexpected quarters in the opposition.

Today, figures such as Job Sikhala, Jacob Ngarivhume, Douglas Mwonzora and others who share little ideologically with Vice President Chiwenga have found themselves united around a common objective.

Stopping CAB3. Stopping continuity. Stopping what they perceive to be the displacement of natural succession.

This is one of the curious realities of politics. People do not always unite around common values. Sometimes they unite around common enemies.

For this coalition, the hope now lies in two directions. The first is political. Mass mobilisation and pressure for a referendum.

The second is legal. The possibility that the courts may eventually strike down parts or even the entirety of CAB3 as unconstitutional.

Political restrictions may complicate the second option. But it remains alive.

Parliament has voted. The courts have not yet spoken. And legitimacy itself remains contested.

Then there is the second faction. The continuity faction.

Many people assume this is simply President Mnangagwa’s faction. That is too simplistic. This faction increasingly revolves around continuity beyond the President himself.

The First Lady Auxilia Mnangagwa has emerged as an important political centre in her own right.

Around this centre stand powerful allies. Jacob Mudenda. Ziyambi Ziyambi. Owen Ncube. And others whose loyalty lies not merely with the President but with continuity itself.

Their overriding objective is simple. Prevent a Chiwenga takeover. And maintain continuity beyond President Mnangagwa.

What form that continuity eventually assumes remains uncertain. Some observers see a parallel government gradually taking shape around the First Family. Others see attempts to keep President Mnangagwa in office while others govern around him. Still others increasingly speculate about family succession.

Africa has seen such experiments before.
Joseph Kabila inherited power after the assassination of Laurent Kabila in the Democratic Republic of Congo.
Ali Bongo succeeded Omar Bongo in Gabon. Faure Gnassingbé succeeded his father in Togo. Mahamat Déby inherited Chad after the death of Idris Déby.

Zimbabwean politics is beginning to flirt with similar conversations. Within those conversations, attention increasingly turns to two sons. Emmerson Mnangagwa Junior. And Lieutenant Colonel Sean Mnangagwa.

One reportedly enjoys the sympathy of some structures. The other appears to enjoy stronger favour within the First Family.

Which one ultimately emerges is uncertain. But one thing appears increasingly clear. The continuity faction does not regard Kuda Tagwirei as the long-term answer.

Which brings us to the third faction. The oligarch faction. Perhaps the most fascinating of all.

Kudakwashe Tagwirei has succeeded where few businessmen in Zimbabwe have succeeded. He has converted wealth into influence. He has cultivated political allies. He commands media defenders.

He enjoys support from vocal figures such as Acie Lumumba, Temba Mliswa and Daniel Garwe.

He has supporters throughout lower party structures. He has resources. He has ambition.

And perhaps most importantly, he appears genuinely convinced that President Mnangagwa sees him as his preferred successor.

That belief may explain much of what Zimbabwe has witnessed over recent years. But therein lies the problem.

Liberation movements have historically been suspicious of oligarchs. Money buys influence. Money buys access. Money buys applause.

But money struggles against liberation legitimacy and institutional memory. And this is where many analysts misunderstand the continuity faction.

For President Mnangagwa, Tagwirei performs an important function. He blocks Chiwenga. He absorbs attacks. He finances projects. He divides attention. He creates alternative centres of gravity.

But usefulness and succession are not the same thing.

The best political future available to Tagwirei under this arrangement may well be vice-presidential office. And even that may prove temporary.

Because no liberation movement willingly surrenders itself to an oligarch. Which brings us to perhaps the most misunderstood player in Zimbabwean politics today. Paul Tungwarara.

Many assume he is simply fighting a business rivalry. That is partly true. But only partly.

His attacks against Tagwirei in Buhera and elsewhere in Manicaland were revealing. Publicly, he accused Tagwirei of unwisely pushing President Mnangagwa towards firing one of his Vice Presidents.

Everyone understood who that Vice President was. There were public attempts to bring Tungwarara back into line. Yet instead of punishment, there were private congratulations. Encouragement. Support.

Because what appeared to be an attack on Tagwirei was serving interests much larger than personal rivalry.

Recently, Tungwarara publicly settled what had been portrayed as Tagwirei’s obligations to Rutendo Matinyarare.

Many interpreted the episode as charity. Others saw reconciliation.

They missed the politics. That operation was never about the money. It was about humiliation. Political humiliation.

It portrayed Tagwirei as a man unable or unwilling to look after his own allies. It allowed another man to emerge as the problem solver. The utility player. The dependable hand. The symbolism mattered more than the money.

Which raises an interesting question. Whose war is Tungwarara fighting? Against whom? And for whom?

The answer may be uncomfortable. By weakening Tagwirei, Tungwarara simultaneously helps both political factions.

He helps Chiwenga by weakening an oligarch perceived as blocking natural succession. He helps the continuity faction by ensuring Tagwirei never grows powerful enough to become a threat in his own right.

Which means that both camps benefit from Tagwirei being kept below presidential level. That is why attacks against him sometimes attract applause from unexpected quarters.

Then there is Wicknell Chivayo. Another misunderstood actor.

Chivayo and Tagwirei have jointly bankrolled continuity. But not for identical reasons.

Tagwirei finances continuity because continuity delays Chiwenga and creates succession opportunities for himself.

Chivayo finances continuity because continuity protects the continuity faction itself. The bridge is the same. The destinations are different.

Neither man is particularly close to Paul Tungwarara. Neither appears enthusiastic about the other. Yet all three operate within overlapping circles.

This is what makes succession wars so complicated. People can share objectives without sharing ambitions.

Then there is Nelson Chamisa. To many observers, Chamisa appears inactive.

He is not. He is waiting. His strategy appears to be based on a simple calculation.

If succession battles eventually rupture the system, a transitional arrangement may require broad political inclusion.

That is when waiting becomes an asset. Not because inactivity is a strategy. But because timing is.

Which brings us back to CAB3. Many Zimbabweans think CAB3 ended the story. It did not.

CAB3 merely changed the battlefield. From Parliament to the courts. From the courts to the streets. From the streets back into ZANU-PF itself.

And that is where the most important battle now lies. Not between ZANU-PF and the opposition. Not between Parliament and the courts.

But between three factions. One seeking natural succession. One seeking continuity. And one seeking to convert wealth into power.

Each believes it is using the others. And perhaps none of them are entirely wrong.

Because in Zimbabwe’s succession wars, everyone appears to be fighting everyone.

And the irony is that the most dangerous battles are often fought among people who publicly insist they are united.

The parliamentary war has ended. The succession wars have already begun.