Why money politics may unravel Zimbabwe’s power retention template

Zimbabwe may be approaching a quiet but seismic political inflection point not through elections alone, not through mass protest, but through the steady rise of zvigananda: a class of politically connected dealmakers whose power flows less from ideology and more from balance sheets.

This is not merely a change of faces. It is potentially a change of logic.

For decades, Zanu PF has ruled through a carefully preserved institutional memory, one forged in the liberation struggle, sanctified by nationalism, and enforced through coercive power structures. The party’s legitimacy has never been purely electoral; it has been historical. The refrain of “we fought for this country” has been both shield and sword. Zvigananda do not speak that language.

From the liberation war itself through to post-independence consolidation, Zanu PF has relied on a potent mix of liberation legitimacy (“we liberated you”), coercive capacity (army, intelligence, militias), and institutional continuity (party, state, security fused).

Violence was not accidental, it was instrumental. From wartime mobilisation of the masses to post-2000 election cycles, coercion served as the ultimate guarantor of power. Even when ballots were used, they were never the only mechanism in play.

Crucially, the generals and the security establishment were not just muscle they were ideological custodians. Power rested on the belief that the state itself was born out of struggle, and therefore any challenge to the ruling party was a challenge to the nation.

That architecture has a memory. And memory matters.

Figures such as Kudakwashe Tagwirei, Wicknell Chivhayo, and Paul Tungwarara represent something fundamentally different.

Their politics is not forged in the bush but in boardrooms. Their legitimacy is not ideological but transactional. Their influence is not built on coercion but on access.

Cars are gifted. Cash circulates. Contracts flow. This is not nationalism, it is wheeler-dealing capitalism dressed in political proximity.

Where Zanu PF historically relied on fear and mythology, zvigananda rely on inducement. Vote buying replaces coercion. Patronage replaces mobilisation. Loyalty becomes rented, not embedded. That distinction is not cosmetic. It is existential.

If zvigananda ever consolidate real political power, they may unintentionally dismantle the very machinery that has kept Zanu PF in office. Why? Because they do not understand or respect the old spell.

They lack liberation credentials. They do not command organic loyalty from the security sector. They prioritise economic power over ideological control.

In doing so, they risk hollowing out the party’s institutional memory, the unwritten rules about when to intimidate, when to appease, when to deploy force, and when to retreat tactically.

Money can buy silence. It cannot buy belief. And belief is what kept the system intact during crises.

Zvigananda need stability to protect capital. Generals needed power to protect the state. That is not the same incentive structure.

If political control becomes subordinate to economic convenience, hard questions emerge.

If the army is no longer the ideological power behind the throne, who enforces order? If loyalty is transactional, what happens when the money runs dry? If nationalism is abandoned, what narrative fills the vacuum?

History shows that regimes fall not when they are hated, but when they lose the capacity and the will to defend themselves.

If Cde Nhamoyapera cannot “finish Nhamo” in three years, what replaces the liberation myth? Development? Vision? Prosperity?

Those require delivery, not slogans. And delivery is unforgiving. Liberation rhetoric can excuse failure for decades. Economic legitimacy cannot. Once politics becomes about performance rather than history, the margin for error collapses.

Perhaps the most dangerous consequence of zvigananda dominance is psychological. Zanu PF’s power has always rested on the anticipation of force, not just its use. Remove the generals as ideological anchors, reduce politics to gifting and deals, and fear dissipates.

And when fear fades, uprisings no longer need permission.

The rise of zvigananda may look like modernisation, pragmatism, even reform.

In reality, it could be the unravelling of a system that only ever worked because it understood one brutal truth: power is not only bought it is remembered, enforced, and believed in.

Money can open doors. But it cannot replace mythology. And when mythology collapses, regimes do not reform. They fall. *_-ZimLive_*