Mnangagwa’s belief in a “safe successor” is misguided and may backfire

When leaders refuse to learn from history, they inevitably walk straight into the same old mistakes.

There is a growing narrative in Zimbabwe’s political rumour mill suggesting that President Emmerson Mnangagwa is quietly manoeuvring to ensure that when he finally leaves office in 2028, the country’s leadership will fall into the hands of someone he trusts—someone who will protect his business interests, safeguard his family, and shield him from possible prosecution.

While such thinking may appear rational to a leader fearful of what awaits him outside State House, it is actually one of the most dangerous illusions that any sitting president can entertain.

History—Zimbabwean, African, and global—has shown repeatedly that there is no such thing as a guaranteed loyal successor.

In politics, loyalty ends the moment interests no longer align.

There are no permanent friends or permanent enemies—only permanent interests.

Mnangagwa himself is a living example of this reality.

As recently as the mid-2010s, Grace Mugabe and Professor Jonathan Moyo treated him as a trusted ally as they jointly orchestrated the downfall of then Vice President Joice Mujuru.

Yet, after Mnangagwa ascended to the vice presidency, that alliance collapsed with astonishing speed.

Grace transformed herself into Mnangagwa’s fiercest public tormentor, attacking him at rallies and humiliating him in full view of the nation.

The vitriol reached levels that helped trigger the November 2017 coup.

The lesson was unmistakable: the person who stands beside you today may push you off the cliff tomorrow.

The same applies to his relationship with Constantino Chiwenga.

During the coup, Mnangagwa and the then Commander of the Defence Forces were seen as inseparable—a formidable duo that dethroned Robert Mugabe and seized control of the state.

Yet that closeness soon dissolved.

Today, the two are locked in an uneasy rivalry, with persistent reports that Mnangagwa is determined to block Chiwenga from succeeding him in 2028.

That alone exposes the flaw in any belief that a handpicked successor can guarantee safety or loyalty.

If Mnangagwa and Chiwenga—men bound by decades of struggle, political sacrifice, party loyalty, and a historic coup—could drift into mutual distrust, why would he imagine that someone like Kudakwashe Tagwirei will remain loyal?

Botswana’s recent history offers perhaps the clearest contemporary example of this.

When Ian Khama left office in 2018, he believed he had groomed Mokgweetsi Masisi into a reliable protégé who would protect him, shield him, and preserve his legacy.

Instead, Masisi quickly asserted his independence.

Their relationship deteriorated so severely that Khama eventually fled the country, claiming political persecution.

This was a man who once wielded immense political authority, reduced to a fugitive hiding from a successor he personally handpicked.

Could there be a more painful demonstration of the folly of believing in a “safe successor”?

Mnangagwa’s reported preference for Tagwirei fits this dangerous pattern.

According to reports which quote senior ZANU PF insiders, the business tycoon is being groomed and positioned as the family’s trusted custodian of post-Mnangagwa politics—a man expected to guarantee continuity of influence, wealth, and immunity.

But this is where history becomes a mirror.

Once a chosen successor enters State House, the incentives change.

The new president wants independence.

He wants authority.

He wants to chart his own course.

Any attempt by the predecessor to influence him becomes unwelcome interference.

This is where resentment begins to grow.

In the case of Tagwirei, it is not difficult to imagine how this would unfold.

Once in power, he will face the same pressures that all leaders face—demands to assert sovereignty, consolidate authority, and push his own agenda.

The Mnangagwa family may seek to influence key decisions, access state opportunities, and maintain political leverage.

Tagwirei, now enjoying the full privileges of office, may view this as overreach.

He may begin pushing back.

The Mnangagwas will interpret this pushback as betrayal.

Tensions will escalate.

Soon, the once-trusted successor becomes the new enemy.

And as history shows, no one is more dangerous than a successor who feels smothered by the shadow of his predecessor.

This is precisely what happened between Khama and Masisi.

It is what happened between many African leaders and their carefully chosen heirs.

In Angola, José Eduardo dos Santos handpicked João Lourenço as a loyal successor, only for Lourenço to immediately launch corruption investigations into the dos Santos family.

In South Africa, Jacob Zuma believed Cyril Ramaphosa would protect him, only to face one of the most vigorous anti-corruption campaigns in the country’s history.

Even Russia’s Vladimir Putin—the master of political calculation—was stunned when Dmitry Medvedev began asserting independence during his first term as president.

The illusion of control is the most seductive lie authoritarian leaders tell themselves.

This is why Mnangagwa’s reported desperation for a successor who will protect him and his family is not only futile but also dangerous for the country.

Rather than dedicating his final years in office to economic stability, institutional reform, and genuine democratic consolidation, he is reportedly expending time and energy on political chess games, factional manipulation, and succession engineering.

Zimbabwe is facing a power crisis, a collapsing currency, deteriorating social services, and soaring unemployment—yet the ruling elite is consumed by the politics of self-preservation.

It does not have to be this way.

There are African leaders who left office with dignity, without fear, and without the need to manufacture loyal successors.

Thabo Mbeki stepped down peacefully, went into retirement, and remains a respected statesman whose counsel is sought across the continent.

Festus Mogae of Botswana completed his term, handed over power, and became an international mediator and governance thought leader.

Joaquim Chissano of Mozambique retired honourably and went on to win global accolades, including the Mo Ibrahim Prize for African Leadership.

What distinguished these leaders was simple: they governed with relative integrity, respected their constitutional limits, and avoided entangling themselves in personal corruption networks so deep that they required protection after office.

They did their job—and by doing so, secured their peace.

Mnangagwa still has time to choose this path, but the window is closing.

Instead of grooming Tagwirei, sidelining Chiwenga, and entertaining reckless plots for term extensions, he should focus on honest governance, strengthening institutions, and leaving behind a legacy that does not require protection.

A leader who governs with integrity does not lose sleep over what will happen when he leaves office.

Zimbabwe desperately needs a president who thinks more about the future of the people than the future of his own security.

Mnangagwa can either be remembered like Chissano, Mogae, and Mbeki—or he can become yet another African cautionary tale of a leader consumed by fear, scheming, and paranoia.

The choice, ultimately, is his.

● Tendai Ruben Mbofana is a social justice advocate and writer. Please feel free to WhatsApp or Call: +263715667700 | +263782283975, or email: [email protected], or visit website: https://mbofanatendairuben.news.blog/

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