The illusion of reform in Zimbabwe: Generals replaced, governance unchanged

President Emmerson Mnangagwa’s recent appointment of new commanders of the Defence Forces is not the routine choreography of state administration; it is a calculated consolidation of power, executed with the precision of a ruler who understands that in Zimbabwe, the barracks remain the true theatre of politics.

This is not reform; it is entrenchment. Once again, the nation’s political future is being scripted not in parliament, not in civic forums, not in the voices of citizens, but in the shadowed corridors of military command.

The shuffle is a stark reminder that Zimbabwe’s governance remains militarised at its core, a system where the gun dictates the ballot and civic empowerment is systematically suffocated.

By reconfiguring the military hierarchy, Mnangagwa is not merely securing loyalty; he is reinforcing a political order in which the armed forces are the guarantors of regime survival, the arbiters of succession, and the silencers of dissent.

This is the architecture of authoritarian durability: a state where uniforms eclipse institutions, where sovereignty is monopolised by securocrats, and where the promise of democratic renewal is perpetually deferred.

Far from signalling reform, the appointments expose the dangerous illusion that Zimbabwe’s political trajectory can be disentangled from its military foundations.

They confirm that the barracks remain the crucible of power, and that the civic imagination is once again subordinated to the arrogance of the gun.

The Death of Civic Empowerment

Zimbabwe’s descent into military-first politics is no accident; it is a deliberate strategy of domination.

Since the ouster of Robert Mugabe in 2017, the military has entrenched itself as the decisive arbiter of political transitions, arrogating to itself the authority that properly belongs to citizens and institutions.

What should have been a moment of democratic renewal instead became the consolidation of a militarised order, where the barracks dictate the ballot and the uniform eclipses the constitution.

The line between civilian and military authority has not merely blurred; it has been systematically erased, leaving governance hostage to securocrats who mistake coercion for legitimacy.

This militarisation is not a temporary aberration but the architecture of regime survival. It ensures that political succession is choreographed by generals, not voters, and that civic empowerment is suffocated under the weight of military patronage.

The result is a hollow democracy, stripped of substance, where the promise of reform is perpetually deferred, and the civic imagination is subordinated to the arrogance of the gun.

Zimbabwe’s trajectory illustrates with brutal clarity that militarised governance is not governance at all; it is the death of civic empowerment, the institutionalisation of treason against the democratic project.

Militarised governance in Zimbabwe has systematically hollowed out the civic sphere, replacing the authority of citizens with the dominance of the barracks.

Succession is no longer determined by the electorate but by military elites who arrogate to themselves the role of kingmakers, reducing elections to mere rituals of validation.

Dissent is suppressed with ruthless efficiency, arbitrary arrests, intimidation of activists, and violent crackdowns on protests have become normalised instruments of control, ensuring that civic voices are silenced before they can challenge the regime.

Democratic institutions, once designed to safeguard accountability, have been subordinated to military influence: parliament reduced to a rubber stamp, the judiciary compromised, and electoral bodies stripped of independence.

Governance has been reoriented toward regime survival, with securocrats securing ZANU-PF’s dominance even as socio-economic crises deepen and citizens are left to endure poverty and disillusionment.

The result is a pervasive culture of fear, where journalists, NGOs, and civic actors operate under constant surveillance and threat, their capacity to hold power accountable weakened to the point of paralysis.

This architecture of militarism does not merely undermine civic empowerment; it annihilates it, replacing the promise of democratic renewal with a system of coercion, patronage, and intimidation.

Zimbabwe’s trajectory illustrates with brutal clarity that when the military becomes the arbiter of politics, the civic imagination is suffocated, and the democratic project is reduced to a hollow performance staged under the shadow of the gun.

Implications for Zimbabwe’s Political Future

Zimbabwe’s political future is increasingly defined by the suffocating grip of militarised governance, with consequences that reverberate across the ruling party, the opposition, and the civic sphere.

For ZANU-PF, dependence on military patronage has transformed governance into a project of coercion rather than civilian leadership.

Succession battles are no longer mediated by institutions or the electorate but by rival military factions, reducing politics to a contest of barracks loyalty and eroding any semblance of legitimacy.

Citizens, in turn, increasingly perceive ZANU-PF not as a party of vision or reform but as a machinery of intimidation, a party whose survival rests on coercion rather than trust.

Opposition politics fares no better under this architecture of militarism. Harassment, restricted campaigning, and constant surveillance weaken mobilisation, while militarised oversight delegitimises elections and discourages voter participation.

The opposition is not only repressed but fragmented, as perpetual intimidation fosters internal divisions and undermines the possibility of a coherent alternative.

Elections become hollow rituals, stripped of credibility, designed to validate the dominance of the regime rather than reflect the will of the people.

The implications for civil liberties are devastating. Freedom of assembly, speech, and press is systematically curtailed, with journalists, activists, and NGOs operating under constant threat.

Courts, pressured to align with regime interests, lose their independence, becoming instruments of authoritarian reflexes rather than guardians of justice. Dialogue is replaced by coercion, accountability by surveillance, and civic empowerment by fear.

Zimbabwe’s political trajectory, if left unchecked, risks becoming a closed loop of militarised succession, authoritarian consolidation, and civic suffocation, a trajectory that annihilates the democratic project and mortgages the nation’s sovereignty to the arrogance of the gun.

The Legacy of One-Party States

Zimbabwe’s militarisation is not an aberration but the poisoned fruit of Africa’s one-party legacy. Since Ghana’s independence in 1957, many of the continent’s founding leaders premised their philosophies on the doctrine of one-party statehood, claiming that unity, stability, and development required the suppression of pluralism.

Kwame Nkrumah declared Ghana a one-party state in 1964, Julius Nyerere entrenched Ujamaa socialism under TANU and later CCM, Jomo Kenyatta consolidated KANU as Kenya’s sole political vehicle, Kenneth Kaunda institutionalised Zambia’s one-party system in 1972, and Hastings Banda ruled Malawi as “President for Life.”

Across the continent, Félix Houphouët-Boigny maintained one-party dominance in the Ivory Coast until 1993, Ahmed Sékou Touré imposed strict one-party control in Guinea, Mobutu Sese Seko institutionalised Mobutism under the MPR in Zaire, and Houari Boumédiène entrenched the FLN as Algeria’s sole party.

The justification was always the same: unity, stability, and development. The reality was far darker: suppressed pluralism, entrenched authoritarianism, and sprawling patronage networks that hollowed out institutions and suffocated civic empowerment.

By the 1990s, economic crises and popular protests forced transitions to multiparty democracy, but the DNA of one-party dominance remained embedded in liberation movements such as Zimbabwe’s ZANU-PF and Tanzania’s CCM.

These parties adapted to the language of democracy but retained the reflexes of authoritarian consolidation, ensuring that the military remained the ultimate guarantor of power.

Zimbabwe today illustrates this legacy with brutal clarity. The state does not change governance; it merely changes generals. Succession is choreographed in the barracks, not in parliament, and the ballot remains hostage to military patronage.

The reshuffling of commanders is presented as reform, but in truth it is proof that the barracks still dictate the ballot, that sovereignty remains subordinated to uniforms, and that the promise of democratic renewal is perpetually deferred.

Zimbabwe’s militarisation is therefore not a rupture but the logical extension of Africa’s one-party inheritance, a poisoned legacy that continues to corrode the continent’s civic imagination.

Comparative Lessons: Sudan, Mali, Burkina Faso

Zimbabwe’s militarisation is not an isolated aberration; it is a mirror held up to continental failures. Sudan offers the most brutal cautionary tale: General Abdel Fattah al-Burhan’s 2021 coup dissolved the civilian government and devoured the fragile democratic transition, plunging the country into civil war, where rival military factions now battle for supremacy while civilians are massacred and displaced.

Mali, under Assimi Goïta, demonstrates the futility of coup promises; two successive seizures of power wrapped in the rhetoric of reform have left the state paralysed, jihadist insurgencies expanding unchecked, and governance reduced to paralysis.

Burkina Faso, meanwhile, has become the poster child of coup romanticisation: Captain Ibrahim Traoré’s rise is celebrated as a youthful revolution, his rhetoric of sovereignty resonating across West Africa, yet insecurity deepens, displacement grows, and the illusion of success will inevitably implode once the euphoria fades.

These cases converge on a single truth: military dominance consistently undermines civic empowerment. Coups do not deliver stability; they corrode institutions, entrench authoritarian reflexes, and mortgage sovereignty to coercion and foreign manipulation.

Zimbabwe’s militarisation is therefore not unique; it is simply the Southern African chapter of a continental tragedy, another entry in Africa’s coup belt where the barracks dictate the ballot, and the democratic project remains perpetually under siege.

Zimbabwe’s civilian politics is being suffocated by securocrats whose intellectual bankruptcy is glaring. Military leaders foisted into governance lack the vision, competence, and civic grounding necessary to steer a nation.

Their intrusion into politics has sidelined capable and qualified figures within both ZANU-PF and the opposition, leaving the country hostage to coercion rather than leadership.

What masquerades as authority is in fact the arrogance of the gun, a hollow substitute for civic imagination and democratic accountability.

The consequences extend far beyond Zimbabwe’s borders. By normalising militarised governance, Zimbabwe sets a dangerous precedent for authoritarian trends in Southern Africa, eroding the fragile gains of regional democratisation.

At home, marginalised youth are increasingly disillusioned, losing faith in democracy and risking either apathy or radicalisation.

Economically, resources are diverted to regime security rather than development, deepening poverty and inequality while paralysing the state’s capacity to deliver meaningful reform.

This trajectory is not merely a domestic crisis; it is a continental warning. Unless the military retreats from politics and civic empowerment is restored, ZANU-PF’s future will remain hostage to securocrats, opposition politics will be strangled, and civic liberties will continue to deteriorate under the weight of authoritarian reflexes.

The youth must rise, for their apathy is damning. They must cement their place in Africa’s political future, insisting on a civic order where politics leads the gun, not the gun leading politics.

Burkina Faso’s illusion of success under Captain Ibrahim Traoré is a dangerous mirage, celebrated as a youthful revolution but destined to implode once the euphoria fades. Zimbabwe must not follow this path of romanticised militarism.

Africa, sixty-five years after Ghana’s independence, still struggles to achieve true emancipation. The legacy of one-party states and militarised governance continues to plunge the continent into a deeper abyss, suffocating democratic institutions and mortgaging sovereignty to coercion.

Zimbabwe’s military reshuffle is not reform, it is regression, proof that the barracks still dictate the ballot. The continent must wake up. The promise of Zimbabwe, and indeed of Africa, will only be realised when civic empowerment triumphs over militarised governance.

Until then, the gun will remain the arbiter of politics, and the democratic project will remain perpetually under siege.

Wellington Muzengeza is a Political Risk Analyst and Urban Strategist offering incisive insight on urban planning, infrastructure, leadership succession, and governance reform across Africa’s evolving post-liberation urban landscapes.