By Munacho Gwamand- In the charged and uncertain atmosphere of Zanu PF’s ongoing internal power struggles, a new — and unexpected — figure is stepping into the limelight: Major Sean Mnangagwa, the son of President Emmerson Mnangagwa.
Captured in a striking image taken at a state function on 25 April 2025, Sean Mnangagwa is seen stepping assertively out of an armoured vehicle, part of the presidential motorcade, surrounded by heavily armed soldiers and vigilant security operatives.
The presence of Major Sean, not as a distant observer but embedded within the President’s close protection team, raises a critical political question: Is President Mnangagwa grooming his soldier son to one day take over the reins of power?
The timing could hardly be more significant.
With factional battles within Zanu PF reaching a fever pitch, pitting Mnangagwa loyalists against those aligned to his deputy, Vice President Constantino Chiwenga speculation about succession is more intense than ever.
Mnangagwa, who has fought tooth and nail to consolidate power after the 2017 coup, now faces the classic strongman’sdilemma: how to ensure a political legacy that protects his interests once he leaves office.
While Sean has previously maintained a low profile, mainly within military and intelligence circles, his sudden and visible involvement in key public state events cannot be dismissed as a coincidence.
In political theatre, symbolism matters. In Zimbabwe’s history, the pathway to power has often been paved by military strength cloaked in civilian legitimacy.
By placing his son, a serving military officer so close to the instruments of state power, Mnangagwa could be sending an unmistakable message: the future leadership of Zimbabwe may well stay in the family.
It also tells us that Sean’s role is not ceremonial. His positioning alongside hardened presidential guards signals trust at the highest level — a role that no one occupies casually.
Sean is not just accompanying his father; he is learning, watching, and operating within the inner sanctum of statecraft and security management, experiences that could be invaluable if he is being primed for higher office.
Of course, Zimbabweans have seen such dynastic projects before.
The late President Robert Mugabe once entertained grand ambitions of handing over power to his wife Grace Mugabe, ambitions that contributed to his dramatic downfall.
Having risen through that brutal lesson, Mnangagwa would understand that any attempt to impose a family dynasty would need to be more subtle, militarized, and carefully staged.
In Sean, a career soldier with established loyalty networks, Mnangagwa may have found a less obvious, more palatable successor than a civilian family member.
Still, any such move would not be without risks. Zanu PF is not a monolith, and the military elite particularly figures like Chiwenga will not easily accept a dynastic succession that sidelines their own ambitions.
Sean’s rapid rise could, paradoxically, deepen the fault lines within the ruling party, accelerating the very instability Mnangagwa seeks to avoid.
Nonetheless, the writing is increasingly on the wall. With Major Sean Mnangagwa stepping into public view, the grooming of a new generation of leadership may already be underway, hidden in plain sight behind the flashing lights of presidential security details.
The question now is not whether Mnangagwa is preparing his son for leadership but whether Zanu PF and Zimbabwe are willing or able to accept another chapter of family rule.