Analysis Opinion:
By Desmond Nleya and Shelton Muchena | Here is an analysis of Tagwirei’s public humiliation yesterday from a school dropout and Dombodema villager’s point of view.
ZANU PF is deeply embroiled in succession issues, and a dark horse in the form of Kuda Tagwirei, who wields immense financial power, has been unleashed with the support of the President.
There have been rumours that the President himself does not wish to anoint a successor. However, all indications are that this is merely a sideshow aimed at sidelining the General. The irony is that the President was handed his seat on a silver platter by the General, and like all ungrateful human beings, he is now choosing either to extend his term—which he publicly denies—or to anoint Kuda Tagwirei.
And so, Kuda Tagwirei was catapulted into the Central Committee, and yesterday was supposed to mark the beginning of his journey to State House.
What happened?
Kuda Tagwirei’s unceremonious expulsion from the Central Committee meeting yesterday at ZANU PF Headquarters is perhaps the most vivid public display of the party’s deep factin recent years.
Vice President Constantino Chiwenga’s move to personally order Tagwirei’s exit—reportedly on technicalities around procedural regularities—was not merely a bureaucratic tidying-up. It was a calculated show of force.
That Chiwenga could eject Tagwirei, who is widely regarded as President Mnangagwa’s preferred front-runner and financial proxy, shows the Vice President’s considerable influence within the ruling party. It also demonstrates that he is prepared to assert that power in ways that publicly humiliate rivals. The timing and manner of the expulsion sent a clear message: Chiwenga is not a ceremonial deputy. He remains the man with the means—and the will—to discipline, even those closest to the President himself.
Crucially, this is not Chiwenga’s first decisive intervention in ZANU PF succession. From the liberation struggle, he was instrumental in pushing for Robert Mugabe’s inclusion in the leadership ranks. Decades later, he masterminded the military operation that removed Mugabe and installed Mnangagwa. Now, with the same steely resolve, he is signaling that it is finally his turn—and that he is not a push-over. This long record makes him arguably the most consequential power broker of ZANU PF’s modern history.
For those in the party who quietly support the General, the incident will be interpreted as reassuring proof that aligning with him remains a safe and potentially rewarding bet. The spectacle of Tagwirei being forced to leave, with no apparent protection from Mnangagwa, will embolden those who have been sitting on the fence or doubting Chiwenga’s capacity to check the President’s growing patronage networks.
Equally, this was a warning to the General’s enemies: he will not be sidelined or underestimated. Observers will recall that the ZANU PF HQ’s inner echelon—many of whom hold lingering resentments against Mnangagwa—might easily abandon the President for Chiwenga if it appears expedient. The Central Committee’s failure to preempt the drama by notifying Tagwirei in advance about his supposed ineligibility was telling.
The question almost writes itself: if this was truly about procedure, why was he not told before he set foot in the meeting?
Even more striking was the Politburo’s refusal to deliberate meaningfully on his co-option, with reports suggesting only two of 49 members voted in Tagwirei’s favour.
If that figure is accurate, it confirms just how much resistance he faces within the highest decision-making organs of the party. Yesterday was a potent reminder that the road to State House is very long—and that access to wealth and proximity to power do not automatically translate into unassailable political legitimacy.
Monica Mutsvangwa’s recent remark that “people can’t buy power”—a thinly veiled jab at Tagwirei—fits neatly into this narrative. It shows that the chorus of skepticism about his ambitions is no longer whispered in the corridors. It is being voiced from the podium by senior figures who sense the shifting tides.
While ZANU PF loyalists are attempting to downplay the incident as an unfortunate misunderstanding, the reality is more significant.
The General exercised his authority in a way that even the President could not, or would not, prevent. For Tagwirei, the lesson is sobering: yesterday’s debacle was a wake-up call that the presidency remains out of reach, and any illusions to the contrary have been shattered—at least for now.
Chiwenga’s messaging around corruption is another pressure point that will be causing Tagwirei and his handlers considerable anxiety. Branding rivals as corrupt has long been an effective weapon in ZANU PF’s internal wars, and the tactic appears to be back in full force.
Looking ahead, it is highly likely that Chiwenga, Chris Mutsvangwa, and other heavyweights in the top echelons of the party will begin to close ranks to frustrate Tagwirei’s ascent. They know that the time to neutralise him is before he consolidates more influence. Yesterday was the first salvo—a deliberate demonstration that no matter how deep his pockets are, Tagwirei will not simply buy his way to the top.
If anything, this episode has revealed the true state of play in ZANU PF: a party where the real battles are not between the ruling elite and the opposition, but among the ruling elite themselves. And in this battle, the General has made it abundantly clear—he will not be outflanked without a fight. After all, he has shaped every succession crisis since the 1970s, from ushering in Mugabe, to removing him, to elevating Mnangagwa. This time, Chiwenga appears determined that it will be his own ascendancy—and nobody else’s.