Tendai Ruben Mbofana
As the parliamentary debate on the Constitutional Amendment (No. 3) Bill rages on, we have been treated to some intriguing, if not amusing, arguments by legislators explaining why President Emmerson Mnangagwa “deserves” to remain in power beyond his two constitutional five-year terms ending in 2028.
If you value my social justice advocacy and writing, please consider a financial contribution to keep it going. Contact me on WhatsApp: +263 715 667 700 or Email: mbofana.tendairuben73@gmail.com
We are excitedly told of supposed infrastructure development—with road rehabilitation, the construction of the Trabablas Interchange, the expansion of the Robert Gabriel Mugabe International Airport, and the drilling of boreholes repeatedly cited as proof.
This development is framed as so outstanding that it justifies rewriting the supreme law of the land to keep the president in office until 2030.
But we need to strip away the noise and lay the brutal truth on the table.
To begin with, the claim that the president is doing phenomenal work is an unashamed fallacy.
The lived experience of ordinary Zimbabweans tells the real story, and it requires neither state propaganda nor compromised legislators to decode.
Millions of Zimbabweans are struggling to make ends meet, with over 80 percent living in general poverty and nearly half the population trapped in extreme poverty.
Let’s look past the raw percentages.
The internationally accepted benchmark for extreme poverty is living on less than $2.15 a day.
For a family of six, this means requiring at least $400 a month just to survive.
The simple question to ask is: how many Zimbabweans, regardless of their profession, actually take home $400 a month?
Millions fall short.
If we look at general poverty—the upper-middle-income poverty line benchmarked at $6.85 a day—a family of six requires $1,300 a month.
Again, how many of us take home that much?
This reality reveals everything we need to know about the presidency’s actual performance.
With the vast majority languishing in financial distress, what “phenomenal development” are these term-extension advocates talking about?
Extreme poverty in Zimbabwe has actually worsened since the so-called Second Republic took power in 2017, skyrocketing from 34.2 percent to 49 percent today.
The narrative of success is a sick joke.
What use is an expanded international airport to millions of impoverished citizens who can barely afford a loaf of bread?
How does a dazzling new traffic interchange—constructed at a highly inflated cost that enriched a few well-connected individuals—help a mother who cannot afford medication for her sick child?
It might make the kombi ride to Sally Mugabe Hospital faster, but that matters little when the hospital itself lacks essential medicines and lifesaving equipment.
Yet, all of this misses the fundamental point.
Even if the president had successfully turned every single Zimbabwean into a millionaire, he still would not deserve a term extension.
We must remember why constitutional term limits exist in the first place.
Heads of state are not forced to step down at the end of their constitutional limits because they failed.
The president is not being compelled to leave office in 2028 because he was a bad leader—though he certainly has been.
To use a football analogy, removing a leader for poor performance is akin to a tactical substitution.
That is the function of an election: it is the mechanism through which the electorate assesses competence, policy direction, and performance, and votes a bad leader out.
A leader regarded as having failed in his role is normally pushed out of office through an election loss, when he is still eligible for another term.
To use a football analogy, this is the process of substituting the president.
In other words, elections are the mechanism through which a bad leader is forced to step down.
That is their primary function—to allow the people to assess leadership and make a decision based on performance, competence, and policy direction.
Constitutional term limits serve an entirely different, higher purpose.
They do not exist to grade a leader’s performance; they exist to safeguard democracy itself.
The primary principle behind term limits is preventing the dangerous accumulation of power.
History shows that long-serving leaders inevitably use their prolonged stay in office to consolidate authority, erode institutional independence, and weaken democratic checks and balances, transforming themselves into de facto autocrats.
Even when a leader starts out with benevolent intentions, the temptation of absolute power inevitably creates a system where democracy exists only in name, while real authority shrinks to a single individual and their inner circle.
Furthermore, term limits ensure healthy political turnover, fostering innovation and fresh leadership.
Allowing any individual to stay indefinitely stifles political growth, prevents new actors from emerging, and limits diversity in governance styles.
Term limits ensure that political spaces remain open, preventing citizens from being held hostage by a leader who uses state resources, patronage, and coercion to make themselves impossible to remove.
Term limits also protect a country from the personalization of power, where a nation’s destiny is falsely tied to one individual.
This is the exact myth Mnangagwa’s supporters are peddling—that Zimbabwe cannot function without him.
It is the same tired justification used by continental dictators like Uganda’s Yoweri Museveni, Cameroon’s Paul Biya, or global autocrats like Russia’s Vladimir Putin.
They remain in office for decades not because they are indispensable, but because they have methodically crushed opposition and crippled democratic institutions.
Therefore, whether a president is the greatest leader to walk the earth or the absolute worst, term limits remain blind to performance.
Even if Mnangagwa had been the finest president in African history, it would not justify extending his rule.
He would still have to step down in 2028.
That is why the world’s most revered leaders have faithfully adhered to these boundaries, irrespective of their immense popularity.
For instance, former U.S. President Bill Clinton presided over an era of immense economic prosperity and left office with a historic 66% approval rating—the highest of any departing modern president.
However, despite many of his supporters wishing he could run again, he abided by the U.S. Constitution and stepped down in 2001.
Similarly, former Botswana President Festus Mogae maintained immense popularity for his exceptional governance, ultimately winning the prestigious Mo Ibrahim Prize for Achievement in African Leadership.
Yet, despite his deep public support, he strictly followed Botswana’s two-term legal limit and walked away from power in 2008 to preserve his country’s democratic integrity.
Even when a leader is widely regarded as competent and visionary, the law remains the law.
It is what ensures a nation is ruled by a sustainable system rather than an individual.
Just as it would make no sense for the opposition to demand lowering the term limit to three years simply to get rid of Mnangagwa early, it makes no sense to extend it to reward him.
The Constitution cannot be tinkered with to either promote or demote a specific individual.
That is not the role of the supreme law.
If we allow this amendment to pass, we set a catastrophic precedent.
From that moment on, the Constitution will become a malleable document rewritten to suit the whims of whoever holds power.
If the “ED 2030” campaign succeeds, what happens when the next leader takes over in 2030 and declares a “Vision 2060”?
Do we amend the law again to grant them another three decades to see their vision through?
It is a logical absurdity.
The people of Zimbabwe must firmly resist and reject this manipulation of our sacrosanct supreme law for the selfish ambitions of one man.
If we succumb, we fail not just ourselves, but future generations who will inherit a country where the rule of law means nothing.
Those who love Mnangagwa and believe he has done a fantastic job have already had the opportunity to express their support at the ballot box in 2018 and 2023.
What more could they possibly demand?
The Constitution is a shield to protect the nation from the excesses of power, not a weapon of personal ambition.
If Mnangagwa truly cares about the legacy of Zimbabwe, he should be the very first person to defend constitutionalism, rather than entertaining sycophants pushing for an undemocratic extension.
He must choose the path of leaders who preserved democracy, not those who manipulated it to cling to power.
History will judge this moment.
The question is whether the people of Zimbabwe will stand firm in defense of their supreme law, or bow to the desires of a power-hungry elite.
The answer lies squarely with us.
