How Zimbabwe’s culture of “life presidency” breeds future leaders who don’t value the smooth transfer of power

Tendai Ruben Mbofana

When Zimbabwe attained independence in 1980, the generation born into the dawn of the new republic was given a proud and historic title: the “bornfrees.” 

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They were meant to inherit a nation defined by self-determination, democratic vibrancy, and the unlimited promise of a free society. 

Instead, nearly half a century later, this demographic finds itself trapped in a bizarre political time warp. 

For a Zimbabwean bornfree, the entire concept of state authority, national leadership, and executive power has been completely embodied by just two men.

The recent passage of the Constitutional Amendment (No. 3) Bill—also known as CAB3—through its final parliamentary hurdles brings this generational tragedy into sharp focus. 

By extending presidential terms from five to seven years and replacing the direct popular vote with parliamentary selection, the political elite have systematically consolidated executive control. 

This legislative maneuver ensures that the last of President Emmerson Mnangagwa’s constitutionally permitted terms stretches to 2030, mirroring the 37-year iron grip of his predecessor, Robert Mugabe. 

For the youth of Zimbabwe, the horizon of political change has once again been pushed out of reach, reducing the constitutional right to vote to a mere formality.

To appreciate how truly anomalous this setup is, one only needs to look across the border or across the ocean. 

Since 1994, South Africa has seen five different presidents navigate the challenges of democratic governance, demonstrating that a nation can experience deep political shifts without collapsing. 

In Botswana, citizens have witnessed smooth, constitutionally mandated transitions of power from one president to the next since independence, a testament to the fact that leadership is a temporary mandate, not a personal inheritance.

Yet in Zimbabwe, an entire generation is likely to grow old and die having witnessed only two faces on the national currency and at the head of the state. 

As a matter of fact, among all the liberation movements in Southern Africa, only the ZANU-PF regime has refused to preside over a system of regular leadership renewal.

In fact, we are already witnessing this disturbing phenomenon playing out in the opposition, where there has also never been a smooth transfer of power. 

​It has become normalized that the party leader is the sole face, the Alpha and Omega, whose absence is seen as the death of the entire organization.

This is not stability; it is a profound stagnation that chokes the life out of a nation’s potential.

The deepest danger of this political freeze goes beyond economic mismanagement or international isolation. 

The true tragedy is psychological and educational. 

This institutional inertia effectively grooms a generation that has never seen, felt, or understood how a healthy democracy functions. 

When an entire society is denied the experience of a regular, peaceful, and routine transfer of power, the democratic process begins to feel like an abstract myth. 

Regular leadership change acts as a vital societal pressure valve, offering a renewal of hope and a chance for national recalibration. 

Without it, the youth are stripped of their political agency, left with the soul-crushing impression that the state exists entirely independent of its citizens’ choices.

Worse still, this environment normalizes authoritarian longevity. 

When a life presidency or an indefinitely extended tenure is the only reality on display, it begins to look like the default layout of governance. 

This dangerous normalization risks cultivating a future breed of leaders who inherit a deeply warped political mindset. 

Growing up in a system where power is viewed as a permanent possession rather than a temporary public trust, tomorrow’s leaders are being conditioned to believe that clinging to office by any means necessary is simply how a country is supposed to be run. 

The culture of the “big man” politics is passed down like an institutional heirloom, ensuring that the vice of political entitlement outlives the individuals currently practicing it.

A nation cannot genuinely progress toward modernity when its political structures remain stubbornly frozen in the past. 

While global trends shift rapidly and the youth navigate an increasingly interconnected world, Zimbabwe’s political reality remains stubbornly archaic. 

CAB3 is presented by its architects as a tool for policy continuity and long-term stability, but for the bornfree generation, it is a barrier to the future. 

It signals that their aspirations, their votes, and their voices are secondary to the preservation of power. 

If Zimbabwe is ever to break this cycle, it must realize that true strength lies in the fluidity of democratic renewal, not the brittle permanence of prolonged rule. 

The bornfrees deserve to see a country where leadership changes, because only then will they truly believe that their future can change too.

• Tendai Ruben Mbofana is a social justice advocate and writer. To directly receive his articles please join his WhatsApp Channel on: https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VaqprWCIyPtRnKpkHe08