When tanks rolled into Harare on the night of 14 November 2017, two men stood at the centre of Zimbabwe’s dramatic transition. Emmerson Mnangagwa, freshly fired and exiled, waited across the border. Constantino Chiwenga, the powerful military commander, led Operation Restore Legacy — a move that pushed Robert Mugabe out after 37 years in power.

Their partnership seemed natural: Mnangagwa had liberation credentials and political structure; Chiwenga had the military. Together, they neutralised the G40 faction, calmed the streets, and installed a new administration. Chiwenga retired from the army, became Vice President, and the “ED–Chiwenga alliance” was declared unbreakable.

But beneath the smiles and slogans, two different visions of power had begun their slow collision.

The First Shocks: 2018

The 2018 election campaign fractured the image of unity.

On 23 June 2018, a grenade exploded at White City Stadium in Bulawayo, seconds after Mnangagwa stepped away from the podium. Forty-seven people were injured, including both Vice Presidents. Mnangagwa escaped unharmed.

Official messaging blamed “G40 remnants,” but years later, ZANU-PF’s Christopher Mutsvangwa has publicly claimed the attack came from “inside” the military establishment — a statement widely interpreted as a jab at Chiwenga’s camp. No arrests were ever made.

Weeks later, on 1 August 2018, soldiers opened fire on civilians, killing six people- during riots engineered by the opposition, ostensible to protest election rigging yet the presidential results had not yet been announced. The shootings embarrassed Mnangagwa internationally and strengthened a perception that Chiwenga’s command structures acted with little concern for political fallout.

2019: The Year Everything Shifted

January 2019 marked the turning point. Mnangagwa announced a steep fuel price increase before travelling abroad. Protests erupted across the country. With ED away, Chiwenga was Acting President.

Chaos reigned. Social media was awash with claims that soldiers were among the rioters. Unconfirmed rumours of an attempted coup flew around as some insiders said Chiwenga had simply sat back and allowed chaos to unfold.

The whispers suggested he wanted Mnangagwa toppled by a crisis that would make the President appear weak and incompetent. The theory was simple: if Zimbabwe collapsed, the military wing could “restore order” again, positioning Chiwenga as the natural alternative.

Mnangagwa returned to a country on fire and delivered one of the harshest statements of his presidency, calling the security forces’ behaviour “unacceptable.” For many, it was a direct rebuke of the Acting President.

Days later, the army issued a strange internal order: soldiers were banned from wearing uniform in public due to fear of civilian reprisals and criminal impersonations. The symbolism was stark — the military, Chiwenga’s bedrock, was now politically exposed.

Then came Mnangagwa’s decisive strike.

On 18 February 2019, while Chiwenga was abroad receiving treatment for a serious and mysterious illness, ED retired and reassigned four senior generals — including Presidential Guard commander Anselem Sanyatwe — to diplomatic posts. These were the core architects of the 2017 operation.

At the same time, unverified rumours of poisoning swirled around Chiwenga’s illness. He reportedly dismissed bodyguards he believed were spying on him. When he finally returned later that year, the political landscape had tilted dramatically toward Mnangagwa.

The alliance had become an armistice.

2020–2023: Cold Peace, Quiet Moves

In 2020, Mnangagwa appointed Chiwenga as Minister of Health — a move seen by some as trust, and by others as a strategic sideline. Throughout the pandemic, the two projected unity, but insiders said the détente was fragile.

In 2021, constitutional amendments ended the running-mate provision, meaning Chiwenga would no longer be automatic successor in 2023. Analysts saw Mnangagwa tightening control of succession mechanics.

In 2023, Mnangagwa secured re-election with Chiwenga campaigning beside him. The shock came after the victory: party structures began chanting “2030!” — a push for Mnangagwa to extend his rule beyond the constitutional two-term limit.

Unverified political lore claimed Mnangagwa had promised Chiwenga one term only back in 2017. Whether true or not, the chants sounded like betrayal.

2024–2025: Open Hostilities

In March 2025 insider Blessing Geza alled for nationwide protests against Mnangagwa. On social media Geza gained traction, but on the ground wary Zimbabweans refused to risk themselves. The protests fizzled, but Mnangagwa struck hard. He fired Sanyatwe (again), police chief Godwin Matanga, and intelligence director Isaac Moyo — all seen as sympathetic to Chiwenga.

Then, in October 2025, a leaked memo — allegedly written by Chiwenga — exploded online. It accused Mnangagwa of repeating Mugabe’s mistakes and protecting corrupt businessmen, hammering Kudakwashe Tagwirei, widely seen as ED’s preferred successor and being fast tracked into the party leadership with some bending of the party’s constitution. The language in the document was blistering.

Mnangagwa’s government through Ziyambi Ziyambi, dismissed it as “treasonous nonsense.” For the first time, the rift was no longer whispered. It was open, public, and undeniable.

But the party denied it anyway, and the Mutare Conference was a farce of unity where insiders reported a very tense atmosphere.

Two Men. One Revolution. No Trust Left.

Today, it seems the two former comrades are circling each other. Mnangagwa controls the party and intelligence networks; Chiwenga retains pockets of military loyalty and war-veteran support.

The partnership that began with plotting, leading to tanks on the streets is coming to an end with final chapters of suspicion, strategic purges, leaked accusations — and a rivalry shaping Zimbabwe’s future more than any election ever could. As Zimbabwe and the world watch and wait, it seems even the key players are not sure what comes next.