Judul : Zimbabwe, wake up — Don’t let Tagwirei capture what’s left of our freedom
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Zimbabwe, wake up — Don’t let Tagwirei capture what’s left of our freedom
Kudakwashe Tagwirei’s leaked memo to ZANU PF, in which he pleads to be co-opted into the party’s Central Committee, is not only an act of desperation—it is a dangerous ideological ploy to formalize state capture, masquerading as revolutionary evolution.
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In his own words, he seeks to become a “Chimurenga capitalist,” blending liberation war nostalgia with monopolistic wealth accumulation.
But scratch beneath the rhetorical polish and global analogies, and one sees not a visionary patriot, but a compromised figure whose rise is deeply rooted in patronage, opacity, and a parasitic relationship with the state.
Tagwirei’s pitch is coated with lofty references to China’s Jack Ma, South Africa’s Cyril Ramaphosa, and Rwanda’s Paul Kagame—each cited as models of how business magnates can be woven into political leadership.
But this is a false equivalency.
Jack Ma, for all his controversies, built Alibaba from the ground up without leaning on state tenders or extracting wealth through fuel cartels.
Cyril Ramaphosa was a trade unionist before he became a billionaire, and even his path into ANC leadership was contested and subject to party democracy.
Kagame’s model, for all its authoritarian traits, has delivered visible public service results, not just enrichment for a few.
Tagwirei, in contrast, is widely seen as a man who became wealthy not through innovation or enterprise, but by virtue of proximity to power.
His vast fortune, made under sanctions he ironically claims to have resisted, is inseparable from opaque deals involving fuel imports, murky mining ventures, and questionable takeovers of public assets like CBZ and ZB Bank.
Many Zimbabweans view him not as a self-made tycoon but as a front—someone whose wealth is likely held in trust for far more powerful political figures, perhaps even the very same men he now flatters in his memo.
The attempt to parlay economic influence into political legitimacy should be a red flag to every Zimbabwean who cherishes the idea of democratic accountability.
Tagwirei’s memo is not a benign request for inclusion; it is a calculated push to embed oligarchic control into the formal political apparatus of ZANU PF.
In doing so, he hopes to sanitize the dubious sources of his wealth, cloak his business dealings with ideological respectability, and insulate himself from scrutiny by rebranding as a “strategist” rather than a crony.
If accepted, his proposal would not only reward corruption—it would institutionalize it.
It would send a chilling message that party loyalty, measured in dollars not ideals, is now the main currency of influence.
That political power is not earned through service to the people or struggle credentials, but purchased through financial patronage.
That access to national institutions can be bought and legitimized with rhetoric about “revolutionary capitalism.”
There is a broader danger here too.
By claiming to speak for a new generation of economically ambitious youth, Tagwirei seeks to co-opt legitimate aspirations for prosperity into a warped ideology of elite accumulation.
He is hijacking the language of economic empowerment to perpetuate a system where power and wealth are concentrated in the hands of a few, with no accountability or transparency.
He is not challenging the old order—he is reinforcing it, but with a different accent.
Indeed, his criticism of ZANU PF’s “procedural orthodoxy” is telling.
He is frustrated not because the system is broken—but because it won’t bend fast enough to accommodate him.
His complaint that his billions are welcomed in back rooms but his voice rejected in formal party structures is essentially a tantrum: a man used to unchecked influence, now insisting on constitutional recognition for what has always been unofficial control.
This is not democratic evolution; it is the formalization of cronyism.
What Tagwirei conveniently omits from his pitch is the real price Zimbabwe has paid for his wealth.
Currency collapse, opaque financial dealings, and the marginalization of smaller businesses can all be linked, in part, to the undue influence exercised by politically connected business figures like Tagwirei across key sectors of the economy.
Kuvimba Mining House, touted as a state asset under “public-private partnership,” operates with little transparency.
Its actual ownership is shrouded in secrecy.
His acquisition of major banks raises questions about how deeply Zimbabwe’s financial sector has been compromised by politically exposed persons.
These are not isolated missteps—they form a systemic web of influence that undermines national sovereignty and democratic oversight.
Furthermore, his appeals to President Mnangagwa’s “vision” should alarm even ZANU PF stalwarts.
This is flattery, not ideology.
Tagwirei is not building a movement—he is seeking protection.
His praise for the President is less about policy alignment and more about self-preservation in a factional terrain.
He wants to secure his future by embedding himself into party leadership before political winds shift and expose the fragile foundation of his empire.
To allow a man like Tagwirei into the Central Committee is not to embrace transformation—it is to surrender to plutocracy.
It is to say that the revolution, once fought for land and dignity, can now be sold to the highest bidder.
That party loyalty is for sale, and national interest negotiable.
That Zimbabwe’s political destiny will be shaped not by the ballot, but by the balance in a private account.
There is a real danger that future generations may look back at this moment as the point at which state capture was no longer informal, but openly codified into the political machinery.
Where the economic elite not only influenced the state from the shadows but seized it from within.
Where a party founded on sacrifice and struggle abandoned its founding ethos in favour of boardroom populism and billionaire worship.
It is not too late for ZANU PF to reject this dangerous proposition.
If the party still has any regard for its ideological roots, it must draw a clear line between support and submission.
Accepting financial donations is one thing.
Entrusting leadership roles to men whose empires are built on state dependency and secrecy is another.
A revolutionary party should be led by revolutionaries—not frontmen for shadowy interests.
Zimbabwe’s crisis is not just about who governs—it is about how governance is structured, financed, and legitimized.
The co-optation of figures like Tagwirei represents the ultimate betrayal: the sale of political sovereignty to private capital under the guise of patriotic development.
The future of this country cannot be outsourced to billionaires whose allegiance lies not with the people, but with the preservation of their privilege.
Let us call Tagwirei’s memo what it truly is: a manifesto for elite consolidation, not national transformation.
A power grab dressed in revolutionary rhetoric. Zimbabwe deserves better. And so does its revolution.
- Tendai Ruben Mbofana is a social justice advocate and writer. Please feel free to WhatsApp or Call: +263715667700 | +263782283975, or email: mbofana.tendairuben73@gmail.com, or visit website: https://mbofanatendairuben.news.blog/
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