Abstract
This article explores the socially constructed concepts of ‘Vene’ (owners) and ‘chinhu chedu’ (our thing) in Zimbabwe’s ‘Second Republic’, using postcolonial theory to assess their impact on inclusive politics and national development. Although portrayed as nationalist ideals, these notions reveal hidden hierarchies and tensions. The analysis frames them within discourses such as political economy, greed and grievance, power preservation, media control, one-party state ambitions and a culture of impunity. The article concludes that the ruling elite’s use of these two concepts reflects an evocation of colonial-era power retention strategies, risking social unrest due to their increasingly divisive nature.
Introduction
Zimbabwe, having achieved independence 44 years ago following a protracted liberation struggle, now faces a period of uncertainty across political, economic and social dimensions. The promise of a prosperous, inclusive nation born from the struggle has given way to economic hardship, unemployment and social disintegration. The Zimbabwean dollar continues to decline, while unemployment and poverty are widespread. The political landscape is sharply polarised, with the ruling class identifying as ‘Vene’ (owners) and the masses referred to as ‘povo’ (ordinary people). The dream of independence and national unity now seems fragile, as political and economic crises threaten the fabric of the nation.
In response to these challenges, Zimbabwe’s leadership in the post-Robert Mugabe era, often called the ‘Second Republic’, has adopted slogans like ‘Vene’ (owners) and ‘chinhu chedu’ (our thing) to position themselves as the nation’s legitimate and enduring rulers. The Second Republic denotes the current political era that ushered in Emmerson Mnangagwa as president of Zimbabwe after the 2017 military coup that deposed Robert Mugabe, the first leader of politically independent Zimbabwe. President Emmerson Mnangagwa is credited with popularising the Second Republic, Vene and chinhu chedu mantras. This article investigates the Vene and chinhu chedu concepts within the context of the Second Republic, exploring their implications for inclusive politics and Zimbabwe’s developmental trajectory. Mavengano (2023) argues that Vene and chinhu chedu transcend mere terminology to function as tools of othering and exclusion. This tends to create a societal divide where only a privileged ruling elite claims ownership over national resources while the majority, including ruling and opposition supporters, endure economic suffering. This division entrenches power hierarchies and burdens the populace, preventing the realisation of an inclusive political order. Ironically, othering and exclusion also affect ruling party supporters who are only invited as part of Vene when casting their votes to extend the ruling elite’s stranglehold on power.
Methodology and conceptual framework
This article examines publicly accessible media portrayals of Zimbabwean politics through the lens of postcolonial theory (PT), a framework largely credited to Said following his 1978 work (Said, 1978) Orientalism and later expanded by scholars such as Gayatri Spivak, Homi K. Bhabha and Frantz Fanon. Fanon (1961), in particular, sees PT as offering a lens through which the power structures of former colonial regimes and their enduring impact on colonised nations and peoples can be examined and resisted. Furthermore, PT explores how colonial powers assert dominance and how the colonised respond to and navigate these forces. For example, in failing to fulfil the liberation struggle’s promises and noticing dwindling popularity and estrangement from the populace they once liberated, African leaders frequently resort to strategies akin to those of their former colonisers to maintain authority (Ashcroft et al., 2013). This compels them to vigorously defend their self-proclaimed right to govern, perpetuating a colonial-style grasp on political leadership. Just as colonial masters justified their dominance through biased laws enforced by a partisan security apparatus, liberation movements hastily adopt similar methodologies to cling to power. PT actively confronts these discourses and serves as a mechanism of resistance through which exploitative and discriminatory practices, regardless of their historical and geographical context, can be challenged (Fanon, 1961; Rukundwa and van Aerde, 2007).
Documentary analysis (Sileyew, 2019) is also chosen for its cost-effectiveness and the inherent capacity to access pertinent documents, amenable to addressing the contemporary discourse through the lens of PT. The wealth of material, spanning speeches, documentaries, videos and journal articles sourced freely or through subscription services embodies a rich tapestry of data for analysis. Through analysing predominantly publicly available documents, rather than exclusive bibliographic or confidential collections, this study ensures transparency and accessibility, facilitating future validation (Gounder, 2012). The paper also draws on insights from discourse analytical approaches, that language functions ‘in creating, maintaining and legitimating inequality, injustice and oppression in society’ (van Leeuwen, 2015: 1). According to Madongonda and Gudhlanga (2023: 128), ‘by analysing the language of self-imposed political leaders, the traits of deception are revealed’ enabling the Vene and chinhu chedu rhetoric to be deciphered.
Context: The Zimbabwean dream and political independence
The fall of Africa’s last colonial empire on 18 April 1980, marked the beginning of a new era for Zimbabwe, filled with hope and a strong sense of self-determination. The jubilant celebrations held at Rufaro Stadium in Harare, accompanied by reggae singer Bob Marley’s rendition of the song ‘Zimbabwe’, encapsulated the aspirations for prosperity and equality among the people. As the new Republic emerged, there was a collective vision for an inclusive society where the government would protect human rights and foster equitable wealth distribution. Founding leaders like Hebert Chitepo envisioned a new ‘society devoid of exploitation and characterized by justice for all’ (Muzulu, 2023: 1). A youthful Zimbabwean expressed that ‘the dream involved full self-expression and the ability to achieve personal success, regardless of one’s background’ (Maswoswa, 2012: 1). Central to this dream was the redistribution of land, which had long been a source of contention. With approximately six million black Zimbabweans striving for independence from the rule of about 300,000 white settlers, the quest for equity became a rallying cry.
Despite the scars of war, Zimbabwe emerged at independence with immense potential, so much so that Tanzanian President Julius Nyerere called it ‘the jewel of Africa’. This optimism was fuelled by the country’s relatively advanced economic infrastructure, which stood out among its peers (Holman, 2019: 1). However, by the dawn of the 1980s, that early hope began to slowly erode. The land, a central symbol of the liberation struggle, remained largely in the hands of the few white landowners who had controlled it before, betraying the very spirit of the revolution. As industrial closures became more frequent, countless of Zimbabweans became unemployed. Scarcity of basic goods such as mealie meal and cooking oil began to plague the shelves of shops, signalling the early cracks in the once-promising economy.
Against this backdrop, the Zimbabwe dollar, which had once been on par with the British pound, plummeted, eroding the value of savings and pushing inflation to staggering heights. Long lines became a daily feature, as citizens queued for basic services like passports, bank withdrawals and essentials such as food and fuel. The initial euphoria of independence, which had captivated the nation, quickly faded, replaced by widespread disillusionment. The promises of liberation seemed to have benefitted only a small, corrupt black elite who grew disproportionately wealthy, while the broader population was left grappling with unmet expectations. What had been envisioned as a nation of opportunity instead gave way to a system of patronage, where success was determined not by merit but by connections, stifling the aspirations of many. Faced with this stark reality, many Zimbabweans sought better prospects abroad, driven by the dissonance between the dream of independence and the lived experience. As Shura and Mhute (2023: 30) poignantly observed, ‘the purple bubbles that were a result of Zimbabwe’s independence soon busted and the independence euphoria was deflated’. Gudhlanga and Madongonda (2023: 167) also echoed this sentiment, noting that ‘the attainment of independence did not correspond with the much-awaited joy and contentment which was greatly publicised during the liberation struggle’.
Determining the onset of Zimbabwe’s political and economic decline is complex, with several factors cited (Simpson and Hawkins, 2018). Some (Hove, 2023; Shura and Mhute, 2023; Wasosa, 2023) attribute it to a lack of vision and chaotic land reform implementation, while others (Ruvimbo, 2022; Wasosa, 2023) highlight Government financial strain in compensating former guerrillas a one-off gratuity of ZWD $50,000 using unbudgeted funds in 1997 and a subsequent monthly pension of US$2000 starting in 1998 (Kanyenze, 2004). Additionally, Zimbabwe’s involvement in the Democratic Republic of Congo war, beginning in 1998, became a critical turning point. The war, costing an estimated US$3 million daily, drained Zimbabwe’s finances, with US$6 billion lost throughout the conflict. According to Munangagwa (2009: 24), the human and financial loss had no direct benefit to Zimbabwe except certain individuals who ‘enriched themselves through the illegal diamond industry that was booming in the Congo’.
According to Shura and Mhute (2023), economic policies such as the Economic Structural Adjustment Programme further exacerbated the crisis, leading to high inflation, job losses and poverty. Zhou (2023: 252) points to President Robert Mugabe’s poor policy decisions, corruption and a disregard for human rights for pushing Zimbabwe into chaos. Conversely, there are arguments that Western powers, fearing the redistribution of land, stoked tensions against the Zimbabwean government that was ‘redistributing wealth to its own marginalised people’ (Mhiripiri, 2015: 192). Ndlovu-Gatsheni (2004) however, suggests that lack of a coherent post-liberation vision contributed to the nation’s downward spiral.
While the aforementioned issues certainly played a role in Zimbabwe’s decline, Shura and Mhute (2023: 31) point to Zimbabwe’s new rulers, ‘employing deception as a tool to curry political traction and favours from the Zimbabwean masses’. In support, Rugwiji (2023: 96) claims that propaganda is unleashed as a deceit discourse ‘so that transparency . . . is scarce’. Zimbabwe’s ruling party, ZANU-PF, often attributes economic decline to sanctions imposed by Western nations, a stance contested by critics who argue that leaders manipulate narratives to cling to power hiding the fact that mismanagement and corruption are the real culprits.
Deconstructing the concepts and discourses of the second republic, Vene and chinhu chedu
In his 1980 inaugural address, marking the start of the ‘First Republic’, Robert Mugabe emphasised the importance of constitutional adherence and land redistribution, assuring citizens of his commitment to uphold fundamental rights and ‘obedience to the rule of law’ (Foreign Policy, 2019: 1). However, by year 2000, the unsustainable socio-economic conditions had forced 37.8% of the estimated 12 million population to migrate internationally (International Organization for Migration, 2008). Internally, over 200,000 farm workers were displaced through state organised land invasions (Sibanda, 2008). Mugabe’s promises echo colonial rhetoric, such as Ian Smith’s ‘we are giving Rhodesia a new constitution, so that the dignity and freedom of all men may be assured’ (Barber, 1966: 457). In essence, these assurances of dignity and freedom ultimately favoured the white minority population only.
Current President Emmerson Mnangagwa, perceived as the chief advocate of the ‘Second Republic’, took power in 2017 with a focus on economic development, encapsulated in the phrase ‘nyika inovakwa nevene vayo’ (the country is built by its owners). The ‘Second Republic’ implicitly acknowledges the unfulfilled promises of Robert Mugabe’s regime while aiming to rectify past failures. Mnangagwa’s Second Republic seeks to distinguish itself from Mugabe’s ‘First Republic’ by addressing economic challenges and promoting unity. His inaugural speech pledged zero tolerance for corruption and emphasised unity, economic improvement and an ‘open for business’ approach through ‘industrialization, mechanization, and market-driven policies’ (University of Reading, 2018). Shura and Mhute (2023: 32) observe that the Mnangagwa government seeks to align itself with modern governance principles such as ‘egalitarianism, rule of law, human rights and freedom of expression’.
The discourse surrounding Vene and chinhu chedu in Zimbabwean political thought reflects deeply entrenched ideas of ownership and control, specifically within the context of ZANU-PF, the liberation struggle, and the post-colonial state. These concepts are more than mere political rhetoric; they represent a worldview where the liberation war veterans who are the ruling elite, claim an almost divine right to rule the country and its resources. According to Dube (2018) the term Vene refers to the ‘owners’ of Zimbabwe, a group comprised primarily of liberation war veterans who led the fight against British colonial rule. Maodza (2017) claims that Vene embodies ‘the veterans of the struggle, who today cut across the various arms of the state including the Zimbabwe Defence Forces (ZDF)’. This group perceives that since they led and won the war of liberation, they have an inalienable right to govern Zimbabwe indefinitely. These veterans insist that only they are the true heroes of Zimbabwe, dismissing anyone who did not participate in the liberation war. In Mugabe’s own words, ‘. . .there is no other party besides ours that will rule this country’ (Shaw, 1986: 376). Although the war veteran component has considerably dwindled since 1980 and new blood has been injected into the army, the new people who did not fight in the liberation war of independence do not occupy top ranks, wield no real political power and are not included in the Vene framing as custodians of the liberation struggle and by implication, owners of Zimbabwe.
Vene and chinhu chedu merit critical examination to gain insight into how political language and concepts shape public perception and the realities of governance in Zimbabwe, particularly considering George Orwell’s assertion that politicians skilfully manipulate language to influence public perception. Hallahan et al. (2002: 4) support this, noting that organisations utilise diverse communicative strategies to achieve their goals in politics especially ‘to foster political consensus and to sway voting behaviour during elections’.
The discourses of Vene and chinhu chedu reflected in political economy theory
The Vene and chinhu chedu mindset parallel classical political economy theory by Marx (1844), which articulates that those who control the means of production (or in this case, political power) also control the state and unproblematically determine what to do with it, and not outsiders. Veterans of the liberation struggle Vene embody this dynamic, asserting that since they brought independence, they can do whatever they like with the country, even if that means exploiting its citizens and resources for personal gain. The ZANU-PF party’s grip on power has been strengthened by its deep roots in the ZDF whose role in enforcing and sustaining the Veneism and chinhu chedu idea goes back to the First Republic under Robert Mugabe where key figures within the army’s top hierarchy reinforced it. General Constantine Chiwenga, then Army General famously described himself and other war veterans as ‘stockholders’ of the country claiming ownership of the ‘title deeds’ of Zimbabwe, while the rest of the population are merely ‘stakeholders’ (Maodza, 2017; Sambiri, 2024). Mugabe’s pronouncement that no other party will rule Zimbabwe except ZANU-PF clearly excludes political pluralism. Such language when seen in the light of General Chiwenga’ ‘stockholder’ and ‘title deeds’ declarations cast the country as a party possession to be exploited by those in power, drawing clear lines between the insiders (the ruling elite) and outsiders (opposition) perpetuating the exclusion of those deemed outsiders from political and economic access. When it suits the ruling elite, they extend the concept of Vene to encompass ruling party supporters as co-owners particularly during election periods when securing votes is crucial for maintaining power and privilege. These party supporters are treated as tools for electoral victories, while the nation’s wealth, remains firmly in the hands of the ruling elite.
Led by General Chiwenga, the military coup that deposed Robert Mugabe in 2017 was framed as a necessary intervention to protect the party and the state, but also served to reinforce Vene’s continued stranglehold on power. The subsequent purge of political figures like former Minister of Information, Jonathan Moyo, who dared challenge the Vene narrative, further demonstrates the lengths to which Vene will go to maintain their grip on power. Maodza (2017) asserts that, ‘everything on earth has an owner and the owners would rather die than let it slip through their fingers’. According to Mhute and Mavengano (2023), while Moyo may have been right, what he missed was that the political economy of ZANU-PF had to be defended by the ZDF as Moyo’s Generation 40 (G40) cabal (a civilian group within ZANU-PF who did not fight in the liberation war) were seen by Vene as successionists bent on hijacking the revolution.
All this power manoeuvring by Vene reflects a colonial legacy where white settlers claimed Rhodesia as their property to do as they willed. They were free to create a system of separate determinism, apportion land to their kinsmen and rule without consent from the black majority. They were free to remove black people from fertile land and relegate them to unproductive communal areas (Barber, 1966; Good, 1974). Similarly, the ruling elite in post-colonial Zimbabwe has appropriated the country and its resources for themselves because it is now ‘their thing’ to do whatever they want with it.
The discourse of Vene and chinhu chedu reflected in the ‘greed-grievance theory’
The ‘greed-grievance theory’, advanced by Collier and Hoeffler (2004), explains the causes of conflict in Africa, particularly how rebellion and civil unrest can emerge from the convergence of greed and grievance. According to this theory, a few discontented individuals may exploit grievances, such as economic exploitation or political disenfranchisement, to seize power or resources. While either greed or grievance alone can lead to conflict, it is the combination of these two factors that often drives violent outcomes. The liberation war for Zimbabwe’s independence clearly illustrates the theory. The majority black population became grieved by the minority white settlers privileged status who had invaded their country, dislodged them from self-rule, apportioned themselves to Zimbabwe’s most fertile land while relegating them to arid and infertile communal lands. The ensuing liberation war was thus fought ostensibly as a grievance to reclaim back the land and end the privileged status of the white minority.
Similarly, the 2017 military coup that ousted Robert Mugabe is an example of how greed and grievance intersected within the ruling ZANU-PF. While the coup was presented as a move to remove corrupt elements around then president Robert Mugabe, Mazorodze (2023) argues that it was driven by grievance within a section of Vene, who felt that their power was being eroded by the rising influence of a G40 rival group within ZANU-PF that had not fought in the liberation war. The coup was essentially a bid by grieved war veterans to preserve their privileges and power. On the other hand, while the fight for independence was driven by a desire for self-determination, it ultimately resulted in a transfer of power to a small group of greed black elites Vene who now have unbridled power and access to the country’s wealth and resources, sidelining the masses. AllAfrica (2023: 1) reveals staggering details of the former president Robert Mugabe’s property portfolio:
. . .Mugabe family owns property worth US$58 million including 21 farms. These properties were listed as assets in the divorce row between the late President’s daughter Bona and estranged husband Simba Chikore. Chikore listed 21 farms in which he claims an interest and more than 25 upmarket residential properties valued at over US$50m. The Dubai Mansion worth about US$8m was thrown into the array of properties.
Matisonn and Thornycroft (2023), writing in the Daily Maverick on 07 June 2023, commented that ‘this mirrors the grasping greed and corruption inherent in so many politicians and their families’. Madongonda and Gudhlanga (2023: 136) affirm that ‘This is at variance with most of the peasants who feel entitled to the farms based on war promises to get back their fertile land once independence was attained’. Instead of delivering on these promises, the Vene ruling elite has greedily enriched itself, echoing the same greed-driven land exploitation that once characterised colonial rule.
The discourse of Vene and chinhu chedu reflected in the politics of ‘othering’
The politics of belonging, articulated by Crowley (1999), Anderson and Taylor (2006) and Yuval-Davis (2006), revolves around creating boundaries that define who belong and who does not. This ‘othering’ process is central to nationalist contexts, where identity and difference are key factors in maintaining power and privilege. In Zimbabwe, labels like Vene, the masses povo, stockholders and stakeholders, are examples of othering that highlight the fractured nature of the nation’s identity. Crowley (1999: 24) in particular, asserts that the use of the phrases is meant to, ‘fracture humanity into “us” and “them” dichotomies reinforcing hegemonic power over those deemed as outsiders’. The problem with this according to Muponde (2004: 176), is that ‘difference translates unproblematically into foe’ in ZANU-PF’s view and dissenters are seen as rebellious troublemakers worthy of ‘ritual cleansing’ through violent means including land and home evictions. Anderson and Taylor (2006) similarly emphasise how discussions about belonging often involve citizenship and the entitlements or lack thereof that come with one’s position within the nation.
Apartheid South Africa offers a clear example of othering based on race. As described by Verwey and Quayle (2012), the racial category of ‘whiteness’ conferred privilege and maintained dominance between 1948 and the early 1990s. Similarly, whiteness in Rhodesia represented separate determination and maintenance of privilege for white people. According to colonial ruler Ian Smith, these privileges were considered as mutually beneficial, citing ‘our different ways of life’ (AP Archive, 1976). Allan Savoury, in 1973, endorsed segregation in housing, education and healthcare. Laws like the Land Apportionment and Tenure Acts of the 1930s, reserved fertile land for whites, further entrenching systemic inequality (Shaw, 1986: 23). As CBC News (2008) reports, Africans were displaced to less productive land, entrenching poverty and marginalisation. White rulers labelled black people as ‘uneducated barbarians’ and liberation fighters as ‘terrorists’. This practice, as Hove (2023) explains, serves to marginalise and police opposition voices, ensuring the continued dominance of the ruling elite.
Mavengano (2023) argues that ZANU-PF defines belonging according to its political ideology, labelling those who do not conform in derogatory terms. According to Mlambo (2013: 39) the ‘mechanisms of otherisation are amplified as a counter-discourse to the growing support of the opposition politics’. Hove (2023: 10) articulates that adversarial name calling is used akin to guerilla liberation war tactics of othering like, mahure (prostitutes), vatengesi (sell-outs), mhandu (traitors) or zvimbwasungata (puppets of the West). Hove argues that ‘when the opposition is labelled in these loaded terms, they are policed, imprisoned and denied platforms for different voicing so that Vene can continue to personalise history and loot the state’. Dube (2018: 59) sees adversarial name calling as ‘a setback to the ideals of the liberation struggle that envisaged a society of freedom and equality, with no one rubbishing the other’. Dube (2018) further asserts that the persistence of name-calling and hate speech in post-colonial Zimbabwe highlights the continued influence of colonial-era tactics in maintaining inequality and exclusion.
The discourse of Vene and chinhu chedu reflected in media and electoral processes control
Windrich (1979: 524) argues that during the Ian Smith era, press control was seen as necessary to suppress ‘inaccuracies, misstatements and malicious misrepresentations perpetrated by the press’. The colonial government enacted laws such as the 1960 Official Secrets Act and the
The use of radio, television and the print media to perpetuate Robert Mugabe’s dominance in the First Republic reflects a continuity of oppressive tactics that began under colonial rule to maintain white rule and diminish African dissent (Windrich, 1979). Just as colonial Rhodesia preached hatred of black people and labelled fighters in the war of liberation as ‘blood thirsty terrorists’, Vene under Mugabe labelled opposition leaders and supporters as vatengesi (sellouts) and zvimbwasungata (Western puppets) bent on regime change and selling ‘the nation back to the imperialists’ (Mhute and Mavengano, 2023: 2). ZANU-PF’s manipulation of the media during elections involved not only amplifying its own message but also discrediting opposition parties. Under Mugabe, the colonial media laws were retained and rebranded
Zhou (2023: 234) characterises the transition from Robert Mugabe’s First Republic to Emmerson Mnangagwa’s Second Republic as
The media landscape makes it difficult for dissenting voices to gain traction while reinforcing the ruling party’s long-term goal of consolidating power. According to UNESCO Monitors (2023), in the 2023 elections, state-controlled media typically presented a favourable tone toward ZANU-PF (91%), while giving only neutral coverage (9%) to the opposition Citizens Coalition for Change. Furthermore, President Mnangagwa received 56% of coverage in print media and 68% in broadcast media, while his main rival, Nelson Chamisa of the CCC, garnered only 11% and 5% in print and broadcast media, respectively. Zhou (2023: 250) argues that through their partisan alignment, ‘both state and private media have renounced their responsibility as the fourth estate that always fights for objectivity, justice and truth on behalf of the general populace’.
The discourse of Vene and chinhu chedu reflected in pursuance of a one-party state
Colonial Rhodesian rulers upheld a one-party system, where the Rhodesia Front party held complete control over the executive, legislative and judiciary branches. Explaining the situation, Good (1974: 22) point that the ‘monolithic character of white Rhodesia’ left no room for political alternatives, with the system serving only the white minority. Voter registration highlighted this imbalance, as nearly all registered voters were white, despite the country’s predominantly black population. The franchise, inherited from the Cape Colony, favoured white Europeans based on property ownership, income and education—criteria that most Africans could not meet (Barber, 1966)
Post-independent Zimbabwe has seen ZANU-PF pursuing a similar
Parliament in the eyes of both Mugabe’s First Republic and Mnangagwa’s Second Republic is ‘their thing’ to gazette laws that protect their interests. In pursuit of absolute control of parliament in the 2023 election, ZANU-PF’s prerogative was seen as gaining a two-thirds majority to enable them to unilaterally pass laws. According to the BBC News (2024) and Taruvinga (2023), after failing to get a two-thirds majority, ZANU-PF is said to have used a proxy, Sengezo Tshabangu, claiming to be the Secretary-General of the opposition CCC party, to recall 33 elected CCC members of parliament. Despite opposition leader Nelson Chamisa’s protests, the High Court upheld the recalls. In the subsequent struggle to regain the seats, CCC candidates were barred by the courts from participating in the by-election. As a result, ZANU-PF was able to secure the two-thirds majority in Parliament that it needed to change laws (Africanews, 2024; Al Jazeera, 2024). As a result of the judiciary process, the CCC party was wrestled from Nelson Chamisa’s leadership into the control of Sengezo Tshabangu. Various independent media sources saw the development as government manipulation of the electoral process to decimate the opposition and deprive them a voice in parliament (Africanews, 2024; Al Jazeera, 2024; Africanews, 2024).
In view of the Sengezo saga, Mhute and Mavengano (2023: 4) argue that a one-party parliament created through shady legislative, executive and judiciary processes is a coup on the masses’ vote and presents a political landscape that has ‘morphed into spectacular dictatorship (rule by one person or group with no checks and balances on their power) and total discreditation of the electoral processes’. Lamenting the wastage of national resources, Obert Masaraure, spokesperson of the Crisis in Zimbabwe Coalition pointed that taxpayer resources are being wasted on senseless elections in the process of legitimising one party whose singular desire is to rule alone (Africanews, 2024).
The discourse of Vene and chinhu chedu reflected in institutionalised violence, legal disparities and a culture of impunity
Sachikonye (2011: 11) sees ‘institutionalised violence in Zimbabwean politics dating back to the colonial period and war of liberation’ and spilling into post-independence. The colonial regime in Rhodesia, facing the erosion of power, implemented severe measures, including forced evictions, beatings of dissenters and politically motivated executions. Notable examples include the execution of prominent activists Mbuya Nehanda and Sekuru Kaguvi on 27 April 1898, who, along with four others—Hwata, Zindoga, Gumboreshumba and Gutsa—were hanged through seemingly manipulated judicial processes (Herald, 2011). Black nationalist leaders who opposed white rule were countered by ‘a state machinery that encompassed detention without trial, efficient secret police and, later, martial law’ (Cowell, 2007). Robert Mugabe himself was one of many black nationalists jailed for years by the colonial white authorities under emergency powers. On 14 May 1973, the colonial government forcibly relocated 25,000 black people from the northern border with Mozambique, claiming it was for their protection from terrorists, with Minister Lance Smith noting that ‘tribesmen were so intimidated by the terrorists that they could not lead a normal life’ (Good, 1974: 15). In a similar scenario, (Good, 1974: 15) points that the population of one of Salisbury/Harare suburbs, Highfield was ‘by heavy force . . . reduced from some 100,000 to 70,000’ people in order to deal with potential agitators who were seen as a threat to colonial rule.
According to Gudhlanga and Madongonda (2023: 184), after 1980, Vene were too ‘quick to wear the shoes of the former colonial settlers and used the same mechanisms of state sponsored violence namely, unleashing of police dogs, use of bull dozers to perpetuate the dispossession of land among their compatriot black people whom they had promised heaven on earth during the colonial period’. This colonial legacy continues today, exemplified by Operation Murambatsvina in 1996 and 2005 aimed at dismantling informal urban settlements perceived as potential breeding grounds for an uprising in Harare. However, critics viewed the operations as a politically motivated campaign aimed at suppressing opposition support, particularly targeting areas that were perceived to be strongholds of opposition parties. These operations resulted in the displacement of hundreds of thousands of people, causing widespread condemnation from both local and international communities (Zimbabwe Lawyers for Human Rights, 2023).
Hove (2023: 22) observes no paradigm shift ‘from the authoritarianism and violence characteristic of Ian Smith and Robert Mugabe’s rule’ in the present Emmerson Mnangagwa administration. The ruling party has maintained a strategy of organised violence and intimidation, particularly during elections, using its youth wing as enforcers. The legal framework in Zimbabwe operates on a dual system where the Vene leadership is often exempt from accountability, crafting laws that serve their interests while subjecting opposition members to persecution. This disparity reflects a broader culture of impunity, where acts of violence against dissenters, including brutal beatings and murders, are pervasive. Recent high-profile cases of abduction and murder involving opposition figures, such as Pastor Tapfumaneyi Masaya and Tinashe Chitsunge, underscore the regime’s impunity, with security and judicial systems co-opted to be partisan to serve Vene interests (Zimbabwe Lawyers for Human Rights, 2023). The failure to bring perpetrators to justice—exemplified by the release of those arrested for murder—reinforces the perception of an unassailable authority.
Additionally, 2023 documentaries (Al Jazeera, 2023a, 2023b) revealed the rampant illicit smuggling of Zimbabwe’s mineral resources, highlighting a disconnect where gold production comprises over 33% of the nation’s output yet contributes less than 1% to tax revenue. This situation points to a well-organised, state-sponsored operation involving money laundering to transport these resources abroad, with no accountability for those implicated in these illicit activities.
Discussion: Challenges of inclusionary politics and decolonising frameworks
The discourses surrounding Vene and chinhu chedu illustrate that, although Zimbabwe gained independence in 1980, it remains trapped in colonial legacies. Post-independence governance has diverged significantly from the original aspirations for freedom and equality with an emergent black ruling elite embracing and amplifying colonial strategies to secure power and exploit the state. Instead, the ideals that fuelled the liberation movement have been overshadowed by exploitation, corruption and disillusionment, underscoring the need to revive the principles that defined the struggle for independence. Through deception, exclusion and coercion, Vene have denied the broader population the benefits once fought for.
The Vene and chinhu chedu ideologies have cemented a structure of exclusion and exploitation tied to citizenship and belonging, creating a societal divide in which a few see themselves as insiders while the majority are outsiders. This echoes the divisions experienced during colonial rule and has fostered alienation among those marginalised by the ruling elite. By adopting a language of ownership and exclusion, those in power have silenced other perspectives, perpetuating a single narrative around Zimbabwe’s liberation history. Vene’s claim to ownership of Zimbabwe and its resources misrepresents the collective effort that shaped the country’s history, marginalising other contributors. Hove (2023) stresses that liberation fighters did not achieve independence alone but were supported by ordinary citizens (povo), who provided food, shelter and care.
Findings have located the Vene and chinhu chedu discourses in the political economy theory, greed grievance theory, maintenance of privilege, media and electoral control, institutionalised violence and a culture of impunity in pursuance of a one-party state. These priorities combined illustrate a misguided focus on power retention over essential national development. Rather than addressing critical issues such as electricity, clean water, healthcare, education and infrastructure, the regime has instead focused on misinformation and suppressing dissent (Bulawayo, 2022; Gurenje, 2023). Musewe (2012) advocates for a profound shift in governance towards a more inclusive political structure that values equity. There is an increasing call for political reforms, particularly in electoral systems, to ensure fair representation. Including Zimbabwe’s diaspora in political participation is vital to promote inclusivity, as is dismantling compromised institutions like the Zimbabwe Electoral Commission to safeguard election integrity. To move forward, Zimbabwe needs new leadership values and a return to the founding ideals of the liberation struggle, which envisioned a nation that serves all its people, not just a select elite.
Zimbabwe’s untapped potential is largely attributed to corruption and poor management. The leadership’s failure to effectively manage resources is evident: the country reportedly loses $1.8 billion annually in mineral revenue, primarily due to smuggling and inefficient extraction practices (Nyavaya, 2023). Despite having some of the largest lithium reserves globally, Zimbabwe lacks the necessary technology for processing and adding value to its minerals, allowing other countries to profit from its raw resources. Investment in local processing and clean energy technologies, such as solar and wind power, could significantly improve the economy and enhance the population’s quality of life. Honest governance, strategic investment and a commitment to sustainable growth are essential for Zimbabwe’s future (Ncube, 2023; Nyavaya, 2023).
Moreover, the mass emigration of Zimbabweans in search of better opportunities abroad should not be misconstrued by Vene as a positive development solely because it generates remittances. These emigrants are economic refugees who left due to political mismanagement and economic hardships created by the ruling elite. While Zimbabweans living abroad contribute over $9.44 billion annually, accounting for approximately 16% of the nation’s foreign currency inflows (Huaxia, 2023), they remain politically marginalised, unable to vote due to restrictive laws that treat them as foreigners.
Addressing these issues necessitates a future based on inclusivity, transparency and equitable resource distribution. Ultimately, the relationship between media and democracy is critical for serving the public interest. The media must act as a watchdog, exposing corruption and abuses of power while promoting equitable resource distribution. Addressing economic and political dimensions of conflict is vital for sustainable peace, requiring measures to reduce inequality and foster inclusive political institutions. By tackling the root causes of conflict, policymakers can pave the way for a more stable and peaceful Zimbabwe.
Conclusion
Zimbabwe’s plight underscores the ongoing struggle for democracy, justice and equality. Despite its wealth in natural resources and an educated populace, the path to a truly inclusive and prosperous nation is obstructed by the dominance of two perspectives epitomised by the terms Vene and chinhu chedu. This paper explored the complexities of these terms, revealing their ties to political economy, greed grievance theory, the maintenance of power, media control and institutionalised violence. The use of these phrases creates boundaries that foster a dichotomy of ‘us’ versus ‘them’, serving to exert hegemonic control and marginalise those labelled as ‘other’. These narratives, perpetuated by a self-serving elite, suppress the collective will and stifle the populace’s authentic aspirations.
For Zimbabwe to overcome these limitations, a fundamental shift in political will and commitment to transparent dialogue is essential. A reimagining of citizenship and nationalism is crucial, particularly as the political landscape shifts. This entails adopting alternative frameworks that dismantle entrenched binaries and promote new notions of justice and belonging. A decolonizing approach to education and governance must expand the definitions of Vene and chinhu chedu to encompass all stakeholders, including contributions from freedom fighters, ordinary citizens and those in the diaspora. Every citizen should feel entitled to claim their right to Zimbabwe and its resources, moving beyond privilege for a select few. Embracing diverse narratives from its people will enable the nation to pursue genuine development. Resistance to the exchange of ideas hampers progress, as noted by Maswoswa (2012). Instead, Zimbabwe should encourage inclusive discussions rather than allowing the elite’s agenda to dominate. Only by genuinely committing to these principles can Zimbabwe honour the legacy of its liberation struggle and move towards a vision of prosperity and justice for all its citizens.
Footnotes
Funding
The author received no financial support for the research, authorship and/or publication of this article.
