ZIMBABWE teeters on a precipice.
The whispers of another coup, exchanged in political corridors or debated among weary citizens, are not just a cause for concern; they are a deafening alarm.
Technically, a nation can survive a second military takeover.
Yet “survival” here is a grim misnomer for progress.
The long-term effects would be catastrophic and a painful burden on the nation’s soul.
Another coup would not start an era of peace.
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Instead, it would cement military dominance, erode good governance and cost countless lives.
It would risk transforming Zimbabwe into a full-blown military State.
If, as alleged, another coup were to materialise, it would not be a sign of fresh beginnings.
Rather, it would be the starkest evidence that Zimbabwe has been fully captured and that the crucial dividing line between civilian and military authority, a line that safeguards constitutional democracy, has been utterly obliterated.
Across our continent, history screams a clear message: Coups rarely offer solutions.
Instead, they merely recycle and amplify the very problems they claim to rectify.
As African scholar Akinola astutely observes: “The alarming rise of coups in Africa speaks not to the failure of democracy itself, but to the profound weakness of our institutions.
“Each coup, in my view, is a damning indictment of systems designed to manage power, elections, justice and leadership transitions, systems that are demonstrably failing.”
Africa’s past is littered with dire warnings. Nigeria, Ghana, and Sierra Leone, for instance, endured the trauma of multiple coups.
They may have survived as nations, but the price they paid, in terms of entrenched poverty, chronic instability and stunted development, was immeasurable.
Studies, such as those by Powell and Thyne, chillingly indicate that countries that experience two or more coups are three times more likely to face another within a decade.
Once soldiers believe they are the ultimate arbiters of power, I fear the vicious cycle becomes almost impossible to break.
Aboagye captures this stark reality with chilling precision: “Once the military assumes the role of referee for political legitimacy, democracy degenerates into nothing more than a brief interlude between negotiations in the barracks.”
Economically, coups are nothing short of disastrous.
The United Nations Economic Commission for Africa (2022) provides a grim statistic: nations under military rule typically suffer a loss of approximately 4% in their per capita income within just two years.
Investors flee, international aid grinds to a halt and borrowing becomes prohibitively expensive.
Zimbabwe’s already fragile economy, beleaguered by rampant inflation, chronic power shortages and suffocating debt, would, I contend, crumble into irreparable ruin under such profound uncertainty.
Socially, coups are deeply divisive, shattering public trust and confidence in government.
As historian Alois Mlambo poignantly notes: “Militarised governments inevitably divert precious resources from vital sectors like education, healthcare and community development, channelling them instead towards weapons and control.”
In the end, it is the ordinary citizens, particularly the poor, who bear the brunt of this misplaced prioritisation.
Women and youth, already marginalised in political decision-making, suffer disproportionately.
Another coup, I fear, would brutally silence women’s voices and reverse hard-won gains in education, health and gender justice.
The Constitution of Zimbabwe of 2013 unequivocally mandates that the army must remain subservient to civilian authority.
Yet, to our collective shame, political leaders have allowed military influence to metastasise unchecked.
Raftopoulos offers a profound insight: “Zimbabwe’s corrosive ‘coup culture’ springs not from the inherent strength of the army, but from the alarming weakness of our civilian institutions and their gradual decay.
“When politicians habitually rely on soldiers to resolve internal disputes, the army inevitably sheds its neutrality and transforms into a potent, self-serving political player.”
If another coup were to erupt, it would not be a sudden act of rebellion; it would be the tragic and inevitable culmination of years of blurred lines, woefully weak accountability and a dangerous tolerance of unconstitutional behaviour.
Avoiding another coup demands, in my opinion, immediate and decisive action.
Civilian authority must be unequivocally restored and respected.
Parliament must exert full and transparent oversight of the military and its finances.
Zimbabwe’s justice system and electoral processes must be fortified, rendered truly strong and fiercely independent.
The fundamental rights to freedom of speech and peaceful protest must be protected without any hint of fear of retribution.
Crucially, regional bodies such as Sadc and the African Union (AU) must cease merely issuing platitudes and instead take a firm, unwavering stand against unconstitutional changes of government.
As former South African President Thabo Mbeki once so eloquently put it: “Africa must never allow legitimacy to emerge from the barrel of a gun.”
In the timeless words of Frantz Fanon: “Every generation must discover its mission, fulfil it or betray it.”
Zimbabwe’s mission today, in my fervent belief, is to decisively break the cycle of coups before the coups, in their relentless grip, break Zimbabwe beyond repair.