Mnangagwa’s 2017 Coup: A Calculated Move to Evade Gukurahundi Prosecution

Zimbabwe’s 2017 coup wasn’t just about toppling Robert Mugabe; it was a survival strategy. Behind the scenes, Emmerson Mnangagwa and his allies were driven by a deep-seated fear of being held accountable for the Gukurahundi massacres.

The killings, which saw over 20,000 Ndebele-speaking people lose their lives, remain one of the most harrowing chapters in Zimbabwe’s history. Those responsible for orchestrating the brutal campaign knew that the political future could bring trials, and possibly justice, for their past crimes.

The mastermind behind the coup, Mnangagwa, had been instrumental in the Gukurahundi operations alongside Perrence Shiri and Constantino Chiwenga, all playing key roles during the 1980s.

These men had risen through the military and intelligence structures of the state, but with every ascent, the weight of their involvement in the genocide grew heavier. The coup was designed to secure their position of untouchability, ensuring no leader unsympathetic to their cause could hold them accountable.

Shiri, who commanded the Fifth Brigade, earned the nickname “Black Jesus” for his unchecked power over life and death during Gukurahundi. Mnangagwa, who served as Mugabe’s right-hand man, coordinated operations from the shadows.

Chiwenga, with his military brigade stationed in Matabeleland, also stood at the heart of the violence. Their alliance went far beyond loyalty to Mugabe. It was an unspoken understanding that their fates were tied, bound by shared responsibility for the massacres. Should power shift outside their tight circle, the doors to prosecution could swing wide open.

It is believed that Mugabe, in his later years, wanted to hand over the reins to Sydney Sekeramayi, a decision that posed an existential threat to Mnangagwa and his circle. Sekeramayi’s perceived independence and distance from Gukurahundi made him a dangerous successor in their eyes, someone who might have allowed for the possibility of trials. Mukandi, a former Central Intelligence Organisation (CIO) deputy director, revealed that Mnangagwa’s camp feared prosecution would follow if an outsider, like Sekeramayi, took power.

To prevent this, the coup had to happen. It wasn’t merely about rescuing Zimbabwe from Mugabe’s extended rule. It was a defensive move, a pre-emptive strike to shield Mnangagwa, Shiri, and Chiwenga from the shadows of Gukurahundi. These men couldn’t afford to let the state fall into hands that wouldn’t protect them. It was survival at any cost.

What makes the story even more complex is that the coup itself had been brewing since the 1980s. According to Mukandi, Mnangagwa never believed he could win an election legitimately, even back then. His ambitions always aligned with taking power by other means. The coup was merely the final piece in a decades-old plan, accelerated by Mugabe’s failing health and the risk of a handover to Sekeramayi.

Mukandi, now an exile, has shared his views in a newly released book that details his version of Zimbabwe’s political landscape. His claims might be difficult to verify, but they paint a picture of Zimbabwe’s top power brokers fearing for their futures long before the 2017 coup became reality.

Shiri passed away in 2020, leaving behind a legacy tainted by the atrocities of Gukurahundi. Mnangagwa and Chiwenga, now entrenched in power, continue to hold Zimbabwe’s reins. But their rise to leadership was far from a seamless transition of authority. It was a calculated move to shield themselves from potential prosecution.

For Zimbabweans, the coup may have promised change, but the real motivations behind it reveal a darker truth. It wasn’t about ushering in democracy or freeing the country from Mugabe’s iron grip. It was about safeguarding those responsible for one of the country’s darkest periods from ever facing justice. The ghosts of Gukurahundi still linger, and for Mnangagwa and his allies, holding onto power is not just about ruling Zimbabwe—it’s about survival.

Zimbabwe’s history is a complex weave of political power plays, and the 2017 coup underscores just how far some are willing to go to protect themselves from their past. With Mnangagwa still in office, the question remains: will Zimbabwe ever face the full truth of Gukurahundi?