Robert’s ghost in state house by Eze Ogbu

Zimbabwe has always lived with its history but there are moments when history seems less like a memory than a tenant who never moved out. The government's latest step toward a constitutional amendment that would extend the president's term by two years and replace direct presidential elections with selection by lawmakers is one of those moments. It feels less like a legal reform than a familiar knock on the door from a past many Zimbabweans have spent decades trying to escape.

The proposal arrives wrapped in the language of procedure and governance. Its supporters will undoubtedly argue that constitutional systems evolve, that parliamentary selection is practiced elsewhere, and that stability is a virtue in a turbulent region. Yet political changes cannot be judged solely by their technical details. They must also be measured by the political culture in which they occur and the incentives they create.

In Zimbabwe, the symbolism is impossible to ignore. For nearly four decades, Robert Mugabe perfected a political model in which institutions increasingly existed to serve power rather than restrain it. Elections remained, constitutions remained and parliament remained but the spirit of democratic accountability steadily weakened. The forms survived while the substance eroded. The result was a nation where political continuity became an end in itself, often detached from public consent.

That is why the current proposal has generated such concern. Extending a presidential term is rarely a neutral act. Eliminating a direct presidential election is even less so. Together, the changes suggest a governing philosophy that places convenience for the political elite above the fundamental democratic principle that leaders should periodically return to the electorate for judgment.

One of the ironies of modern Zimbabwean politics is that Mugabe himself is gone, yet many of the instincts that defined his rule seem remarkably resilient. The personalities have changed. The habits have not.

Across the continent, citizens have become increasingly familiar with the script. A constitutional amendment appears. Technical arguments are offered. Assurances are given. The public is told that democracy remains secure. Yet somehow the practical effect almost always benefits those already in power. The political horizon stretches a little further for incumbents while becoming slightly narrower for everyone else.

Democracy is not merely a mechanism for choosing leaders. It is a discipline imposed upon leaders. It forces governments to confront uncertainty, criticism, and the possibility of rejection. Elections are inconvenient by design. They remind rulers that authority is borrowed, not owned.

When governments begin searching for ways to reduce those inconveniences, citizens are right to become suspicious. The legal challenges now before Zimbabwe's constitutional court may ultimately determine the amendment's fate. But the larger issue extends beyond courtrooms and legal briefs. It concerns the direction of a country that has repeatedly promised democratic renewal while remaining haunted by authoritarian reflexes.

Nations do not become democratic simply because they hold elections. Nor do they become authoritarian overnight. The transformation is usually gradual, marked by small adjustments that seem manageable in isolation but alarming in accumulation.

Zimbabwe stands at one of those moments. The question facing the country is not whether Robert Mugabe still occupies an office. He does not. The question is whether the governing culture he cultivated still occupies the political imagination. The latest amendment suggests that, for some in power, the old ghost remains very much at home.