Nelson Chamisa’s re-emergence into active politics under the banner of Agenda 2026 has reignited debate across Zimbabwe’s political landscape. Once hailed as the face of generational change and the heir to Morgan Tsvangirai’s democratic legacy, Chamisa now returns to a public that is more cautious, disillusioned and emotionally scarred than before. Instead of excitement, his comeback has triggered hard questions about leadership, consistency and trust, raising a fundamental issue that,  is this a meaningful political rebirth, or simply the revival of a cycle that has already failed too many times Chamisa’s political career has been marked by a rapid rise and a slow erosion of trust. He first rose to national prominence within the MDC as an energetic organiser and communicator, later becoming Minister of ICT during the Government of National Unity and eventually Vice President of the MDC-T. His greatest moment came in 2018 when he contested the presidency against Emmerson Mnangagwa and claimed a narrow and disputed defeat. At that point, Chamisa represented the peak of opposition politics and embodied the hopes of a generation that believed ZANU-PF could finally be dislodged.

However, from 2019 onwards, his political trajectory became increasingly unstable. The internal wars with Thokozani Khupe over the MDC-T name and logo, endless court battles, factionalism and finally the formation of CCC created a picture of an opposition leader constantly fighting internally rather than confronting the ruling party. His resignation from CCC in January 2024 was a turning point. It was not just a political decision but a psychological break for many supporters who felt abandoned at a time when repression was intensifying and morale was already low.

The likelihood of Chamisa succeeding this time is far weaker than during his 2018 peak. He returns without a party structure, without parliamentary representation, without clear leadership teams and without visible grassroots mobilisation. Agenda 2026 exists mainly as a narrative and not yet as an organisation. In Zimbabwe’s political reality, popularity alone does not win elections. What wins is structure, funding, rural penetration, loyal cadres and strategic alliances. Chamisa currently has none of these in a concrete form.

What remains in his favour is his national name recognition, his ability to communicate effectively, and the fact that no other opposition figure has managed to capture the national imagination in the way he once did. Yet even these strengths are fading as political fatigue sets in. Chamisa is now perceived less as a challenger to power and more as a politician trying to rebuild lost relevance.

The reactions of former supporters reveal how deep the damage runs. The tone has shifted from admiration to resentment. Many feel that Chamisa mobilised people into dangerous political spaces, encouraged sacrifice, and then withdrew when the cost became personal. This sense of betrayal is captured in the words of one former supporter who said, “Anyone who believes in this man is hopeless and doomed. He’s just a selfish time waster and has zero principles. Our hope died with Morgan. This one is riding on his history with Morgan.” Another supporter expressed a more restrained but equally painful disappointment, saying, “All the best Nelson, most people have lost hope in you. There’s still a constituency that believes in you, but you need to show leadership and go beyond perennial rhetoric.”

Others were more emotional and personal in their criticism. One wrote, “I feel sorry for your victims Nelson… the way you abandoned them is like leading people to a game park. Just someone who fills the trolley with items and leaves at the till point.” Another said, “He deceived people and gave them hope, then he disappeared. Now we see him running up and down the field like a wild boar.” These statements reflect not just political disagreement but emotional trauma from supporters who invested time, energy and risk into a struggle they feel was abandoned.

Even among those who are less hostile, scepticism dominates. One critic remarked, “I don’t have a problem with you my brother, my problem is with those who think and believe that you have what it takes to lead the country into salvation.” Another mocked his sudden return by saying, “You abandoned the struggle two years ago and now suddenly you popped out of your hideout saying we are at a critical moment. So when you were absent everything was fine?”

Some reactions have taken the form of satire and ridicule, suggesting that Chamisa’s return is more theatrical than political. One comment read, “Just a week after ZBC announced a $10 million fund for content creators, one of the skit makers announces he is back on the dance floor.” Another added, “What about the dancing style he left us dancing last time? Should we abandon it and join him again until he runs away from us?”

As for who is likely to stand with Chamisa, the picture is fragile and limited. His strongest base remains urban youth and social media activists, a group that is vocal but politically inconsistent. He may also attract displaced CCC members who feel politically homeless, as well as civil society and church figures who align with his moral language of reform. However, this support is largely symbolic rather than strategic.

A Shona-speaking critic summarised the fear many have in blunt terms, saying, “Uyu anonzi Chamisa haana plan. This guy will waste your time, divide votes, take money and go back home. Someone who lost his own party cannot rule Zimbabwe.” This sentiment captures the growing perception that Chamisa is no longer viewed as a serious contender for power but as a recurring political figure who appears during moments of opportunity and disappears when accountability is required.

Ultimately, Nelson Chamisa is no longer campaigning only against ZANU-PF. He is campaigning against his own record, his own silences and his own exits. His greatest challenge is not state repression but the collapse of trust among those who once believed in him unconditionally.