The Corruption of Power and the Silence of the People
Power, when corrupted, does not only reside in the halls of government. It has also found its way into the hearts of those who claim to oppose it. This realization is a painful one, but it is essential for any meaningful change.
A recent reader’s comment struck me deeply. They pointed out something that many of us know but rarely admit: as citizens of Zimbabwe, we are just as responsible for our oppression as those in power. This truth is harsh, but it is undeniable. Our leaders act as though the nation belongs to them, not because they are exceptionally powerful, but because they know we will never stand in their way.
They have learned to exploit our silence, our fear, and our selfishness. As a people, we have become experts at justifying inaction. We hide behind excuses like fear, repression, or the illusion that politics has nothing to do with us. Yet, these are just rationalizations for our fear.
When we look beyond our borders, we see people who refuse to cower before tyranny. In Madagascar, for instance, ordinary citizens took to the streets for weeks, demanding the resignation of President Andry Rajoelina. Despite brutal crackdowns, they refused to back down until even soldiers sent to suppress them joined their cause. Similarly, during the 2011 Arab Spring in Egypt, millions risked their lives to reclaim their dignity from dictatorship.
In Zimbabwe, however, we remain hidden behind our curtains, whispering our anger but never daring to act. We somehow expect our oppressors to miraculously transform into liberators, even as they continue to bleed the nation dry.
The Role of Activists and Leaders
The problem is not solely with the ordinary citizen. It also lies with those who claim to lead the fight for justice and democracy—our opposition politicians, civil society leaders, and human rights defenders. Here lies a rot even more tragic than the cowardice of the masses: selfishness disguised as activism.
Those who are supposed to be the moral compass of our nation have become consumed by ego and personal ambition. Let’s be brutally honest. The struggle for justice in Zimbabwe has become less about the people and more about personal glory. Too many of those who claim to be “voices of the voiceless” have become self-centered opportunists feeding off the suffering of the people.
Unity has eluded us because no one wants to share the spotlight. We guard our small fiefdoms of influence like jealous kings, suspicious of anyone who dares suggest collaboration. We compete for recognition rather than for results.
If you doubt this, try reaching out to some of the country’s prominent activists or opposition figures. You will likely be met with silence—not because they are too busy fighting tyranny, but because collaboration threatens their individual shine. In our circles, many fear being outshone more than they fear national failure.
The Glamour of Activism
We crave the validation that comes with being flown across the world to speak on international platforms, attending conferences in Geneva, New York, or Paris—returning home with little more than social media pictures and inflated egos. We love being known as “that human rights defender,” or “that social justice advocate.” The glamour of activism has overtaken its purpose.
And yet, for all the international trips, panel discussions, and donor-funded projects, what real change have we achieved? Over 80 percent of Zimbabweans still live in abject poverty. Parents still go to bed wondering how they will feed their children tomorrow. Millions of young people are unemployed, wasting away in despair. Hospitals remain death traps without medicine, equipment, or even basic diagnostic tools. Our public schools are overcrowded and under-resourced, while our roads crumble and water taps run dry.
We have failed the people—not because we lacked knowledge or platforms, but because we lost sight of the cause. We have turned people’s pain into a career opportunity.
For many, activism is no longer a calling—it’s a lifestyle. Donor money has replaced compassion. Awards have replaced accountability. The oppressed have become props for personal branding. We are quick to post our arrests or harassment online, eager for sympathy and status, forgetting that true revolutionaries do not seek fame—they seek change.
A Call for Unity and Change
Meanwhile, those in power watch this circus and laugh. They know that we are too divided, too self-absorbed to mount any meaningful resistance. They see through our posturing. And because of that, they continue to violate the Constitution, loot national resources, and crush dissent without consequence.
They understand that our so-called leaders of change are too busy polishing their profiles to unite the people. Let’s face it: the fight for freedom in Zimbabwe has been hijacked by egos. Until we confront this truth, we will never be free.
The people are betrayed twice—first by the rulers who oppress them, and then by the activists who exploit their suffering for personal gain. Every dollar misused, every voice silenced by selfishness, every opportunity for unity squandered—these are acts of betrayal against the ordinary Zimbabwean.
I do not fear speaking this truth, even if it means being ostracized by the civil society community or opposition movements. I am not beholden to donors, nor am I in this for recognition. I do what I do because I love my country and its people.
Zimbabwe will not be liberated by those who love the sound of their own voices more than the cries of the poor. Real change will only come when we put aside our egos, abandon our hunger for glory, and work together for a cause greater than ourselves. Until then, the chains that bind us will not be broken by the oppressors—they will be held tight by our own hands.
And that is the saddest truth of all: Zimbabweans will never be free as long as the fight for justice is about personal glory.
