Opinion / Columnist
An 'upper middle-income economy' doesn't end poverty where inequality and corruption reign
3 hrs ago |
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Let's dismantle the tales.
The Zimbabwean government's constant invocation of the dream of becoming an "upper middle-income economy" by 2030 has been presented as a promise of prosperity, dignity, and improved living standards for all.
To directly receive articles from Tendai Ruben Mbofana, please join his WhatsApp Channel on: https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VaqprWCIyPtRnKpkHe08
It is a slogan carefully crafted to inspire hope in a long-suffering nation.
Yet, when measured against empirical evidence from across the world - and more importantly, against Zimbabwe's own lived reality - it becomes clear that this mantra is at best misleading, and at worst, a deliberate distraction from the real drivers of mass poverty in the country: inequality, corruption, and the obscene concentration of wealth in the hands of a politically connected few.
Recent global poverty data paints a sobering picture.
Among countries with some of the highest proportions of people living in extreme poverty - defined as surviving on less than three US dollars a day—are not only low-income and lower middle-income countries, but also nations that have already attained upper middle-income status.
Equatorial Guinea and Kosovo, for example, are classified by the World Bank as upper middle-income economies, yet they feature shockingly high poverty levels—worse than those of several lower middle-income countries.
This alone demolishes the simplistic assumption that climbing into a higher income bracket automatically translates into reduced poverty or improved welfare for the majority.
Income classification, it must be stressed, is an average.
It says nothing about how wealth is distributed, who controls national resources, or whether economic growth is inclusive.
A country can be "upper middle-income" while millions of its citizens remain destitute, excluded from the economy, and denied basic services.
Where corruption is rampant and inequality is entrenched, growth simply fattens the wallets of elites while leaving the rest of society stranded in deprivation.
Zimbabwe is already a powerful case study in this contradiction.
Officially classified as a lower middle-income economy, the country should - by that status alone - be capable of sustaining functional hospitals, decent schools, reliable infrastructure, and a reasonable quality of life for a significant portion of its population.
Other countries in the same income bracket demonstrate this is possible.
Kenya, Senegal, Bangladesh, the Philippines, and even Côte d'Ivoire, despite their own challenges, generally exhibit lower extreme poverty levels than Zimbabwe, better public services, and more resilient infrastructure.
They are far from utopias, but they show what can be achieved when the little that exists is shared more equitably and managed with a degree of seriousness.
Zimbabwe, by contrast, tells a far more damning story.
Nearly 80 percent of the population lives in poverty, and close to half - about 49 percent - languishes in extreme poverty.
This is not the picture of a country merely waiting to cross an income threshold to unlock prosperity.
It is the picture of a state where wealth is systematically siphoned off by those connected to power, while public institutions are deliberately weakened to facilitate looting.
The result is crumbling roads, collapsing water systems, death-stinking hospitals, and schools that have been reduced to shells of their former selves.
The government's fixation on achieving upper middle-income status by 2030 therefore misses the point entirely.
Zimbabwe's crisis is not primarily one of insufficient wealth, but of grotesque misallocation.
The country is abundantly endowed with minerals - gold, platinum, diamonds, lithium - and vast agricultural potential.
Yet these resources have become a curse rather than a blessing because they are captured by a small elite operating through opaque deals, corrupt cartels, and state-backed plunder.
Economic growth, where it occurs, does not trickle down.
It pools upward.
Even today, we are told that Zimbabwe has been among the fastest-growing economies in the region, recording growth of around 6.6 percent in 2025, with further growth projected for 2026.
On paper, this should signal improvement in people's lives.
In reality, the daily experience of ordinary Zimbabweans tells a very different story.
There is no improvement in incomes, no relief from the cost of living crisis, no revival of public services.
Instead, what growth has delivered is a visible explosion of obscene wealth among those close to power - luxury cars handed out like sweets, stacks of cash flaunted on social media, and lavish lifestyles funded by opaque "deals" with the state.
This spectacle has had a corrosive effect on society.
A people once known for resilience and self-respect are being reduced to beggars in their own land.
We now witness the grotesque normalization of dependency, where citizens publicly humiliate themselves in the hope of handouts.
Videos circulate of people praying for political leaders in bushes, sculpting ridiculous statues of tenderpreneurs, or showering praise over two pieces of chicken and chips, described without irony as "the food of angels."
This is not empowerment.
It is the weaponization of poverty to secure loyalty and silence dissent.
The tragedy is that those in power have successfully reframed begging as opportunity, and patronage as empowerment.
Instead of building systems that create jobs, support enterprise, and provide universal access to quality services, they dispense crumbs and expect gratitude.
This model thrives in a context of extreme inequality, where survival depends not on rights or productivity, but on proximity to power.
The experience of upper middle-income countries with high poverty levels should serve as a warning to Zimbabweans.
Equatorial Guinea, for instance, has one of the highest per capita incomes in Africa due to oil revenues, yet the majority of its citizens live in poverty, with appalling social indicators.
The wealth exists, but it is locked in the hands of a tiny elite.
Kosovo, despite its income classification, still struggles with significant poverty and unemployment because growth has not translated into broad-based opportunity.
These examples expose the emptiness of income status when governance fails.
In such contexts, becoming an upper middle-income economy simply means there is more wealth to loot.
It does not mean better schools, functioning hospitals, or dignified livelihoods for the majority.
It means more billionaires amid mass suffering, more convoys amid potholes, and more luxury amid despair.
This is the stark lesson Zimbabweans must confront as 2030 approaches.
If nothing fundamentally changes - if corruption remains unchecked, if inequality continues to widen, and if national wealth remains the private preserve of the connected few - then the promised prosperity will be an illusion.
What awaits is not shared progress, but deeper humiliation: more begging, more handouts, and more public spectacles of loyalty in exchange for crumbs, all against a backdrop of decaying infrastructure and merciless poverty.
The pipedream of a better life by 2030 is already being exposed by today's reality.
Zimbabwe does not need slogans or income labels.
It needs justice, accountability, and an economic model that places people - not elites - at the centre.
Without that, "upper middle-income economy" will remain nothing more than a hollow phrase, masking a national tragedy.
© Tendai Ruben Mbofana is a social justice advocate and writer. Please feel free to WhatsApp or Call: +263715667700 | +263782283975, or email: mbofana.tendairuben73@gmail.com, or visit website: https://mbofanatendairuben.news.blog/
The Zimbabwean government's constant invocation of the dream of becoming an "upper middle-income economy" by 2030 has been presented as a promise of prosperity, dignity, and improved living standards for all.
To directly receive articles from Tendai Ruben Mbofana, please join his WhatsApp Channel on: https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VaqprWCIyPtRnKpkHe08
It is a slogan carefully crafted to inspire hope in a long-suffering nation.
Yet, when measured against empirical evidence from across the world - and more importantly, against Zimbabwe's own lived reality - it becomes clear that this mantra is at best misleading, and at worst, a deliberate distraction from the real drivers of mass poverty in the country: inequality, corruption, and the obscene concentration of wealth in the hands of a politically connected few.
Recent global poverty data paints a sobering picture.
Among countries with some of the highest proportions of people living in extreme poverty - defined as surviving on less than three US dollars a day—are not only low-income and lower middle-income countries, but also nations that have already attained upper middle-income status.
Equatorial Guinea and Kosovo, for example, are classified by the World Bank as upper middle-income economies, yet they feature shockingly high poverty levels—worse than those of several lower middle-income countries.
This alone demolishes the simplistic assumption that climbing into a higher income bracket automatically translates into reduced poverty or improved welfare for the majority.
Income classification, it must be stressed, is an average.
It says nothing about how wealth is distributed, who controls national resources, or whether economic growth is inclusive.
A country can be "upper middle-income" while millions of its citizens remain destitute, excluded from the economy, and denied basic services.
Where corruption is rampant and inequality is entrenched, growth simply fattens the wallets of elites while leaving the rest of society stranded in deprivation.
Zimbabwe is already a powerful case study in this contradiction.
Officially classified as a lower middle-income economy, the country should - by that status alone - be capable of sustaining functional hospitals, decent schools, reliable infrastructure, and a reasonable quality of life for a significant portion of its population.
Other countries in the same income bracket demonstrate this is possible.
Kenya, Senegal, Bangladesh, the Philippines, and even Côte d'Ivoire, despite their own challenges, generally exhibit lower extreme poverty levels than Zimbabwe, better public services, and more resilient infrastructure.
They are far from utopias, but they show what can be achieved when the little that exists is shared more equitably and managed with a degree of seriousness.
Zimbabwe, by contrast, tells a far more damning story.
Nearly 80 percent of the population lives in poverty, and close to half - about 49 percent - languishes in extreme poverty.
This is not the picture of a country merely waiting to cross an income threshold to unlock prosperity.
It is the picture of a state where wealth is systematically siphoned off by those connected to power, while public institutions are deliberately weakened to facilitate looting.
The result is crumbling roads, collapsing water systems, death-stinking hospitals, and schools that have been reduced to shells of their former selves.
The government's fixation on achieving upper middle-income status by 2030 therefore misses the point entirely.
Zimbabwe's crisis is not primarily one of insufficient wealth, but of grotesque misallocation.
The country is abundantly endowed with minerals - gold, platinum, diamonds, lithium - and vast agricultural potential.
Yet these resources have become a curse rather than a blessing because they are captured by a small elite operating through opaque deals, corrupt cartels, and state-backed plunder.
Economic growth, where it occurs, does not trickle down.
It pools upward.
Even today, we are told that Zimbabwe has been among the fastest-growing economies in the region, recording growth of around 6.6 percent in 2025, with further growth projected for 2026.
On paper, this should signal improvement in people's lives.
In reality, the daily experience of ordinary Zimbabweans tells a very different story.
There is no improvement in incomes, no relief from the cost of living crisis, no revival of public services.
Instead, what growth has delivered is a visible explosion of obscene wealth among those close to power - luxury cars handed out like sweets, stacks of cash flaunted on social media, and lavish lifestyles funded by opaque "deals" with the state.
This spectacle has had a corrosive effect on society.
A people once known for resilience and self-respect are being reduced to beggars in their own land.
We now witness the grotesque normalization of dependency, where citizens publicly humiliate themselves in the hope of handouts.
Videos circulate of people praying for political leaders in bushes, sculpting ridiculous statues of tenderpreneurs, or showering praise over two pieces of chicken and chips, described without irony as "the food of angels."
This is not empowerment.
It is the weaponization of poverty to secure loyalty and silence dissent.
The tragedy is that those in power have successfully reframed begging as opportunity, and patronage as empowerment.
Instead of building systems that create jobs, support enterprise, and provide universal access to quality services, they dispense crumbs and expect gratitude.
This model thrives in a context of extreme inequality, where survival depends not on rights or productivity, but on proximity to power.
The experience of upper middle-income countries with high poverty levels should serve as a warning to Zimbabweans.
Equatorial Guinea, for instance, has one of the highest per capita incomes in Africa due to oil revenues, yet the majority of its citizens live in poverty, with appalling social indicators.
The wealth exists, but it is locked in the hands of a tiny elite.
Kosovo, despite its income classification, still struggles with significant poverty and unemployment because growth has not translated into broad-based opportunity.
These examples expose the emptiness of income status when governance fails.
In such contexts, becoming an upper middle-income economy simply means there is more wealth to loot.
It does not mean better schools, functioning hospitals, or dignified livelihoods for the majority.
It means more billionaires amid mass suffering, more convoys amid potholes, and more luxury amid despair.
This is the stark lesson Zimbabweans must confront as 2030 approaches.
If nothing fundamentally changes - if corruption remains unchecked, if inequality continues to widen, and if national wealth remains the private preserve of the connected few - then the promised prosperity will be an illusion.
What awaits is not shared progress, but deeper humiliation: more begging, more handouts, and more public spectacles of loyalty in exchange for crumbs, all against a backdrop of decaying infrastructure and merciless poverty.
The pipedream of a better life by 2030 is already being exposed by today's reality.
Zimbabwe does not need slogans or income labels.
It needs justice, accountability, and an economic model that places people - not elites - at the centre.
Without that, "upper middle-income economy" will remain nothing more than a hollow phrase, masking a national tragedy.
© Tendai Ruben Mbofana is a social justice advocate and writer. Please feel free to WhatsApp or Call: +263715667700 | +263782283975, or email: mbofana.tendairuben73@gmail.com, or visit website: https://mbofanatendairuben.news.blog/
Source - Tendai Ruben Mbofana
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