Opinion / Columnist
Why is the greed of Zimbabwe's leaders so insatiable - even at the cost of the nation?
12 Apr 2025 at 09:17hrs | Views
Killing the goose that lays the golden egg!
There is a peculiar kind of greed that afflicts some leaders - one so insatiable it defies logic.
It is a form of acquisitive madness that turns a nation's most sacred resources into disposable assets, its people into collateral damage, and its future into an afterthought.
It is the kind of greed that does not simply seek wealth, but domination.
Not just control, but total ownership of a country's lifeblood.
This is the tragic story of Zimbabwe's ruling elite.
For decades now, Zimbabwe has been at the mercy of a political class that has mastered the art of extraction.
To directly receive articles from Tendai Ruben Mbofana, please join his WhatsApp Channel on: https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VaqprWCIyPtRnKpkHe08
What started as a revolutionary promise to uplift the masses has curdled into a kleptocratic enterprise in which state power is wielded primarily for self-enrichment.
In this context, corruption is not incidental - it is structural.
It is not the result of a few bad apples but a carefully cultivated ecosystem in which those with access to the levers of power systematically exploit them for personal gain.
The looting is not a secret.
It is done in broad daylight, under the guise of government programs, state tenders, and opaque investment vehicles.
It is executed through well-oiled patronage networks where public contracts are awarded not on merit, but on allegiance.
Those in power do not just steal - they build elaborate systems of extraction that guarantee their continued dominance.
And yet, what remains most bewildering is the sheer scale and persistence of this plunder.
Even after amassing unimaginable fortunes, the ruling elite appear incapable of stopping.
They continue to loot, even when the country is on its knees - when hospitals have no medicine, schools have no books, roads resemble riverbeds, and power stations are barely functional.
This is not just greed; it is cannibalism.
It is a political culture that kills the goose that lays the golden egg and then, without remorse, looks for another goose to slaughter.
It is a model of governance built on the depletion of the very resources that sustain the nation.
To understand this pathology, one must examine the psychology of power in such an environment.
Those who loot at this level are not merely driven by material desire.
Their wealth is a form of political armor - an insurance policy against vulnerability.
In a volatile political landscape, where trust is in short supply and enemies lurk everywhere, wealth becomes the fortress from which one fends off rivals.
One of the primary drivers of excessive looting by those in power is the need to sustain a vast patronage network - a system where political survival depends not on merit or democratic legitimacy, but on the ability to dispense material rewards to allies, enforcers, and potential rivals.
In such a political culture, wealth is not merely for personal luxury; it becomes a vital form of political armor.
It is used to buy allegiance, fund propaganda, manipulate institutions, and insulate oneself from accountability.
Without this flow of illicit wealth, the foundations of power begin to crack.
Leaders who loot public coffers are, in many ways, investing in the continuity of their rule.
They must constantly outspend any internal or external challengers, using public funds and natural resources to maintain loyalty within the security services, the ruling party's elite, and even within civil society.
In this context, greed is not just a vice - it is a political necessity, weaponized for survival in a system that eats its own if one fails to feed it.
The accumulation of money is equated with the consolidation of power.
Worse still is the deliberate creation of a dependent citizenry.
By collapsing the economy through corruption and mismanagement, those in power plunge the majority into poverty, rendering them vulnerable and desperate.
Once that has been achieved, the same ruling elite swoops in with food parcels, school fees, funeral assistance, or token cash transfers - financed not through transparent governance, but from their personal empires built on looted wealth.
In this twisted dynamic, they reinvent themselves as saviors to the very people they impoverished.
It is a cruel but effective strategy: if people are poor enough, they may forego principles for survival.
Elections are won not through ideas, but through the distribution of handouts; power is retained not through performance, but through dependency.
The politician becomes both the arsonist and the firefighter - setting the house ablaze, then winning applause for dousing the flames they started.
In this way, corruption not only enriches the powerful, but strategically disempowers the citizen, turning suffering into a political currency.
In this context, there is no such thing as enough.
Enough means exposure.
Enough means risk.
So the looting continues - not because the looters need more, but because they fear what may happen when they stop.
Moreover, in a state where institutions have been hollowed out, where checks and balances are performative at best, there is little to restrain such behavior.
Impunity has become the rule rather than the exception.
The judiciary, law enforcement, and parliamentary oversight - where they still exist - have been co-opted or rendered toothless.
In this climate, the only real accountability comes not from legal consequences, but from political missteps.
The goal, therefore, becomes not just to enrich oneself, but to ensure total control of every possible threat, including dissent from within.
This dynamic has had devastating consequences for Zimbabwe.
The nation is rich in natural resources, human capital, and historical resilience.
And yet, it remains locked in a cycle of poverty, underdevelopment, and social despair.
The reason is not a lack of potential, but a deliberate sabotage by those entrusted to protect and advance the common good.
It is a betrayal not just of constitutional duty, but of the very idea of leadership.
What is particularly tragic is that even among those who acknowledge corruption as a global phenomenon, Zimbabwe's case stands out for its destructiveness.
In many countries, corrupt leaders at least maintain a semblance of development.
They build roads, equip hospitals, and invest in education - even if they take a share for themselves.
But in Zimbabwe, the looting is so unrestrained that it leaves nothing behind.
State enterprises are drained, not rehabilitated. Public infrastructure is looted, not restored.
National programs are captured, not improved.
It is the kind of corruption that does not merely bleed the system - it guts it.
This raises a troubling question: how can a leadership elite be so willing to destroy the very state that sustains their power and privilege?
The answer lies in the nature of their relationship with the state.
For these elites, Zimbabwe is not a nation to be built - it is a resource to be exploited.
It is not a legacy to be protected - it is a mine to be exhausted.
Their attachment to the country is not patriotic, but parasitic.
They do not plan for the future because their interest lies only in the present - specifically, in what they can extract from it before they are either pushed out or consumed by their own excess.
What kind of leadership sacrifices the people's well-being at the altar of greed?
What kind of ruler strips a hospital of essential drugs while living in obscene luxury?
What kind of patriot lets schoolchildren learn under trees while siphoning millions into foreign accounts?
This is not leadership.
It is pillage in tailored suits.
It is a hostile takeover masquerading as governance.
It does not have to be this way.
There is still time to redefine what leadership means in Zimbabwe - to reject this culture of extraction and replace it with one of stewardship.
But such a transformation will not come from those who benefit from the current system.
It must come from citizens - through collective pressure, organized resistance, and an unrelenting demand for transparency and justice.
Real change will only happen when the people reclaim their right to a government that serves, not devours.
Zimbabwe is not a lost cause.
It is a looted cause.
And until that looting stops, the nation will continue to limp along - its potential stifled, its hopes deferred, and its future mortgaged for the comfort of a few.
It is time to ask the hard questions, not just about who is stealing, but why they are allowed to do so with impunity.
And above all, how much longer the people are willing to watch the goose that lays the golden egg be slaughtered before their eyes.
© 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/
There is a peculiar kind of greed that afflicts some leaders - one so insatiable it defies logic.
It is a form of acquisitive madness that turns a nation's most sacred resources into disposable assets, its people into collateral damage, and its future into an afterthought.
It is the kind of greed that does not simply seek wealth, but domination.
Not just control, but total ownership of a country's lifeblood.
This is the tragic story of Zimbabwe's ruling elite.
For decades now, Zimbabwe has been at the mercy of a political class that has mastered the art of extraction.
To directly receive articles from Tendai Ruben Mbofana, please join his WhatsApp Channel on: https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VaqprWCIyPtRnKpkHe08
What started as a revolutionary promise to uplift the masses has curdled into a kleptocratic enterprise in which state power is wielded primarily for self-enrichment.
In this context, corruption is not incidental - it is structural.
It is not the result of a few bad apples but a carefully cultivated ecosystem in which those with access to the levers of power systematically exploit them for personal gain.
The looting is not a secret.
It is done in broad daylight, under the guise of government programs, state tenders, and opaque investment vehicles.
It is executed through well-oiled patronage networks where public contracts are awarded not on merit, but on allegiance.
Those in power do not just steal - they build elaborate systems of extraction that guarantee their continued dominance.
And yet, what remains most bewildering is the sheer scale and persistence of this plunder.
Even after amassing unimaginable fortunes, the ruling elite appear incapable of stopping.
They continue to loot, even when the country is on its knees - when hospitals have no medicine, schools have no books, roads resemble riverbeds, and power stations are barely functional.
This is not just greed; it is cannibalism.
It is a political culture that kills the goose that lays the golden egg and then, without remorse, looks for another goose to slaughter.
It is a model of governance built on the depletion of the very resources that sustain the nation.
To understand this pathology, one must examine the psychology of power in such an environment.
Those who loot at this level are not merely driven by material desire.
Their wealth is a form of political armor - an insurance policy against vulnerability.
In a volatile political landscape, where trust is in short supply and enemies lurk everywhere, wealth becomes the fortress from which one fends off rivals.
One of the primary drivers of excessive looting by those in power is the need to sustain a vast patronage network - a system where political survival depends not on merit or democratic legitimacy, but on the ability to dispense material rewards to allies, enforcers, and potential rivals.
In such a political culture, wealth is not merely for personal luxury; it becomes a vital form of political armor.
It is used to buy allegiance, fund propaganda, manipulate institutions, and insulate oneself from accountability.
Without this flow of illicit wealth, the foundations of power begin to crack.
Leaders who loot public coffers are, in many ways, investing in the continuity of their rule.
They must constantly outspend any internal or external challengers, using public funds and natural resources to maintain loyalty within the security services, the ruling party's elite, and even within civil society.
In this context, greed is not just a vice - it is a political necessity, weaponized for survival in a system that eats its own if one fails to feed it.
The accumulation of money is equated with the consolidation of power.
Worse still is the deliberate creation of a dependent citizenry.
By collapsing the economy through corruption and mismanagement, those in power plunge the majority into poverty, rendering them vulnerable and desperate.
Once that has been achieved, the same ruling elite swoops in with food parcels, school fees, funeral assistance, or token cash transfers - financed not through transparent governance, but from their personal empires built on looted wealth.
In this twisted dynamic, they reinvent themselves as saviors to the very people they impoverished.
It is a cruel but effective strategy: if people are poor enough, they may forego principles for survival.
Elections are won not through ideas, but through the distribution of handouts; power is retained not through performance, but through dependency.
The politician becomes both the arsonist and the firefighter - setting the house ablaze, then winning applause for dousing the flames they started.
In this way, corruption not only enriches the powerful, but strategically disempowers the citizen, turning suffering into a political currency.
In this context, there is no such thing as enough.
Enough means exposure.
Enough means risk.
So the looting continues - not because the looters need more, but because they fear what may happen when they stop.
Moreover, in a state where institutions have been hollowed out, where checks and balances are performative at best, there is little to restrain such behavior.
Impunity has become the rule rather than the exception.
The judiciary, law enforcement, and parliamentary oversight - where they still exist - have been co-opted or rendered toothless.
In this climate, the only real accountability comes not from legal consequences, but from political missteps.
The goal, therefore, becomes not just to enrich oneself, but to ensure total control of every possible threat, including dissent from within.
This dynamic has had devastating consequences for Zimbabwe.
The nation is rich in natural resources, human capital, and historical resilience.
And yet, it remains locked in a cycle of poverty, underdevelopment, and social despair.
The reason is not a lack of potential, but a deliberate sabotage by those entrusted to protect and advance the common good.
It is a betrayal not just of constitutional duty, but of the very idea of leadership.
What is particularly tragic is that even among those who acknowledge corruption as a global phenomenon, Zimbabwe's case stands out for its destructiveness.
In many countries, corrupt leaders at least maintain a semblance of development.
They build roads, equip hospitals, and invest in education - even if they take a share for themselves.
But in Zimbabwe, the looting is so unrestrained that it leaves nothing behind.
State enterprises are drained, not rehabilitated. Public infrastructure is looted, not restored.
National programs are captured, not improved.
It is the kind of corruption that does not merely bleed the system - it guts it.
This raises a troubling question: how can a leadership elite be so willing to destroy the very state that sustains their power and privilege?
The answer lies in the nature of their relationship with the state.
For these elites, Zimbabwe is not a nation to be built - it is a resource to be exploited.
It is not a legacy to be protected - it is a mine to be exhausted.
Their attachment to the country is not patriotic, but parasitic.
They do not plan for the future because their interest lies only in the present - specifically, in what they can extract from it before they are either pushed out or consumed by their own excess.
What kind of leadership sacrifices the people's well-being at the altar of greed?
What kind of ruler strips a hospital of essential drugs while living in obscene luxury?
What kind of patriot lets schoolchildren learn under trees while siphoning millions into foreign accounts?
This is not leadership.
It is pillage in tailored suits.
It is a hostile takeover masquerading as governance.
It does not have to be this way.
There is still time to redefine what leadership means in Zimbabwe - to reject this culture of extraction and replace it with one of stewardship.
But such a transformation will not come from those who benefit from the current system.
It must come from citizens - through collective pressure, organized resistance, and an unrelenting demand for transparency and justice.
Real change will only happen when the people reclaim their right to a government that serves, not devours.
Zimbabwe is not a lost cause.
It is a looted cause.
And until that looting stops, the nation will continue to limp along - its potential stifled, its hopes deferred, and its future mortgaged for the comfort of a few.
It is time to ask the hard questions, not just about who is stealing, but why they are allowed to do so with impunity.
And above all, how much longer the people are willing to watch the goose that lays the golden egg be slaughtered before their eyes.
© 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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