Opinion / Columnist
Who Owns the Future When the Youth Are Just Campaign Props?
7 hrs ago | Views
Every election season in Zimbabwe brings with it a familiar theatre: politicians parading youth like trophies, cladding them in party regalia, praising their energy, and promising them a future that never arrives.
Stadiums fill. Slogans echo. T-shirts are handed out. But when the voting ends, the youth are promptly discarded like used flyers - unemployed, sidelined, and voiceless.
This isn't conjecture. It is lived experience. Zimbabwe has one of the youngest populations in Africa, yet youth representation in actual decision-making structures is dismal. Not symbolic representation - real power. Who among the powerful speaks our language, shares our desperation, or fights for a future we can afford to believe in?
The government is happy to invoke young people as patriotic fodder but refuses to treat them as stakeholders in the present. ZANU PF has long mastered the aesthetic of youth engagement without any of its substance. During the 2023 elections, rallies prominently showcased young dancers, drummers, and sloganeers. They were there to energize crowds, not to craft policy. They were loud, yes - but never allowed to speak for themselves.
To be young in Zimbabwe today is to inherit a broken house and then be blamed for not decorating it well. The structural dysfunction is never addressed; instead, we are told to "innovate" in an economy where a university degree gets you a vending stall, and vocational skills are no match for a currency that collapses faster than dreams.
It's not that young people aren't trying - it's that they are trying in a country rigged to exhaust them.
Take vocational training centres, for example. These institutions - some of which have been operational for decades - do train thousands of young people annually in carpentry, welding, sewing, ICT, agriculture etc. But what good is skill in a dead economy? A carpenter can't build when timber is unaffordable. A welder can't survive when customers have no income to order anything. Self-employment is not a miracle cure in an environment where electricity is unreliable, inflation is chronic, and raw materials are priced in a currency no one trusts.
The result is that young Zimbabweans are trapped in a cruel paradox: blamed for not working hard enough, while being denied the basic structural support to stand upright. You can teach a man to fish, but in Zimbabwe, the lake has been poisoned, the boat stolen, and the fishing license costs more than the fish is worth.
Meanwhile, the state's idea of youth empowerment too often boils down to photo ops and empty speeches. Even genuine initiatives - like vocational training and empowerment funds - are made ineffective by bureaucracy, corruption, or outright neglect. The ruling elite does not fear a disengaged youth - it fears an organized one.
That's why young people who dare to speak out are punished. Consider Namatai Kwekweza, who was arrested in for opposing constitutional amendments that would weaken judicial independence and entrench executive power. Or Blessed Mhlanga, a young journalist recently detained for doing his job. These are not isolated incidents; they are warnings. The message is clear: be obedient, or be erased.
The state does not want young leaders. It wants young cheerleaders. Obedient foot soldiers. Human shields for failed policies. It is more comfortable seeing youth in the streets singing slogans than in Parliament questioning budgets. It prefers them at dance rehearsals than in boardrooms. Zimbabwe doesn't lack talent or ambition among its youth - it lacks the political will to let them lead.
This problem is not about experience. It's about control. Zimbabwe's ruling class has recycled itself for over four decades. Most of the current leadership was already in office when many of today's youth were not even born. They speak of "passing the baton," but continue to run laps around a race they refuse to end.
They say the youth are the future, but when that future speaks up, it is criminalized. When it organizes, it is infiltrated. When it demands, it is mocked. This contradiction has led to mass disillusionment. Many young people no longer register to vote, not out of apathy but from accumulated heartbreak. Elections have become a ritual without reward.
That void is being filled with migration. Zimbabwean youth are voting with their feet. They are in Johannesburg, Gaborone, London, Perth - taking their ideas, their sweat, and their grief with them. According to the Zimbabwe National Statistics Agency, the country continues to lose its youngest and most educated citizens, and still, the state does not flinch. If the youth will not be silent, it seems the system would rather they be absent.
But here's the truth no one in power wants to say out loud: a country that treats its young as decorations will soon find itself ungovernable. Our problems are not going away. The economy is not magically reviving. Climate shocks, global shifts, and growing unrest mean the future will be even more complex. And yet, the very people best equipped to navigate that future - the young - are being systematically sidelined.
Zimbabwe cannot continue to run on nostalgia. The liberation war is not a substitute for vision. The youth are not a garnish for political legitimacy.
They are the majority of this nation.
They are the workers, the dreamers, the risk-takers. And they are tired. Tired of being summoned only to applaud. Tired of being asked to campaign and then disappear. Tired of building a future they are never allowed to own.
This is not a polite request for inclusion. It is a demand. Youth representation must not be ornamental - it must be constitutional, practical, and enforced. That means actual quotas in Parliament and not gimmicks. It means leadership programs with real budgets and measurable outcomes. It means youth councils that have veto power on youth-related policy. And it means zero tolerance for harassment of activists, journalists, and organizers.
The time for waiting is over. Zimbabwe's youth cannot afford another election cycle of symbolic promises and economic violence. We do not want to be the "future" anymore. We want the now. Because the truth is stark: if we are not allowed to build this country, we may just leave it behind. And what will be left then? An echo chamber of geriatrics, clapping for each other while the nation collapses.
This country belongs to those who suffer for it - not those who speak the loudest about it. And Zimbabwean youth have suffered enough. We have watched our parents die poor, our peers drown in drugs, our degrees become decorations, and our talents rot in border queues.
We do not owe anyone silence.
We are not campaign props.
We are citizens. And we are coming.
Kumbirai Thierry Nhamo || Social Justice Activist
For Feedback: Call/app 0780022343, or visit https://zealousthierry.art.blog/ or email kumbiraithierryn@gmail.com
Stadiums fill. Slogans echo. T-shirts are handed out. But when the voting ends, the youth are promptly discarded like used flyers - unemployed, sidelined, and voiceless.
This isn't conjecture. It is lived experience. Zimbabwe has one of the youngest populations in Africa, yet youth representation in actual decision-making structures is dismal. Not symbolic representation - real power. Who among the powerful speaks our language, shares our desperation, or fights for a future we can afford to believe in?
The government is happy to invoke young people as patriotic fodder but refuses to treat them as stakeholders in the present. ZANU PF has long mastered the aesthetic of youth engagement without any of its substance. During the 2023 elections, rallies prominently showcased young dancers, drummers, and sloganeers. They were there to energize crowds, not to craft policy. They were loud, yes - but never allowed to speak for themselves.
To be young in Zimbabwe today is to inherit a broken house and then be blamed for not decorating it well. The structural dysfunction is never addressed; instead, we are told to "innovate" in an economy where a university degree gets you a vending stall, and vocational skills are no match for a currency that collapses faster than dreams.
It's not that young people aren't trying - it's that they are trying in a country rigged to exhaust them.
Take vocational training centres, for example. These institutions - some of which have been operational for decades - do train thousands of young people annually in carpentry, welding, sewing, ICT, agriculture etc. But what good is skill in a dead economy? A carpenter can't build when timber is unaffordable. A welder can't survive when customers have no income to order anything. Self-employment is not a miracle cure in an environment where electricity is unreliable, inflation is chronic, and raw materials are priced in a currency no one trusts.
The result is that young Zimbabweans are trapped in a cruel paradox: blamed for not working hard enough, while being denied the basic structural support to stand upright. You can teach a man to fish, but in Zimbabwe, the lake has been poisoned, the boat stolen, and the fishing license costs more than the fish is worth.
Meanwhile, the state's idea of youth empowerment too often boils down to photo ops and empty speeches. Even genuine initiatives - like vocational training and empowerment funds - are made ineffective by bureaucracy, corruption, or outright neglect. The ruling elite does not fear a disengaged youth - it fears an organized one.
That's why young people who dare to speak out are punished. Consider Namatai Kwekweza, who was arrested in for opposing constitutional amendments that would weaken judicial independence and entrench executive power. Or Blessed Mhlanga, a young journalist recently detained for doing his job. These are not isolated incidents; they are warnings. The message is clear: be obedient, or be erased.
The state does not want young leaders. It wants young cheerleaders. Obedient foot soldiers. Human shields for failed policies. It is more comfortable seeing youth in the streets singing slogans than in Parliament questioning budgets. It prefers them at dance rehearsals than in boardrooms. Zimbabwe doesn't lack talent or ambition among its youth - it lacks the political will to let them lead.
This problem is not about experience. It's about control. Zimbabwe's ruling class has recycled itself for over four decades. Most of the current leadership was already in office when many of today's youth were not even born. They speak of "passing the baton," but continue to run laps around a race they refuse to end.
They say the youth are the future, but when that future speaks up, it is criminalized. When it organizes, it is infiltrated. When it demands, it is mocked. This contradiction has led to mass disillusionment. Many young people no longer register to vote, not out of apathy but from accumulated heartbreak. Elections have become a ritual without reward.
That void is being filled with migration. Zimbabwean youth are voting with their feet. They are in Johannesburg, Gaborone, London, Perth - taking their ideas, their sweat, and their grief with them. According to the Zimbabwe National Statistics Agency, the country continues to lose its youngest and most educated citizens, and still, the state does not flinch. If the youth will not be silent, it seems the system would rather they be absent.
But here's the truth no one in power wants to say out loud: a country that treats its young as decorations will soon find itself ungovernable. Our problems are not going away. The economy is not magically reviving. Climate shocks, global shifts, and growing unrest mean the future will be even more complex. And yet, the very people best equipped to navigate that future - the young - are being systematically sidelined.
Zimbabwe cannot continue to run on nostalgia. The liberation war is not a substitute for vision. The youth are not a garnish for political legitimacy.
They are the majority of this nation.
They are the workers, the dreamers, the risk-takers. And they are tired. Tired of being summoned only to applaud. Tired of being asked to campaign and then disappear. Tired of building a future they are never allowed to own.
This is not a polite request for inclusion. It is a demand. Youth representation must not be ornamental - it must be constitutional, practical, and enforced. That means actual quotas in Parliament and not gimmicks. It means leadership programs with real budgets and measurable outcomes. It means youth councils that have veto power on youth-related policy. And it means zero tolerance for harassment of activists, journalists, and organizers.
The time for waiting is over. Zimbabwe's youth cannot afford another election cycle of symbolic promises and economic violence. We do not want to be the "future" anymore. We want the now. Because the truth is stark: if we are not allowed to build this country, we may just leave it behind. And what will be left then? An echo chamber of geriatrics, clapping for each other while the nation collapses.
This country belongs to those who suffer for it - not those who speak the loudest about it. And Zimbabwean youth have suffered enough. We have watched our parents die poor, our peers drown in drugs, our degrees become decorations, and our talents rot in border queues.
We do not owe anyone silence.
We are not campaign props.
We are citizens. And we are coming.
Kumbirai Thierry Nhamo || Social Justice Activist
For Feedback: Call/app 0780022343, or visit https://zealousthierry.art.blog/ or email kumbiraithierryn@gmail.com
Source - Kumbirai Thierry Nhamo
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