Tendai Ruben Mbofana
In a recent interview ahead of Unity Day commemorations, Defence Minister Oppah Muchinguri-Kashiri reminded Zimbabweans of the need to remain united, embrace dialogue, and “jealously guard the peace in the country, which is the bedrock of national progress.”
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She argued that only through peace can sustainable development take place and highlighted President Mnangagwa’s Vision 2030 as a transformative blueprint to make Zimbabwe a modern and prosperous country.
On the surface, these words may sound noble, even inspiring.
Yet, they mask a troubling reality: for millions of ordinary Zimbabweans, peace without justice is hollow, and sustainable development is a mirage while the ruling elite continues to enrich itself amid national suffering.
Nearly 80% of Zimbabweans are reported to be living below the lower middle-income poverty line of US$5.50 per day, meaning that the vast majority struggle to afford the most basic necessities, including food, healthcare, and education.
Yet, in this context of widespread deprivation, the ruling clique continues to plunder the nation’s resources with impunity, accumulating wealth unimaginable to the ordinary citizen.
It is little wonder, then, that repeated calls for “peace” have become a familiar refrain from those in power—they are less concerned about genuine harmony than about preventing an eruption of public anger.
This raises a critical question: what “sustainable development” are those in power talking about when 7.6 million people, including 3.5 million children, are food insecure, and Zimbabwe ranks 90th out of 123 countries in the Global Hunger Index, with a “serious” hunger level of 20.9?
What sustainable development is there when over 90% of Zimbabweans lack decent formal employment, with 87% of adults confined to the informal sector?
What “peace” is worth preserving when at least 299 babies and 54 women have already died this year due to complications during childbirth, and the country continues to face a cancer mortality rate of approximately 144 deaths per 100,000 people—the highest in the world?
These are not statistics to be brushed aside; they are the stark realities of a nation whose healthcare system suffers from shortages of personnel, equipment, and essential medicines, leaving doctors overwhelmed and care compromised.
Education, too, tells a similar story of deprivation.
In 2024 alone, around 49,555 learners dropped out of school, according to Deputy Minister Angeline Gata, with rural areas disproportionately affected.
Families cannot pay school fees, while teenage pregnancies, child marriages, and substance abuse—all linked to poverty—further erode educational opportunities.
Many rural schools are little more than trees with ramshackle walls, lacking chairs, desks, and textbooks.
Is this the “sustainable development” that Minister Muchinguri-Kashiri urges citizens to preserve?
The irony of these calls for peace is that the country’s current plight is not fundamentally different from the oppression experienced during colonial rule.
In fact, as someone born during Rhodesia, I can attest that the material conditions for black Zimbabweans were, in many ways, objectively better under colonial governance, despite the systemic racism and institutionalized marginalization.
Roads were better maintained, hospitals had functioning equipment, schools were accessible, and employment—though unequal—provided stability.
Yet, those who fought for independence did so knowing that peace alone was meaningless if it was built on injustice, inequality, and the denial of opportunity.
When leaders like Oppah Muchinguri-Kashiri went to war against the injustices of the colonial regime, they did so understanding one simple principle: peace without justice is hollow.
They knew that real freedom—and the possibility of sustainable development—required the equitable distribution of resources and the dismantling of structures that perpetuated poverty and inequality.
They chose war because the alternative—remaining peaceful under oppression—would have meant accepting perpetual injustice.
I am not against peace.
I fully appreciate its value.
But peace is a shared responsibility, and the burden is heavier on those in power.
Citizens can act responsibly, refrain from violence, and respect social order—but when leaders fail to ensure fairness, equity, and access to basic necessities, the social contract is broken.
Genuine peace cannot be achieved when the fruits of independence are hoarded by a few while millions languish in poverty.
Consider this: if Zimbabweans were genuinely benefitting from the country’s immense natural wealth, there would be no need for constant admonitions about peace.
Harmony would flow naturally from satisfaction, hope, and opportunity.
The fact that calls for demonstrations and protests trigger fear among the elite is telling—they know the anger is real, the frustration is deep, and the desire for a dignified life is urgent.
Zimbabweans are desperate for justice, not mere slogans.
Preserving peace is indeed vital, but it is not an abstract concept divorced from reality.
It is a function of equity, accountability, and opportunity.
If the government were to curb corruption, end impunity, and share the country’s vast resources equitably, peace would not need to be urged; it would be a natural outcome of citizens seeing their lives improve.
True sustainable development does not come from the rhetoric of unity alone.
It comes from policies and actions that provide food, healthcare, education, and employment, ensuring that no one is left behind.
To those in power, I ask: when you speak of peace as the foundation of national progress, what do you mean for the millions who cannot feed their children, cannot access basic healthcare, or cannot send their children to school?
What sustainable development are you preserving when the very institutions designed to serve citizens are in collapse?
The pursuit of peace without addressing these injustices is nothing but a tool to entrench power, silence dissent, and protect privilege.
The liberation war was never sought lightly, but it was a necessary response to oppression, inequity, and exclusion.
Likewise, today, the call for peace cannot be a pretext for tolerating mismanagement, corruption, and the denial of rights.
Justice must precede peace, because without justice, peace is little more than submission to suffering.
Until those in power recognize this fundamental truth, until resources are shared fairly and corruption is rooted out, any talk of unity or sustainable development rings hollow.
Zimbabweans are not opposed to peace—they seek a peace worth having, a peace that allows them to live with dignity, to access opportunities, and to prosper.
The responsibility to create this peace lies squarely with those in power. They must remember that genuine peace is not merely the absence of conflict; it is the presence of justice.
Until then, the question remains: why did you go to war if peace and stability are more important than justice and equality?
History will judge those who answer with slogans rather than solutions.
- 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/
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