The absurdity of Zimbabwean leaders praising themselves as the nation sinks in poverty

Tendai Ruben Mbofana

When a Cabinet Minister thanks the “Second Republic” for some development achievement, one cannot help but pause and wonder whom they are actually addressing.

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Are they sincerely thanking a separate, external entity, or are they, in effect, congratulating themselves?

The very notion is bizarre, yet it has become a recurring spectacle in Zimbabwean public life.

Headlines in state-controlled media proclaim that the government has been “praised for infrastructural development,” only for the reader to discover that the person doing the praising is a member of that same government.

This is not merely ironic; it is absurd.

A Cabinet Minister is part of the government — part of the so-called Second Republic — and therefore any public expression of gratitude is ultimately self-directed.

One cannot help but wonder if this is evidence of a government so starved of genuine appreciation from its citizens that it has been forced to manufacture its own acclaim.

Or worse, perhaps it is a tacit acknowledgment that there is, in reality, very little for ordinary Zimbabweans to genuinely praise.

Consider the ordinary citizen confronted by a reporter from ZBC or the Herald.

A nearly rehabilitated 10-kilometre stretch of road in a province devastated by decades of neglect is held up as a triumph.

The natural question arises: what is one supposed to say?

Is one expected to heap praise upon a government that left the majority of the country’s roads in ruins for decades, only to “remember” a tiny section in a show of cosmetic development?

Is the expression of gratitude demanded merely because a camera is shoved into one’s face and the respondent is instructed to sing praises on cue?

Similarly, when one or two classroom blocks are constructed in a rural village where children have been walking nearly fifteen kilometres to the nearest, often rudimentary, school, what is one really expected to feel?

Forty-five years after independence, such gestures are offered as if they were monumental achievements, yet they are barely sufficient to meet basic human needs.

The classrooms may lack learning materials, the borehole may barely serve the population it purports to benefit, and yet, the citizen is supposed to leap for joy, thank the government, and appear grateful on national television.

The tragic irony is that these so-called developments are not wholesale or systemic; they are cosmetic and selective.

Across Zimbabwe, the majority of citizens continue to endure neglect, poverty, and infrastructural collapse.

Yet the state media persistently frames the narrative as one of generosity and achievement, compelling people — out of fear, desperation, or mere survival — to express gratitude and praise for crumbs.

It is a performance, rehearsed and curated, not an authentic reflection of civic satisfaction.

Citizens have long learned that to tell the truth, to voice the frustrations of their daily struggles, is to risk intimidation, victimization, or the withdrawal of any support that they might precariously rely upon.

In such a context, gratitude is coerced and praise is staged.

The government, in effect, is asking citizens to celebrate the bare minimum: a road patched here, a school block added there, a borehole drilled in a village that has endured decades of neglect.

The analogy is painfully clear — it is as though a father who has long abandoned his family in hunger and deprivation suddenly hands over a 10-kilogram bag of mealie meal and expects rejoicing.

This is precisely the situation Zimbabwe finds itself in: citizens are compelled to celebrate survival gestures that would be considered trivial anywhere else, while systemic failures remain unaddressed.

What makes this dynamic particularly troubling is how it perpetuates a culture of performative governance.

When ministers, journalists, and state media collectively manufacture gratitude, they obscure the real failures and paint a false picture of progress.

They suggest that the state is competent, benevolent, and responsive, even as the lived reality of the vast majority tells a different story.

Roads remain impassable, hospitals lack medication and equipment, schools are under-resourced, and rural communities continue to struggle with basic access to water, health care, and education.

In this environment, manufactured praise becomes both a tool of propaganda and a substitute for genuine accountability.

The problem is not merely symbolic; it has real consequences for governance and citizen engagement.

When gratitude is scripted, it normalizes neglect.

It conditions citizens to celebrate mediocrity and to accept minimal standards as remarkable achievements.

It distorts public perception and allows those in power to evade accountability.

A government that is thanked for delivering the bare minimum is a government that is rewarded for failing to fulfill its fundamental obligations.

And when state media colludes in this narrative, the cycle of performative gratitude is reinforced and amplified, leaving ordinary Zimbabweans without a voice that can be heard without risk.

Ultimately, the spectacle of ministers praising the government is a stark reminder of the chasm between state performance and citizen experience.

It exposes the hollowness of proclamations about national development when tangible, meaningful improvements remain out of reach for the majority.

It also illuminates a deeper malaise — a political culture in which the government seeks to manufacture consent and admiration because it cannot inspire genuine support.

The people of Zimbabwe are not fools.

They understand the insufficiency of these token gestures.

They recognize that true development is not measured in isolated projects or staged ceremonies, but in consistent, equitable, and systemic improvements in daily life.

What this absurdity ultimately underscores is that real gratitude cannot be scripted, and genuine praise cannot be commanded.

A government that relies on staged appreciation is a government that has failed to earn it.

In a country with immense natural resources, rich human capital, and potential for prosperity, the ongoing need to coerce praise is a damning reflection of systemic failure.

Zimbabweans deserve more than cosmetic gestures and performative ceremonies; they deserve a government whose work elicits authentic appreciation — not one that must manufacture it through ministers, cameras, and state media.

Until such a government exists, the cycle of absurd self-praise will continue, and the citizens’ quiet suffering will remain a backdrop to staged displays of gratitude.

• Tendai Ruben Mbofana is a social justice advocate and writer. To directly receive his articles please join his WhatsApp Channel on: https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VaqprWCIyPtRnKpkHe08