When you constantly need to tell people why something is good for them then in all likelihood it wont be

Tendai Ruben Mbofana

The political elite in Zimbabwe are currently on absolute overdrive. 

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Day in and day out, resources are being deployed to gather citizens across the country for a singular, relentless purpose: to lecture them on why Constitutional Amendment (No. 3) Bill, or CAB3, is supposedly good for them. 

A day hardly goes by without the state-controlled media bombarding the public with reports of a meeting here or a rally there, all singing the exact same tune. 

We are told that extending the president’s term in office, or reducing the frequency of elections, is ultimately for the benefit of the ordinary Zimbabwean.

The narrative is as predictable as it is exhausting. 

Citizens are told that the presidium has been doing phenomenal work, developing the infrastructure, and uplifting the livelihoods of ordinary people. 

Therefore, the official line goes, this “progress needs to continue uninterrupted.” 

Elections, we are repeatedly reminded, are nothing but a disruptive hindrance to national development.

But each time I listen to these speeches, one fundamental question bothers me: if there is genuine development, and if Zimbabweans’ livelihoods are actually improving, why do these same people need to be told about it—worse still, repeatedly?

When a person’s life gets better, that reality does not require a press release or a political commissar to explain it. 

It is supposed to be immediately obvious. 

If a parent can suddenly afford three balanced meals a day for their children, they don’t need a public lecture to realize they are fed. 

If a family has consistent running water and electricity, the comfort is felt, not taught.

Surely, if there is authentic, life-altering development, does anyone really need to be told about an airport extension or a new parliament building—which, ironies of ironies, was actually donated by a foreign power and not even constructed by our own government? 

Does a family struggling with poverty in a rural village benefit from being reminded about a modern traffic interchange hundreds of miles away in the capital? 

The very necessity of these reminders exposes a glaring truth: this supposed development is entirely superficial. 

It exists on billboards and in state television packages, but it completely fails to translate into the lived realities of the majority.

Let us look at the barometers of real everyday life. 

If workers’ salaries were now affording them a dignified, decent living, would they need a politician on a microphone to convince them of their purchasing power? 

If employment opportunities were opening up in any significant or sustainable manner, would our young, desperate jobseekers need to be told that the economy is booming while they sit idly on street corners? 

If our public hospitals were well-funded, well-stocked with essential medicines, and properly equipped, would a patient lying on a bare hospital canvas need a lecture to know the healthcare system is functional?

The undeniable truth is that real good news does not need a rally to survive. 

It speaks for itself.

If Zimbabweans were truly happy with the direction of the country and the work of the current administration, the state would not need to sweat this hard. 

A simple headline in a newspaper or a news flash on a television screen screaming: “President Mnangagwa to remain in office till 2030,” would have been more than enough to entice immediate, spontaneous nationwide excitement and jubilation. 

People would not need a state-orchestrated gathering, a barrage of television and radio programs, or a patronizing lecture on why the retention of power is beneficial to their future. 

They would simply celebrate.

It is a basic rule of human nature. 

If a headline appeared tomorrow morning announcing the retirement or resignation of a deeply loathed individual, no elaborate preamble would be required. 

No hours-long speeches would be necessary. 

No political justification would be needed. 

The people would just burst into loud applause and unprompted celebration.

The opposite is similarly true. 

If a headline were to flash across our screens announcing that a genuinely beloved national figure had passed away, the entire nation would immediately fall into deep, authentic mourning and sorrow. 

There would be no need for a dedicated television program or a state-mandated rally to explain to the people why they should feel sad. 

The emotion would be real, immediate, and unforced.

So, why does CAB3 require so many expensive gatherings? 

Why does it need aggressive radio and television jingles playing every 15 minutes to justify its existence?

The sheer amount of energy, noise, and state machinery being used to sell this amendment tells the real story. 

It is a confession disguised as persuasion. 

When you have to spend millions of dollars convincing hungry, unemployed, and desperate people that they are actually prospering and that their constitution needs to be altered for their own good, it is because the reality on the ground completely contradicts the propaganda. 

The state is trying to use words to override the empty stomachs, broken infrastructure, and shattered dreams of its citizens. 

But no amount of political lecturing can turn a bad policy into a good one. 

That alone tells a story—and it is a story that no Zimbabwean needs to be lectured about.

• 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