By Shame Mugova
Years ago, someone working for a public entity made a remark that stayed with me. Frustrated by the careless use of the organisation’s resources, he said that if it were his company, or his father’s company, he would never allow people to treat it that way.
It sounded like an ordinary complaint about waste. In fact, it raised a bigger question: why should we take greater care of private property than of public property? A family business may belong to one household. Public institutions hold resources for purposes that affect millions of citizens. That should create a greater duty of care, not a smaller one.
Yet public resources often acquire a peculiar status. We speak of “government money”, “government cars” and “government property” as though Government were a private owner free to use them as it wished. Somewhere in that language, the citizen disappears. What we call government money is public money over which Government has been given legal authority.
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Public office gives custody, not ownership.
Zimbabwe’s constitutional and public-finance framework recognises this. The Constitution treats public authority as a public trust and requires public funds to be spent transparently, prudently, economically and effectively. The Public Finance Management Act requires accounting officers to safeguard public resources and holds them accountable for money under their control.
The problem is therefore not that Zimbabwe lacks rules about stewardship. It is that standards written into law do not always become standards enforced by institutions.
Consider something as mundane as a fuel register. Someone running his own transport company would want to know how much fuel was bought, which vehicle received it and whether consumption made sense. He would know what vehicles and equipment he owned because a missing asset would represent a real loss. Why should those controls matter less when the assets belong to the public?
The Auditor-General’s 2025 report on state-owned enterprises and parastatals makes the problem difficult to dismiss as anecdotal. Of 699 previous audit findings followed up, only 304, or 43 percent, had been addressed; 134 were partly addressed and 261 remained unresolved.
Zimbabwe therefore does not merely have an audit problem. It has a consequence problem. An Auditor-General can identify the leaking tap every year, but a report cannot turn it off. Someone with authority must act. When the same weakness returns repeatedly, it suggests that somebody has learnt there is little cost to leaving it unresolved.
The psychology of public money matters. If I waste US$1,000 of my own money, I feel the loss immediately. If a manager wastes money in a family business, the owners can demand an explanation. When public money is wasted, however, the cost is dispersed across thousands or millions of people. No taxpayer receives a statement explaining which part of his or her contribution was lost through poor procurement, unreconciled fuel or equipment paid for but never delivered.
The victim becomes invisible, but the loss does not. It may reappear as medicines not purchased, a road not maintained, inadequate school infrastructure, equipment not replaced, additional borrowing or simply a public service that delivers less than it should.
Stealing from the State can feel victimless only because the victims are dispersed.
This is why the familiar expression mbudzi inodya payakasungirirwa — the goat eats where it is tethered — deserves serious reflection. Used casually, it can suggest that someone who gains access to an office or resources will naturally take advantage of them. Applied to public service, proximity gradually becomes confused with entitlement.
Yet access does not create ownership. We would not excuse a bank teller for taking cash because he works beside money, or a pharmacist for taking medicines because she controls a storeroom. Why should access to State resources be morally different?
The more dangerous shift occurs when society begins to admire rather than condemn the misuse of public office: when an official who leaves Government without unexplained wealth is regarded as having missed an opportunity, while someone whose lifestyle expands dramatically through proximity to power is admired for understanding the system.
When society expects officials to “eat” from their positions, honesty starts to look like foolishness and abuse starts to look like entitlement.
That is why strong institutions matter. Integrity cannot depend entirely on whether the person handling money happens to be honest. Proper controls separate responsibilities, record transactions and assets, require transparent procurement and ensure that those exercising authority can themselves be scrutinised. Good governance recognises temptation and makes converting it into public loss difficult.
Political patronage complicates stewardship further. If a public-enterprise chief executive believes continued tenure depends mainly on performance, there is an incentive to protect the institution through competence. If political loyalty offers greater protection than performance, the incentive changes. The official begins protecting the relationship that protects the official.
The boundary between private political preference and public resources therefore matters. Civil servants remain citizens. They can hold political opinions and privately support whichever party or candidate they choose. But there is a fundamental difference between a public servant having political preferences and public resources acquiring political preferences. Zimbabwe’s Constitution draws that line explicitly: civil servants may not, in exercising their functions, act in a partisan manner or further the interests of a political party or cause.
A teacher may support President Mnangagwa. A school account cannot.
Recent reporting around Teachers4ED illustrates the principle. Teacher representatives have warned school heads against using school funds for activities outside Ministry programmes. Whether school money was used in any particular case must be established from evidence, but the principle is straightforward: resources intended for pupils cannot become political resources because of an official’s personal sympathies.
The same rule applies throughout the State. A ministry vehicle is not a party vehicle. Employees of a public entity are not a political mobilisation structure. Regulatory powers should not change according to political favour.
Political support is private. Public authority is not.
Abuse of public office is also broader than cash disappearing into somebody’s pocket. Public authority itself is a resource. The power to issue a licence, collect tax, award a contract, arrest someone, appoint an employee, allocate public land or regulate a business can be abused even when no money changes hands.
The police uniform does not belong to the officer wearing it. Regulatory discretion does not belong personally to the regulator. The authority of a ministry does not belong to the minister. All of it has been entrusted for a public purpose.
Stewardship therefore gives us a better question than simply asking whether somebody stole: was this public resource or authority used for the purpose for which it was entrusted? That reaches waste that may be technically lawful but economically indefensible, partisan use of State resources, privileges maintained because “Government has always done it this way”, and the everyday neglect that steadily weakens institutions.
It also changes how taxpayers should understand their relationship with Government. Taxes are not donations to politicians. Citizens and businesses are compelled by law to finance roads, schools, hospitals, security, infrastructure and administration. That creates a strong obligation on Government to demonstrate value for money. The taxpayer’s interest does not end when the tax is collected.
“Government will pay” can therefore conceal more than it explains. Government does not possess a magical pool of money detached from society. Citizens and businesses pay taxes, public assets generate revenue, and Government borrowing creates obligations for future taxpayers. When public resources are wasted, somebody ultimately carries the cost.
The State should not receive less care because its resources belong to the public.
It should receive more care for exactly that reason.
Rebuilding that ethic must begin everywhere, from a school account to a parastatal boardroom and Cabinet. Every vehicle, litre of fuel, procurement decision and exercise of authority should be treated as something for which citizens are entitled to demand an explanation.
Perhaps every person entrusted with public resources should occasionally ask: would I make the same decision if every taxpayer were standing in the room watching me sign?
Zimbabwe will not overcome the abuse of public resources simply by reminding officials that stealing is illegal. It must rebuild the meaning of public office itself.
The money is not yours. The vehicle is not yours. The institution is not yours. The authority is not yours.
For a limited period, they have been entrusted to you — not to provide those close enough to the State with something to “eat”, but to serve the people for whom the State exists.
Dr Shame Mugova is a Lecturer in Finance at Birmingham City University. He writes on finance, economic policy, governance and development, with a particular interest in Zimbabwe and Southern Africa. He writes in his personal capacity.
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