TEACHERS in Zimbabwe have for years complained bitterly about poor salaries, deteriorating working conditions and a steady erosion of professional dignity.

Their demands have never been extravagant.

They have asked for wages that can sustain a family, access to basic resources in schools and working conditions that reflect the importance of their role in shaping the nation’s future.

Yet, for the most part, their concerns have been met with silence, delay or empty promises.

At the same time, reports of police officers being arrested for corruption-related offences have become almost routine.

From roadblocks turned into tollgates to outright extortion and abuse of authority, the image of law enforcement has been badly damaged.

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Public anger is understandable.

But condemnation alone does not address the deeper problem.

We must ask why this is happening.

Some months ago, a disturbing video circulated on social media showing members of the Presidential Guard stationed at the perimeter of Zimbabwe House openly asking passers-by for “anything”.

The footage shocked many, not because the guards were aggressive, but because they appeared desperate.

Their request was a quiet confession of hunger, empty pockets and households under strain.

These are men tasked with protecting the highest office in the land, yet they were reduced to begging to survive the day or take something home to their families.

The Zimbabwe Prisons and Correctional Service has also been caught in similar scandals.

Officers have been arrested for accepting bribes from inmates in exchange for facilitating escapes.

Such actions severely undermine public safety and confidence in the justice system.

Yet again, these acts do not occur in isolation.

They are symptoms of a broken system.

When a country’s leadership tramples upon the salaries and working conditions of its workers, corruption becomes fertile ground.

Poverty does not automatically turn people into criminals, but it lowers resistance to temptation.

Underpaid workers are forced into daily moral dilemmas, weighing integrity against survival.

While corruption can never be excused, it becomes tragically predictable when people are pushed to the margins.

The crisis extends beyond the public sector.

Workers in private companies are also struggling.

Wages are stagnant, job security is weak and inflation continues to erode earnings.

For many households, salaries are exhausted well before month-end.

The cost of food, transport, rent, school fees and healthcare continues to rise, while incomes remain largely unchanged.

In this context, official claims of economic growth sound increasingly detached from reality.

Government leaders regularly speak of recovery, stability and progress.

But the lived experience of ordinary Zimbabweans tells a different story — one of constant anxiety, shrinking purchasing power and survival mode economics.

A functional society cannot demand discipline, professionalism and ethical conduct from workers it refuses to adequately compensate.

You cannot expect teachers to produce world-class results while they worry about basic survival.

You cannot expect police officers to uphold the law when they are themselves trapped in economic despair.

You cannot expect prison officers to safeguard society when their own families are hungry.

If corruption is to be genuinely addressed, salaries must restore dignity.

Working conditions must improve.

Public servants must be able to live on their earnings without resorting to illegal means.

Fighting corruption through arrests alone is reactive and superficial.

It treats the symptoms while leaving the disease untouched.

Leadership must recognise a simple truth: decent pay is not a privilege, and it is not charity.

It is an investment in national stability, public trust and social order.

Until Zimbabwe confronts this reality, corruption will persist — not because people lack morals, but because the system keeps pushing them to the edge.