For many international travellers, descending into Robert Gabriel Mugabe International Airport during the final years of the late strongman was often a tense and unsettling experience.

Air travel has its own theatre of anxiety. As the aircraft begins its descent, engines soften, wings tilt and the giant machine slowly yields to gravity. Sometimes the air turns restless and sudden pockets of turbulence jolt the cabin. Seatbelts tighten across chests, cups rattle on tray tables and for a few uneasy seconds the aircraft shudders as invisible currents push against its metal body.

Even seasoned travellers feel a quiet moment of vulnerability during those final minutes before landing.

But for many Zimbabweans returning home in those years, the real unease often began only after the turbulence ended.

The skies would clear and the aircraft would stabilise. Yet from the windows passengers could already see police officers waving vehicles down not far from where the runway begins.

It became a permanent feature.

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So, even as the wheels touched the runway with the reassuring screech of rubber against asphalt, a sense of unease had already begun to set in.

Passengers would breathe again, relieved that the most dangerous part of the journey was over.

Yet a different anxiety quickly crept in. Beyond the airport gates, along roads leading into the capital, stood a sight many motorists had come to dread — roadblocks.

The bright yellow reflector jackets of officers stationed along roads became symbolic of an experience that many Zimbabweans associated less with reassurance and more with confrontation.

Over the years, motorists complained that roadblocks had gradually evolved from legitimate security measures into encounters that often left drivers feeling uneasy. Visitors returning from countries where traffic policing is largely unobtrusive frequently found the experience jarring.

A country that had just welcomed you home with the professionalism of international aviation would suddenly confront you with a heavy roadside security presence within minutes of leaving the terminal.

That culture appeared to face a turning point after the political transition of 2017. During one of President Emmerson Mnangagwa’s earliest key public appearances, crowds openly jeered the then police leader, expressing frustration at the behaviour of officers on the roads.

For a moment, it seemed Zimbabwe might be turning a page.

Roadblocks became less frequent, and the atmosphere eased.

Motorists began to feel that the country’s security posture was shifting towards something more balanced and modern.

But in recent years, many drivers say the old culture has been quietly creeping back. This week’s nationwide blitz against unregistered vehicles has brought the debate sharply back into focus.

To be clear, the police are not wrong to enforce the law.

Vehicles without registration plates present serious security risks. Illegal sirens and blue lights have been abused by criminals and reckless drivers. Restoring discipline on the roads is a legitimate and necessary responsibility of law enforcement.

The concern lies not with the objective of the operation, but with the scale and manner in which it is being executed.

Across Harare this week, motorists encountered multiple checkpoints on major highways, feeder roads and industrial corridors. In areas such as Graniteside, drivers went under detailed inspections of vehicles and cargo.

Senior officers, including chief superintendents, were reportedly deployed to supervise the operation. It demonstrated the seriousness with which authorities are treating the crackdown.

Yet the cumulative effect has been an atmosphere many motorists describe as intimidating, even for those with all the required documentation.

At certain points, Harare’s roads appeared less like the transport network of a peaceful city and more like the security grid of a country confronting a major internal threat.

Search operations of this intensity are common in nations facing insurgency or severe instability. Zimbabwe, thankfully, is not such a country.

This raises a fair question. Why were thousands of vehicles allowed to roam for years without proper registration, only for enforcement to return later with such overwhelming intensity?

 

A steady and consistent enforcement strategy might have prevented the current shock to motorists.

 

There is also a wider economic dimension that cannot be ignored.

 

Zimbabwe is working hard to rebuild its international reputation and attract tourists, investors and returning members of its diaspora. Yet the experience of navigating roads saturated with police checkpoints can easily undermine that effort.

 

In fact, tourism authorities themselves warned as far back as 2013 that excessive roadblocks were discouraging visitors from travelling through the country.

 

Law enforcement is essential to any functioning state. But enforcement that appears excessive or unpredictable can carry unintended economic consequences.

 

The Zimbabwe Republic Police has often assured the public that its officers are conducting their duties professionally. Nonetheless, public concern occasionally resurfaces, particularly when police pursuits end in tragic outcomes such as fatal crashes.

 

While such incidents remain relatively rare, they highlight the risks that can accompany aggressive policing on busy public roads.

 

Zimbabwe does not need less law enforcement.

 

It needs smarter law enforcement.

 

The current operation should therefore evolve from a dramatic blitz into a sustainable system of consistent and predictable compliance. It should be something that upholds the law while preserving the confidence of motorists, visitors and investors alike.

 

Security must protect the economy, not suffocate it.

 

 

 

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