Recent heavy rains have exposed the terrible state of Zimbabwe’s roads and drainage systems, leading to a countrywide outcry for the government to address the issue.
The Ministry of Transport has responded by urging people to report roads that urgently need attention.
But it is not only roads that are in a dire state.
The full range of public services in the country are in a state of decline.
Hospitals lack drugs and equipment, raw sewage flows the streets, and water taps are largely dry and, in some areas, where they are not dry, the water is poisonous.
Zimbabwe is slowly, but surely descending into a self-reinforcing cycle of what sociologist Matthew Desmond, in his book Poverty by America, characterises as the emergence of a society where public squalor and private opulence coexist.
While America and Zimbabwe are worlds apart in terms of development and service provision, the coexistence of public squalor and private opulence has become evident in Zimbabwe in recent years as service delivery shortfalls have intensified and people sought ways to cope.
With increasing failures by the government and local authorities to provide services, people have resorted to drilling boreholes, installing solar systems, putting up Jojo tanks, and traveling outside the country for treatment.
There has also arisen a dichotomy of poor service delivery existing alongside displays of wealth and opulence.
State-of-the-art vehicles navigate potholed roads; mansions rise in neighbourhoods without water; decadent private schools operate alongside dilapidated public ones.
The response of the better-off to poor service delivery has locked the country into a downward spiral through withdrawal from public services, poor allocation of resources by the government, separation of the wealthy from the poor, and stigmatisation of public services.
One of the factors that has helped perpetuate poor service delivery is the withdrawal of people, most often the better-off, from public services.
Those with money often have an option when services are not provided; they find alternatives.
Across Zimbabwean cities, people have resorted to boreholes and Jojo tanks as an alternative to council water.
Most well-to-do families opt to take their children to private schools to escape public schools, which lack classrooms and books, and have teachers who are demotivated due to low salaries.
The well-off utilise private hospitals for treatment as public hospitals lack equipment, skilled personnel, and medication.
While this withdrawal is an understandable act of self-preservation, it creates a negative feedback loop that abandons the majority to a collapsing system.
The result is that the poorest and most vulnerable in society suffer. With the affluent not using public services, the government and local authorities lose the incentive to fund public services.
While public services have deteriorated, there is an indication of consistent spending on the affluent.
Every other year, traditional leaders, service chiefs, and other senior officials receive new top-of-the-range vehicles.
This is money that would be better spent on shoring up service delivery and supporting the most disadvantaged in society, who bear the brunt of a broken service delivery system.
Zimbabweans need to disabuse themselves of the notion that the luxury and comfort of senior public officials is more important than the basic needs of the people.
Why should a public servant drive a US$100 000 vehicle in a country where hospitals run out of water, and patients are asked to bring their own bandages and syringes?
This misallocation is not merely bureaucratic incompetence; it is symptomatic of a political economy that rewards patronage over public good.
When funds for water purification are diverted to elite perks, it represents a conscious choice, reinforcing a system where state resources serve private interests.
While internal governance failures are primary, this downward spiral is exacerbated by a constrained fiscal environment, legacy debt, and a history of sanctions, making every misallocated dollar a profound betrayal.
More disturbingly, the coexistence of poor public services alongside private opulence has led to the stigmatisation of public services. Public services are now regarded as second-class.
A house without a borehole fetches less in rent than a house with one, and some families get into debt sending their children to private schools, because public schools are seen as inferior and hindering the prospects of children.
Therefore, the poorest in society not only experience real challenges because their real needs are not met, but they also live in a world where they are viewed as second-class.
Thus, instead of putting pressure on the authorities to provide better public services, most people aim to earn more and escape to a privileged life.
This partly contributes to the further erosion of the social contract as accountability suffers and those in power get away with failure to deliver.
The recent rains did not create the potholes; they merely revealed the decay that has been normalized.
Similarly, the coexistence of private wealth and public squalor is not an accident, but the revealed logic of a broken system.
Without a reprioritisation of the public good, the road ahead leads to worse fragmentation.
Reversing this trend requires people, particularly the affluent, to recognise that their private solutions are temporary and that sustainable national development demands a recommitment to public systems.
Instead of opting out of public services, people should collectively use their voice to demand accountability and better service delivery.
We can’t have all cities being lined by Jojo tanks on account of local authority failures to deliver water.
There is also a need for a fundamental policy shift towards progressive universalism — ensuring a baseline of quality public services for all, which would not only benefit the poor, but also the wealthy by creating a more stable, prosperous, and cohesive society.
For example, this means guaranteeing not just the existence of a public clinic, but ensuring it has reliable water, basic drugs, and a motivated nurse — a standard that serves as the foundation for everyone, upon which those who can afford can build, but below which no one is allowed to fall.
Ultimately, mending the social contract may depend less on appeals to the powerful and more on the collective action of communities and civic groups to stigmatise — not the public services that reveal our decay, but the corruption and neglect that create the potholes in the first place.
*Zibusiso John Dube is an advocacy and development strategist and programmes officer for Transnational Projects at Accountability Lab East and Southern Africa. He writes in his personal capacity.