For over two decades, the Zimbabwean narrative of economic despair has been meticulously curated by those in power. We have been told, with tireless repetition, that our woes—the staggering hyperinflation, the evaporated savings, and the graveyard of six defunct local currencies—were the consequences of external aggression. “Sanctions,” we were informed, were the invisible hand strangling the life out of the Zimbabwean Dollar, the Bearer Cheque, the Bond Note, and the RTGS. However, a recent and seemingly innocuous graphic released by the Reserve Bank of Zimbabwe (RBZ), titled “The RBZ Monumental Shift,” has done what twenty-five years of opposition politics and economic activism struggled to do: it has provided a smoking-gun confession from the very heart of the state.
By proudly proclaiming that the new currency, the ZiG, is stable because of “ZERO borrowing from Government,” the authorities have inadvertently admitted that the chaos of the past was not a foreign imposition, but a domestic choice. It is a stunning, if unintended, acknowledgment that the hyperinflationary fires that consumed the nation’s wealth were fueled by a government that treated the central bank as its private, unrestrained ATM. To understand the weight of this admission, one must look at the historical context the RBZ now admits to trying to “shift” away from. Since the late 1990s, Zimbabwe has become a global case study in monetary failure. We have seen the introduction and subsequent demise of six different iterations of local currency, each heralded with the same optimism and each ending in the same tragedy of worthlessness.
The RBZ’s new statement explains that pledging not to borrow from the central bank “removes one of the common historical triggers of hyperinflation.” This is a profound sentence. In the world of diplomacy and statecraft, this is what we call “saying the quiet part loud.” If the removal of government borrowing is the “monumental shift” required for stability, then by logical extension, the presence of that borrowing was the monumental cause of our previous instability. For years, the government insisted that the printing press was a necessary tool for survival against Western “economic warfare.” Now, the RBZ admits that the printing press was the weapon used against the Zimbabwean people’s own pockets.
The “sanctions” excuse has served as a convenient veil for what can only be described as fiscal kleptocracy and institutionalised mismanagement. While the government blamed Washington and Brussels for the currency’s collapse, they were busy engaging in opaque, quasi-fiscal activities that bypass Parliamentary oversight. This is where the true story of Zimbabwe’s economic struggle lies. Much of the borrowing the RBZ now pledges to stop was done in the shadows. Under the guise of “Command Agriculture,” infrastructural development, or civil service stability, billions of dollars were funnelled through the central bank. Yet, as various Parliamentary Portfolio Committees have highlighted over the years, billions of these borrowed dollars remain unaccounted for. We are a nation that borrows in the dark to spend on projects that never see the light of day.
When the Auditor General’s reports consistently point toward massive leakages, it becomes clear that the “unrestrained borrowing” mentioned by the RBZ was not just a policy error; it was a mechanism for looting. The RBZ has handed us the truth on a glossy digital flyer: the “historical trigger” of our suffering was the government’s own hand on the lever of the printing press. The targeted sanctions, while certainly a factor in the broader diplomatic landscape, have been used as a convenient “bogeyman” to distract from a systemic failure of governance. They are a veil used to cover the tracks of those who have spent twenty-five years borrowing our future to pay for their present.
The introduction of the Zimbabwe Gold (ZiG) in early 2024 was met with deep-seated scepticism. Backed by gold and foreign currency reserves, the ZiG was touted as the ultimate solution to the country’s perennial currency woes. By February 2026, the government began pointing to data as proof of success. Inflation reportedly fell to 4.1 per cent in January 2026, and the central bank claimed to have accumulated US$1.2 billion in foreign asset reserves to back the new unit. On the surface, the numbers look promising. The ZiG even strengthened slightly against the US Dollar in early 2026, moving from 25.98 to 25.59. But for the ordinary man on the streets of Harare or Bulawayo, these statistics feel like a mirage.
The reality of Zimbabwe’s economy is not found in the glossy reports of the RBZ, but in the desperate struggles of its people. While the elite celebrate “unprecedented monetary stability,” the country is grappling with a burgeoning social crisis. Consider the recent tragedy of a 20-year-old man who took his own life after losing US$800 on the popular betting game, Aviator. Or the woman who collapsed and died inside a betting shop in Bulawayo. These are not just isolated incidents of bad luck; they are symptoms of a society where formal economic avenues have been closed off, leaving many to see gambling as their only hope for survival. When the local currency is a “mirage,” people turn to desperate measures.
This leads us to the most significant U-turn in recent memory: the government’s retreat from its 2030 de-dollarisation target. For months, the official line was clear — Zimbabwe would return to a mono-currency system by 2030, phasing out the US Dollar entirely. However, in February 2026, the RBZ quietly abandoned this fixed deadline. Instead, they adopted what they call a “conditions-based framework”. The new prerequisite for abandoning the multi-currency system is now set at achieving between three and six months’ worth of import cover.
Why the sudden change of heart? The answer lies in the complex web of interests that govern Zimbabwe’s economy. The multi-currency system, while providing a safety net for the public, also creates immense opportunities for those with access to foreign exchange. The “currency confusion” that the RBZ claims to be fighting is, in fact, a goldmine for a small elite. By maintaining a dual-currency environment, the powerful can exploit the gap between the official exchange rate and the black market rate — a practice known as arbitrage. This is not a result of incompetence; it is a calculated strategy. The U-turn on the 2030 target ensures that these lucrative opportunities remain available for the foreseeable future.
Furthermore, the recent staff-monitored programme (SMP) agreed upon with the International Monetary Fund (IMF) in February 2026 adds another layer of complexity. The IMF agreement demands transparency and fiscal discipline — the very things the RBZ’s “monumental shift” claims to embrace. However, history suggests that such agreements are often used by the Zimbabwean government as a tool for international re-engagement rather than a genuine commitment to reform. By appearing to comply with IMF standards, the regime hopes to unlock much-needed international credit, while continuing its opaque fiscal practices behind the scenes.
The “sanctions myth” remains the ultimate defensive shield. Whenever the government is pressed on the failure of its policies, it retreats into the familiar rhetoric of external victimhood. Yet, as the RBZ’s own admissions show, the most significant damage to the Zimbabwean economy has been self-inflicted. The “unrestrained borrowing” that fueled hyperinflation was a choice made in the corridors of power in Harare, not in Washington. The “fiscal kleptocracy” described by critics is a home-grown phenomenon.
In conclusion, the “ZiG Zag” is not a sign of a government finding its way; it is the movement of a regime trying to stay one step ahead of the truth. The “monumental shift” at the RBZ is a confession masquerading as a reform. While the authorities point to falling inflation and growing reserves, the Zimbabwean people continue to pay the price for decades of mismanagement. The U-turn on the US Dollar is a calculated move to preserve the status quo, ensuring that the elite continue to profit from the very chaos they claim to be solving. As we look toward the future, the question remains: will the ZiG become a stable foundation for growth, or will it simply be the seventh name on the list of failed currencies? One thing is certain—until the government moves beyond the “sanctions myth” and embraces true transparency, the “ZiG Zag” will continue, and the Zimbabwean people will remain the ultimate victims of this calculated economic game.
Follow @MyZimbabweNews
