By Mudiwa Mwarire

Zimbabweans are vocal about excess. Every day, social media is filled with complaints about slay queens, flashy lifestyles, and the public display of wealth. Politicians, musicians, and businesspeople are criticised for appearing disconnected from the lived realities of ordinary citizens. Given the economic pressure many Zimbabweans face, this frustration is understandable.

What is less defensible is our inconsistency.

We attack musicians who show wealth and accuse them of selling out, yet we also distrust those who live quietly and avoid spectacle. Artists such as Jah Prayzah, Alick Macheso, and Winky D have all faced scrutiny whether they project discipline or flamboyance. In politics and business, the pattern is the same: loud figures are labelled reckless, while quiet ones are treated with suspicion. The standard shifts depending on who is being discussed, not on behaviour.

The debate around Dr. Kudakwashe Tagwirei illustrates this contradiction clearly. For years, Zimbabweans have said they want business leaders who are grounded, family-centred, disciplined, and invested locally. Yet when a wealthy and influential figure keeps his family private, avoids social-media theatrics, openly practises his faith, and channels giving through institutions and Bridging Gap Fountation, the response is not recognition but distrust. Silence is read as manipulation. Restraint is framed as danger.

This does not mean Tagwirei, or anyone else, should be beyond scrutiny. In a country shaped by inequality and political history, questioning wealth and influence is necessary. But criticism must be consistent. It cannot condemn excess one day and attack discipline the next simply because the individual involved does not fit a preferred narrative.

The same inconsistency applies across Southern Africa. Figures such as Strive Masiyiwa and Patrice Motsepe are often viewed with suspicion precisely because they are not flamboyant and do not perform their wealth publicly. Meanwhile, leaders and celebrities who display excess are criticised for arrogance. Either way, public discourse is reactive rather than principled.

Faith further exposes this problem. Zimbabweans frequently invoke morality and religion in political debate. Yet when public figures live disciplined, faith-led lives, their sincerity is questioned. When leaders behave badly, religion is said to be absent; when they behave well, it is dismissed as a cover. This approach reflects discomfort with structure, not a commitment to accountability.

Zimbabwe’s real challenge is not wealth versus poverty, or noise versus silence. It is the absence of agreed standards for leadership, success, and responsibility. We cannot demand grounded leadership while punishing restraint, or claim to want discipline while rewarding outrage and spectacle.

If Zimbabwe is serious about building a stable political culture, it must move beyond selective outrage and apply the same standards to all public figures, including Dr. Tagwirei. Without consistency, criticism becomes noise rather than accountability, and public debate remains stuck in cycles of contradiction rather than progress.