By Blessed Mhlanga and JEREMIAH BAMU and Abraham Mateta
Africa-Press – Zimbabwe. OVER the weekend, social media brought to the fore issues around the needs of people living with disabilities and how the government has failed or succeeded in responding to these needs.
Apart from solo gestures or token donations by politicians of wheelchairs, cars and food hampers or Facebook debates, what is important is to start from the legal and policy framework that the government has put in place. This article focuses on the law and to what extent it has gone to better the lives of Persons with Disabilities (PWDs).
When the government of Zimbabwe gazetted the Persons with Disabilities Act on November 21, 2025, many expected the long-awaited departure from the antiquated 1992 framework. After all, more than a decade has passed since Zimbabwe ratified the UN Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (CRPD). Expectations were high: a modern, enforceable, disability-led law that finally centres the lived realities, aspirations and rights of persons with disabilities.
What the country received instead is a law that gestures towards progress but remains weighed down by structural weaknesses, excessive ministerial power and paternalistic undertones that dilute its transformative potential.
A Rights-based Act with a bureaucratic soul
At first glance, the Act reads like a strong rights charter — spanning education, health, autonomy, access to justice, work and cultural participation. But a closer reading reveals an uncomfortable truth: these rights are framed not as entitlements enforceable against the State, but as aspirations dependent almost entirely on ministerial discretion.
Throughout the Act, one encounters a phrase repeated with almost ritualistic devotion:
“The minister shall take all necessary steps within the power and competence of his or her ministry…”
This wording appears 17 times across the text, shaping much of the rights-enforcement framework. On the surface, it sounds reasonable. But legally and symbolically, it exposes a deeper conceptual flaw.
It situates disability rights not as constitutional guarantees, but as administrative conveniences — rights that matter only to the extent that a minister has “power and competence,” and potentially excusable where they do not. It subtly communicates that disability rights are optional, negotiable and contingent on government capacity rather than anchored in dignity and equality.
For a country that has constitutionally recognised disability as a human right and development issue since 2013, this phrasing is not merely clumsy. It is a regression — an echo of the benevolent-charity model Zimbabwe should be leaving behind.
An Act held hostage by ministerial power
A review of governance provisions — echoed in the critique by Tsunga Bamu Law International — demonstrates that the minister retains extraordinary influence over almost every institutional function:
Board appointments and leadership
The minister:
selects the majority of board members,
decides which disability organisations are “representative,”
appoints both chairperson and vice-chairperson, and
can co-opt additional members “in consultation with the minister.”
This transforms the National Disability Affairs Board from what should be a disability-led independent body to an extension of ministerial authority.
Strategic planning
The Act requires a five-year strategic plan — but it has no legal force until the minister approves it. No timelines. No criteria. No accountability. A minister can delay an entire sector’s strategic direction indefinitely.
Committees and delegated functions
Even internal board committees require ministerial approval, giving the minister indirect influence over technical work.
Discipline and dismissal
Board members may be suspended based on vague standards such as “unsuitability,” opening the door to arbitrary or politically-motivated removals.
In effect, the law creates the form of a disability governance structure — but not the freedom required for that structure to deliver justice, accountability and progressive policy.
Immunity without responsibility
Section 9 gives board members, staff and even invited persons immunity for actions done “in good faith and/or gross negligence.”
The combination of “good faith” and gross negligence in the same immunity clause is not just unusual — it is dangerous. It risks shielding harmful conduct, weakens accountability and contradicts modern governance principles.
A law heavy on promises, light on mechanisms
Where the Act speaks to rights — in education, health, cultural participation, access to justice and autonomy — the commitments are largely rhetorical. They lack:
timelines,
reporting obligations,
monitoring mechanisms,
enforcement pathways, and
consequences for non-compliance.
Rights become aspirations, not obligations.
Appeals that are functionally inaccessible
The Act directs appeals — such as challenges to adjustment orders — straight to the High Court. This is excessively burdensome, costly, and unrealistic for many persons with disabilities.
Modern disability frameworks favour specialised tribunals or accessible administrative mechanisms — not high-stakes, formal court processes.
Outdated views of culture and technology
Provisions on cultural life emphasise television, film, theatres and museums — ignoring the digital ecosystem where contemporary culture actually lives:
social media,
mobile apps,
online learning,
digital broadcasting,
virtual events, and
AI-mediated communication.
A 21st century disability law that does not centre digital accessibility is already outdated.
Weak safeguards for independence and public trust
From fund-management provisions lacking investment safeguards to inspectors empowered to enter premises and remove documents without adequate judicial oversight, the Act employs enforcement tools that feel disproportionate to a rights-based statute. These are remnants of a regulatory imagination that has not fully moved on from control-oriented governance.
Where the Act succeeds
Despite its weaknesses, the Act is not without merit:
It repeals a long-obsolete 1992 law.
It recognises a broad spectrum of rights.
It establishes registers, structures and funds for disability inclusion.
It aligns rhetorically with the Constitution and the CRPD.
These gains matter. But rhetorical alignment without structural empowerment is not enough.
A better future is still possible
Zimbabwe still has an opportunity to strengthen this law through:
targeted amendments,
robust regulations,
parliamentary oversight,
disability-led policymaking processes and
clear mechanisms for accountability and enforcement.
The disability movement should not accept a framework that appears progressive but is tethered to outdated bureaucratic instincts.
Conclusion: A half-built bridge
The Persons with Disabilities Act stands as a half-built bridge — symbolising political willingness but failing to carry the weight of transformation. By tethering rights to ministerial “power and competence,” centralising authority and omitting enforceability, the law risks becoming a missed opportunity.
Zimbabwe deserves a disability law anchored in dignity, autonomy and equality — not one constrained by bureaucracy, paternalism and discretionary goodwill.
The question remains: Will we settle for a symbolic gesture or push for the genuine, structural shift that persons with disabilities deserve?
Source: NewsDay
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