It is always easy to capture people’s attention with dramatic, over-the-top solutions to a problem, yet such measures rarely achieve the intended goal.
The calls we periodically hear in Zimbabwean public discourse, often from political leaders, for rapists to be “castrated” may appear to be bold, decisive, and even cathartic in a society ravaged by sexual violence.
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Just this week, Goromonzi West MP Beata Nyamupinga revived this debate in Parliament when she proposed that convicted rapists, particularly repeat offenders, should be castrated in order to deter others and protect women and children.
On the surface, this may sound like a practical solution.
Yet when we reflect more deeply, we must ask ourselves: is this really the answer?
Can we seriously believe that cutting off a man’s sexual organ will end rape?
Or are we falling into the trap of sensationalism, offering over-the-top prescriptions that do more to appease emotions than to actually address the scourge of sexual violence?
The comparison to cutting off thieves’ hands is unavoidable.
Would such barbaric punishment eradicate theft and robbery in our country?
History and experience tell us otherwise.
Across centuries and across cultures, societies that have applied extreme corporal punishment to crime have not managed to eradicate it.
Indeed, Saudi Arabia, which still prescribes amputation for theft, continues to struggle with robbery and corruption.
If harsh punishments alone worked as deterrents, then crime would be lowest in such societies.
Yet we know that is not the case.
The reality is that crime, whether sexual or otherwise, is far more complex than a simple matter of fear of punishment.
This is where we need to understand what rape really is.
Too often, rape is reduced to a crude biological act, as if it is nothing more than an uncontrollable sexual urge gone wrong.
Yet research across psychology, criminology, and sociology shows that rape is seldom about sex in the conventional sense.
Rather, rape is overwhelmingly about power, dominance, anger, and control.
It is about dehumanizing and humiliating the victim, about exerting control over another’s body as a way of compensating for deep insecurities, unresolved trauma, or warped social conditioning.
This is why many rape victims are children, elderly women, or even individuals with disabilities — people who, by any logic, would not be “sexually attractive” in a conventional sense.
Clearly, what drives rape is not a biological need for intercourse but a psychological and social pathology rooted in how the perpetrator views power, gender, and human dignity.
If that is the case, then castration, whether surgical removal of the penis as some Zimbabwean voices imagine, or the removal of testicles in the true sense of the word, will not address the underlying problem.
A man who rapes to feel powerful or to humiliate his victim can still commit sexual assault even without his penis, through objects, through physical violence, or other degrading means.
Castration may take away one instrument of the crime, but it does not deal with the distorted mindset, the violent worldview, or the misogyny that fuels the act.
In that sense, it is little more than a bandage on a festering wound — it looks dramatic, but it heals nothing.
This is where I have long argued that Zimbabwe needs to take a sober and scientific approach to this issue.
About twenty years ago, I conceived of a research project that I believed could be a game changer in understanding the roots of sexual violence.
The idea was to assemble a multidisciplinary team of psychologists, medical experts, criminologists, women’s rights activists, and legal scholars to interview and study convicted rapists.
The goal was not to justify their actions or to excuse them in any way, but rather to answer hard questions: What motivates them to rape?
How do they perceive women, sex, and relationships?
What role did their upbringing, their exposure to violence, their psychological health, or even their biological make-up play in shaping who they became?
Do rapists share certain patterns in their childhood experiences or social conditioning?
I believed, and still do, that such research could help us answer two critical questions.
First, can rapists be reformed?
Can targeted psychological, social, and rehabilitative interventions make them less likely to reoffend?
Second, and perhaps more importantly, can we prevent the emergence of future rapists by identifying risk factors in childhood and addressing them early?
For example, if a boy grows up witnessing gender-based violence in the home, or if he internalizes toxic ideas of masculinity that equate dominance with worth, can targeted education, mentorship, and counseling change his trajectory before he becomes a predator?
Sadly, despite my enthusiasm, the project never took off.
I approached women’s rights groups, academics, and civil society organizations, but there was no appetite for it.
At the time I was still naïve; I thought civil society was driven purely by love of people and passion for justice.
I later learned the harsh truth — that in many cases, projects are driven by donor funding priorities rather than by local realities.
If an idea does not fit into the donor template of the moment, it rarely sees the light of day, no matter how potentially transformative.
Anything requiring personal sacrifice or unfunded initiative struggles to find traction.
Yet I remain convinced that without such sober, scientific inquiry, we will remain stuck in the cycle of emotive responses and sensational proposals.
Calling for castration may win applause in Parliament and cheers from a public outraged by horrific cases of child rape.
But applause does not solve problems.
Sensationalism does not dismantle the toxic masculinity, the broken justice system, or the culture of silence that enables sexual violence to thrive.
It does not provide survivors with the support, counseling, and justice they desperately need.
It does not transform how we raise our boys or how we educate our communities about consent, respect, and equality.
If we are serious about ending sexual violence, we must tackle it at the root.
That means strengthening law enforcement so that perpetrators are swiftly caught and prosecuted, ending the culture of impunity where influential abusers go free, and reforming our prisons so they are not just holding cells but places where offenders are rehabilitated.
It means rolling out comprehensive sexuality education that teaches young people about respect, consent, and healthy relationships.
It means tackling poverty, alcohol and drug abuse, and other social conditions that often form the backdrop to sexual violence.
Above all, it means transforming the gender attitudes that persist in our society — attitudes that tell boys that being a man is about domination, that women are property, and that violence is an acceptable means of control.
None of this is quick or easy.
It is far harder than standing in Parliament and demanding that rapists’ organs be cut off.
But it is the only way we will make real progress.
As long as we continue to play to the gallery with extreme solutions that appeal to raw emotion, we will fail to confront the deep, uncomfortable truths about why rape persists in our society.
And the victims — women, children, and vulnerable men — will continue to suffer.
Zimbabwe does not need sensationalism.
We need courage.
The courage to ask hard questions, to confront uncomfortable cultural realities, and to commit ourselves to real, long-term change.
Castration may silence debate for a while.
But only science, justice, and social transformation will silence the scourge of rape.
TENDAI RUBEN MBOFANA - THE UN-OPPRESSED MIND! 
You are right, but I will admit something. I am tired. Not tired of agreeing with what you say, but tired of how it feels to speak about these things in this country. There is no room for complexity here. If you even suggest studying rapists to understand them, people assume you are defending them. If you point out that punishment does not cure a culture, you are accused of being soft. Everything is turned into sides. You are either with the mob or you are branded against survivors. And so we stay stuck, talking about castration as if that is serious policy.
I have written about this before, when Madagascar passed its castration law for paedophiles. I called it barbaric, I called it unjust, I said it was a trick played on the public. I stand by every word. But I also know how people reacted. The assumption was that I cared more about offenders than about children. It is the same wall you are up against here. No one wants to hear that real change requires thought, data, and culture work. They want blood. They want to feel that someone has paid.
The cynic in me says our leaders know this very well. They know that Zimbabwe is polarized and exhausted. They know that the justice system has failed so many survivors that the public has lost faith. So they serve a brutal fantasy instead. Castration sounds final. It sounds decisive. It sounds like a shortcut. And the truth is many will cheer because in a place where the guilty often go free, the thought of permanent punishment feels like relief. The problem is that the wrong people will be punished and the powerful will escape as they always do.
What depresses me most is that even the suggestion of research is treated as dangerous. If you say we should study why men rape, it is twisted into you saying rape is understandable. If you call for rehabilitation, it is heard as forgiveness. We are not allowed to ask questions, because questions sound like sympathy. Yet without questions there are no answers. Without study there is no prevention. We are supposed to shout, not think.
I share your frustration because I see how these debates end before they begin. Once castration is proposed, the country is split. One side shouts that rapists deserve worse. The other side tries to point to human rights. No one asks how survivors will be cared for, or how communities will change. The conversation collapses into rage and morality plays. That is how it is with everything here. Polarization does not leave space for nuance.
I think about survivors. Not as statistics but as people who wake up carrying the weight every day. They deserve more than a country arguing about knives and chemicals. They deserve support that lasts years. They deserve schools that teach boys to respect them. They deserve a justice system that actually believes them. But they do not get that, because it is easier to stage a performance than to fix what is broken.
So yes, you are right. Castration is theatre. Vengeance in fact. And yet I fear it will gain support because anger is always easier than patience. What you wrote takes courage because it is harder to defend humanity when everyone is calling for cruelty. I know how it feels to be accused of sympathizing with monsters when what you really want is to protect society from producing more of them. That is the landmine we walk on in this country. You cannot say the word “rehabilitation” without someone branding you an enemy of victims. You cannot speak of culture without being told you are excusing crime.
It leaves us in a place where there is no middle ground. Where politics feeds off outrage. Where leaders cash in on cruelty, survivors are sidelined,and where those of us who want better are forced to speak anyway, knowing we will be misunderstood.
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