An excessive urge to control everything betrays fear and a deep lack of confidence.

The recent statement by the Broadcasting Authority of Zimbabwe (BAZ) threatening action against the distribution, sale, and use of so-called “illegal” decoders is not merely a regulatory notice; it is a revealing window into how far Zimbabwe’s broadcasting framework remains detached from democratic norms.
To directly receive articles from Tendai Ruben Mbofana, please join his WhatsApp Channel on: https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VaqprWCIyPtRnKpkHe08
Cloaked in the language of legality, sustainability, and protection of the broadcasting industry, the announcement in fact exposes an outdated, restrictive, and deeply authoritarian approach to media regulation—one that criminalises consumer choice, suppresses competition, and ultimately undermines the very credibility of claims that Zimbabwe is opening up its democratic and media space.
At the heart of the BAZ position is the assertion that citizens may not lawfully access broadcasting services without state-approved licences, extending even to the devices they use in their own homes.
This logic effectively transforms ordinary viewers into potential offenders simply for choosing how and what to watch.
In any genuine democracy, this would be unthinkable.
Regulation is meant to govern broadcasters and commercial operators, not to police citizens’ living rooms.
By contrast, Zimbabwe’s model places the state as the ultimate gatekeeper of information, determining not only who may broadcast, but also what devices citizens may use to receive content—even when that content originates beyond Zimbabwe’s borders.
In democratic societies such as South Africa, the United Kingdom, the European Union, and the United States, broadcasting regulation is firmly anchored in consumer rights and freedom of information.
Regulators license broadcasters, not viewers.
Individuals are free to purchase and use any decoder, satellite dish, smart TV, or streaming device of their choosing.
The legality of content distribution is a matter between regulators, broadcasters, and copyright holders, not a criminal matter imposed on consumers.
This distinction is critical.
It reflects an understanding that access to information is a fundamental democratic right, not a privilege dispensed by the state.
South Africa offers a particularly relevant comparison.
Despite having its own public broadcaster and regulatory authority, no South African citizen is threatened with arrest or prosecution for owning a foreign decoder or accessing international satellite content.
Competition is allowed to exist, prices are disciplined by the market, and consumers ultimately decide what services survive.
The regulator intervenes only where broadcasters violate licensing or content rules—not where citizens exercise choice.
This is precisely how a regulator should function: as a neutral referee, not an enforcer of monopolies.
In the UK and across the EU, the principle of device neutrality is well established.
The state does not dictate what hardware citizens may use to access content.
Instead, the law focuses on copyright enforcement, targeting commercial-scale piracy and illegal resellers, not individual users.
The assumption is simple yet profound: citizens are rational adults capable of making their own choices.
Freedom of access is not seen as a threat to national security or public order, but as a cornerstone of democracy itself.
The United States goes even further in entrenching this freedom.
Hardware neutrality is sacrosanct.
Whether one accesses content via cable, satellite, IPTV, or online streaming is of no concern to the state.
Where piracy exists, enforcement targets organised, profit-driven infringement, not households.
The idea that a regulator would publicly warn citizens against purchasing certain decoders would be viewed as a gross overreach and an affront to civil liberties.
Against this backdrop, Zimbabwe’s approach appears not just restrictive, but fundamentally incompatible with democratic practice.
The insistence on controlling decoders betrays a deeper anxiety—not about piracy, but about control.
If the true concern were copyright protection, enforcement would focus on large-scale distributors and commercial resellers, not end users.
If the concern were the sustainability of the broadcasting industry, the solution would be competition, innovation, and affordability, not bans and threats.
Repression does not build sustainable industries; it merely drives consumers underground.
Indeed, the popularity of alternative decoders in Zimbabwe is itself an indictment of the system.
Citizens are not seeking illegal services out of malice, but out of necessity.
High subscription costs, limited content diversity, and perceived monopolistic practices have created a market failure.
In any democracy, such a failure would prompt regulatory reform.
In Zimbabwe, it instead provokes criminalisation.
Even more troubling is the broader implication for freedom of information.
Broadcasting is not just about entertainment; it is about access to ideas, perspectives, and narratives.
When the state restricts how citizens may access content, it inevitably shapes what they are exposed to.
This is why democratic societies are so cautious about media regulation.
They recognise that information control, however subtly framed, is antithetical to democratic citizenship.
If Zimbabwean authorities genuinely wish to be taken seriously when they speak of opening up the media and democratic space, they must confront this contradiction head-on.
One cannot proclaim reform while enforcing laws rooted in suspicion of citizens and fear of choice.
Democratic reform is not performative; it requires dismantling undemocratic laws, not repackaging them with friendlier language.
The BAZ announcement therefore deserves to be challenged—legally, intellectually, and morally.
It should be questioned on the grounds of fairness, proportionality, and democratic consistency.
Why does Zimbabwe regulate viewers when democratic states regulate broadcasters?
Why are citizens threatened instead of empowered?
Why is competition suppressed rather than encouraged?
These are not radical questions; they are standard democratic inquiries.
A modern, democratic broadcasting framework for Zimbabwe would liberalise access, respect consumer choice, and focus regulation where it belongs—on broadcasters and commercial operators.
It would encourage competition to lower prices and improve content, rather than using coercion to protect incumbents.
Above all, it would recognise that citizens are not enemies of the state, but rights-bearing individuals entitled to information and choice.
Until such reforms are undertaken, announcements like that of BAZ will continue to ring hollow.
They will not restore order or protect the industry.
They will simply reinforce the perception that Zimbabwe’s media laws remain anchored in an authoritarian past, out of step with democratic standards across the region and the world.
If democracy is truly the destination, then freedom of access—not fear of it—must be the starting point.