Zimbabwe’s top global tourism ranking should spur government to rein in destructive mining practices

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This acclaim was anchored not in political rhetoric, but in the country’s natural beauty, cultural heritage, wildlife, and landscapes that have survived decades of economic decline and governance failures.

Yet this accolade also exposes a deep and uncomfortable contradiction.

At the very moment Zimbabwe is being celebrated for its mountains, heritage sites, wilderness areas, and wildlife, many of these same irreplaceable assets are being degraded, desecrated, or outright destroyed—often with the approval or complicity of the state—largely in the name of extractive mining, much of it driven by Chinese-owned companies.

This ranking should therefore not merely be a public relations trophy to be paraded by government officials.

It should be a wake-up call, and more importantly, an opportunity to fundamentally rethink Zimbabwe’s development model.

The very attractions that propelled Zimbabwe to the top of Forbes’ global tourism list are under sustained assault, raising a simple but profound question: how long can Zimbabwe continue to sell its beauty to the world while simultaneously destroying it at home?

Across the country, heritage sites and sacred landscapes are increasingly being treated as expendable obstacles to mining interests.

Christmas Pass in Mutare, a dramatic and iconic mountain gateway into the Eastern Highlands, is not only a scenic landmark but also a symbol of the region’s natural identity.

Yet such areas face growing pressure from quarrying and mining activities that scar landscapes permanently.

Boterekwa Gorge in Shurugwi, another area of striking natural beauty and geological significance, has suffered extensive environmental degradation from mining operations, leaving behind open pits, polluted waterways, and unstable terrain that will haunt communities long after the minerals are exhausted.

In Redcliff, Cactus Dam—once an important recreational and ecological asset—is under serious threat from mining on the mountain beside it, raising the danger of sediment and poisonous chemicals contaminating the dam and the Kwekwe River, which feeds farmers and communities downstream.

These are not isolated incidents.

Zimbabwe is littered with examples of mountains and heritage sites that have been damaged or destroyed in the name of mining.

The desecration of culturally significant areas such as Domboshava, parts of the Matobo Hills, and other sacred sites speaks to a broader pattern: economic desperation has been weaponised to justify environmental recklessness.

This is particularly troubling given that many of these places hold spiritual significance for local communities, serving as sites of worship, ancestral connection, and cultural continuity.

Their destruction is therefore not merely environmental vandalism, but cultural erasure.

Wildlife tourism, another pillar of Zimbabwe’s global appeal, is facing similar threats.

Hwange National Park, one of Africa’s premier wildlife destinations and home to one of the continent’s largest elephant populations, has repeatedly been at the centre of controversy over mining permits reportedly issued for coal exploration and extraction, including to Chinese-linked companies.

The idea that heavy industrial mining could coexist with a fragile ecosystem that supports elephants, lions, and countless other species is not just absurd—it is dangerous.

Hwange’s value lies precisely in its wilderness character.

Once that is compromised, no amount of marketing will restore its allure.

Equally disturbing has been the government’s handling of wildlife management itself.

In the past year, reports of large-scale elephant culling by Zimbabwean authorities have sparked outrage both locally and internationally.

While authorities often frame such actions as population control or climate resilience measures, the lack of transparency, consultation, and credible scientific justification has fuelled suspicion that wildlife is increasingly viewed as a disposable resource rather than a long-term national asset.

Elephants are not merely animals; they are a cornerstone of Zimbabwe’s tourism economy.

Tourists do not travel thousands of kilometres to see mining pits or dried-up dams—they come to experience living ecosystems, thriving wildlife, and landscapes that feel timeless.

The irony is stark.

Forbes’ ranking explicitly celebrates Zimbabwe’s natural wonders, wildlife experiences, and heritage sites as central to its appeal.

These are renewable assets if managed wisely.

Tourism, unlike extractive mining, can generate income year after year without permanently destroying the resource base.

A mountain preserved continues to attract hikers, photographers, spiritual pilgrims, and eco-tourists indefinitely.

An elephant protected today can still draw visitors decades from now.

A heritage site respected retains its cultural and economic value for generations.

By contrast, a mine leaves behind scars, pollution, and impoverished communities once the minerals are gone.

This is not an argument against development, nor is it a simplistic rejection of mining as an economic activity.

Zimbabwe undoubtedly needs revenue, jobs, and investment.

But development choices are about trade-offs, priorities, and time horizons.

Allowing poorly regulated, environmentally destructive mining—often benefiting foreign companies far more than local communities—to undermine tourism is economically irrational.

It is akin to burning down a house to keep warm for one night.

The Forbes ranking gives Zimbabwe leverage.

It provides a credible, internationally recognised basis to argue that conservation, heritage protection, and environmental stewardship are not luxuries, but economic imperatives.

It strengthens the case for stricter environmental impact assessments, genuine community consultation, and the exclusion of mining from protected areas, heritage sites, sacred landscapes, and critical wildlife habitats.

It also strengthens the argument for holding both local and foreign mining companies to account, regardless of their political connections or country of origin.

For too long, Chinese investment in Zimbabwe has been treated as untouchable, even when it clearly violates environmental laws, labour standards, and community rights.

Sovereignty is meaningless if a country cannot protect its own mountains, rivers, wildlife, and heritage from destruction.

Respecting Zimbabwe’s natural and cultural assets is not anti-investment; it is pro-national interest.

If the government is serious about leveraging Zimbabwe’s newfound global tourism prestige, it must align policy with rhetoric.

That means halting mining in ecologically sensitive and culturally significant areas, reversing reckless wildlife policies, rehabilitating damaged sites, and prioritising sustainable tourism as a strategic economic pillar.

It also means recognising that the true wealth of Zimbabwe does not lie only beneath the ground, but above it—in its landscapes, ecosystems, history, and people.

Forbes has effectively told the world that Zimbabwe is worth visiting because of what it is, not because of what can be extracted from it.

The challenge now is whether the Zimbabwean government will listen.

This ranking should not merely attract tourists; it should compel leaders to protect the very treasures that made such recognition possible.

If Zimbabwe destroys what makes it special, no ranking—no matter how prestigious—will save it from long-term economic and environmental ruin.