THE relationship between witchcraft, political power and personal or societal development has long been debated across many cultures.
While today’s younger generation may question whether witchcraft exists at all, older generations often approach the subject with caution, choosing either to avoid direct engagement or to limit their exposure to it, whether out of fear, respect or a deep-seated belief in its potential harm.
Witchcraft is generally understood as using supernatural powers, particularly magic or sorcery, to influence or control people, events, or outcomes. It is rooted in the belief that certain individuals possess inherent or acquired magical abilities, often enacted through rituals, spells or other practices, whether for benevolent or malevolent purposes.
Because of this perceived ability to influence destiny, many churches today are filled with people seeking spiritual cleansing and deliverance from supposed spells or curses believed to be blocking their path to success. In this context, witchcraft becomes not just a spiritual concern, but a social and economic one.
Across various parts of the world, witchcraft continues to hold power as a cultural and political force. It is not merely a belief system, but a lens through which people interpret misfortune, inequality, power and success. In societies where formal institutions are weak or distrusted, witchcraft often functions as an alternative logic for explaining economic hardship or the uneven distribution of power and wealth.
Powerful individuals — whether the political elite, business leaders or traditional authorities — are sometimes accused of using occult means to accumulate wealth, reflecting widespread anxieties over corruption, exclusion and unexplained prosperity. Conversely, accusations of witchcraft can be weaponised as tools of social control, political manipulation or violent marginalisation, most often targeting women, children or the elderly.
In many communities, fear of witchcraft shapes social behaviour. Family members may avoid ancestral villages, skip family gatherings, or sever ties with relatives accused of practising witchcraft. Those who appear more successful than others may be suspected of using juju or occult powers. Some abandon development projects, fearing that visible success might attract negative spiritual attention. Others avoid announcing their departure from the village, fearing they might be bewitched before leaving.
In such environments, economic development is not just a technical or material process; it becomes a moral and social challenge. Progress is often only accepted when seen as a collective achievement, attributed more to spiritual or ancestral blessings than individual initiative. This worldview complicates efforts to promote entrepreneurship, redistribute resources or improve livelihoods, all of which must grapple with local narratives around success and failure, many of them deeply entangled with witchcraft discourse.
- There is more to life than just spirituality
- Witch hunters wreak havoc in Mhondoro-Ngezi
- Witchcraft, power and economic sanctions
Keep Reading
Whether or not witchcraft exists, it is widely perceived as a barrier to personal and collective advancement. Its influence — real or imagined — can discourage individuals and communities from pursuing development opportunities. In this way, witchcraft functions as an invisible but powerful obstacle to progress.
Let us, for a moment, assume that witchcraft exists and revisit its definition: the use of supernatural powers to influence or control people, events or outcomes — typically to limit the potential or well-being of the target. Witchcraft, in this framing, is seen as something that suppresses ambition, achievement or prosperity.
Now, let us turn the page to economic sanctions. Generally, sanctions are understood as economic or political measures designed to influence the behaviour of another government, group or individual.
Sanctions are typically imposed in response to actions that threaten the status quo, violate international norms or undermine strategic interests. Their stated objective is to induce compliance or change specific behaviour, whether related to human rights, political governance or international law.
Much like witchcraft, sanctions seek to restrict and limit. They aim to reduce a government's, group’s or individual’s ability to operate freely or realise their full potential — unless sanctioned or approved by a higher authority, often a global superpower. Financial measures such as asset freezes, trade bans or travel restrictions are introduced to exert pressure. And just as individuals in witchcraft-prone environments may self-censor or restrict their visibility, sanctioned governments may do the same, limiting exposure to avoid further penalties.
The key difference lies in formalisation. Sanctions are codified and regulated through legal frameworks; their scope is clearly defined and violations carry criminal liability. They are usually imposed for a specified period and reviewed based on the behaviour or compliance of the targeted entity. Once objectives are met, sanctions are expected to be lifted.
Witchcraft, by contrast, is nebulous. It has no formal legal framework, no formal review process and no clearly defined endpoint. Its influence can linger indefinitely, silently, subjectively and often unaccountably.
In both cases — witchcraft and economic sanctions — the power to limit, suppress or control is exercised, whether through mystical belief or institutional authority. One operates in the shadows of culture and fear, the other through formalised systems of global governance. Yet both can stifle agency, breed suspicion and shape how people or nations pursue progress. Recognising these parallels invites deeper reflection on how power, seen or unseen, influences development, autonomy and the pursuit of prosperity.
