The Lion That Smiles: When the Law Becomes a Spear Instead of a Shield
By Dr. Mwelwa
When Irene Khan, the UN Special Rapporteur on Freedom of Expression, visited Zambia, she did not merely see roads, buildings, and people going about their daily lives. She saw something deeper—something that many feel but dare not speak about loudly. She saw a nation at a crossroads, a place where the echoes of the past still haunt the present, only in a different form.
There is a saying in Africa: “The forest may change, but the leopards remain the same.” The PF, in their time, ruled with iron fists, unleashing cadres and chaos upon those who dared to oppose them. They were loud in their oppression, unashamed in their brutality. They left wounds on the bodies of many, scars that time has not yet healed. But now, there is a new power in the land, and though they wear different colors and speak of change, their methods remain familiar.
The machetes have been put away, but the chains of oppression have not been broken. They have only been refined, polished to look like justice. Instead of men in the streets wielding stones, there are now men in uniforms wielding laws. Instead of crude beatings, there are court summons and lengthy trials. Instead of physical violence, there is legal suffocation. The new rulers are not reckless; they are careful. They do not spill blood; they drain voices.
The law is meant to be a shield for the weak, a pillar of fairness, a protector of justice. But in the wrong hands, it becomes a spear, wielded not to defend, but to destroy. The UPND, in their wisdom, have discovered that a prison built with paper is just as effective as one built with bricks. Arrests do not have to be loud if they are frequent. A courtroom can be just as frightening as a battlefield if it is used to punish rather than to uphold justice.
There is an old proverb: “A cow that eats alone risks choking.” Power, when hoarded and used to silence, becomes a curse. It blinds those who wield it, making them believe they are invincible. But history is a wise teacher. Those who use the state to settle personal and political scores eventually find that the same machinery they controlled will one day turn against them. The courts they manipulate today may pass judgment on them tomorrow. The police they command today may drag them away in handcuffs in the future.
Justice must be like the rain—it must fall on all, not just on those who challenge power. If the law moves swiftly against critics but stumbles when it comes to those in government, then it is not law—it is a weapon. The judges, the police, the magistrates—these are not meant to be tools of any ruling party. They are meant to serve the people, to protect the weak, to hold all men accountable, regardless of their position.
The silence in Zambia today is not peace; it is fear. Journalists look over their shoulders before they write. Activists measure their words before they speak. Opposition leaders wonder not if they will be arrested, but when. And yet, those in power smile, convinced that they are governing wisely. But a lion that smiles is still a lion.
The government still has time to change course. True strength is not in silencing voices, but in proving critics wrong through action, not intimidation. If the UPND truly wishes to be remembered as different from their predecessors, they must unchain the justice system, let the courts breathe, let the police serve all people equally. Let no Zambian fear to speak. Let no journalist fear the truth. Let no citizen feel that the law is only there to protect the powerful.
For in the end, a government that governs through fear does not build a legacy; it builds a storm. And when that storm comes, it does not ask who is in power. It simply sweeps away all who thought themselves untouchable.