When the Law Sleeps and Violence Speaks: Who Will Save the Republic?

When the Law Sleeps and Violence Speaks: Who Will Save the Republic?

Dr. Mwelwa

I was hesitant to comment on Robert Chabinga’s press conference—partly out of disbelief, partly out of caution. But silence in the face of such reckless and inflammatory utterances would be complicity. When a public figure openly boasts about impending violence, threatens fellow citizens, and mocks the rule of law, it ceases to be political drama—it becomes a national crisis demanding reflection, response, and accountability.

Is this how a nation governed by the rule of law responds to blatant threats of violence, open admissions of criminal intent, and the desecration of democratic processes? When an expelled Member of Parliament, Robert Chabinga, mounts a public platform at a prestigious hotel and declares—without remorse—that he will “violently rob” an unnamed person, “brutally destroy” a political party, and “deal with” fellow citizens outside the bounds of the law, what is the response of the State? Is silence now the new enforcement mechanism?

Where are the men and women entrusted with the Constitution’s shield? The Inspector General of Police was directly addressed—mocked even—with a chilling promise: “If you receive a report that some money has been stolen… just know I’m the first suspect.” Are we to laugh? Or weep? When suspects confess before the crime, does the law wait for blood to stain the floor before it acts?

Zambia’s Penal Code is not silent on this. Sections 87 and 90 criminalize inciting violence and threatening physical harm. Section 248 speaks against criminal intimidation. These are not abstract clauses in a dusty statute—they are the defensive walls of a society that wishes to live in peace. And yet, from the mouth of a man who claims to “own the Patriotic Front” and openly declares that there will be no conventions because he will enforce order with fists, not ballots, comes a defiant snarl: “Police must stay away.”

Shall the police indeed stay away? Or are they only brave when arresting street vendors and university students?

African wisdom warns us: “A snake that shows its fangs in daylight has already decided to strike.” When Chabinga threatens violence on women who dare attend political events, when he bans the Electoral Commission and dictates who shall and shall not participate in an election, are we not witnessing an attempted coup of the democratic spirit—not with guns, but with impunity?

Is the Law Association of Zambia listening, or has it been cowed into cautious silence by the threats flung its way from the podium? What of the NGOCC and Church mother bodies, called to abandon their work and “join politics”—is this not the language of political thuggery trying to dismantle the last bastions of civic morality?

And what of the Electoral Process Act? When a candidate bars others from standing in an election, when he threatens voters who wear the symbols of another party, is this not voter intimidation under Sections 103 to 105 of the Act? Or has the law become too polite to disturb those who shout loudest?

A man threatens to “deal with” Emmanuel Mwamba and Sishuwa Sishuwa—names, not just individuals, but symbols of critical thought and civic vigilance. When a public figure declares he will not use the law but will “reach them” physically, do we still pretend to be a nation governed by law? Or have we become a jungle where only the loud and the reckless are heard?

In another breath, the same man confesses that “media money” is available, instructs journalists to remain seated and wait for their share—has bribery become policy? Under the Anti-Corruption Act, is this not an inducement, a perversion of public trust? Will the ACC ask questions, or merely turn the other way, waiting for permission from political masters?

The law is clear. The violations are many. The evidence is public. What remains is a test—not of legislation, but of courage. Will the law enforcement agencies act, or shall they become passive spectators to the erosion of order, democracy, and justice?

A wise Bemba saying goes, —The foolishness of a monkey wearing human clothes does not make it human. The titles we carry—MP, Honourable, President—mean nothing if our actions are savage. Let us not clothe lawlessness in suits and call it politics.

Zambia stands at a precipice. Shall we protect the dignity of our Republic, or shall we wait for blood to confirm what we were too timid to prevent The nation watches. The law sleeps. But the people will remember.