24/10/2025
Democracy, Dissent & the Dance of the Mic
âŠis free expression under threat in Zambia?
Amb. Anthony Mukwita wrote-
24 Oct 25
This week, amid the usual political pirouettes and bureaucratic ballet, one issue pirouetted straight into my cerebral inbox: the saga of The Analysis on KBNTV, helmed by the indomitable Kennedy Mambwe, a man who could interview a tornado and still keep his tie straight.
Now, KBNTV and crew have found themselves in the crosshairs of the Independent Broadcasting Authority (IBA), or as some whisper in corridors, the âInconvenient Blabbering Alarm.â Their crime? Saying things that make the powers-that-be twitch like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
Theyâve also tangoed into trouble with âHe Who Must Be Obeyedâ, or a particularly moody headmaster. Their offense? Featuring guests who allegedly lean opposition-ward. As if political leanings were contagious like the flu.
I say this with the full weight of my retired vocal cords (I used to be a regular on The Analysis, before I traded the mic for a pen and a quiet cup of tea): itâs wrongâcategorically, constitutionally, and comically wrongâto muzzle people just because they say things you donât like. Thatâs not democracy. Thatâs dictatorship with a Wi-Fi password.
đŁïž as the late great Edward R. Murrow once said, âA nation of sheep will beget a government of wolves.â And George Orwell, who knew a thing or two about âtoughâ regimes, warned, âIf liberty means anything at all, it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear.â
If weâd outlawed dissent in 1990, Super Ken wouldâve simply banned or jailed every voice of change. FTJ wouldâve remained a footnote.
Mwanawasa, RB, Sata, Lungu, and HH wouldâve been political figments. Zambia would still be stuck in a time loop, like a VHS tape that refuses to rewind.
Legal dissent is the seasoning in democracyâs stew. Itâs the difference between civil politics and caveman politics. You donât kill itâyou marinate it, nurture it, serve it with a side of tolerance and a dash of humour. Itâs like a professional grudge: you donât bury it, you frame it.
đšïž âFree expression,â as one wise wag put it, âis the oxygen democracy breathes.â Without it, democracy becomes a suffocating room with no windows and a broken fan.
And when that oxygen starts thinning, especially before an election, youâll see red flags flapping like laundry in a Lusaka thunderstorm. The EU will whisper through its velvet diplomacy.
Amnesty International (the real AI, not the one writing your story) will raise eyebrows. The UN Human Rights Commission will send polite but pointed memos. And then comes the Big Bad WolfâUncle Samâsniffing around with sanctions and statements.
But my real concern isnât the diplomatic dominoes. Itâs the Zambian people. The voters. The ones stuck in the poverty rut, afraid to speak lest they end up in a cell with a broken toilet and a philosophical cockroach named Steve.
These folks donât need a press release to revolt. They donât need a hashtag. They just need one bad day, one broken promise, one insult too many, and regimes crumble like expired biscuits or house of cards.
SHOULD POLITICS BE COMPLICATED?
Politics, in my humble view, is not rocket science. Itâs basic arithmetic: provide electricity, make food affordable, let parents send their kids to school, and voilĂ âyouâre on the express train to Heaven, with St. Peter waving at the station. Failure is not an option. Itâs a career-ending blunder.
Zambians are law-abiding. They hate drama unless itâs on TV. They want to live and let live, as the gears of democracy grind forward. Scratch their backs and theyâll scratch yours, politely, with a receipt.
Their biggest virtue? Respect for the law. Their biggest allergy? Oppression. These two donât mix. Theyâre oil and water. Or more accurately, nshima and vinegar.
Now, the IBA is a noble institution. In theory. But it must avoid becoming a blunt instrument used to swat away inconvenient truths. Otherwise, it risks becoming the political equivalent of a flyswatter in a hurricane.
Rev. Martin Niemöller once asked, âWhen they came for me, who was left to speak?â That question still echoes in every newsroom, every village, every WhatsApp group where people whisper their truths.
Political power, dear reader, is like a selfie stickâuseful today, irrelevant tomorrow. The real question is: when youâre out of office, will people treat you with respect because you treated them well? Or will they treat you like expired milk?
The answer is simple: âDo unto others as youâd have them do unto you.â And remember, âEverything is funny until it happens to you, mo frefre!â
I know Kennedy. I know Webster Malido. These are two men who can resolve anything once they bump headsâpreferably not literally. Zambia is big enough for all of us to live as friends, not frenemies.
Today itâs KBNTV. Tomorrow? Who knows? The line is blurred, and everyoneâs dancing near it.
My only dog in this fight is named âLove & Unity.â He doesnât bite. He just barks when democracy is threatened.
And that, dear reader, is Mukwita on point.
âAmbassador Anthony Mukwita
Published Author & International Relations Analyst
Occasional Mic-Dropper, Full-Time Patriot.
Source: The Daily Nation Mukwita on Point
