By Dr Lawrence Mwelwa
THIS article is inspired by The Mast Newspaper article of February 2, 2025 by Professor Munyonzwe Hamalengwa, which vividly captures the resilience of the American judiciary in standing against the tides of executive overreach. The bold stance taken by the judges in the United States (US) is a beacon of what an independent judiciary should be—unmoved by political pressure, loyal only to the Constitution, and unwavering in its duty to safeguard democracy. In contrast, the Zambian judiciary often finds itself ensnared in the web of political patronage, where the law bends not to justice, but to the will of those in power.
There is an African saying: “A chicken that sleeps in a palace does not become a king.” The judiciary, no matter how close it sits to the throne, must never mistake itself for an extension of the executive. The moment judges trade their independence for the favor of the powerful, they cease to be guardians of justice and become mere gatekeepers of oppression. The lesson from the US is clear—judicial rebellion is not an act of defiance; it is an act of duty when the Constitution is under threat.
Yet in Zambia, the story unfolds differently. Here, judicial precedents are not written as fortresses of protection but as blueprints for suppression. The Judicial Complaints Commission, which should serve as a watchdog for judicial integrity, is too often used as a leash, yanking judges back into submission whenever they dare to rule against the interests of the ruling elite. We have seen courtrooms transformed into political battlegrounds, where verdicts serve not justice, but the strategic interests of those in power. When the legal system becomes a tool of selective justice, it ceases to be a system at all—it becomes an instrument of control.
The American judiciary, despite the relentless assault on its independence under Trump, still stands because of the strength of its constitutional foundation. Article III, Section 1 of the US Constitution affirms that judicial power is vested in an independent judiciary, insulated from the shifting winds of political convenience. Judges in America, bound by their oath, understand that their allegiance is not to the president, nor to the political party that appointed them, but to the Constitution itself. And so, when Trump sought to wield executive orders as weapons against constitutional principles, the courts stood firm, reminding the world that the law is not the personal property of the powerful.
In Zambia, however, the Constitution’s promise of judicial independence often rings hollow. Article 91(2) of the Zambian Constitution declares: “The Judiciary shall be independent and shall be subject only to this Constitution and the law and shall not be subject to the control or direction of any person or authority.” Yet, when judges fear political retribution, when verdicts are anticipated before cases are even heard, and when legal processes are selectively applied to silence dissent, what remains of that independence? If justice bows to power, then it is not justice—it is submission.
There is a dangerous precedent being set. Imagine a judicial ruling that effectively denies bail pending appeal, crafted not out of legal necessity, but as a tool of suppression. Such a precedent, once set, does not simply vanish when the current rulers leave office. It remains like a trap laid in the underbrush, waiting for the next victim, regardless of who is in power. Those who celebrate legal repression today may find themselves ensnared by the same laws tomorrow. Power is a wheel that turns, and as African wisdom warns, “The fire that burns the village today may consume the chief’s hut tomorrow.”
Zambia’s judiciary must learn from its American counterpart that courts are not meant to be instruments of political vengeance. The law should be like rain—it must fall on all, whether the trees are tall or short. If it favors only those in government and punishes only those in opposition, then it is not law—it is a weapon. The American judiciary, though not perfect, continues to prove that a nation’s strength does not lie in the power of its leaders, but in the resilience of its institutions.
We must ask ourselves: when history looks back, what will it say of Zambia’s judiciary? Will it be remembered as a bastion of justice, or as a willing accomplice in the erosion of democracy? Will it stand like the courts of America, as a check on executive excess, or will it crumble under the weight of political influence? The judiciary is the last line of defense between tyranny and freedom. It must choose whether to be the guardian of justice or the enforcer of oppression.
For in the end, the world always asks, “Where were the judges?” And the answer determines whether a nation rises or falls.
