The story unfolding at the Registrar of Societies office might seem procedural at first glance, but it reveals a deeper malaise that speaks to the heart of Zambia’s democratic decay under the UPND regime. I waited for seven and a half hours from 09:00 to 16:30 seeking clarity on a matter that should be purely administrative: the updating of records following Morgan Ngona’s dismissal as Secretary General of the Patriotic Front. What I encountered was not mere bureaucratic delay, but the chilling confirmation of a new chain of command where the Constitution, the courts, and established public offices now orbit around one man Attorney General Mulilo Kabesha.
The response I finally received from the Registrar of Societies was telling: “We are waiting for guidance from the Attorney General.” No reference to the court ruling that has already settled the matter. No acknowledgment of the legal documentation in hand. Just an unflinching submission to a voice outside the office, above the law. It is this default to Kabesha’s office even when legal clarity has been established that defines the dysfunction now embedded in the corridors of governance.
Kabesha, it must be noted, is not just the Attorney General. He is also the elder brother to the First Lady, Mutinta Hichilema. That bloodline has turned his office into a command post, one from which the machinery of state is managed not advised. Ministries, departments, agencies, even statutory bodies now operate under the assumption that nothing moves without his green light. Files gather dust, payments stall, and directives from courts of law are paused mid-execution. Why? Because, as they all say, “The AG hasn’t guided.”
This same rationale was recently used to justify the controversial handover of Mopani Mines to IRH of Dubai, a transaction widely condemned for violating Article 210 of the Constitution, which mandates parliamentary approval for such concessions. Yet government officials pressed on, shielding themselves behind one instruction: “The AG said go ahead.” In the same vein, the Registrar of Societies has declined to act on a matter that the courts have already ruled on. The file confirming Ngona’s dismissal lies untouched, pending word from Kabesha.
Let us be clear: this is no longer a matter of professional conduct or legal interpretation. It is a constitutional crisis. The Attorney General’s office has become a shadow government, overruling the judiciary, neutering parliamentary oversight, and rendering public institutions impotent. Where once court orders were binding, now they are conditional—subject to review not by an appeals bench, but by a single public officer with a political surname.
And yet, for all his power, Kabesha is not untouchable. He holds no immunity. He is not the President. He is not a judge. He is a government employee whose every act must align with the law. Should he choose otherwise should he persist in directing ministries to ignore court orders, or in approving transactions that breach constitutional safeguards then he must also accept that he alone bears the weight of those actions. He must understand that public office is not a fortress; it is a place of service, with consequences for every abuse of authority.
The irony is sobering. Kabesha’s residence and farm in Chilanga sit within walking distance of Mwembeshi Maximum Security Prison. It is not a metaphor but a possible destination for those who believe that power is a substitute for law. His refusal to instruct the Registrar to comply with a valid court decision isn’t just procedural sabotage it is contempt of court, plain and simple.
I once held Kabesha in high regard. I imagined a man of law, shaped by reason, respectful of democratic traditions. But that image has dissolved. His office today functions less like a legal adviser to government and more like an imperial veto point. Ministers defer to him. Permanent Secretaries run to him. Even Registrars, charged with interpreting statute, now await his signal before doing their jobs. Is this about protecting Ngona? About preserving a fictitious claim to office? Or is it about something darker constructing a record that will later justify illicit salary claims or political maneuvers?
Whatever the motive, the facts remain fixed: the court ruled. Ngona was removed. The Registrar’s obligation is not to Kabesha, but to the Constitution. And the AG must remember that his proximity to the presidency does not entitle him to subvert the rule of law.
There was a time in our country when the office of the Attorney General commanded deep respect not because of how much power it wielded, but because of how it used that power sparingly, ethically, and in accordance with the law. Levy Mwanawasa, SC, remains a benchmark for such integrity. Kabesha still has a chance to return to that path. But every hour he spends obstructing justice erodes his legacy and hastens a reckoning he cannot avoid.
The question is no longer about a file at the Registrar’s office. It is about the dangerous culture of unchecked authority now taking root in our institutions. How long will Zambia tolerate it? And when the collapse comes as it always does—will those responsible still be able to claim they were just following orders?
Miles Bwalya Sampa, MP
President & Secretary General, Patriotic Front
