By Kapya Kaoma
President Hakainde Hichilema’s much-touted anti-corruption crusade has collided with a scandal of staggering proportions — and this time, the spotlight is pointed directly at State House.
The leaked audio recording, allegedly featuring Leader of the Opposition Robert Chabinga, is now making the rounds. While some have been quick to dismiss it as AI-generated mischief or a political smear campaign, such dismissals no longer suffice. The content of the tape is nothing short of explosive — a brazen admission of cross-border judicial interference, attempts to bribe a foreign judge, and the implication that the President himself was not only aware but possibly complicit.
This is not politics as usual. It is not satire. It is not gossip. It is the shadow of a potential criminal conspiracy with international dimensions — one that strikes at the heart of Zambia’s rule of law.
In the recording, Chabinga speaks with disturbing ease. He claims he was dispatched to South Africa, not for diplomacy, but to meddle in a foreign court case concerning former President Edgar Lungu’s remains. He alleges that his trip was funded by the government, coordinated through the Zambian embassy, and conducted with full knowledge — and direct communication — with President Hichilema. He even boasts of attempting to bribe a foreign judge to sway the outcome.
Where in any functioning democracy is this legal?
Chabinga’s action is not just unethical, but a potential violation of international law and a textbook case of abuse of office. If carried out with presidential knowledge or direction, it amounts to an assault on Zambia’s legal sovereignty — and an indictment of the very integrity this administration claims to uphold.
This issue transcends partisan politics. It is not about UPND or PF. It is about principle. It is about power unchecked. About whether our republic still honors its own constitutional vows.
Chabinga must be investigated — urgently and impartially. This is not a witch hunt. It is a matter of law. Airline bookings, flight manifests, hotel invoices, embassy logs, and call records can corroborate or disprove his claims. These are not mysteries requiring divine insight. They require one thing only– political will.
Sadly, that will appears to be in short supply. Under President Hichilema, the Anti-Corruption Commission has become a toothless watchdog, reluctant to bite the hand that feeds it. How many leaked audios, how many brazen confessions, must surface before justice is served?
If a hungry youth steals a loaf of bread from Shoprite, they are swiftly arrested. But a senior party operative admits — on tape — to bribery and judicial subversion, and nothing happens. Why? Because the trail leads uncomfortably close to the presidency.
That is not justice. That is impunity.
The Zambian Constitution is unequivocal. No one — including the President — is above the law. Our Constitution enshrines the principles of integrity, transparency, and accountability. It also guarantees equal protection under the law and allows for presidential immunity to be lifted in cases of gross misconduct. This case squarely fits that description.
Then there is the moral dimension — perhaps the most disturbing of all. At a time when the nation was mourning the death of former President Lungu, this administration, we are told, was strategizing how to weaponize his death for political gain. That is not just unethical — it is grotesque.
Whether or not the bribe succeeded is beside the point. In law, an attempt is still a crime.
President Hichilema cannot continue to deflect, delay, or deny. The allegations are serious, specific, and verifiable. Who arranged the trip? Who funded it? Who placed the calls? These are not speculative questions. They are matters of public accountability.
If the President is innocent, let him say so — openly, clearly, and with evidence. Until then, suspicion will only deepen, and public trust will continue to rot.
This is not just about a voice note. It is a mirror held up to a presidency that may have lost its moral compass. For a leader who campaigned on honesty and reform, the contrast is damning.
Enough.
If the Anti-Corruption Commission won’t act, and if Parliament stays mute, then civil society must not flinch. The press must not cower. The people must not forget. Because if this scandal is allowed to pass without consequence, we declare — in full view of the world — that the law is negotiable, justice optional, democracy disposable, and the presidency untouchable.
Today, it is the Lungus under attack. Tomorrow, it could be you and me. Corruption knows no party. It simply corrodes whatever system allows it.
This is a test of our national conscience. In moments like these, silence is not neutrality — it is complicity.
If the law still means anything, justice must be done. Because justice delayed is not just denied — it is democracy undone.
