By Apengie Apengire
The arrests of senior Malawi Congress Party figures under the current Democratic Progressive Party-led government have raised a question that can no longer be dismissed as speculation: are these arrests politically motivated? The answer is yes, they are politically motivated.
When one looks at the list of those who have been taken in, the timing of the actions, the absence of equivalent moves against DPP-aligned individuals, and the broader conduct of state institutions, the conclusion becomes unavoidable.
Those arrested include Colleen Zamba, the former Secretary to the President and Cabinet, Vitumbiko Mumba, former Minister of Trade, Jessie Kabwila, former Minister of Education and MCP spokesperson, Sam Kawale, former Minister of Agriculture, Sosten Gwengwe, former Minister of Finance, Ezekiel Ching’oma, former Minister of Natural Resources, Richard Chimwendo Banda, former Minister of Local Government, and recently Simplex Chithyola Banda, former Minister of Finance. Citizens are asking why the investigative machinery of the state appears to have eyes only for MCP seniors while individuals associated with the DPP, including Norman Chisale who still has outstanding cases to answer, remain largely untouched. The pattern that emerges is not one of impartial law enforcement.
It is one of retribution, vengeance, and retaliation dressed in the language of accountability. To begin with, the selection of targets tells its own story. In any functioning democracy, criminal investigation should follow evidence, not party membership cards. Yet the public record shows a concentration of arrests on one side of the political aisle.
There has been no comparable sweep involving former DPP ministers, despite years of audit queries, parliamentary reports, and media investigations covering the period between 2014 and 2020 that raised serious concerns about procurement, contracts, and use of public funds.
If the guiding principle were truly that no one is above the law, Malawians would expect to see files opened across the political spectrum. Instead, the energy of the police and prosecutorial services has been directed almost exclusively at the leadership of the former governing party. That selectivity is the first and clearest sign of political motive, because impartial justice does not cluster by party affiliation. In addition, the contrast in how cases are handled exposes a double standard.
Norman Chisale, a high-profile figure closely linked to the DPP, still has outstanding matters before the courts that have dragged on for years without the urgency now being applied to MCP seniors.
The difference in pace is not a technical matter. It is a political signal. When cases involving allies move slowly while cases involving opponents move quickly, the justice system is being managed rather than being allowed to function.
Management of that kind is inherently political because it reflects choices about priority, resources, and risk. A citizen watching this contrast is left with little doubt that affiliation determines how the law is experienced.
Moreover, the sequencing of arrests has created a public narrative that serves political ends. The arrests of Kawale, Gwengwe, and Ching’oma came in close succession, followed by others, producing headlines about a “crackdown” on the former ruling elite.
The law is supposed to deal with individuals on the merits of each case, not to produce waves that shape public opinion about a political party. When arrests are clustered in a way that maximises political damage to the opposition, the process takes on a character that courts cannot easily wash away.
The objective appears to be not only to prosecute individuals but to brand an entire party as criminal. That branding chills opposition activity, discourages donors and volunteers, and weakens electoral competition. Undermining the opposition through legal means is a classic form of political retribution, and it is happening in full view.
Furthermore, the manner in which some arrests have been executed raises rule-of-law concerns that point to motive. In several instances, MCP seniors were arrested and detained while police indicated that charges were yet to be formally disclosed. Arrest before charge reverses the normal presumption that investigation precedes detention.
When that reversal is applied repeatedly to leaders of one party, it suggests that the arrest itself is the goal and the charge is a detail to be settled later. That practice is inconsistent with international standards on pretrial detention and due process.
It also suggests that the state is using the discomfort and stigma of arrest as a political tool, knowing that the public impact is immediate even if the legal outcome is months or years away. At the same time, the shielding of DPP-aligned individuals is part of the same picture. Accountability cannot be credible if it moves in one direction only.
The public has not seen a parallel level of investigative zeal directed at allegations arising from the DPP era, many of which are matters of public record through audits and parliamentary committee reports. The absence of action is itself an action. Prosecutorial discretion is legitimate when it rests on evidence, but it becomes political when it rests on identity.
The fact that Norman Chisale’s outstanding cases remain unresolved while new cases against MCP seniors are initiated and fast-tracked tells the country that the law is being applied with a political filter.
A filter of that kind turns justice into strategy. In the same vein, the language used by state actors around these arrests reinforces the perception of political motive. Statements about “cleaning up” and “ending impunity” are directed almost exclusively at the former administration.
There is nothing wrong with cleaning up, but cleanup that targets only opponents is not cleanup. It is purge. Language matters because it frames the environment in which investigators, prosecutors, and judges work. When the political leadership constantly links crime to one party, it creates pressure on institutions to deliver results that match the narrative.
That pressure is political interference by atmosphere, and it is effective. Institutions that want to be seen as responsive to the government of the day will read the room and act accordingly. Consequently, the democratic space is being narrowed.
The MCP spokesperson is in court. Former ministers are reporting to police or preparing defences. The party’s secretary general has been ordered to hospital before remand. The cumulative effect is that the main opposition party is forced to spend its energy on legal survival rather than policy, organisation, and electoral preparation.
A democracy needs a functioning opposition to hold government to account. When the legal system is used in a way that systematically ties the hands of the opposition while leaving the ruling party’s historical cases dormant, the playing field is no longer level.
Levelling the playing field downward for opponents is a political act, and it is the essence of retribution. Beyond that, international norms on anti-corruption and criminal justice warn specifically against selective prosecution.
The test is straightforward: would the same action have been taken, in the same way and at the same speed, if the suspect belonged to the ruling party? In Malawi’s current context, the answer is no. The outstanding cases linked to DPP figures provide the control group. They show what happens when the suspect is not from the opposition.
The process slows, visibility drops, and outcomes drift. Equality before the law cannot mean that opposition leaders are equal to each other while ruling-party figures are equal to delay. That inequality is not a technical flaw. It is a political choice, and it confirms motive.
Additionally, the impact on the civil service deepens the problem. Senior public officers who served under MCP ministers are watching these arrests and drawing lessons about personal risk.
If the lesson is that serving one administration can lead to legal peril after a change of government, the incentive structure for the bureaucracy shifts. Civil servants will hedge, protect themselves, and align with perceived winners rather than with the law.
That politicisation of the civil service is a long-term cost of retribution. It weakens institutional memory, slows service delivery, and makes every transition a moment of fear rather than continuity.
A government that normalises vengeance is therefore undermining the very state it claims to be cleaning. Equally important, the absence of corrective action from oversight bodies reinforces the pattern. Parliamentary committees can demand case-selection criteria from law enforcement.
The Director of Public Prosecutions can publish a prosecution policy that explains how files are prioritised. The Anti-Corruption Bureau can issue regular updates on all high-profile matters, not only those involving the opposition.
These mechanisms exist to guard against selectivity. Their silence or inactivity in the face of an obvious pattern is itself a form of participation. When watchdogs do not bark, the perception that the process is political hardens, and public trust erodes further.
In light of all this, the claim that “being a politician does not confer immunity” is being used to deflect rather than to clarify. No one is asking for immunity. The demand is for universality. The MCP seniors now before the courts must answer the allegations, and they should be afforded every right to defend themselves.
Yet the same principle must apply to Norman Chisale and to any DPP figures implicated in audit reports and parliamentary inquiries. Without that universality, the process is not accountability. It is a political project that uses the courts as its instrument.
The difference between accountability and retribution lies not in whether the accused are guilty or innocent, but in whether the law is applied to all with the same measure. At present, the measure is not the same. Taken together, the concentration of arrests on MCP seniors, the slow walk on DPP-linked cases, the clustering of actions for political effect, the arrest-before-charge practice, the partisan framing by state actors, the narrowing of democratic space, the violation of international norms on selectivity, the chilling of the civil service, and the silence of oversight bodies form a coherent picture. That picture is one of political motivation. The DPP-led government is practicing politics of retribution, vengeance, and retaliation.
It is using the criminal justice system to weaken opponents while protecting allies. That is not the rule of law. It is the rule of politics, and it comes at a high cost to Malawi’s democracy, its institutions, and its international standing. Justice that is real must be seen to be blind.
Justice that is blind to DPP figures while staring only at MCP figures is not blind at all. It is looking, and it is looking with intent.
