Today, MakanDay turns its attention to a matter that cuts to the heart of our governance crisis, a story that asks why the case of former Zambia Revenue Authority (ZRA) Commissioner General Kingsley Chanda exposes a broken system that no one seems willing to fix.
Just like that, Chanda is behind bars, eaten by the very system that he tried to protect. He was sentenced to six years with hard labour for breaching procedure in the disposal of 22 government vehicles. Alongside him, Callistus Kaoma, the former ZRA Director for Administration, received a nine-year sentence with hard labour.
Delivering judgment on Monday, Lusaka Acting Chief Resident Magistrate Sylia Munyinya-Okoh convicted the two in some of the 22 counts and acquitted them in others, citing insufficient evidence.
In mitigation, Chanda’s lawyer pleaded for leniency, reminding the court that his client had served the country with diligence and has a sick mother.
But here’s the uncomfortable truth: those who hold public office often forget that their decisions carry life-and-death consequences.
Some of their choices have sent millions to early graves, denied thousands access to medical care, and robbed countless children of education.
These are not just bureaucratic errors, they are acts that kill silently, leaving people alive but without dignity, hope, or opportunity.
The headlines in Chanda’s case may say justice has been served. But we say, beneath the courtroom drama lies a deeper story about how power really works in Zambia, and how our governance system punishes the obedient while shielding the powerful.
During the trial we learned that some of those vehicles ended up in the hands of archbishops and ruling-party figures. Yet when the verdict came, only Chanda faced the consequences.
He did not act alone. Like many senior public servants, he operated under a system where orders from above override procedure and where refusing such orders can end a career overnight. In the end, Chanda was punished not for greed, but for obedience.
Where are the people who issued those directives? Where are the beneficiaries who drove away in government vehicles?
They never appeared in court, not even to accompany Chanda to court during trial.
This is the heart of Zambia’s governance crisis: a system that protects political patrons and sacrifices technocrats. Every administration pledges to fight corruption, yet enforcement agencies, Anti-Corruption Commission, Drug Enforcement Commission, Auditor General, and others, rarely touch those closest to power.
Public service today runs on fear. Civil servants know that if they follow procedure, they risk being branded “uncooperative.” If they follow political orders, they risk prison. It is a lose-lose cycle that corrodes professional integrity and institutional independence.
When leaders like Chanda fall, it is not only their reputations that collapse, it is the credibility of the institutions they once led.
This is how scandals at Zambia Medicines and Medical Supplies Agency fester. It is how mining licences slip quietly into protected forest areas. It is how national budgets get manipulated through hidden hands.
Each episode tells the same story: political capture of public institutions. The result is paralysis, cynicism, and a widening gap between government rhetoric and reality.
If Zambia truly wants to end this culture of selective justice, reform must begin at the top, not at the ballot box. Real change will not come with another election in 2026. We have seen this cycle before, where promises of reform fade the moment power changes hands.
The reforms Zambia needs are clear and urgent.
First, the law must be able to hold political leaders criminally accountable for issuing unlawful directives to civil servants.
Second, institutions must be empowered to act independently, so that technocrats can say “no” to political pressure without fear of dismissal.
Third, investigations must reach every level of power, not just the convenient scapegoats.
Finally, Parliament must reclaim its oversight role, ensuring that ministers and the executive are answerable to the people, not the other way around.
The Chanda case is not about one man’s guilt. It is about a nation’s moral compass. Until those who give illegal orders face the same scrutiny as those who carry them out, justice in Zambia will remain partial, politicised, and performative.
Chanda may have broken the law, but he did not break it alone. The question we should all be asking is simple:
Who gave the order?
Until that question is answered, Zambia’s governance will continue to devour its own, and the promise of reform will remain just another headline.
Discover more from MAKANDAY
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
