By EditorZambia
WHEN history looks back at the passage of Bill 7, it will not only record the legal arguments made for and against it. It will also record the emotional, political, and ethnic undercurrents that shaped the resistance to its enactment.
One uncomfortable truth must be stated plainly, without caveats or ritual hesitation: the opposition to Bill 7 has been deeply entangled with Tongaphobia emanating largely from the ethnic North-Eastern political bloc against President Hakainde Hichilema and the UPND. 
This is not a new phenomenon. For years, this platform has consistently pointed out that the relentless attacks on President Hichilema and his party have been framed as “principled criticism,” while in reality being animated by a breed of incorrigible tribalism.
These attacks often come dressed in the language of constitutionalism, legality, or intellectual superiority, but beneath the surface lies a fear of political displacement—an anxiety that power has slipped from those who long considered themselves as the natural custodians of the Zambian State.
With the passing of Bill 7, this Tongaphobia has resurfaced with renewed aggression. It must be condemned plainly, without euphemism and without moral cowardice.
Since the formation of the UPND in 1998 and the emergence of Hakainde Hichilema as a serious national leader, Tongas have been targeted not because of policy failures or ideological incoherence but because they are Tonga. That fact is neither ambiguous nor negotiable.
Any politics that flinches from naming this truth has already abdicated its moral responsibility.
What is more troubling is the defensive posture adopted by many commentators from the ethnic North-East alliance. Instead of confronting the ethnic animus head-on, they worry about how condemnation might be “instrumentalised,” or whether naming Tongaphobia will inflame tensions. That instinct may sound prudent, but it is profoundly mistaken.
Tongaphobia, especially as witnessed during elections under PF rule, was real, violent, and lethal. Political convenience does not erase that reality. Naming ethnic hatred is not a concession to power; it is the minimum requirement of ethical seriousness.
Condemning Tongaphobia does not require anyone to endorse every action by UPND cadres, nor does it imply support for reciprocal ethnic hostility. It commits one only to a simple and universal principle: no people should be attacked, terrorised, or delegitimised on the basis of who they are. When condemnation is hedged or delayed, it feeds the corrosive idea that some lives and identities require political qualification before they deserve protection or empathy.
Yet moral clarity alone is insufficient. Condemnation tells us what is wrong; it does not explain why it persists. Tongaphobia is not an eternal force floating above history. It did not emerge spontaneously with Bill 7, nor did it begin with Hakainde Hichilema.
It is a political and ideological formation shaped by Zambia’s pre- and post-independence history—by the demonisation of Harry Nkumbula, by the Choma Declaration, by UNIP’s violent intolerance of dissent, and by decades of constructing Southern Province as politically suspect.
The UPND inherited these prejudices from its inception. Ironically, those who labelled the party “tribal” were the ones projecting their own ethnic anxieties.
Tribalism does not operate through careful reasoning; it operates through fear, myth, and repetition.
Over time, these myths harden into political reflexes—automatic hostility to anything associated with Tonga leadership, regardless of merit.
This brings us to Bill 7. If opposition to the Bill were genuinely grounded in constitutional principle alone, its rejection would reflect Zambia’s regional diversity. Instead, the pattern is glaring.
Look at the names of people who die-hard anti-President Hichilema and UPND critic one Emmanuel Mwamba is calling heroes who refused to support a progressive constitutional amendment.
You do not need to be a genius to observe that they overwhelmingly hail from the North-Eastern, Luapula, and Muchinga bloc.
The record speaks for itself.
Among those who opposed Bill 7 are Hon. Brian Mundubile (Mporokoso), Hon. George Chisanga (Lukasha), Hon. Brenda Nyirenda (Lundazi), Hon. Pavyuma Kalobo (Wusakile), Hon. Kalalwe Mukosa (Chinsali), Hon. Stephen Kapyongo (Shiwang’andu), Hon. Golden Mwila (Mufulira Central), Hon. Anthony Kasandwe (Bangweulu), Hon. Julien Nyemba (Chifunabuli), Hon. Philimon Twasa (Kasenengwa), Hon. Jean Chisenga (Mambilima), Hon. Melesiana Phiri (Milanzi), Hon. Yotam Mutayachalo (Chama North), Hon. Emmanuel Tembo (Feira), Hon. Jeff Mulebwa (Kafulafuta), Hon. Francis Kapyanga (Mpika), Hon. Given Katuta (Chiengi), Hon. Kabaso Kampampi (Mwansabombwe), Hon. Lukas Simumba (Nakonde), Hon. Davies Chisopa (Mkushi South), alongside Miles Sampa and others.
This concentration is not accidental. It reflects a deeper civilizational panic—a fear that Zambia’s political centre has shifted irreversibly.
Bill 7 became a proxy battlefield, less about constitutional clauses and more about who gets to define the nation’s future.
Zambia can not move forward if it continues to disguise ethnic anxiety as intellectual dissent. Progress requires honesty. It requires admitting that some opposition is not about law but about loss—loss of dominance, loss of narrative control, and loss of a long-held belief that leadership is an inherited regional entitlement.
Bill 7 has passed. The country must now choose whether it will confront Tongaphobia openly or continue to allow it to fester under the cover of false principle. History will judge that choice harshly—or kindly—depending on our courage today.
