By EditorZambia
Once again, the Catholic Church in Zambia has stepped into the political arena, not as a neutral moral referee, but as a combative actor spoiling for a fight—particularly with President Hakainde Hichilema and the UPND government—while cloaking itself in the language of ecclesiastical morality.
The latest communiqué by the Zambia Conference of Catholic Bishops (ZCCB), issued as the country inches toward the 2026 general elections, is a classic example of this double-speak: lofty pronouncements about neutrality and prophetic truth, paired with thinly veiled political messaging that consistently tilts in one direction. 
On the surface, the bishops’ statement appears noble. They ban political donations to the Church, prohibit the use of church premises for campaigns, and insist that the pulpit must remain a sacred space free from partisan manipulation. Few would quarrel with those principles. In fact, many Zambians would applaud them—if they were applied consistently, fairly, and without political subtext.
But that is precisely where the problem lies. The Catholic Church’s declarations of neutrality are repeatedly undermined by its own conduct. Time and again, its “pastoral” letters and communiqués read less like spiritual guidance and more like opposition press statements—selectively condemning the sitting government while offering either silence or remarkable restraint when similar, or worse, abuses occurred under previous administrations.
The nauseating hypocrisy is hard to ignore. When Zambia was gripped by overt corruption scandals, lawlessness, shrinking democratic space, and open plunder of public resources in the not-so-distant past, the prophetic voice the Church now boasts of was conspicuously muted. Today, under the UPND administration, the bishops suddenly discover a heightened moral sensitivity, issuing frequent statements that are sharply critical, alarmist, and often framed in language that feeds opposition narratives.
The communiqué’s focus on “toxicity” in political discourse, tribalism, and character assassination sounds reasonable—until one asks a simple question: who, exactly, is being addressed? The Church rarely names opposition figures whose rhetoric has been openly divisive or inflammatory. Instead, the generalities are routinely weaponised against the government of the day, creating the impression that the bishops see toxicity only when it can be pinned on State House.
Even more revealing is the Church’s persistent commentary on governance issues—cost of living, national debt, public media coverage, constitutional reform, and use of public resources. These are not theological matters; they are policy and political questions. The Church is perfectly entitled to comment on national affairs, but it should stop pretending that such interventions are above politics. You cannot lecture politicians on debt management in one breath and then claim you are “not political” in the next.
The criticism of public media, especially ZNBC, is another tired refrain. While fair access to state media is a legitimate concern, the bishops’ selective outrage again betrays bias. The ZNBC was a partisan propaganda tool long before the UPND came into office. Where was the Church’s righteous fury then? Why did fairness suddenly become a moral emergency only after a change in government?
Equally troubling is the Church’s repeated calls for voters to reject leaders associated with corruption, abuse of power, or manipulation—without acknowledging that the current administration was elected precisely on an anti-corruption platform and has taken visible steps to restore fiscal discipline and rule of law. Instead of offering balanced assessment, the Church prefers sweeping moral judgments that blur important distinctions and unfairly paint all political actors with the same brush—except, curiously, those aligned against the UPND.
The ban on political donations and campaign activities within church premises also rings hollow in this context. The Catholic Church does not need politicians in the pews to play politics. Its communiqués, press briefings, and pastoral letters already function as powerful political tools, amplified by its moral authority and media reach. If neutrality is truly the goal, then restraint in language, timing, and tone is just as important as banning donations.
No one is asking the Church to abandon its moral voice. Zambia needs ethical guidance, social conscience, and calls for unity. But that voice loses credibility when it is deployed selectively, predictably, and disproportionately against one political formation. Moral authority is not self-declared; it is earned through fairness, consistency, and humility.
As the 2026 elections approach, the Catholic Church must decide whether it wants to be a unifying spiritual institution or an unofficial opposition commentator. It cannot be both. Pretending to occupy a lofty ecclesiastical pedestal while repeatedly throwing political punches at President Hichilema and the UPND only deepens divisions and erodes the very national unity the bishops claim to cherish.
If the pulpit is truly a place of prophetic truth, then let that truth be even-handed. Otherwise, Zambians are entitled to call out what it increasingly looks like: selective condemnation, moral posturing, and a church that seems perpetually spoiling for a political fight—then acting surprised when its neutrality is questioned.
