The Editor Zambia
When a political figure is described as a “messiah sent by God”, the claim demands more than applause. It demands interrogation. What precisely qualifies a man for such a title in a modern constitutional democracy?
What does such language reveal about those who deploy it?
These questions arise following remarks by Celestine Mukandila, who has cast Makebi Zulu not merely as a capable leader but as a divinely ordained figure destined to correct Zambia’s course. 
Is this conviction or political theatre?
In invoking divine authority, Mukandila elevates Zulu beyond scrutiny. A “messiah” is not ordinarily questioned; he is followed. Yet politics, by its very nature, thrives on accountability, contestation, and evidence.
If Zulu is to be considered exceptional, should that not be demonstrated through policy clarity, governance experience, and measurable results rather than theological metaphors?
Is Zambia so bereft of political alternatives that it must now turn to spiritual language to legitimise leadership?
Is this rhetoric an admission perhaps unintended that ordinary political arguments are no longer persuasive enough?
Mukandila points to Zulu’s credentials as a lawyer as evidence of his suitability to address concerns of selective justice. It is a serious claim, particularly in a nation where the rule of law remains a cornerstone of democratic stability.
Yet one must ask: Does legal expertise alone translate into effective national leadership? Zambia has known many accomplished lawyers, including the late sixth Republican President Edgar Chagwa Lungu, whose governance terribly failed the broader test.
Political leadership requires intelligence-led economic stewardship, institutional discipline, and political restraint.
If legal acumen were sufficient, would every senior counsel be fit for State House? The answer is no. Zulu is far from winning the respect and trust of Zambians. Zambians are not stupid to trust a person who abandoned a body of the former Head of State in a morgue for political positioning.
His law credentials are not helping Zulu at all. Last week, he emerged winner of an illegally convened convention. The convention should not have convened in view of an injunction restraining any of such events from taking place. The so-called lawyer went ahead and participated at an illegal event. What kind of lawyer is he who ignores a court order?
Mukandila’s criticism of property forfeitures linked to the family of the late President Lungu raises legitimate legal and moral questions. If indeed assets were gifted, as claimed by Daliso Lungu, should beneficiaries bear the burden of proof for wealth accumulated by another?
Yet, here, too, scrutiny must be consistent. Is the objection rooted in principle or proximity to power? Would the same argument be made if the individuals involved belonged to a different political camp?
And more crucially: can allegations of selective justice be credibly addressed by rhetoric alone, or do they require institutional reforms, transparency, and judicial independence?
Understandably, Mukandila is a junior lawyer, still learning to develop convincing legal arguments. He can be forgiven.
Zulu cannot be liked to a “messiah.” He doesn’t have the credentials or moral standing for divine accolades.
In contrast stands President Hakainde Hichilema, whose leadership has been defined less by grand declarations and more by demonstrable governance outcomes.
Under President Hichilema, the expansion of the Constituency Development Fund (CDF) has tangibly altered local economies, decentralising opportunity, and empowering communities.
Economic reforms, while not without challenge, have restored a measure of fiscal credibility and international confidence.
One may critique aspects of his administration indeed, one should but the basis of that critique lies in observable policy decisions, not prophetic claims.
Does this not present a fundamental contrast? One leader is assessed on delivery; another is elevated on promise.
Zambia is a declared Christian nation, and faith undeniably shapes its public discourse. But should faith be used to shield political actors from scrutiny or to demand higher standards of integrity from them?
To call a politician a “messiah” risks diminishing both religion and governance. It conflates divine perfection with human fallibility and, in doing so, lowers the threshold for accountability.
If Zulu is indeed the answer to Zambia’s challenges, should he not withstand the most rigorous questioning rather than be insulated by reverence?
Ultimately, the issue is not Zulu himself, but the standard by which leadership is judged.
Is Zambia to be guided by evidence or emotion? By policy or personality? By performance or proclamation?
In elevating one man to near-divine status, Mukandila may have revealed less about Zulu’s capabilities and more about the current state of opposition politics searching, perhaps, for a figure large enough to rally around, even if the language stretches credibility.
The electorate, however, is unlikely to be swayed by titles alone. In the end, Zambians will ask the simplest and most decisive questions:
Not who is sent, but who delivers.
