The Editor Zambia
In a political climate that demands clarity, discipline, and a coherent vision, Harry Kalaba has instead chosen spectacle over substance.
His recent appearances brandishing a catapult are not merely puzzling – they are deeply troubling. At a time when Zambians are seeking credible leadership anchored in ideas, policy, and national unity, such theatrics betray a campaign that appears bereft of direction. 
The symbolism, if there is any, remains obscure. A catapult is not an emblem of reform, nor does it communicate economic recovery, job creation, or governance integrity. It evokes something far more unsettling: a regression into the crude tools of disorder and intimidation.
For a man aspiring to lead a modern republic, the choice is not only misguided but politically tone-deaf.
Zambia’s recent history offers context that cannot be ignored. The use of rudimentary weapons by political cadres, particularly during tense electoral periods, left scars on communities and undermined the democratic fabric. Catapults, among other crude instruments, became synonymous with lawlessness and fear.
For any contemporary politician to resurrect such imagery, whether knowingly or through sheer miscalculation raises legitimate concerns about judgment and intent.
It is here that Kalaba’s political lineage invites scrutiny. His roots within the Patriotic Front (PF) are well documented, and while political evolution is both possible and welcome, vestiges of past tendencies seem difficult to shake off.
The optics of his current conduct suggest not a clean break, but rather a continuation, however subtle of a political culture that too often flirted with intimidation over persuasion.
More critically, this episode exposes a vacuum where a campaign message ought to be. Elections are won on the strength of ideas, the articulation of policy, and the ability to inspire confidence among the electorate.
Walking about with a catapult does none of these. It neither addresses the cost of living nor offers solutions to youth unemployment. It speaks to no national agenda. It is, quite simply, noise masquerading as strategy.
Zambians deserve better than political gimmickry. They deserve leaders who understand the weight of symbolism and the responsibility that comes with public conduct.
In an era where every gesture is amplified, the margin for error is slim, and the consequences of missteps are significant.
If Kalaba intends to be taken seriously as a national leader, he must urgently recalibrate.
The electorate is not in search of theatrics or relics of a troubled political past. It is looking for clarity, credibility, and a vision grounded in reality.
Until then, the image of a would-be statesman armed with a catapult will remain not just an oddity but a stark illustration of a campaign struggling to find its voice.
