The Editor Zambia
There is a peculiar rhythm to political manipulation, one that reveals itself not through grand declarations but through patterns repeated, refined, and redeployed.
In the current storm surrounding the body of former president Edgar Lungu, one does not need to look far to detect echoes of an unsettling past. 
The methods are not new. They are, in fact, strikingly familiar.
In criminal investigation, the principle of modus operandi, the characteristic way in which a crime is carried out, remains one of the most reliable tools for identifying perpetrators.
Behaviour leaves traces. Patterns expose intent. When a similar method resurfaces across different times, investigators do not dismiss it as coincidence; they treat it as a signature.
What we are witnessing today bears all the hallmarks of such a signature.
The narrative being advanced steeped in allegations of witchcraft, ritual practices, and shadowy intentions mirrors almost perfectly the infamous “gassing” saga that gripped the nation in previous years. Then, as now, the public was inundated with sensational claims: mysterious attacks, alleged extraction of blood, and a climate of fear so thick that rational scrutiny was drowned out.
Yet, crucially, those claims were never substantiated. No verifiable evidence emerged. No victims presented proof consistent with the lurid accounts. The hysteria faded, but the architects of that fear were never fully held to account.
Fast forward to the present, and the same playbook appears to be in motion. The sequence is telling. First, an allegation this time of poisoning, introduced with just enough ambiguity to provoke suspicion.
Then, before any formal conclusion can be reached, the narrative mutates into something far more incendiary: claims of body part extraction, insinuations of occult practices, and direct accusations against political opponents.
The objective is not to prove but to provoke. Not to inform, but to inflame.
Such tactics thrive precisely because they are difficult to disprove. Witchcraft, by its very nature, operates beyond the realm of empirical verification.
It is a convenient political weapon impossible to substantiate, yet potent enough to shape perception among sections of the electorate.
It shifts the battleground from policy and governance to fear and superstition, where facts struggle to compete with deeply ingrained beliefs.
This is not accidental. It is strategic.
The parallels with the earlier gassing episode are too strong to ignore.
In both instances, a climate of fear is manufactured. In both, unverifiable claims are amplified until they assume the weight of truth.
In both, the underlying aim appears less about justice and more about political advantage.
It raises uncomfortable but necessary questions.
If such narratives are being deliberately constructed, who stands to benefit?
In any serious investigation, motive remains central. When a death becomes a political instrument when its circumstances are leveraged to fuel propaganda rather than clarity, it is not unreasonable to examine who gains from the ensuing confusion and division.
Equally troubling is the possibility of complicity, whether through active participation or passive endorsement.
When influential voices, including those within religious or community leadership, lend credence to unverified claims, they risk legitimising dangerous cycle, one in which fear supplants reason and accusation replaces evidence.
None of this is to suggest that questions surrounding the death of a former head of state should be dismissed.
On the contrary, they demand rigorous, transparent, and professional investigation. But such an inquiry must be grounded in facts, not fiction; in evidence, not insinuation.
Zambia has seen what happens when hysteria is allowed to run unchecked. The scars of the gassing period of social distrust, misplaced accusations, and a paralysed public remain a stark reminder of the cost.
What is unfolding now appears less like a search for truth and more like the recycling of a well-worn strategy. And if history has taught us anything, it is that such strategies do not collapse under the weight of their own absurdity they persist unless they are challenged.
The question, therefore, is not merely whether these narratives are credible. It is whether the nation is willing to recognise the pattern and refuse to be drawn into it once again.
