This is Malawi, where the separation of powers is less a constitutional pillar and more of a chaotic, mud-splattered spectator sport.
In our latest match, we find the Speaker of the National Assembly, Sameer Suleman locking horns with senior heavyweights of his ruling party’s Executive. It is a classic tale of political turf wars, wrapped in the glossy veneer of national interest, and played out with all the dignity of a marketplace brawl.
The friction began when the Speaker, evidently taking his job description far too literally, decided that Parliament should actually hold the government accountable.
To the absolute horror of the political establishment, he went ahead and established 12 joint parliamentary committee inquiries to investigate a vast array of public failures and economic mismanagement. In a country where State decay is usually swept under a very large, incredibly expensive rug, launching 12 simultaneous probes is the political equivalent of setting off fireworks inside a fireworks factory.
Naturally, this did not sit well with the Executive branch, who prefer their party-sponsored Speaker quiet, obedient, and preferably asleep at their desks.
By pushing this aggressive oversight, Suleman has inadvertently reactivated a legendary Legislative malady: the “Mwanayu Ngwanga” (This child belongs to me) syndrome. Older Malawians will gleefully recall the days when the formidable John Zenus Ungapake Tembo (RIP) ruled the opposition benches with an iron fist. Back then, the speaker was Louis Chimango a member of the opposition party–the Malawi Congress Party. Whenever the Executive aggressively struck down the opposition’s stance on what to start debating in the House between the National Budget and Section 65 Tembo would effectively cry, “Mwanayu ngwanga!”—warning the house that the speaker was a child of the opposition and that the Legislature was merely a pet.
Today, the names have changed, but the same tribal protective reflex has returned with a vengeance.
From where Suleman sits, the National Assembly is the supreme legislative body and the ultimate custodian of public trust. His side of the argument is straightforward: Parliament belongs to the people. If the executive branch is mismanaging State resources, the Legislature has a constitutional mandate to shine a very bright spotlight on the mess.
Suleman’s supporters argue that checking Executive power is standard democracy, not a coup. He claims he is merely empowering committees to ensure the State serves the less privileged. For Suleman, a passive, rubber-stamping Parliament is a useless one.
The senior executive and the party elite, however, view this sudden burst of parliamentary enthusiasm with absolute dread. Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) Secretary General Peter Mukhito delivered a blistering public rebuke, telling the Speaker to sit down, remain quiet, and respect the President’s supreme mandate.
The Executive’s argument is beautifully simple: Suleman is stepping out of line and getting a bit too big for his boots. They accuse him of trying to turn the Speaker’s office into a “competing centre of power” designed to undermine the President.
Civil society proxies quickly joined the chorus, suddenly weeping over the national budget and arguing that launching 12 independent inquiries is a “waste of public money.” They insist that if there are issues, the Speaker should quietly whisper them to existing bodies like the Anti-Corruption Bureau or the Judiciary, rather than making a public spectacle.
To add classic political drama, private citizens conveniently launched urgent lawsuits to block the probes. Right on cue, the High Court stepped in on Wednesday, wielding a swift temporary injunction that froze the inquiries pending a full judicial review.
Naturally, Minister of Information Shadric Namalomba quickly issued statements insisting the Executive had absolutely nothing to do with funding those convenient legal crusades. Of course not.
So, who is right and who is wrong in this magnificent circus?
The Speaker is entirely right.
The Executive’s argument hinges on a profound, perhaps deliberate, misunderstanding of how a constitutional democracy is supposed to function. A parliament that does not investigate State failure is not a “cooperative” partner; it is an expensive rubber stamp.
The Executive’s panic over a “competing centre of power” is classic political paranoia.
Parliament is supposed to be a power centre—that is the entire point of the separation of powers.
Telling a Speaker to stop investigating government mismanagement because it “undermines the Executive” is like telling a football referee to stop blowing the whistle because it upsets the losing team.
The Executive thinks being their ‘child’ Suleman should not create ‘problems’ for it. If this is not corruption, then nothing is.
While the Executive complains about the financial cost of inquiries and demands total party loyalty, they completely ignore the far greater cost of unexamined State decay.
