By Burnett Munthali
There are moments in a nation’s history when institutions meant to protect the people shamelessly betray their very purpose. What happened to activist Sylvester Namiwa on Thursday, 26 June 2025, in Lilongwe is not just a tragedy—it is a disgrace of national proportions.
In full view of the Malawi Police Service and Malawi Defence Force officers, Namiwa was assaulted by unknown men who tore his clothes and humiliated him.
He screamed for help. He begged the officers. He cried out, “Akulu akulu, dzikoli lafika pamenepa? A polisi, mukundisiya anthu awa apange nane zimene akufuna? Ndithandizeni!”
And still, they did nothing.
They stood.
They watched.
They stepped back.
The Malawi Police, paid by taxpayers to enforce the law and protect citizens, instead played the role of helpless spectators. Worse still, they acted as though their hands were tied when their uniforms demanded action.
One must ask: what else should one call a police force that retreats from crime instead of confronting it? If not cowardly, then perhaps complicit.
This is not just incompetence—it is state-sponsored negligence. It is a public endorsement of violence through silence.
Namiwa’s attackers acted with impunity because they knew no one would stop them—not even the police. And they were right.
The Malawi Police failed not just one man. They failed a nation.
They failed every citizen who believes in the rule of law.
They failed democracy.
They failed the Constitution.
They failed their oath.
And they failed themselves.
What happened on that day is a betrayal that cannot be undone with excuses or silence.
If the police cannot protect citizens like Namiwa from political violence, who will they protect? Or are their batons, shields, and guns reserved only for silencing peaceful protesters and guarding politicians?
This is not policing. It is cowardice with a uniform.
It is passivity in the face of evil.
It is the slow death of public trust in law enforcement.
And if you call it anything else, you insult every Malawian who expects justice.
No, this is not a time for polite language.
The public has every right to be angry.
To be disgusted.
To be ashamed of those who carry a badge yet act like they fear the very criminals they are trained to stop.
It is no wonder that many Malawians now say: “Malawi Police is very stupid.”
Because when the public is left to fend for itself, when justice is tossed aside, and when silence greets brutality, then stupidity is the only generous word we can find.
And unless this culture of indifference is addressed, and unless the officers who stood idle are held accountable, we may as well stop pretending that we live under the protection of the law.
Because protection without courage is nothing.
And silence, in the face of injustice, is treason to the people.
