In Malawi’s post-1994 dispensation, we often confuse democracy with politics, but the distinction, though subtle, is vital.
Democracy is a system of rights. Politics is a game of interests.
Democracy flourishes on principles, while politics survives on tactics. One empowers citizens, the other often seeks to manipulate them.
Take the case of Sylvester Namiwa, a man who, whether one agrees with him or not, has boldly exercised his democratic rights: freedom of expression, the right to assemble, and the courage to confront power. He, like others before him, represents the promise of democracy: that one can speak their mind, mobilize peacefully, and demand accountability without fear of persecution.
Yet it would be naïve to portray Namiwa as a stranger to power. He once served as a Press Officer at State House under the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) administration, a role that placed him firmly within the corridors of power.
In fact, at one point, he was accused of harassing and intimidating media personnel, leading to public outcry and condemnation from journalist associations, as reported by Nyasa Times. He was on the other side then, close to executive power, wielding influence and, allegedly, suppressing press freedoms.
That history matters. It reminds us that democracy is not the preserve of the pure. It is a system that must protect even those who may have once undermined it, because its integrity lies not in who benefits, but in how consistently rights are upheld.
Fast-forward to 2025, and Namiwa finds himself on the receiving end of the very system he once served. During a lawful demonstration organized by the Citizens for Credible Elections, he was brutally assaulted by a mob wielding sjamboks. To their credit, the Malawi Defence Force and the Police intervened and rescued him from possible death. That moment revealed two clashing realities: politics sought to destroy, but democracy stepped in to protect.
Ironically, the very government now accused of fostering intolerance came to power on the back of protest. The 2019 demonstrations, though at times violent and destructive, were celebrated as expressions of democratic will, the kind that propelled the Tonse Alliance into office.
Today, however, we are witnessing a worrying reversal: peaceful protests are demonized, dissent is criminalized, and state institutions are increasingly accused of shielding partisan violence.
Some may say Namiwa is playing his own politics, and they wouldn’t be wrong. In Malawi, political activism often doubles as strategic positioning.
Remember Billy Mayaya, once nearly hacked to death during anti-government protests? He now enjoys diplomatic comfort, posted at an embassy. Namiwa, should his aligned political forces rise to power, could find himself similarly rewarded. In this country, activism is often an audition for influence.
Still, this doesn’t justify violence or impunity. The thugs who whipped Namiwa were not defending democracy. They were protecting their own political turf, their networks, their positions, their control over the narrative. They understand what public demonstrations can disrupt. But we must be better than that.
Democracy, as Voltaire reminds us, must defend even those we disagree with. Politics, on the other hand, as laid bare by Robert Greene’s 48 Laws of Power, teaches the opposite, to crush enemies, conceal intentions, and dominate every encounter. It is cutthroat, rarely moral, and often transactional. That is why democracy is indispensable, it sets boundaries to politics.
So, what’s the message?
Democracy is the house we all want to live in. Politics is how we decorate it. But when the game of politics burns down the house, we all become homeless.
It is therefore imperative that state institutions draw a hard line between democratic expression and political manipulation. Let the military and police continue to protect rights, not partisan interests. Let leadership embrace dialogue, not fear. Let citizens remain free to criticize, organize, and mobilize, whether they once served in State House or not.
We must all learn to tell the difference between defending democracy and playing politics. The line may be thin, but it is everything.
