By Adrian Gunduzani, The Observer
When a nation begins to clean house, it does not always feel like a celebration. It often feels uncomfortable. And yet, history tells us something remarkably consistent: some of the most transformative leaders, though branded authoritarian at their peak, were later hailed as visionaries who laid the groundwork for stability, prosperity and national renewal. In many cases, tough laws—initially unpopular—formed the backbone of national discipline and development.
This reflection is timely, especially in the context of Zambia’s Cyber Security and Cyber Crimes Act. The law has ignited both fear and political commentary, with critics branding it as a tool for control. But such critiques are not new. Similar fears have shadowed many reforms in global history—until time revealed their wisdom.
Consider Paul Kagame of Rwanda, a man often described as stern and uncompromising. His post-genocide governance was unapologetically firm. He prioritised order, banned divisive speech, and demanded discipline. To outsiders, it appeared harsh. But today, Rwanda stands out for its cleanliness, efficiency and fast-growing economy. Kagame’s firm hand didn’t stifle Rwanda—it steadied it.
Likewise, Singapore’s Lee Kuan Yew was criticised for suppressing dissent and placing limits on freedom of expression. Yet his policies turned a poor, unstable island into a global financial hub. He famously said, “If you want to speak, be prepared to be accountable for what you say.” His logic was simple: liberties must go hand in hand with responsibility. Singaporeans, once wary, are now fiercely proud of the city-state he built.
Tanzania’s John Magufuli was nicknamed “The Bulldozer” for his aggressive style. He cut government excess, removed ghost workers from payrolls, and cracked down on corruption. His methods drew criticism from rights groups. But Tanzanians witnessed the revival of public services, roads, and national revenue. The pain was real, but so was the progress.
These stories are not about endorsing repression. They are about recognising the nuance of leadership: that sometimes, the path to progress is lined with hard decisions. Freedom must be protected—but freedom without structure can collapse into chaos. That is the difficult truth behind many cyber laws today, including Zambia’s.
The Cyber Security and Cyber Crimes Act does not ban opinion or dissent. What it prohibits is the abuse of digital platforms—cyberbullying, revenge porn, identity theft, hate speech, and the manipulation of national security systems. It does not authorise mass surveillance. In fact, Article 37 specifically prohibits random monitoring. Article 28 requires judicial oversight for any form of communication interception, and Articles 31 and 36 protect citizens from misuse of power, including the illegal interception of privileged communication.
It is easy to look at regulation as repression. But it is also true that without laws, the digital space becomes a lawless jungle. We’ve seen what disinformation and digital abuse can do—destroy reputations, incite violence, and erode trust in democracy.
Zambia, like many nations, is navigating a fast-changing digital landscape. And like Kagame, Lee, Magufuli and Sankara, Zambia may face criticism today for a law that may tomorrow be seen as a pillar of national order. The discomfort of discipline does not mean disaster—it sometimes means a nation is finally choosing to grow up.
The conversation around the Cyber Law should continue. Feedback is healthy. Oversight is essential. But let us also acknowledge this: firmness is not always authoritarianism. Sometimes, it is the courage to protect the future at the cost of short-term applause.
We look forward to when the UPND is out of power and on the receiving end of these draconian laws. They won’t wax so eloquent about how good the cyber laws are are. Remember that, UPND zealots