By Reason Wafawarova

When a warrant of arrest is issued against a journalist who is reportedly receiving medical treatment outside the country, the legal question appears straightforward. Did the accused fail to appear in court?

But as the case involving Alpha Media Holdings journalist Blessed Mhlanga continues to unfold, it is becoming increasingly difficult to treat it as merely a routine procedural development.

Because the circumstances surrounding the warrant — and the events reported around the court on that day — point to something larger. Something systemic. And something that now sits squarely at the centre of Zimbabwe’s political moment.

The Strange Logic of Pre-Positioned Arrests:

According to sources familiar with the developments, members of the Zimbabwe Republic Police’s Law and Order section had already positioned themselves at the Harare Magistrates’ Court on the day Mhlanga was expected to appear.

The plan, according to those sources, was simple. If the journalist appeared in court, he would be immediately arrested on fresh charges based on remarks he made earlier this year at the Geneva Summit for Human Rights and Democracy.

In other words, the court appearance itself would have triggered another arrest. That situation presents an obvious dilemma.

Courts are meant to provide a safe and predictable environment where accused persons can appear before the law. But if appearing in court simply becomes the moment when new arrests are executed, then the courtroom begins to resemble something else.

Not a place of adjudication. But a collection point for legal escalation.

The “Patriot Act” and the Criminalisation of Speech:

The new allegations reportedly under consideration relate to Section 22A of the Criminal Law (Codification and Reform) Act, commonly referred to as the “Patriotic Act”.

The law criminalises conduct that authorities interpret as harming the sovereignty or national interests of Zimbabwe, including engagement with foreign entities deemed hostile. In theory, such provisions exist in many countries. In practice, however, their interpretation determines whether they protect national security — or criminalise dissent.

That question has already reached Zimbabwe’s courts.

In June 2025, the High Court ruled that Section 22A(3) was unconstitutional because it violated freedoms of expression and political participation.

The legal debate around the provision is therefore far from settled. And that uncertainty makes its potential use against journalists particularly sensitive.

A Journalist Already in Court:

It is also important to remember that the Geneva speech is not the only legal battle facing Mhlanga. Earlier this year he was arrested after hosting war veteran Blessed Geza on his online programme FreeTalk, broadcast on Heart and Soul TV.

Prosecutors accused him of transmitting messages capable of inciting violence. He spent 73 days in detention before being released while the matter continued through the courts.

The new allegations therefore do not arise in isolation. They appear layered on top of an already ongoing prosecution. Which raises a broader question about the cumulative impact of repeated legal actions against journalists.

The Constitutional Moment Zimbabwe Is In:

To understand the political significance of the Mhlanga case, one must look beyond the courtroom.

Zimbabwe is currently engaged in a contentious national debate over Constitutional Amendment Bill No. 3 — legislation that proposes sweeping changes to the country’s electoral and governance architecture.

Among other provisions, the Bill proposes extending terms of office, altering presidential election procedures, and restructuring elements of the constitutional framework governing institutions.

Supporters argue the changes will bring stability and continuity. Critics argue they risk weakening democratic accountability.

In any functioning democracy, such debates are expected to be vigorous. Citizens organise meetings. Civil society groups hold discussions. Political actors mobilise support and opposition. Journalists report on the arguments.

That is how public participation works.

The Policing of Debate:

Yet recent developments suggest the environment surrounding this debate is becoming increasingly constrained. Opposition meetings and civic gatherings discussing the constitutional amendments have repeatedly been dispersed by police, often citing the need for prior clearance.

At the same time, gatherings organised by the ruling party have proceeded without comparable disruption.

The result is a troubling asymmetry. The legal requirement for police notification — originally intended as a public order mechanism — begins to function as a political gatekeeping tool.

One side of the debate gathers freely. The other finds its meetings blocked, dispersed or discouraged. The democratic effect is predictable.

Public participation shrinks.

When Debate Is Replaced by Intimidation:

Even more concerning are reports from various parts of the country suggesting that the constitutional amendment campaign is increasingly being presented to communities as a fait accompli.

Citizens are reportedly being told that the changes are inevitable, irreversible, and beyond meaningful public influence. Such messaging undermines the very concept of constitutional consultation. A constitution is not amended by inevitability.

It is amended through public consent. If citizens are discouraged from debating or opposing proposed changes, the consultation process becomes performative rather than substantive.

Lawfare and the Media:

In this context, the legal pressure on journalists takes on a different meaning. Journalists are not merely reporting events. They are documenting the national conversation.

If journalists become targets of repeated arrests, prolonged pre-trial processes, and new charges emerging from speeches or interviews, the effect is predictable.

Editors become cautious. Reporters become hesitant. Newsrooms become quieter. And public debate gradually fades.

This is what critics describe as lawfare — the strategic use of legal processes to constrain political speech.

Whether or not authorities intend it that way, the cumulative effect can be the same.

Zimbabwe’s International Image:

The implications extend beyond domestic politics. Zimbabwe has spent years attempting to rebuild international relationships after decades of strained engagement.

Press freedom, rule of law, and open political debate are central indicators used by international institutions when assessing democratic progress.

Cases involving journalists therefore attract attention far beyond Zimbabwe’s borders. They shape the narrative about the country’s political trajectory.

And narratives, once formed, are difficult to reverse.

The Real Question:

Ultimately, the issue raised by the Mhlanga case is not simply whether one journalist violated a statute. That is for the courts to determine.

The deeper question is whether Zimbabwe’s legal system is gradually becoming the primary arena in which political disputes are fought.

When political debate shifts from the public square to the courtroom, democracy changes character.

Law remains. But politics becomes increasingly judicialised.

And once that shift occurs, the boundaries between justice and political strategy can become difficult to distinguish.

The Moment Zimbabwe Must Reflect On:

Zimbabwe now stands at a constitutional crossroads. Major structural changes to the political system are under discussion. Public participation should therefore be expanding. Debate should be intensifying. Journalists should be reporting freely.

Instead, meetings are being dispersed, critics intimidated, and journalists entangled in increasingly complex legal battles.

This combination does not encourage national consensus. It encourages suspicion.

The Future of the Debate:

The Blessed Mhlanga case will proceed through the courts. Judges will weigh the legal arguments. And the law will ultimately pronounce itself.

But long before that judgment arrives, Zimbabwe must confront a broader issue. A country debating fundamental constitutional change cannot afford a shrinking civic space. Because constitutions derive legitimacy not from coercion — but from consent.

And consent requires something simple. Citizens must be free to speak. Journalists must be free to report.

And courts must remain places where the law is interpreted — not instruments through which political debates are settled.