Broadcast of Shame: The chilling message behind Malawi’s Televised apology

By Collins Mtika

It was a performance few will ever forget.

On the morning of October 9, 2025, viewers of Malawi’s state broadcaster watched in disbelief as George Kasakula, Director General of the Malawi Broadcasting Corporation (MBC), looked into the camera and apologised to President Peter Mutharika.

Then came the line that made the nation wince: “Malawians have voted for him—millions of them.”

What seemed at first like an awkward public statement soon revealed itself as something darker.

Accounts from inside MBC’s Blantyre headquarters suggest Kasakula’s apology was not voluntary. Witnesses said he had been removed from his office, escorted to a studio, and ordered to deliver the statement live on air.

“The apology wasn’t remorse—it was fear,” said one MBC employee who watched the ordeal unfold. “He didn’t look sorry. He looked cornered.”

According to multiple staff members, a group of Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) supporters entered the MBC compound around 10 a.m., confronting Kasakula and forcing him to collect his belongings.

Under pressure, he read a short-prepared statement broadcast nationwide.

Police later announced the arrest of two men, Yonah Green Malunga and Stone Mwamadi, in connection with the incident. Both, however, were seen in public later that same day, casting doubt on the investigation’s seriousness.

Mwamadi’s football club, FCB Nyasa Big Bullets, suspended him pending internal enquiries.

DPP spokesperson Shadric Namalomba described the apology as “an open admission of wrongdoing” and urged MBC’s board to take disciplinary action.

But to many Malawians, the broadcast was less an admission than an act of intimidation.

Writer and commentator Onjezani Kenani alleged that seven men had taken part in the raid. Police have yet to release a detailed statement or footage from MBC’s security cameras.

What happened that day went far beyond a personal humiliation. It was a show of power, an assertion that even the head of the state broadcaster could be publicly subdued.

The October incident revived memories of Kasakula’s earlier encounter with Mutharika. In January 2019, he had issued a written apology to the same man, then President, after a protracted five-year defamation case.

At the time, Kasakula was a columnist for Malawi 24. His article, “Is Mutharika a drunkard or just plain stupid?”, mocked the president’s leadership.

Mutharika’s lawyers responded with a defamation suit demanding K500 million (about US$285,000), a potentially ruinous amount for any journalist.

The case lingered through Mutharika’s presidency and beyond. When he lost the 2020 election, it seemed destined to fade.

Instead, it followed Kasakula into his new role as head of MBC, appointed in 2021 by President Lazarus Chakwera.

Under financial and political strain, Kasakula retracted the 2019 article, calling it “based on hearsay and therefore unprofessional,” and apologised for causing Mutharika “pain, ridicule, and embarrassment.”

The former president withdrew the suit.

For Mutharika’s allies, it was vindication. For Malawi’s journalists, it was surrender.

“This is a betrayal of journalism,” said Golden Matonga, chairperson of the Media Institute of Southern Africa (MISA)–Malawi. “You don’t need to win the case—just file a huge one and wait for the journalist to break.”

Matonga’s warning points to a growing global trend: the use of SLAPPs, Strategic Lawsuits Against Public Participation, to silence critics. Such lawsuits do not aim to win in court; they aim to exhaust.

In Malawi, where many reporters earn less than US$300 a month, even the threat of a defamation suit can be enough to deter investigation or commentary.

Law professor Dr Garton Kamchedzera sees Kasakula’s ordeal as emblematic of that pressure.

“He was caught between personal ruin and political expectation,” he said. “His apology, coerced or not, shows that even the head of a state broadcaster can be made to kneel. That undermines the very concept of press independence.”

Defamation in Malawi remains a civil offence carrying crippling penalties. Efforts to cap damages or protect public-interest reporting have stalled in Parliament.

Without reform, journalists remain vulnerable to both legal and extralegal coercion.

When Kasakula took over MBC in 2021, he was seen as a reformist, an outspoken critic now charged with professionalising the very institution he once condemned. But optimism faded quickly.

Inside the broadcaster, employees now describe an atmosphere of fear and fatigue. MBC remains a crucial node in Malawi’s media landscape but one long subject to political interference.

Control of its editorial line has always been treated as a strategic prize by ruling parties.

The October 9 raid laid bare just how fragile that independence remains. How did party loyalists gain access to a secure government facility? Who authorised the broadcast? So far, there are no answers.

“When the head of a state broadcaster can be dragged before a camera and made to repent,” said one veteran Blantyre editor, “you don’t need censorship anymore—the fear does it for you.”

Malawi’s standing on the World Press Freedom Index had risen to 62nd in 2023, buoyed by political calm and greater access to information.

The Kasakula affair now threatens to undo those gains.

MISA and other watchdogs have called for an independent inquiry into both the October raid and the persistent political meddling at MBC.

The DPP has long accused MBC under Kasakula’s leadership of bias against the party, citing unbalanced coverage and partisan commentary.

Yet even those sympathetic to the complaint acknowledge that storming a newsroom cannot be justified.

MBC’s disciplinary committee must now investigate claims of editorial bias without legitimising intimidation. Restoring credibility will require transparency, and courage.

The communications regulators MACRA and MISA–Malawi have urged Parliament to strengthen laws guaranteeing public media independence and to disclose all complaints involving Mutharika or his party.

But reform faces steep odds. Malawi’s journalists work in precarious conditions, poorly paid, legally exposed, and politically vulnerable.

Still, their reporting remains one of the few defences of a democracy still learning to stand.

Kasakula’s story has become both symbol and warning. His written apology bought him legal relief; his televised one cost him his dignity. The lesson is simple and chilling: when power can script repentance, freedom itself is only acting.