When Is Enough, Enough? Even the Devil Himself Has a Limit, But This One Is Epic
By The Independent International Correspondent
24th April, 2026
There are moments in a nation’s life when silence becomes complicity, when restraint begins to resemble cowardice, and when the moral fabric of governance is stretched so thin it risks tearing beyond repair. This is one of those moments.
The disturbing allegations surrounding the handling of the mortal remains of have ignited not just legal debate, but a profound ethical crisis—one that cuts to the core of dignity, humanity, and the rule of law in and beyond.
According to a detailed statement issued by the family through spokesperson , what transpired between 22 and 23 April 2026 in was not merely procedural overreach—it was, if proven true, an egregious violation of both legal norms and basic human decency.
Let us be clear: the dead, regardless of their politics, power, or past, are owed dignity. It is a principle that transcends borders, ideologies, and administrations. Yet the account presented suggests a sequence of actions so reckless, so devoid of respect, that it forces one to ask: when is enough enough?
The alleged forced removal of the former president’s remains from a Johannesburg funeral facility without the presence or consent of family members is troubling on its own. But it is what followed that raises the gravest concerns. The reported defiance of a High Court order in Pretoria, and the subsequent unauthorized postmortem, paints a picture not of governance, but of impunity.
If a court order can be so casually disregarded—if the sanctity of a human body can be subjected to state-driven intrusion without due process—then what remains of the rule of law?
Equally alarming is the claim that a false narrative of “suspected poisoning” was introduced into official records, allegedly attributed to a non-existent family report. Such an assertion, if fabricated, is not a minor clerical error. It is a distortion of truth with potentially far-reaching consequences, not only for the family but for public trust.
This is not merely about one man, even if that man once held the highest office in the land. It is about the precedent being set. Today it is . Tomorrow, it could be anyone.
Governments derive their legitimacy not from power, but from restraint—restraint in the use of authority, restraint in moments of conflict, and restraint in the face of vulnerability. When that restraint disappears, what remains is something far more dangerous than political rivalry: it is the erosion of the very principles that hold a society together.
Even in the harshest moral imaginations, there is an understanding that certain lines should not be crossed. The phrase “even the devil has a limit” is often used to underscore extreme wrongdoing. Yet what is alleged here challenges even that cynical benchmark.
The family’s refusal to “abandon their loved one,” despite calls from some quarters to do so, is not just an act of defiance—it is an assertion of humanity in the face of institutional coldness. It reminds us that beyond the politics lies a grieving family, seeking nothing more radical than respect and justice.
This situation demands more than quiet acknowledgment. It demands transparency. It demands accountability. And above all, it demands a recommitment to the rule of law—by both Zambian authorities and their counterparts in .
Because if the dead are not safe from the excesses of power, then the living have every reason to be afraid.
There comes a point where a nation must look itself in the mirror and ask difficult questions. This is that point.
