As Speaker of Parliament, Sameer Suleman has positioned himself as a champion of accountability. But his greatest challenge may not be exposing corruption. It may be confronting a political system of which he remains a prominent part.
There is a contradiction at the heart of Sameer Suleman’s emerging political crusade. As Speaker of Parliament, he is challenging corruption and demanding accountability from public institutions. Yet he belongs to the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP), the very party whose government he is challenging.
He is, in essence, confronting a system he is part of, raising a question that could define his political future: can one man reform a system that may have an interest in resisting reform?
Suleman’s declaration that corruption is rampant in government institutions and that Parliament must investigate the extent of the problem appears to have struck a nerve within his own political establishment.
DPP Secretary General Peter Mukhito distanced President Peter Mutharika from the Speaker’s remarks, while government spokesperson Shadric Namalomba questioned Parliament’s role in investigating corruption, arguing that people with evidence should report it to the Anti-Corruption Bureau (ACB).
The reactions exposed an uncomfortable tension within the governing establishment over how far the Speaker should go in pursuing accountability, particularly when his proposed inquiries could scrutinise institutions operating under the government his party leads.
The dispute escalated when a court challenge sought to stop the proposed parliamentary inquiries.
What began as a declaration of oversight responsibility has become a test of how far Suleman can go when accountability threatens to become politically uncomfortable.
The confrontation has also raised broader questions about the relationship between Parliament and the Executive, and whether the legislature can independently scrutinise public institutions without its actions being interpreted as a challenge to the political leadership.
There is an important distinction here. The ACB investigates suspected corruption, but Parliament also has a legitimate oversight role in examining public institutions and the use of public resources. One responsibility does not automatically cancel the other.
Suleman’s challenge, therefore, is not to replace the ACB, but to demonstrate that Parliament can perform its duties without political interference.
At the same time, he must ensure that any inquiries comply with the law and are supported by credible evidence. The real test is whether the country’s institutions can perform their respective roles without one being used to frustrate the legitimate work of another.
This is where his crusade will either gain substance or collapse under its own rhetoric.
Speaking against corruption is easy; producing evidence, conducting credible inquiries and securing meaningful action are considerably harder.
Many political leaders have condemned corruption, promised accountability and presented themselves as champions of the public interest, only for the same problems to persist.
Suleman must therefore demonstrate that his campaign is more than a bold political declaration. He must show that he is prepared to follow through, even when doing so becomes inconvenient for him and those around him.
Suleman appears to have gained public sympathy because corruption is not an abstract political debate for ordinary Malawians. It concerns the public money needed for hospitals, schools, roads, electricity and other essential services.
People who struggle to access these services have every reason to demand answers about how their taxes and public resources are managed.
When public institutions fail to deliver, citizens want to know whether the problem stems from limited resources, poor management, corruption or a combination of all three.
Suleman’s message resonates because it speaks directly to frustrations many Malawians experience every day.
But public support is not institutional power. Citizens can applaud Suleman today, yet become disillusioned tomorrow if his declarations produce no tangible results.
His credibility will ultimately depend on whether he can translate public anger into lawful, evidence-based accountability.
Public opinion may give him political leverage, but it cannot substitute for the parliamentary procedures, institutional cooperation and credible evidence required to turn promises into action. If his campaign produces nothing beyond speeches and political exchanges, the enthusiasm surrounding him could quickly fade.
His position becomes even more complicated when he ventures into the question of Muslim representation in government. His remarks that Muslims are being sidelined have drawn criticism from some members of the Muslim community, who argue that he was speaking for himself rather than representing their collective position.
That has opened a second front in what was already becoming a politically difficult confrontation, shifting attention from corruption and parliamentary oversight to questions of religious representation and who has the authority to speak on behalf of a community.
The controversy risks distracting from his anti-corruption campaign. If Suleman believes religious discrimination influences public appointments, he must substantiate the claim with evidence. He should not assume that his position as Speaker automatically gives him authority to speak for an entire religious community.
Corruption and religious representation are separate issues, each deserving its own evidence-based debate. By dealing with them independently, Suleman would be better placed to defend his arguments without allowing one controversy to undermine the other.
The bigger political danger, however, lies within his own party. A Speaker who challenges the Executive risks being perceived as disloyal by colleagues who expect political solidarity. Yet the office of Speaker carries responsibilities that extend beyond party loyalty.
If Parliament cannot scrutinise public institutions because doing so might embarrass the governing party, its oversight role becomes vulnerable to political convenience. This is precisely the contradiction Suleman must navigate: remaining part of the political establishment while insisting that his responsibilities as Speaker cannot be reduced to shielding that establishment from scrutiny.
This is the gamble Suleman has taken. He could emerge as a figure who strengthened Parliament’s independence, or he could become isolated within the very political establishment that helped bring him to power.
His opponents do not necessarily have to defeat his arguments publicly. They only need to ensure that his initiatives never progress beyond speeches, court battles and political exchanges.
In that scenario, the system would not need to silence him completely. It would only need to limit his ability to turn declarations into institutional action.
Can he succeed? Yes, but not through defiance alone.
He needs evidence, procedural discipline, institutional alliances and the determination to pursue accountability consistently, including when it implicates people within his own political circle.
He must also demonstrate that his commitment to accountability is not selective, driven by political disagreements or limited to institutions whose leaders have fallen out of favour.
Consistency matters because the credibility of an anti-corruption crusade depends not only on whom it targets but also on whether it applies the same standards to everyone.
The ultimate question is no longer whether corruption exists. Few dispute that. The question is whether Sameer Suleman can turn bold words into meaningful action before the political system he is challenging closes ranks around him.
For now, Suleman has chosen a difficult path. He is challenging not an opposition government, but a political system of which he is a prominent member. That makes his campaign inherently risky and potentially consequential.
If he succeeds, he could strengthen Parliament and redefine the Speaker’s role. If he fails, he may simply confirm a lesson Malawians have learned too often: that changing a system is far harder when the system is your own.
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