Blessed Mhlanga spoke the truth as state apologists blame the messenger for the reality of repression

There is a particular kind of chilling elegance in the way authoritarianism now chooses to speak.

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It no longer relies solely on the crude, late-night knock at the door or the blunt instrument of a baton; it has learned to dress its threats in the borrowed robes of “strategic communication,” “national interest,” and “policy-driven maturity.”

This is precisely what we see in Derek Goto’s recent response to journalist Blessed Mhlanga’s address at the 18th Geneva Summit for Human Rights and Democracy.

Goto’s post is not merely a critique; it is a clinical exercise in victim-blaming and a thinly veiled warning that the state’s eyes are long, its memory is deep, and its patience is transactional.

By dissecting the rhetoric used by such apologists, we begin to see a disturbing attempt to redefine the very nature of truth and patriotism in Zimbabwe, where the messenger is held responsible for the ugliness of the message, rather than the state being held accountable for the ugliness of the reality.

Goto begins with a premise that sounds almost paternalistic: the idea that words uttered in Geneva do not stay there.

He speaks of “policy briefs,” “risk assessments,” and “diplomatic memoranda” as if these are the sacred texts of global perception, and that Blessed Mhlanga, by speaking his truth, has committed a form of economic sacrilege.

The underlying logic here is as perverse as it is transparent: Zimbabwe’s image—and by extension its economy—is not damaged by the arbitrary arrest of journalists, the suppression of protests, or the weaponization of the law; it is damaged by the person who has the audacity to mention these things in a room with a microphone.

This is a classic case of demanding that the mirror be smashed because the reflection it shows is unflattering.

If Zimbabwe is described abroad as “sliding into sophisticated repression,” it is not because of a narrative “amplified” by Mhlanga; it is because the world has watched the actual, documented slide.

When “lawfare” is invoked, it is not shorthand for “systemic oppression” by some creative whim of a journalist; it is a description of a lived reality that Mhlanga himself knows with agonizing intimacy.

To truly understand the hollowness of Goto’s “warning against reckless heroics,” one must remember the context that he so conveniently ignores.

Blessed Mhlanga did not go to Geneva to engage in “reckless grandstanding.”

He went there as a survivor of the very “lawfare” Goto tries to dismiss as a mere linguistic variable.

In February 2025, Mhlanga was subjected to 73 days of pre-trial detention—not for a crime, but for the “offense” of conducting an interview.

Seventy-three days in a prison cell, denied his constitutional right to bail multiple times, for simply doing the job of a journalist.

When a man who has been caged by the state for two months speaks about repression, he is not “amplifying a narrative”; he is giving a witness statement.

For Goto to suggest that Mhlanga lacks “precision” or “judgment” is an insult to the professional integrity of a man who has paid for his words with his own freedom.

It is an attempt to pathologize courage, rebranding it as “foolish bravery” while elevating silence—or “calibration”—as the only acceptable form of “political maturity.”

The use of the proverb about the coward living long enough to point out the grave of the brave man is perhaps the most sinister part of the entire post.

It is a piece of folk wisdom twisted into a threat of mortality.

In Goto’s worldview, “caution and judgment” are not virtues of a free citizen; they are the survival strategies of a hostage.

By invoking this proverb, he is essentially telling every journalist, activist, and citizen that the state is a predator, and the only way to “preserve life and purpose” is to never look it directly in the eye.

He suggests that seasoned political actors like Nelson Chamisa “calibrate” their speech out of an understanding of “power, law, and consequence.”

This is not an endorsement of Chamisa’s wisdom; it is an admission of the state’s hostility.

If leaders must “calibrate” their speech to stay within “legal and strategic red lines,” then those lines are not boundaries of law; they are the perimeter of a cage.

A democracy where speech must be “calibrated” to avoid ruin is not a democracy at all; it is a theater of fear.

Goto’s reliance on Section 22A of the Criminal Law (Codification and Reform) Amendment Act—the infamous “Patriotic Act”—as a moral and legal shield is equally fallacious.

He claims it was not enacted in a vacuum, and he is right.

It was enacted in a vacuum of accountability, specifically designed to criminalize any form of international advocacy that the state deems inconvenient.

However, Goto’s legal posturing conveniently omits a critical fact: in June 2025, the High Court of Zimbabwe struck down significant portions of Section 22A(3) as unconstitutional, ruling that its vague and overly broad language violated the fundamental rights of citizens.

By continuing to brandish this law as a threat against “reputational harm,” Goto is not just misrepresenting the law; he is attempting to maintain a climate of fear through a statute that the judiciary itself has deemed a violation of the constitution.

It is a desperate attempt to legislate patriotism, ignoring the fact that true patriotism is often found in the very criticism that seeks to make a country better, rather than the sycophancy that seeks to keep it profitable for a few.

The argument that “national reputation is an economic variable” is the ultimate red herring.

It suggests that if journalists would just stop talking about human rights, the “capital flows” and “tourism advisories” would suddenly turn in Zimbabwe’s favor.

This is an economic fairy tale.

Investors do not flee because of what a journalist says in Geneva; they flee because of the instability, corruption, and lack of rule of law that the journalist is reporting on.

A “sovereign State” does indeed have a “duty to defend its national interest,” but that interest is best defended by upholding the rights of its people, ensuring a fair judiciary, and fostering a transparent government.

When the state treats its own citizens as enemies, it is the state itself that “imperils national standing.”

To blame Blessed Mhlanga for the “credit outlook” of Zimbabwe is as logical as blaming a doctor for the diagnosis of a disease.

The disease is the repression; the reporting is merely the symptom that Goto and his ilk wish to suppress.

Ultimately, Derek Goto’s post is a classic example of “sophisticated repression” in its own right.

It seeks to gaslight the public into believing that the victim is the aggressor and that the jailer is the protector.

It frames the act of seeking international solidarity as an act of betrayal, while ignoring the state’s betrayal of its own constitutional obligations.

The “miscalculation” Goto speaks of is not Mhlanga’s; it is the state’s.

History rarely remembers kindly those who used the law to silence the truth, or those who confused “restraint” with the mere pause before the next arrest.

True “political maturity” is not found in the “precision” of knowing when to be quiet; it is found in the unwavering commitment to speak when the state demands silence.

Blessed Mhlanga spoke for every Zimbabwean who has been silenced by “lawfare,” and no amount of “strategic” rhetoric from state apologists can drown out the resonance of that truth.

If the words uttered in Geneva travel, it is because they carry the weight of a reality that cannot be hidden by a passport or silenced by a proverb.

• Tendai Ruben Mbofana is a social justice advocate and writer. To directly receive his articles please join his WhatsApp Channel on: https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VaqprWCIyPtRnKpkHe08