There is something obscenely ironic — Shakespearean, even — about a country that cannot feed its children but can feed a standing army. Something tragic about a land where nurses strike, teachers beg, and university students hustle airtime to survive, while soldiers in sprawling, well-watered barracks polish boots, iron uniforms, and receive allowances without firing a shot in anger.

Malawi has never been to war. We are not at war now. And we are not likely to be — unless Karonga finally declares independence after another blackout.

So why do we keep pumping billions of kwacha into the Malawi Defence Force (MDF)? Tradition? Patriotism? A national fetish for men marching in straight lines?

Let’s call it what it is: institutional inertia — wrapped in a camouflage uniform, lubricated by procurement contracts, and endorsed by every politician who wants the generals on speed dial when things go sideways.

In a country where 48% of children are stunted, 3 in 4 people have no access to electricity, and the public health system collapses every time there’s a flu outbreak, we maintain a military as if we’re gearing up for World War III — against ghosts.

Instead of tanks, give us ambulances. Instead of assault rifles, give us textbooks. Instead of barracks, give us boreholes.

But alas, we fund boots and bullets like we’re defending the gates of Rome. Meanwhile, rural clinics have no gloves, and government schools run “double shifts” because one block has collapsed.

There was a time when the MDF was a source of national pride — disciplined, professional, and admirably apolitical. Today? It’s a headline generator for all the wrong reasons.

Fake invoices, phantom fuel receipts, “emergency procurements” of things that are neither urgent nor necessary. If corruption were a battalion, it would be fully armed and housed in Kamuzu Barracks.

We are not defending the nation anymore. We are defending rent-seeking. The MDF is no longer a deterrent — it is a department of laundering, protected by secrecy and fueled by the myth of invincibility.

Let’s be clear: Malawi is at war.

But the enemies aren’t foreign armies. They are hunger, illiteracy, corruption, youth unemployment, and disease.

And here’s the punchline: our military is nowhere to be found on those frontlines.

Thousands of able-bodied, trained professionals — some of them engineers, doctors, logisticians, agriculturists — sit idle in the barracks. Marching. Drilling. Cleaning rifles that have never been fired. Preparing for a war that doesn’t exist.

Let’s use them wisely.

  • Let them build bridges to replace the ones washed away by Cyclone Freddy.
  • Let them plant trees to reclaim Malawi’s ravaged forests.
  • Let them support hospitals, drive ambulances, repair clinics, dig pit latrines.
  • Let them teach science in schools that haven’t had a qualified teacher in years.
  • Let them farm, irrigate, and improve food security in our hunger-prone regions.

Because let’s face it — in a country this fragile, development is defense. A soldier with a hoe may save more lives than one with an AK-47.

Malawi treats its military like a sacred cow. But as we’ve seen — this cow isn’t just sacred, it’s spoiled.

When citizens question the military budget, we’re told it’s a “national security issue.” Translation: “Shut up before we use the Official Secrets Act on you.”

But national security doesn’t begin with armed men. It begins with a population that’s healthy, educated, fed, and hopeful.

And what are we protecting anyway? A treasury looted? An education system on life support? A forest turned into charcoal dust?

We have already lost the very things an army is supposed to defend.

Maybe it’s time we had that uncomfortable national conversation: Do we really need a standing army?

Or can we downsize it, repurpose it, civilianize parts of it — and redirect the billions to urgent priorities?

Let’s build a country first. Then we can decide who should defend it.

Because right now, we are paying scarecrows to guard a burnt field, while the arsonists dine at State House.

Before we fund a military, let us build a nation worth defending. Before we protect borders, let’s protect girls from dropping out of school. Before we salute a flag, let’s restore what it stands for. And before we applaud parades, let’s ask: What are they really marching for?

Because marching in formation is not the same as moving forward.

Jack McBrams

Journalist | Thought Leader | Strategic Communications & PR Expert | Social Justice Advocate