The shameful attempt at (un)constitutional plunder: normalization of sin?

Paulo Vilanculo"

There are times when a society ceases to be outraged by what should provoke indignation. When the extraordinary becomes routine, when the suspicion of abuse no longer produces embarrassment, and when public assets begin to be seen as an extension of the private interests of those in positions of power, perhaps we are facing a phenomenon more serious than the isolated act itself: the normalization of institutional sin. Who assumes political responsibility when a constitutional institution finds itself embroiled in a controversy of this magnitude? Is the State serving the citizen, or is the citizen financing the privileges of those who occupy the State? Can the president of a constitutional institution remain politically comfortable when the institution under her leadership is associated with a luxury car acquisition operation that provokes national outrage and ends up suspended due to alleged evidence of irregularities? Does the problem of corruption end with the official who executes the action, or does it often begin at higher levels where decisions are conceived, authorized, or tolerated? Why is not resigning necessarily an admission of guilt? Because when those who should be protecting the Constitution become associated with practices that raise doubts about the legality and ethics of public administration, the question ceases to be simply "who did it?". What kind of state are we building?

For years, Mozambican society has been confronted with successive episodes involving suspicions of corruption, misuse of public resources, favoritism, conflicts of interest, opaque contracting, and questionable management of state assets. The problem no longer lies solely in the existence of isolated cases. The real danger lies in the possibility that these cases are building an institutional culture in which transgression ceases to be exceptional. The controversy surrounding the acquisition of luxury vehicles by the Constitutional Council has become an unavoidable national concern. According to Deutsche Welle, the Constitutional Council had a procedure underway to acquire four vehicles valued at approximately 50 million meticais, including a Mercedes intended for President Lúcia Ribeiro, valued at approximately 27 million meticais. The issue, therefore, shifts the responsibility to the top.

According to Artemísia Magaia: “We didn’t come back to give you Mercedes.” This is a critical view of the gap between what the average citizen expects from the State and what Dr. Lucia Ribeiro seems to consider legitimate to spend on behalf of the State itself. In this case, the Mercedes cease to be merely luxury cars and symbolically represent a culture of privilege in a country where a large part of the population faces economic hardship and where the debate on the use of public resources continues to demand greater transparency. Even more unsettling is the silence attributed to the Attorney General's Office in the face of the public suspicions and questions surrounding the case: when an institution responsible for upholding the rule of law remains silent on a matter of high public interest, the silence can be interpreted as procedural prudence, but it can also fuel the perception of institutional omission. This is not about condemning Lucia Ribeiro in advance. But holding the highest position in an institution that should be a benchmark of the rule of law also implies an increased political and ethical responsibility.

An institution that judges the constitutionality of state actions cannot live solely on formal legality. It also needs to preserve what no judgment can manufacture once it's lost: the moral trust of citizens. If the president believes she had no responsibility, she must explain this to the country; if she believes the controversy compromises the moral authority of the Constitutional Council, she may consider her resignation an act of institutional responsibility. The central question is not merely how much the cars were worth, how much was declared, or what the actual amount owed would be. The bigger question is understanding how an institution whose main responsibilities include defending the Constitution, legality, and the fundamental principles of the rule of law can be associated with a situation that, due to its potentially harmful nature, threatens the very trust of citizens in public institutions.

The authority of the Constitutional Court does not stem solely from the rulings it delivers, but also from the moral and institutional credibility of its members and how the resources associated with the institution are managed. Even more serious would be if, faced with evidence, the institutional reaction were to protect those involved instead of clarifying the facts. It is precisely at this point that the issue ceases to be merely financial and becomes moral and constitutional. A state does not deteriorate only when someone steals. When a luxury vehicle intended for a public institution becomes the subject of a suspected under-invoicing operation, we are not merely dealing with a possible tax irregularity. We are dealing with a matter of social justice. It also deteriorates when those who should prevent theft begin to consider certain practices as normal; when privilege becomes habit; when abuse is relativized; when public indignation is replaced by conformism.

The expression "(Un)Constitutional" is not intended to imply that the Constitutional Court, as an institution, is guilty of acts committed by individuals. What is being questioned is the contradiction between the institution's constitutional mission and practices that are shameful and violate principles such as legality, transparency, accountability, and the sound administration of public resources. An institution charged with safeguarding the Constitution cannot allow the suspicion of violating the principles that underpin that same Constitution to become a minor issue. The episode of the luxury vehicles should, therefore, serve as an opportunity for deeper reflection on the management of public resources and on the ethical standards required of sovereign institutions. It is unacceptable for the State to be rigorous with the ordinary citizen and complacent with itself. If someone acted illegally, they must answer to the law. If there was an attempt at under-invoicing, let it be discovered who tried, how they tried, why they tried, and who could benefit. And if there was no irregularity, the institutions must have the courage to publicly present the documents and explanations capable of dispelling the doubts.

The Constitutional Court, precisely because of its nature, should be at the forefront of demanding accountability. The greatest danger is perhaps not today's scandal, but tomorrow's silence. Society begins to lose its institutions when it starts to believe that certain actors are above criticism. When a sin ceases to provoke shame, we are no longer just dealing with sinners. We are facing a society at risk of normalizing sin. Therefore, when news or denunciations arise related to possible irregularities in the acquisition of high-value vehicles intended for an institution of this nature, the position cannot be silence, relativization, or the attempt to transform a matter of public interest into a mere bureaucratic problem. We cannot build a state in which the low-level employee is persecuted for an irregularity of a few thousand meticais while decisions involving tens of millions of meticais are treated as simple administrative procedures. If a culture of privilege exists within public institutions, it does not necessarily originate at the base; it can originate at the top, through decisions, priorities, omissions, and mechanisms of institutional protection.

2025/12/3