Is it legal to forcefully take a drug abuser to a rehab centre without a court order?

The sight of a fellow human being led away in chains, his wrists biting into cold steel as officers haul him into a vehicle, is an image that should stir the conscience of any person who values the sanctity of the law and human dignity.

If you value my social justice advocacy and writing, please consider a financial contribution to keep it going. Contact me on WhatsApp: +263 715 667 700 or Email: mbofana.tendairuben73@gmail.com

When this scene is broadcast on national television as a triumphant act of charity, we must pause and ask ourselves what kind of society we are becoming.

This evening, the news bulletins showcased what was framed as a rescue mission, where individuals struggling with the devastating grip of drug addiction were forcefully taken to a rehabilitation center in Mbare.

There was zero mention of a court order.

If this is the case, then we have a huge problem in Zimbabwe, where the law has been reduced to a mere nuisance.

While the suffering of the families involved is undeniable and their desperation for help is heartbreakingly real, the methods employed are a chilling departure from constitutionalism and a direct assault on the very rights that define a free people.

We are witnessing the normalization of lawlessness under the guise of benevolence, and if we do not speak out now, we are consenting to a system where the state or high profile foundations can snatch anyone off the street simply by labeling them a problem.

The scourge of drug abuse in Zimbabwe is indeed a national emergency that has mutated into a pandemic, tearing the social fabric of our communities and leaving a trail of broken homes and wasted potential.

From the ubiquitous presence of crystal meth, known on the streets as mutoriro or guka, to the lethal concoctions of musombodhiya, our youth are drowning in a sea of chemical escapism.

The pain of a mother watching her son descend into a violent, drug induced psychosis is a heavy burden that no parent should have to bear.

However, the urgency of this crisis does not grant the government or any private entity the authority to discard the rule of law.

Some individuals arrived in chains, restrained to prevent harm to themselves or others.

Others appeared visibly unkempt, their clothes soiled, bodies frail, hair matted—clear signs of prolonged neglect.

A few uttered incoherent statements, lost in mental distress, while one man, visibly drunk, muttered, “ndangotorwa ndichinzi ndirikuenda ku interview”.

These are not people who have been assessed by a psychiatrist, certified as dangerous, and brought before a court.

They are people who have been bundled into vehicles by desperate families, driven past the courthouse entirely, and deposited at a facility that operates without any apparent judicial oversight.

In Zimbabwe, the detention of any person for medical or psychological reasons is strictly governed by the Mental Health Act.

This legislation is not a mere suggestion but a mandatory framework designed to prevent the exact kind of arbitrary detention we saw unfolding in Mbare.

For a person to be legally forced into rehabilitation, a magistrate must issue a reception order after an application by a relative or an authorized officer, supported by the medical certificates of two doctors.

This process ensures that a person’s liberty is only curtailed when it is medically and legally necessary.

When we see people rounded up without a mention of a court order, with officers acting as enforcers for a private foundation, we are looking at a fundamental breakdown of due process.

Where is the judicial oversight?

Where is the medical assessment?

If these individuals have committed a crime, they should be charged and brought before a court of law.

If they are being detained for treatment, the Mental Health Act must be followed to the letter.

By bypassing these safeguards, the state is effectively treating drug addiction as a crime that warrants abduction rather than a health condition that requires a clinical and legal process.

We cannot claim to be a nation of laws when the most vulnerable members of our society are treated like stray animals to be caged at the whim of those in power.

The use of handcuffs and chains on individuals who have not been convicted of any crime is a visceral manifestation of a “savior complex” that prioritizes optics over the actual rights and dignity of the person being “saved.”

Furthermore, we must interrogate the long term efficacy of this aggressive approach.

Addiction is a complex psychological and physiological battle that cannot be won through the use of force and public shaming.

The foundational principle of successful rehabilitation is the therapeutic alliance, a relationship of trust and cooperation between the patient and the caregiver.

When a person is delivered to a facility in chains, that facility ceases to be a center of healing and becomes a place of incarceration.

This creates a survivalist mindset in the addict, who will simply bide their time, saying whatever is necessary to secure their release, only to return to the streets with even deeper trauma and resentment.

Forced rehabilitation without a legal mandate and a voluntary desire for change is often a revolving door that provides temporary relief for the family while setting the individual up for a spectacular and dangerous relapse.

The focus on high profile, centralized rehabilitation hubs also ignores the systemic rot that fuels the drug epidemic in the first place.

Why are our young men and women spending their days in a drug induced haze in the first place?

They are doing so because they live in a country where the economy has been hollowed out by corruption and mismanagement, leaving them with no jobs, no hope, and no future.

When a young person looks at the horizon and sees only poverty and stagnation, the lure of a cheap high becomes an irresistible escape.

Rounding up a few dozen users for a television cameras is a cosmetic fix for a structural disaster.

It is far easier to snatch people off the street and put them in a center named after a “hope” that most of them have never felt than it is to fix the economy, create jobs, and provide genuine community based mental health support.

If the government were serious about ending the drug scourge, it would be arresting the well connected drug lords who flood our streets with poison, not the broken souls who are their victims.

The involvement of a high-profile foundation in these operations complicates the matter further.

Charity should never be used as a shield for constitutional violations.

When a private or quasi-state foundation uses officers to conduct “raids” on citizens, the line between philanthropy and authoritarianism disappears.

This sets a dangerous precedent where any person deemed “antisocial” or “problematic” by those in power could find themselves bundled into a van and taken to a “rehabilitation” center without the chance to defend themselves in a court of law.

Today it is the drug abuser, but who will it be tomorrow?

Will it be the homeless, the street vendors, or the political activists who are deemed a “danger” to society and “rescued” into detention?

The best approach to this devastating crisis is one that combines the cold reality of the law with the warmth of genuine medical care.

We need a decentralized system of community clinics where addiction is treated as a public health issue rather than a detention matter.

We need to empower families with the knowledge of how to use the Mental Health Act to get their loved ones the help they need legally and safely.

Most importantly, we need a government that understands that the ultimate cure for the drug pandemic is a functioning economy that gives our youth a reason to stay sober.

We must reject the spectacle of chains and handcuffs as a substitute for policy.

True hope is not found in the back of a truck or in a center that bypasses the law.

True hope is found in a society where every citizen, no matter how broken, is treated with the dignity and the due process they are guaranteed by the constitution.

We must stop pretending that we can save people by destroying their rights.

Is it possible that these highly publicized “rescues” are actually distracting the public from the failure to prosecute the major drug distributors in the country?

• 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