By Dr Lawrence Mwelwa
IN the corridors of power, where decisions shape the destiny of nations, the weight of governance does not rest solely on policies and economic plans. Leadership, at its core, is a battle of perception. It is not always the most competent that survive, but those who master the art of storytelling, those who weave a narrative so compelling that even the skeptical pause to listen. The failure of the UPND is not just in governance; it is in their inability to tell their own story, to command the airwaves with the truth that could set them free. A government that cannot communicate is like a warrior without a weapon, vulnerable to the arrows of opposition, weakened before the battle even begins.
There is an old African proverb that says, “A child who does not cry dies on its mother’s back.” The UPND government has failed to cry out convincingly, leaving the people to believe that it does not feel their pain. Their communication strategy, or the lack of it, has become their greatest weakness. When leaders walk away from the questions that demand answers, they do not silence the concerns of the people; they only amplify them. Silence is never neutral. In politics, silence is an admission of guilt, an acceptance of weakness, a surrender without negotiation.
The recent walkout from Parliament was not just a miscalculation—it was a betrayal of trust, an act that exposed the cracks in leadership. A government that prides itself on democracy must understand that democracy is not about convenience; it is about endurance. Sarcasm in Parliament should not shake the foundation of a ruling party, for a leader who is angered by words will be destroyed by actions. The people of Zambia did not elect representatives to abandon debates; they elected them to provide solutions. And when a government refuses to answer, the people will assume they have no answers at all.
In the wisdom of the Chinese, “A wise man adapts himself to circumstances, as water shapes itself to the vessel that contains it.” Yet, in the face of political storms, the UPND has remained rigid, failing to adapt, failing to counter the aggressive narratives of their opponents. The Patriotic Front sings the song of their own borrowing, pointing to infrastructure as evidence of their investment. They have mastered the art of turning their weaknesses into talking points, while the UPND, despite any economic strides, has allowed its successes to be buried beneath the noise of criticism. A government that cannot defend itself is a government that is already lost.
It is often said in Africa, “He who follows the elephant will step on big footprints.” The UPND inherited a nation weighed down by debt, corruption, and economic instability. But instead of forging their own path, they have chosen to follow the footprints of blame. The song of blaming the PF for everything has grown old, a tired melody that no longer moves the people. The masses do not eat history; they do not fuel their cars with excuses. They want results. If the government has borrowed, let them show what they have built. If they have restructured the economy, let them prove how it benefits the common man. A government that always speaks of problems but never solutions is a government that is preparing its own grave.
What then must be done? The answer is simple but urgent—communication must be revolutionized. The Chief Government Spokesperson must rise beyond the petty battles of the past and embrace the power of strategic communication. The UPND does not need foreign Public Relations specialists; Zambia is rich with minds that understand the art of narrative warfare. But competence must be placed above loyalty. A leader who surrounds himself with the incompetent, simply because they are loyal, is like a man who builds his house on sand—it will collapse at the first storm.
A wise leader knows when to apologize, for “A wound that is hidden will never heal.” The walkout from Parliament should have been met with a swift and intelligent response, not arrogance or deflection. There is no shame in admitting that a mistake was made; the shame lies in pretending it never happened. The people respect humility more than pride, and an apology coupled with a commitment to do better would have disarmed even the fiercest critics. But instead, silence has become the default strategy, and silence in politics is like darkness—it breeds fear, doubt, and suspicion.
The battle for 2026 will not be fought with policies alone; it will be fought in the hearts and minds of the people. The ballot box is merciless; it does not remember history, it does not recognize excuses, it does not entertain regret. If the UPND continues on this path, they will learn the hard way that “The tongue is sharper than the spear.” Their enemies have mastered the art of speaking, while they remain muted in the face of rising discontent.
The time to act is now. A government must not only work; it must be seen to work. A government must not only have a vision; it must inspire belief in that vision. A government must not only fight battles; it must win the war of perception. If the UPND fails to understand this, then they will join the long list of leaders who learned too late that power is never lost in a single moment—it is lost in a series of small, unchallenged defeats.
