Order from chaos: How communicative vacuums create political movements

Order from chaos: How communicative vacuums create political movements

By Dr Dexter Tambulukani Njuka

POLITICAL landscapes rarely change overnight. Yet history occasionally presents moments when an organisation or political movement that scarcely featured in national discourse suddenly becomes central to it. Such moments often appear spontaneous. In reality, they are usually the product of deeper communicative conditions that have been developing long before the public notices them.

That appears to be what Zambia is witnessing.

Only a few months ago, there seemed to be no formidable political force capable of mounting a serious challenge to the United Party for National Development (UPND). The opposition appeared fragmented, weakened by internal divisions and, in some instances, constrained by an increasingly limited physical democratic space.

Political rallies had become difficult to organise, with the Public Order Act (POA) frequently cited as justification for restricting opposition activities. To many observers, the political environment suggested an election in which the ruling party would face little meaningful resistance.

Yet, with only days remaining before the 13th August General Election, an entirely different picture has emerged.

A political movement that, until recently, existed more as an idea than as a fully-fledged political organisation has rapidly captured public attention. Within a remarkably short period, the alliance involving Brian Mundubile and Makebi Zulu has managed to dominate political conversations, attract unimaginable crowds, and compel the ruling party to respond to a discourse that scarcely existed weeks earlier.

Whether this momentum ultimately translates into electoral success is a question for the ballot box rather than this communication scholar.

What interests me is something else.

How does a political movement emerge so quickly from what appears to be nowhere?

I am not a political scientist, and therefore I do not intend to analyse electoral mathematics or predict voting outcomes. My interest lies within organisational discourse communication—the field through which I examine how institutions construct meaning, shape identity, and influence public perception.

Viewed through this lens, what many are witnessing is not merely political excitement.

It is organisational communication in motion.

One of the central principles in organisational discourse is that institutions rarely collapse because they lose members first. They begin by losing coherence. When organisational communication becomes inconsistent, fragmented, or contradictory, stakeholders gradually lose confidence in what the institution represents. Identity becomes blurred, trust begins to erode, and eventually a communicative vacuum emerges.

Vacuums seldom remain empty for long.

They invite new narratives.

This appears to have been the trajectory of the Patriotic Front (PF) following its defeat in the 2021 General Election. Whatever the underlying causes of its internal divisions—and those are matters better left to political historians—it is difficult to dispute that the years following its electoral loss were characterised by persistent internal disagreements, leadership disputes, competing centers of authority, and growing organisational dissonance.

Rather than presenting a coherent post-defeat recovery strategy, the party increasingly projected competing messages about its future direction. Every attempt at rebranding appeared to produce fresh uncertainty. Instead of rebuilding organizational identity, communication often amplified perceptions of confusion.

Organizational discourse theory helps explain why this matters.

Organizations exist not merely because they possess structures, constitutions, or office bearers. They exist because stakeholders continue to share a common understanding of what the organisation represents. Communication sustains that shared understanding. Once communication becomes fragmented, identity itself becomes unstable.

And when organisational identity becomes unstable, supporters inevitably begin searching for alternative narratives.

The consequences extend far beyond internal politics.

Confusion gradually weakens trust.

Loyalty becomes conditional.

Communication loses its persuasive power.

Supporters no longer know which voice speaks authoritatively for the institution. Instead of reinforcing identity, every public disagreement deepens uncertainty. The organisation continues to exist structurally, but communicatively it begins to lose the ability to inspire confidence.

This is the hidden cost of prolonged organisational disorder.

In communication theory, disorder does not simply create operational challenges.

It creates opportunities.

As the PF continued struggling to define its post-2021 identity, another political reality slowly emerged. The possibility that Zambia’s largest opposition party might no longer serve as the country’s principal alternative created a noticeable vacuum within the broader political discourse.

Political vacuums, much like communicative vacuums, rarely remain unoccupied.

They attract new actors.

Before nominations closed, numerous voices called for a united opposition capable of presenting a credible challenge to the ruling party. Yet even these discussions reflected a broader concern—that despite widespread public debate about the cost of living, unemployment, and economic pressures, there appeared to be no opposition force capable of effectively translating those concerns into a coherent national political conversation.

Meanwhile, confidence within the ruling party appeared increasingly visible. Public statements suggesting that there was effectively no opposition, accompanied by assertions of prolonged political dominance, reinforced a narrative that the electoral contest had largely been settled before it had begun. Citizens expressing frustrations over economic hardships were, in some instances, dismissed rather than meaningfully engaged.

Communication scholars often caution against this kind of institutional confidence.

Organisations sometimes mistake the absence of visible resistance for the absence of public dissatisfaction.

The two are not the same.

History repeatedly demonstrates that public silence should never be confused with public agreement.

Sometimes people simply wait for another voice.

And when that voice eventually emerges, the response can appear remarkably sudden.

It is within this communicative context that I propose what I describe as the Mundubile–Makebi Effect—not as a political doctrine, but as a communication phenomenon. It represents the rapid emergence of a political narrative that gains momentum by occupying a communicative space left vacant through organisational disorder, public frustration, and an underestimation of changing public sentiment.

Interestingly, this phenomenon is not entirely unfamiliar within Zambia’s democratic history.

The tendency to underestimate emerging political challengers has repeated itself before. During the 2021 election, the then ruling PF frequently dismissed Mr Hakainde Hichilema as little more than a “Facebook President,” arguing that social media popularity could never translate into electoral success.

History would later prove otherwise.

Perhaps the greatest lesson organisational communication offers political actors is this:

Public discourse is never static.

It is constantly searching for voices capable of giving meaning to prevailing public experiences.

And when established institutions fail to provide that meaning, new communicative actors inevitably emerge to fill the void.

 

 

When political communication finds an audience.

If the emergence of the Mundubile–Makebi alliance can be explained as the product of a communicative vacuum, the next question naturally becomes: why has the movement resonated so quickly?

Crowds alone do not explain political momentum.

Neither do social media trends.

From an organisational communication perspective, political momentum emerges when a message successfully aligns with public perception. It occurs when communication gives expression to concerns that already exist within society but have lacked an effective platform through which they can be articulated.

Communication, therefore, does not manufacture public frustration.

It amplifies it.

It organises it.

And sometimes, it gives it a recognisable face.

Viewed through this perspective, what I have described as the Mundubile–Makebi Effect appears to be driven by four interrelated communication dynamics.

The first is the existence of a communicative vacuum.

Every organisation communicates continuously, even when it believes it is silent. Likewise, every political environment is constantly producing narratives that compete for public attention. When existing political actors fail to address issues that citizens consider urgent, communication does not simply stop.

It migrates.

Citizens begin searching for alternative voices capable of expressing what they themselves have been feeling.

Economic pressures, unemployment, rising costs of living and perceptions of being unheard create fertile ground for alternative political narratives. When citizens conclude that established political actors are no longer adequately communicating their lived realities, they naturally become receptive to anyone prepared to occupy that communicative space.

This is less about political loyalty than communicative relevance.

People often support the voice that appears willing to acknowledge their frustrations before they necessarily support its policies.

The vacuum, therefore, is rarely empty.

It merely waits for someone to speak into it.

The second dynamic is the relationship between narrative and recognisable leadership.

Political communication has always relied upon stories.

Manifestos matter.

Policies matter.

But long before citizens study policy documents, they connect with narratives.

Successful political movements usually simplify complexity into a story that ordinary people can easily remember and repeatedly tell. They reduce complicated political realities into messages that are emotionally accessible without necessarily becoming intellectually shallow.

Interestingly, Brian Mundubile and Makebi Zulu were not, until recently, among Zambia’s most nationally recognisable political personalities. Neither possessed the overwhelming public visibility ordinarily associated with presidential contenders. Yet political recognition is not always built through individual popularity.

Sometimes it is inherited through association.

Their alignment with the legacy of former President Edgar Chagwa Lungu appears to have provided precisely such an association.

Whether one agrees politically with the late former Head of State or not is not the central issue here.

The communication question is different.

Political memory itself is a communicative resource.

Across many African societies, death frequently reshapes public narratives. Former leaders are often remembered differently after their passing than while they occupied public office. Their legacies become symbols around which supporters reorganise collective memory, emotion and political identity. Communication scholars have long recognised that collective remembrance possesses persuasive power because it appeals not merely to reason, but also to shared experience.

Perhaps, then, part of the Mundubile–Makebi Effect is not simply about the two individuals themselves.

Perhaps it is equally about the symbolic narrative with which sections of the electorate have chosen to associate them.

Communication often succeeds because of what messages represent, not merely because of who delivers them.

The third dynamic is digital communication.

Modern political movements no longer develop according to traditional organisational timelines.

There was a time when building a viable political party required years of establishing provincial structures, district committees and physical branches before attracting national attention. That assumption is becoming increasingly outdated.

Today, digital communication has fundamentally altered organisational development.

WhatsApp groups organise conversations before physical meetings take place.

TikTok videos reach audiences faster than campaign vehicles.

Facebook Live broadcasts rival traditional rallies.

X influences elite political discourse while ordinary citizens increasingly consume political content through short-form digital platforms.

Communication has become decentralised.

And decentralisation has accelerated political mobilization.

The announcement that Brian Mundubile and Makebi Zulu would contest together as presidential running mates immediately became more than a press statement. It became digital content—shared, debated, criticised, celebrated and reproduced across multiple platforms simultaneously.

From that point onward, political communication acquired its own momentum.

The first rally in Kitwe quickly became a national conversation.

Questions surrounding crowd sizes soon displaced questions about whether the movement itself was politically relevant.

Claims that attendance figures had been digitally manipulated were met with equally vigorous counterarguments. Political commentators offered competing interpretations, while social media users continued circulating images, videos and commentary that further expanded the movement’s visibility.

Ironically, the debate itself became communication.

Whether supportive or critical, every discussion increased public awareness.

This illustrates an important principle of organisational discourse.

Visibility itself possesses communicative value.

Sometimes organisations become stronger not because everyone agrees with them, but because everyone is talking about them.

The digital environment rewards attention.

And attention frequently precedes legitimacy.

There is perhaps another irony worth observing.

The same social media environment that significantly benefited the then opposition UPND before the 2021 General Election now appears to be providing similar opportunities for another emerging political movement.

History rarely repeats itself exactly.

But communication patterns often do.

During the F administration, digital platforms became alternative political spaces where the opposition could communicate despite limited access to traditional avenues. Social media enabled messages to circulate beyond physical campaign restrictions and helped cultivate a sense of national participation.

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Today, despite changes in government, digital platforms continue performing precisely the same communicative function.

Political actors may change.

Communication technology does not.

Indeed, one cannot meaningfully discuss contemporary political mobilisation without recalling the broader global experience. The Arab Spring remains one of the clearest illustrations of how digital platforms transformed political discourse by enabling citizens to organise, communicate and mobilise outside conventional institutional channels.

Zambia’s political environment is obviously different.

Yet the underlying communication principle remains remarkably similar.

Where traditional communicative spaces become constrained, digital spaces frequently become more influential.

That is precisely why social media should never be dismissed as merely virtual.

Increasingly, it shapes political reality itself.

The real homework is here

If the first three elements of the Mundubile–Makebi Effect explain why the movement has attracted attention, the fourth explains why that attention could eventually become electoral behaviour.

Communication scholars often refer to this as the energy of protest.

Political scientists may describe it as anti-incumbency or protest voting.

Whatever terminology one prefers, the underlying communication principle remains remarkably similar.

Citizens do not always vote because they are convinced by a manifesto.

Sometimes they vote because they wish to communicate dissatisfaction.

Elections, in this sense, become conversations.

The ballot becomes a message.

Throughout democratic history, protest voting has repeatedly emerged whenever citizens perceive that those in authority are either unwilling or unable to listen. It is not necessarily an endorsement of an alternative political programme. Rather, it is often an expression of accumulated frustration.

This is hardly unique to Zambia.

Recent electoral developments across parts of Southern Africa—including Botswana and Malawi—have demonstrated that electorates are increasingly willing to abandon long-established political loyalties whenever they conclude that existing political actors no longer adequately represent their lived realities.

Communication precedes political change.

Before governments change, public conversations change.

Before conversations change, public perceptions change.

And perceptions are often shaped by everyday experiences rather than campaign promises.

The cost of living.

Youth unemployment.

Electricity shortages.

Food prices.

These are not merely economic indicators.

They are communication environments within which political meaning is constructed.

Citizens constantly interpret these realities against the messages they receive from political leaders.

When there is alignment between experience and communication, credibility is strengthened.

When there is a disconnect, trust begins to weaken.

History reminds us that Zambian politics has experienced this before.

The PF itself benefited enormously from protest vote energy.

Later, the United Party for National Development (UPND) rode a similar wave of public dissatisfaction into government in 2021.

Today’s political discourse suggests that another cycle may once again be unfolding.

This should not surprise us.

Democracy is cyclical.

Public communication is even more so.

When citizens believe their concerns are dismissed rather than acknowledged, they frequently become silent.

But silence should never be mistaken for satisfaction.

As organisational discourse repeatedly demonstrates, silence is itself a form of communication.

Sometimes the loudest political statement is made not during a rally, but inside a polling booth.

That is why protest voting deserves careful attention.

It reminds political organisations that communication is ultimately judged not by intention, but by public interpretation.

When voters conclude that “new” itself represents hope, experience temporarily becomes less important than possibility.

Novelty becomes persuasive.

The messenger becomes more significant than the message.

And political identity begins to reorganise around expectation rather than history.

This, perhaps, is the most powerful dimension of the Mundubile–Makebi Effect.

It is not simply attracting crowds.

It is benefiting from a communication environment in which many citizens appear willing to interpret “NEW” itself as a political alternative.

Yet organisational communication also offers an important warning.

Momentum is not organisation.

Attention is not institutional capacity.

Crowds are not governance.

This is where the real homework begins.

If the movement intends to become more than an electoral moment, it must now accomplish something considerably more difficult than attracting public attention.

It must transform communicative excitement into organisational order.

The first requirement is organizational structure.

Every successful institution eventually reaches the point where enthusiasm alone becomes insufficient. Political rallies may generate visibility, but visibility does not automatically produce sustainable organisation. Sustainable political movements require functioning district structures, active branch committees, credible parliamentary and local government candidates, dependable financial systems and clearly defined organizational processes.

Communication without structure eventually exhausts itself.

Organisation sustains communication.

The second requirement is message discipline.

Many emerging political movements struggle not because they lack ideas, but because they attempt to communicate too many ideas simultaneously. Effective political communication depends upon repetition, consistency and clarity. Citizens should be able to summarize a party’s central message without difficulty.

This is not intellectual simplification.

It is strategic coherence.

Organisations build identity when their communication remains recognisable across every platform, every interview and every public engagement.

Consistency, after all, is the language of credibility.

The third requirement is strengthening the ground game.

Digital communication has undoubtedly transformed modern politics, but elections are still decided through physical participation. Polling agents, voter education, grassroots mobilisation and constituency organisation remain indispensable. Political communication ultimately succeeds when online engagement is translated into electoral participation.

Clicks do not cast ballots.

People do.

The fourth requirement is credibility.

Every opposition movement initially enjoys the advantage of comparison. Criticizing those in office often attracts public sympathy, particularly during periods of economic difficulty. Yet this advantage has limits.

Eventually citizens begin asking a different question.

What exactly would you do differently?

At that point, criticism alone becomes inadequate.

The movement must articulate coherent policy positions on employment, economic recovery, education, healthcare and governance. Organisational legitimacy is strengthened when institutions become known not merely for what they oppose, but for what they propose.

Credibility grows where clarity exists.

Finally, there is the question of organisational identity.

Identity is one of the most overlooked dimensions of political communication, yet it remains one of its most influential.

Political parties communicate long before their leaders speak.

Their symbols communicate.

Their colors communicate.

Their slogans communicate.

Their visual identity communicates.

Their organisational behavior communicates.

Every one of these elements contributes to how stakeholders interpret the institution.

As a relatively new political movement, there remains an opportunity to refine this identity before public perceptions become permanently established. A coherent brand is not merely an aesthetic exercise. It is a communication strategy. It provides consistency across every interaction and allows supporters to understand not simply what the organisation is doing, but who it is.

Without a coherent identity, communication eventually becomes fragmented.

And fragmented communication eventually weakens momentum.

In many respects, this is the central lesson offered by organisational discourse.

Disorder can create opportunity.

But opportunity alone does not sustain institutions.

Institutions endure when communication creates coherence, coherence strengthens identity, and identity builds trust.

The emergence of the Mundubile–Makebi alliance illustrates how quickly communicative vacuums can be occupied when public dissatisfaction converges with disciplined messaging and digital visibility. Whether this movement ultimately succeeds or not will be determined by factors extending beyond communication alone. Elections are influenced by organisation, policy, resources and countless political variables.

Yet from the perspective of organisational communication, one conclusion already appears evident.

The movement has succeeded in disrupting Zambia’s political discourse.

Its next challenge is to institutionalise that disruption.

Because political history is filled with movements that mastered excitement but failed to build organisation.

The truly enduring organisations are those that transform moments into institutions, narratives into identity, and public enthusiasm into lasting credibility.

Because in the end, political momentum may capture the nation’s attention.

But only organisational order transforms momentum into enduring political relevance.

For comments and feedback: dextertambulukani@gmail.com

 

The author is a published communication scholar. His academic foundation includes PhD in Mass Communication, MSc. in Corporate Communication, BAs in Journalism & Communication, and Theology, certified in Digital Marketing by ZIM/MAZ, and in Corporate Governance by Loma Linda University.