After the ballots: Zambia must heal, rebuild and prepare for the next democratic season
By Dr Lawrence Mwelwa
THERE comes a moment after every election when the drums must fall silent, tempers must cool, and citizens must remember that governments change, parties rise and fall, but the Republic remains the common ancestral home.
Zambia has passed through a fiercely contested election, surrounded by claims, counterclaims, suspicions, official explanations, social media rumours, genuine grievances, painful incidents, and deep emotions that cannot disappear because a winner has been formally declared.
The wise approach now is neither blind celebration nor reckless rejection. Winners must celebrate without humiliating opponents, while losers must scrutinise irregularities lawfully, preserve evidence carefully, and accept that national peace remains greater than disappointment.
Secretary General Celestin Mukandila places healing at the centre of this moment. His appeal for constitutionalism, tolerance, accountability, respectful disagreement and national unity recognises that political victory without reconciliation can leave a dangerously wounded society.
Reverend Peter Nsama approaches the same national wound from the pulpit, demanding truth concerning Kabulonga, arrests, alleged weapons, missing persons, conflicting official statements, and due process, while warning both state authorities and citizens against violence.
These interventions meet at one ancient African crossroads: truth and peace are not enemies. Peace without truth becomes silence; truth without restraint becomes vengeance; justice requires evidence, lawful institutions, patience, courage and disciplined national conscience.
Rumours must therefore remain rumours until verified. Allegations of electoral manipulation, missing forms, intimidation, vote buying, violence or unlawful detention deserve investigation, but responsible leaders must distinguish what they know, suspect, and what remains unproven.
Likewise, official statements deserve respect but not worship. Democracy requires government to answer difficult questions because public institutions belong to winners and losers. Transparency should strengthen authority, not threaten it, when citizens seek verifiable answers.
For Tonse Pamodzi Alliance and NRPUP, defeat should not become a funeral procession. A movement assembled shortly before nominations entered a contest against an established governing party and nevertheless emerged as Zambia’s principal opposition challenger.
That achievement deserves acknowledgement. NRPUP competed without candidates in some constituencies, without sufficient funding for many candidates, without comparable campaign regalia, and without a nationwide fleet of branded vehicles matching the machinery of incumbency today.
Many candidates financed themselves, improvised transport, struggled with fuel, operated without sophisticated public address systems, and depended upon volunteers. Yet the party established a national footprint that older organisations have sometimes failed to build successfully.
A farmer does not condemn the field because the first harvest was smaller than expected. He studies rainfall, seed, labour, soil and timing, preserves what worked, corrects what failed, and prepares for another planting season.
NRPUP should therefore pat itself on the back, then begin organising. The correct response to defeat is not internal warfare, accusations or bitterness, but constituency audits, stronger branches, trained agents, fundraising structures and community engagement.
The party must ask uncomfortable questions. Where were agents absent? Where was turnout weak? Which candidates lacked resources? Which communities responded? Where were structures ineffective? Which grievances require evidence? Which methods converted sympathy into votes?
The governing party has equally serious responsibilities. Victory should deepen humility rather than arrogance. Government must remember that citizens who voted differently remain Zambians, entitled to protection, services, opportunity, constitutional freedoms and respectful institutional treatment.
Political power is borrowed, never owned. African elders understood that the chief sits on a stool carried by the people; when people withdraw their shoulders, even the most decorated stool eventually returns to the ground.
History offers useful examples of political restraint. After Zambia’s 2011 election, Rupiah Banda accepted defeat, reminding citizens that “the people of Zambia have spoken,” while urging maturity, compassion and magnanimity from those celebrating victory today.
Banda’s example matters because concession is not surrendering one’s intelligence. It means recognising political disagreement can continue after accepting constitutional outcomes, while legitimate complaints remain available through documentation, courts, Parliament, civil society and public debate.
Across the Atlantic, Al Gore endured an exceptionally disputed American election in 2000. After weeks of litigation, he declared that although he strongly disagreed with the Supreme Court, he accepted its finality for national unity.
Gore’s lesson is powerful: accepting an institutional outcome does not require pretending each question vanished. A democrat may disagree profoundly, pursue every remedy, then conclude that preserving constitutional order is itself an act of patriotism.
Nigeria offered another African lesson in 2015. Goodluck Jonathan conceded and urged aggrieved citizens to follow constitutional due process, declaring that “nobody’s ambition is worth the blood of any Nigerian,” placing national stability above office.
These examples should not be misrepresented as proof that disputed elections were necessarily rigged. Their wisdom is that leaders can question processes, disagree with outcomes, or harbour grievances without converting political disappointment into national destruction.
Zambia needs that maturity now. Those possessing credible evidence of irregularities should preserve original forms, witness accounts, recordings and documentation, then approach competent institutions. Those possessing rumours should resist turning anxiety into accusations presented as fact.
Healing also requires winners to listen. Reconciliation cannot mean telling defeated citizens to keep quiet. A government answers questions, tolerates criticism, investigates wrongdoing impartially, protects opponents, and demonstrates through conduct that institutions serve everyone equally.
Losers must equally resist romanticising defeat. Elections expose organisational weaknesses mercilessly. Poor mobilisation, inadequate funding, missing agents, weak communication, candidate rivalries and low turnout can destroy campaigns as decisively as opponents, demanding honest internal examination.
There will be another election. That truth should calm both camps. Today’s majority can become tomorrow’s opposition, while today’s defeated movement can become tomorrow’s government if it spends intervening years organising, learning, listening and rebuilding.
The African proverb says that however long the night, dawn eventually comes. Political seasons change. Wise leaders therefore avoid burning bridges during darkness, because the bridge may become the only road available when morning arrives.
So let Zambia heal without forgetting, investigate without vengeance, celebrate without arrogance, reorganise without bitterness, and disagree without hatred. Elections decide who governs; character decides whether a nation remains strong enough to face elections peacefully.
