By EditorZambia
PATRIOTIC Front (PF) faction presidential aspirant Brian Mundubile’s Christmas-night broadside on KBN TV’s State of the Nation interview, against the UPND government may have sounded passionate and cathartic, but beneath the rhetoric lies a familiar pattern: selective outrage and historical amnesia.
The interview conducted by KBN owner Kennedy Mambwe, was a deliberate refusal to confront the failures of the PF era from which Mundubile emerged. His attack was less a sober assessment of governance and more a calculated attempt to rebrand a discredited political tradition by weaponising public hardship. 
To begin with, Mundubile’s framing of Christmas “not feeling like Christmas” because of economic pain is emotionally resonant but intellectually dishonest. Zambia’s economic difficulties did not materialise in August 2021. They are the cumulative outcome of years of reckless borrowing, opaque procurement, policy inconsistency, and institutional weakening under the PF government in which Mundubile was not a bystander but a senior participant. Any serious national conversation must acknowledge that the UPND inherited a country in default, with depleted reserves, ballooning debt, and shattered credibility with both domestic and international partners.
On democratic erosion, Mundubile’s argument collapses under scrutiny. It is extraordinary for a PF leader to accuse another government of undermining democracy when Zambians vividly remember the PF’s record: closure of media houses, routine police denial of opposition rallies, violent cadres operating with impunity, and blatant abuse of state institutions to crush dissent.
Elections under the PF were marred by violence, intimidation, and fear. If Zambia is today debating constitutional amendments in Parliament rather than navigating midnight arrests of opposition leaders, that itself reflects a democratic opening, not a closing.
Mundubile’s portrayal of Constitution Amendment Bill No. 7 as “the darkest day in our democratic history” is hyperbolic and self-serving. Constitutional reform is, by nature, contentious. But unlike PF-era constitutional manoeuvres conducted through deceit and brute force, Bill 7 passed through Parliament with broad-based support that included trade unions, student bodies, disability organisations, and even members of the opposition from PF itself. To reduce this to a mere numbers game is to insult the agency of those groups and pretend that legitimacy only exists when the PF agrees.
Mundubile’s indignation over MPs voting against his wishes is equally revealing. He condemns them not for betraying the Constitution but for betraying him. That tells us everything. This is less about democratic principles and more about wounded political authority within a fractured opposition. It is ironic for a man lamenting democratic erosion to recoil when lawmakers exercise independent judgment rather than party coercion.
On the judiciary, Mundubile again trades in insinuation rather than evidence. The removal of judges is not, in itself, proof of executive intimidation. Judicial accountability mechanisms exist precisely to protect the integrity of the courts.
Under the PF, judges were routinely harassed verbally, threatened politically, and publicly disparaged whenever rulings displeased the Executive. The current administration has, if anything, allowed constitutional processes to play out rather than issuing threats from podiums.
Economically, Mundubile’s critique borders on the surreal. He dismisses growth figures as “deception” while ignoring the structural context. Economic recovery after default is not instant relief; it is a gradual stabilisation process. GDP growth may not immediately put food on the table, but without it, there is no foundation for future job creation, revenue expansion, or farmer payments.
The PF’s legacy was not inclusive growth but artificial consumption driven by unsustainable debt, which collapsed the moment external financing dried up.
On farmer payments, delays are real and frustrating, but to imply, deliberate deception is reckless. The same PF that left billions in unpaid arrears now pretends outrage when a fiscally constrained government struggles to unwind years of accumulated obligations. Unlike in the past, today’s arrears are at least acknowledged, audited, and addressed within a transparent budgetary framework.
Mundubile’s attack on the Constituency Development Fund is perhaps the most disingenuous of all. CDF is not marketed as a silver bullet for national development but as a decentralisation tool to empower communities long ignored by centralised planning. The PF spoke endlessly about decentralisation yet never trusted ordinary Zambians with resources. The UPND has done so. To dismiss CDF because it cannot fund mega-projects is to deliberately misunderstand its purpose.
His claim that the UPND has delivered no infrastructure conveniently ignores ongoing works, rehabilitation projects, and the shift away from white-elephant projects financed through predatory loans. The PF’s so-called “backbone infrastructure” came at the cost of mortgaging future generations. Roads were built, yes—but often overpriced, poorly prioritised, and funded through debt that nearly sank the state.
Finally, Mundubile’s sudden conversion to job-centred development rings hollow. The PF governed for a decade. Where were the serviced farming blocks, enforced local content, and dignified jobs then? Why did youth unemployment soar, industries close, and inequality widen under his party’s watch?Zambians know who broke the economy, who weaponised institutions, and who ruled through fear.
Rebutting Mundubile’s attack is not about claiming perfection for the UPND; it is about insisting on honesty. Criticism is healthy in a democracy. Hypocrisy is not.
The real national reckoning is not whether Zambia has challenges—it does—but whether those who created many of them can now credibly present themselves as saviours. On that score, Mundubile’s argument collapses under the weight of history.
