The National Action for Quality Education in Zambia (NAQEZ) has, over the years, established itself as a familiar name in the media landscape, largely through frequent statements critical of government performance in the education sector.
Headed by Dr. Aaron Chansa, who serves as Executive Director and public face of the organisation, NAQEZ, describes itself as a non-governmental, non-profit organisation formed in 2014 and legally registered in 2015 to advocate for improved standards of education. While advocacy and oversight are legitimate roles in a democracy, serious questions arise regarding NAQEZ’s vision, mandate, structure and operational consistency with existing laws governing the teaching profession.
At the core of these concerns is NAQEZ’s lack of a clearly articulated and narrowly defined vision. The organisation has publicly presented itself as speaking for “we the citizens of Zambia,” an expression that is overtly broad and conceptually vague. 
In a country with constitutionally recognised institutions, professional bodies, and civil society organisations, each operating within defined mandates, such a sweeping claim requires clarification. Who exactly does NAQEZ represent? On what basis does it claim to speak for citizens, teachers, or the education sector at large? Without precise definition, the phrase risks becoming a rhetorical device rather than a credible statement of representation.
Closely linked to this is the issue of unclear objectives. Although NAQEZ states that its mission is to collaborate with the government to improve education standards, its public conduct suggests a different emphasis. The organisation has become increasingly consistent—and some would argue predictable—in attacking government policy, budgetary allocations, and administrative decisions.
Criticism in itself is not a problem; indeed, constructive criticism is essential. However, when such criticism appears detached from a clear programme of engagement, policy alternatives or measurable goals, it raises doubts about whether the organisation is fulfilling its stated collaborative purpose or merely positioning itself as a perpetual protest voice.
Another major concern relates to NAQEZ’s relationship with established teacher representative bodies. Zambia already has recognised organisations such as the Zambia National Union of Teachers (ZNUT), the Secondary School Teachers Union of Zambia (SESTUZ), ZANAC and ZANEC, which have clear mandates to speak on behalf of teachers and are recognised under existing labour and education frameworks.
NAQEZ has openly disassociated itself from these bodies, yet continues to issue statements on teacher welfare, salaries, promotions, and industrial action. This creates a representational contradiction: an organisation that is neither a union nor aligned with unions seeks to speak authoritatively on matters that legally fall within union jurisdiction.
More problematic is NAQEZ’s reported practice of levying teachers for membership. Current laws and regulations stipulate that teachers affiliate through registered unions for purposes of representation, collective bargaining, and welfare advocacy. Any parallel structure that collects levies from teachers without being a recognised union raises legal and ethical red flags. It blurs the line between advocacy and unlawful representation and exposes teachers to potential exploitation under the guise of civil society activism.
Transparency issues further weaken NAQEZ’s credibility. The organisation’s address is described in vague terms, reportedly stating that it shall be decided by the National Executive Committee. This is unusual for a registered organisation, as a verifiable physical address is a basic requirement for accountability. Even more concerning is the apparent opacity surrounding the National Executive Committee itself. The identities, qualifications, and professional statuses of its members are not clearly disclosed to the public.
This lack of transparency is compounded by constitutional shortcomings within the organisation. Available information suggests that NAQEZ’s constitution fails to clearly list national executive members drawn from the teaching fraternity, some of whom would legally require permission from the Teaching Service Commission or relevant authorities to hold such positions. The omission of names and positions undermines internal accountability and raises questions about compliance with professional regulations governing teachers’ conduct outside the classroom.
In practice, NAQEZ increasingly appears to operate as a one-man organisation. Dr. Aaron Chansa dominates its media presence, issuing statements on virtually every major education-related issue, from teacher recruitment and salary upgrades to budget allocations, free education grants and curriculum reforms. While strong leadership is important, over-centralisation of voice and authority contradicts claims of a broad national structure with coordinators in all 116 districts, a Board of Governors, and a National Executive Committee. If such structures exist, their absence from public discourse is striking.
Furthermore, many of NAQEZ’s media interventions seem to fall outside the organisation’s original registered purpose of collaboration. Calls for nationwide industrial strikes, for instance, are traditionally the domain of trade unions, not NGOs. Such pronouncements risk inflaming tensions without the legal mandate or responsibility to manage the consequences.
In conclusion, NAQEZ’s persistent criticism of government has brought it visibility, but visibility alone does not confer legitimacy. For the organisation to be taken seriously as a credible education advocacy body, it must clarify its vision, define whom it represents, align its practices with the law, disclose its leadership structures and demonstrate that it is more than a platform for one individual’s commentary. Without these reforms, NAQEZ risks being seen not as a national action for quality education but as a personalised pressure group operating in a grey area of accountability and mandate.
