The Editor Zambia
A manifesto is not a work of fiction; it is a binding articulation of intent.
To mock ambitious infrastructure pledges is to wilfully misunderstand the very purpose of democratic accountability. 
In the fevered theatre of Zambian politics, where yesterday’s adversaries become tomorrow’s allies and electoral amnesia is a chronic condition, a curious spectacle has unfolded.
The opposition has trained its fire upon President Hakainde Hichilema for the audacity of promising what past governments dared not even contemplate: provincial airports in regions long resigned to neglect.
Let us be clear about the first principles. A manifesto is a governing tool, not a Christmas list. It exists to furnish the electorate with a credible vision of how an aspiring candidate intends to navigate the ever-present challenges afflicting the nation.
To demand that such documents contain only the safely achievable is to reduce political discourse to the lowest common denominator of managerial timidity.
President Hichilema, as a candidate, was not merely within his bounds to promise airports in provinces previously overlooked; he was exercising the very essence of political leadership.
The past governments that failed to think about these connections did not err through excessive ambition. They erred through the poverty of imagination.
The objection from the opposition benches appears to rest on a remarkably brittle premise: that Zambia’s economy will remain static. This is not merely pessimistic; it is analytically lazy.
The United Party for National Development (UPND) has projected substantial economic growth, and on current trajectories, that projection sits firmly within the realms of realism.
A growing economy attracts investors. Investors require connectivity. Connectivity genuine, high-quality transport infrastructure is the single most effective lever a government can pull to unlock untapped resources.
The provinces that lack airports are, in almost every case, the same provinces that harbour undeveloped agricultural land, mineral deposits, and tourist potential.
This is not rocket science. It is basic developmental economics. A road can take a lorry from Lusaka to the provincial centre, but an airport can take a mining executive from Johannesburg to the exploration site in the morning. It can carry fresh produce to export markets before spoilage. It can deliver a surgical team to a district hospital within hours.
The recklessness of mockery brings us to the opposition’s posture. To mock ambitious but realistic projections as some species of fantasy is not shrewd politics. It is, in the plainest terms, extremely reckless.
What message does such mockery send to potential investors? What signal does it transmit to the very international partners whose capital and expertise Zambia needs to realise its potential? The opposition may believe it is scoring domestic points. In truth, it is undermining the national interest.
One can disagree with the sequencing of infrastructure projects. One can question the procurement processes or the maintenance budgets. But to dismiss the entire pledge of provincial air connectivity as laughable is to announce, in public and without shame, that one lacks the intellectual seriousness required for national governance.
Beyond partisan calculation, the people of provinces that have never seen a government aerodrome are not fools. They understand that Rome was not built in a day. But they also understand that it was built by people who believed it could be done.
President Hichilema’s promise to build provincial airports rests on a simple and honourable proposition: that economic growth, properly managed, creates fiscal space for transformative infrastructure; and that transformative infrastructure, properly placed, accelerates economic growth. It is a virtuous circle, not a vicious one.
The opposition would do well to abandon its reflexive derision and engage instead with the substantive question of how best to sequence and deliver these projects. Mockery without alternative is not critique. It is noise.
In the serious business of national development, noise is the least useful commodity of all.
