My Turn

A call for collective leadership

The myth of the singular saviour-leader has dominated our political imagination for too long.

We are constantly promised that one charismatic figure or a strong personal brand will solve all our problems.

But true, lasting transformation never comes from top-down governance.

It emerges when communities organise, coalitions build shared power and leaders understand their role as facilitators, not rulers.

As we evaluate those seeking votes in the September 16 General Election, we must ask critical questions: Are they single-issue candidates focused only on maize, fertiliser or corruption? What’s their actual record of governing with community input? Have they demonstrated power-sharing before seeking higher office? Have they stood with grassroots movements when it was inconvenient, even costly?

We simply cannot afford leaders who treat essential public services as charitable projects, not fundamental rights.

There is an inherent contradiction when leaders who avoid public hospitals, send their children to elite schools and view national resources as discretionary funds claim to understand citizens’ daily struggles. Such leadership remains permanently transactional, never transformative.

While a charismatic profile or corporate background should not automatically disqualify candidates, it should raise serious questions.

We need leaders with proven ability to unite, not just manage.

Show me someone who has authentically brought together traditional leaders, scientists, educators, healthcare workers, farmers, business owners, women and the youth not for photo opportunities, but for sustained collective action.

Show me leaders who do not merely tolerate dissent, but recognize it as democracy’s oxygen.

From local councils to national Parliament, we must insist on leaders who practiced power-sharing before—not as a political tactic, but as a lifelong principle.

We need  leaders who treat transparency as fundamental practice rather than PR strategy—leaders who see themselves as accountable organisers, not messianic figures.

After 61 years of independence, the legacy we carry forward matters.

I speak these truths as a patriot shaped by generations of resistance. My great-aunts—freedom fighters Vera Chirwa and Rose Chibambo—remind us that real leadership has never been about individual heroes.

Their battles, both here and in exile, demonstrate that progress comes through collective struggle.

As a traditional leader, I carry both this legacy and the privileges denied to most Malawians.

This positions me to ask: How do we use such privilege to serve rather than separate ourselves?

The answer lies in rejecting the saviour complex and embracing umunthu leadership , the kind that redistributes power, listens more than it speaks and views disagreement as essential to democracy’s health.

We need an uncompromising vision for Malawi because our nation stands at a crossroads.

Our demands must be unequivocal and we must reject transactional politics.

Public services are rights, not favours to be doled out during campaigns.

Leaders who have never relied on public healthcare or education cannot genuinely fight for these systems. The spectacle of ambulance parades during election seasons exposes this hypocrisy.

Power must be shared, not hoarded because genuine leadership means convening diverse voices—innovators, the Diaspora, professionals, academics, scientists, farmers, artists, entrepreneurs, elders, women and the youth–not for ceremonial gatherings, but for substantive collaboration.

Transparency must be a daily practice because accountability cannot be seasonal. Leaders must institutionalise make decision-making processes accessible beyond election cycles.

Recently, the social media was awash with lists of early Malawian PhD holders and other daring achievers. They reveal both triumph and tragedy.

While celebrating these achievements, we must remember they occurred within colonial systems designed to exclude most citizens. When those barriers were removed, their own people censured them for their brilliance in the new nation. Many, like my father Dr Chifipa Gondwe, faced persecution  and detention without trial for their excellence.

After the dawn of democracy, they were humiliatingly denied recognition and redress by the very commission convened to address such injustices. This historical erasure of trauma must be rectified by government.

Today, we must judge leadership by one fundamental question: Do you amplify the people’s voice or drown it out?

I embrace my role as Chibambo’s grand-niece with solemn responsibility.

Although I promised her I wouldn’t raise my head above the fray, some truths demand voice. When privilege grants you a microphone, the only ethical choice is to pass it to those systematically unheard.

Aluta continua. The struggle continues–not through solitary heroes, but our united resolve.

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