God Raises the Lowly: The Political Journey of Brian Mundubile
By Langson Phiri
History repeatedly teaches one powerful lesson: those who are fiercely opposed, unfairly fought, and prematurely written off often return stronger. In politics, resistance can either destroy a leader or quietly prepare them for higher responsibility. The story of Brian Mundubile firmly belongs to the latter.
From the time President Edgar Chagwa Lungu was still alive, Brian Mundubile found himself under sustained attack from within his own party, the Patriotic Front (PF). This was not pressure from the opposition; it was an internal struggle. Some senior party members viewed him with suspicion and discomfort. His ideas, growing influence, and expanding support base were perceived as a threat rather than a contribution to party unity.
As time went on, the resistance intensified. Individuals associated with him real or perceived supporters were systematically sidelined. Many were expelled from the PF, including members of the Central Committee. Party structures that were meant to protect internal democracy were instead used to silence alternative voices.
The objective was clear: isolate him, weaken his base, and suffocate his political momentum before it could fully take shape.
Alongside expulsions came deliberate ill-will. Negative narratives were pushed to damage his image. Some openly wished him political failure, irrelevance, and collapse. Instead of dialogue, there was punishment. Instead of engagement, exclusion. Yet history has never been kind to those who believe that bad wishes can stop destiny. More often, they accelerate it.
What many failed to understand is that political popularity is not always built through comfort and endorsement. Sometimes it is built through suffering, exclusion, and endurance. Every attack on Brian Mundubile amplified his name. Every attempt to erase him made people ask deeper questions. Every injustice against his allies strengthened public sympathy and curiosity.
Leadership is forged in fire. Being fought from within taught him resilience, patience, and strategic discipline. It exposed the dangers of politics driven by fear instead of vision. While others were busy trying to block him, he was being shaped—learning the cost of leadership, the meaning of loyalty, and the value of standing firm under pressure.
The saying remains true: God raises the lowly. When human systems unfairly push someone down, public conscience often lifts them up. The same hands that tried to bury him only planted a seed.
In the end, the paradox is unavoidable: the more you fight him, the more you make him popular. Opposition gave him visibility. Expulsions gave him credibility. Hatred gave him relevance. Resistance gave him momentum.
Political history is full of surprises, but it is rarely kind to those who underestimate perseverance. Brian Mundubile’s journey is a reminder that destiny cannot be expelled from a committee, voted out of a room, or destroyed by bad wishes. Sometimes, the very struggle meant to end a man is what prepares him to lead.
The fact remains: Brian Mundubile’s rise has already been written in the minds of many Zambians. Even in the face of resistance and loss, the people have made up their minds. God raises the lowly—and history is watching.