In the lush, lake-lined heart of southern Africa, where the Shire Highlands cradle vibrant communities and the waters of Lake Malawi shimmer with promise, a seismic political shift has unfolded. On September 24, 2025, Malawi’s electoral body declared former President Peter Mutharika, an 85-year-old veteran of the nation’s turbulent political stage, the winner of the presidential election with a commanding 56% of the vote. This decisive first-round triumph ousted incumbent Lazarus Chakwera, whose five-year tenure ended with a mere 33% of ballots, signaling a profound public rejection of his leadership amid crippling economic challenges and unfulfilled pledges.
The announcement, delivered in a heavily guarded hall in the capital, Lilongwe, was a moment of high drama. The electoral commission’s chairperson, her voice cutting through a room thick with anticipation, proclaimed Mutharika’s mandate to lead Malawi toward renewal. Outside, supporters of his Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) gathered in pockets, their cheers tempered by the memory of past electoral unrest. Journalists scribbled furiously, international observers nodded approval, and the nation exhaled, sensing a new chapter dawning.
Hours earlier, Chakwera, a 70-year-old former pastor whose 2020 victory had once sparked hope, stood before the nation at the State House to concede defeat. Flanked by his wife and aides, he spoke with the cadence of a preacher delivering a final homily. He acknowledged the people’s verdict, urging calm and unity in a country prone to post-election tension. His call for peace was more than rhetoric—it was a nod to Malawi’s fragile democratic tradition, born in 1994 after decades of one-party rule. Chakwera’s concession, broadcast live across radio and television, paved the way for a smooth transition, a rarity in a region often scarred by contested results.
To grasp the weight of this moment, one must trace the arc of Malawi’s political saga, a tale of ambition, betrayal, and resilience. Peter Mutharika, a soft-spoken law professor with degrees from prestigious global institutions, is no stranger to power. The younger brother of Malawi’s autocratic founding president, he carved his own path, founding the DPP in 2005 after a career in academia and government. His first presidency, from 2014 to 2020, promised economic stability and infrastructure growth. Roads stretched across rural landscapes, inflation dipped to single digits, and foreign investors eyed Malawi’s potential. Yet, allegations of favoritism dogged his tenure, with critics claiming contracts enriched loyalists from his eastern stronghold. Mutharika brushed these off as political mudslinging, but the whispers persisted.
The 2019 election shattered his grip on power. Official results gave him a narrow win, but opponents decried fraud, pointing to tampered tally sheets and stuffed ballots. A historic court ruling in 2020 annulled the vote, ordering a fresh election. Chakwera, then a charismatic opposition leader, rode a wave of public anger, forging an alliance with the vice president, a dynamic reformer. Their coalition swept the 2020 rerun, relegating Mutharika to his rural retreat, where he quietly planned his return.
The 2025 campaign was a bruising rematch, their fourth face-off in a decade. Mutharika, his hair silvered but his resolve unshaken, campaigned with a blend of nostalgia and pragmatism. At rallies in bustling Blantyre, he reminded voters of his past successes: smoother roads, tamed prices, and a sense of stability. His convoys, draped in DPP colors, snaked through dusty villages, where crowds waved brooms symbolizing a clean sweep. Chakwera, meanwhile, leaned on his pastoral roots, promising jobs and divine favor. But his campaign faltered amid gaffes—like a high-profile aid delivery that arrived empty, fueling social media scorn and memes that mocked his “miracles.”
Election day, September 16, unfolded with a mix of hope and unease. Long queues formed at dawn, from urban polling stations to remote lakeside villages. Farmers, battered by drought and export bans, voted alongside city dwellers weary of fuel queues. Turnout hit 76% of the 7.2 million registered voters, a testament to the stakes. Minor scuffles flared in the north, but violence was subdued compared to past polls, thanks to tightened security and international oversight.
As results rolled in over a tense week, Mutharika’s lead solidified, particularly in the populous south. Chakwera’s camp, huddled in their headquarters, muttered about irregularities but lacked evidence to challenge the tide. By September 24, with banks shuttered and streets patrolled, Chakwera’s concession speech sealed the outcome. He reflected on his term’s trials—cyclones, droughts, and a global pandemic—while touting achievements like vaccinations and new schools. Yet, his words couldn’t mask the public’s frustration, with polls showing his approval ratings languishing in the low 30s.
The electoral commission’s final tally confirmed Mutharika’s landslide: 56.2% to Chakwera’s 33.1%, with smaller parties splitting the rest. The first-round victory spared Malawi a runoff, easing fears of prolonged uncertainty. In Mangochi, Mutharika’s birthplace, jubilant supporters danced to drumbeats, chanting his old nickname, “Bingo,” a nod to his scholarly precision. Online, hashtags celebrating his return trended, with users posting images of his first-term projects—roads, bridges, and markets.
Not everyone rejoiced. In Chakwera’s northern strongholds, young voters mourned their dashed hopes, clutching faded campaign flags. Protests erupted in Lilongwe’s upscale neighborhoods, met with tear gas but no bloodshed—a sign of improved policing. The mood was somber in rural outposts, where farmers like Elias, a 28-year-old teacher, lamented the loss of a leader who had promised change but delivered scarcity.
Globally, the reaction was measured but optimistic. Western diplomats praised the peaceful process, while regional leaders congratulated Mutharika, eyeing stronger trade ties. A major creditor nation signaled interest in deepening partnerships, though aid agencies remained cautious, awaiting clarity on economic reforms.
The election’s roots lie in Malawi’s economic freefall, which defined Chakwera’s tenure. When he took office in 2020, the economy was already frail, with growth at under 1%. The local currency’s 50% devaluation in 2022 sent prices soaring—bread quadrupled in cost, fuel became a luxury. Inflation, once tamed, hit 20% and stayed there, gutting household budgets. Natural disasters worsened the toll: a 2022 cyclone flooded vast farmlands, displacing tens of thousands, while a 2024 drought, the worst in a century, left millions food insecure. Corruption scandals didn’t help—millions in aid vanished, fueling calls for accountability that went unanswered.
Poverty deepened, with most Malawians scraping by on less than $3 daily. Malnutrition plagued half the population, stunting children’s growth. In lakeside communities, overfishing and pollution emptied nets, forcing families to forage. Chakwera’s subsidies and digital reforms—national IDs, anti-graft arrests—offered glimmers of progress, but delivery was patchy. Youth unemployment lingered at 22%, and debt payments ate a third of the budget, starving schools and hospitals.
Mutharika’s victory was less a love letter to him than a rebuke of Chakwera. Voters, from southern traders to central farmers, crossed regional lines to back him, driven by memories of better days. Analysts see his mandate as a call to stabilize the economy—tackling forex shortages, curbing inflation, and diversifying exports beyond tobacco, which accounts for nearly half of foreign earnings. Proposals include tapping mineral deposits and reviving rail networks to cut transport costs.
Mutharika’s first term offers clues to his playbook. From 2014 to 2020, he slashed inflation, built infrastructure, and courted investors. But cronyism allegations and stalled reforms cast shadows. This time, he’ll need to balance competence with inclusivity, drawing on a broad coalition that includes defectors from rival camps. Names like a former central bank governor are floated for key posts, signaling a focus on fiscal discipline.
As inauguration day nears, set for mid-October with traditional fanfare, Malawi stands at a crossroads. The challenges are daunting: a ballooning deficit, dwindling reserves, and corruption concerns. Yet, opportunities beckon—tourism could thrive on the lake’s allure, and irrigation projects could green the fields. Education and health demand urgent investment, with low school completion rates and high maternal mortality rates plaguing progress.
Mutharika, defying age with steely determination, faces a nation hungry for results. His wife, a former beauty queen turned advocate, may champion women’s causes, amplifying his agenda. Abroad, his pro-creditor stance could unlock loans, though Western donors will watch governance closely.
In Malawi’s villages, where most live off the land, the election’s outcome feels personal. Tea pickers, vendors, and fishermen pin hopes on Mutharika’s promises of equity. Optimists see a chance for revival—tourism, mining, and farming could drive growth. Skeptics fear a repeat of past flaws, with reforms stalled by politics as usual.
Still, Malawi’s spirit endures. The high turnout and peaceful vote signal a democracy maturing despite odds. As Mutharika prepares to return to power, the nation watches, yearning for rains to break the drought—literal and figurative—that has parched its dreams.