The legal battle unfolding in the High Court over the joint Namibia–Germany genocide declaration is far more than a constitutional dispute; it is a moral mirror reflecting how we, as a nation, navigate justice, memory, and sovereignty in the postcolonial age.
On one side stands the Landless People’s Movement (LPM), flanked by descendants of the Nama and Ovaherero communities, arguing that the government has betrayed their cause by defending the former coloniser. On the other side stands the government, represented by Namibian lawyers, insisting that it is merely clarifying legal principles, not shielding Germany from accountability.
But in politics, as in life, optics matter. And right now, the optics are uncomfortable.
The shadow of 1904
No matter how much time passes, the genocide of 1904–1908 remains a bleeding wound. It was the first genocide of the 20th century, a deliberate campaign of extermination that decimated tens of thousands of Ovaherero and Nama people. To this day, descendants carry the scars in their landlessness, in their marginalisation, and in their deep sense of historical betrayal.
For these communities, Germany’s so-called “apology” and the joint declaration signed in 2021 fall far short of justice. They see a government that negotiated without them, a declaration that avoids the word reparations, and an agreement that treats genocide as a diplomatic inconvenience rather than a national trauma.
That is why the LPM and traditional leaders took the matter to court, not simply to litigate jurisdiction, but to symbolically reclaim their agency. To them, the court is not just a place of law; it is a stage of historical reckoning.
The government’s defence
Attorney general Festus Mbandeka insists the government is not defending Germany but the rule of law. He points out that the state’s legal team, all Namibians, was invited by the court to assist in clarifying whether the High Court has jurisdiction over a foreign state under customary international law.
By that logic, the state’s participation is procedural, not political. The government, he says, is upholding the principle of sovereign immunity, not siding with colonisers. In a purely legal sense, that argument has merit. The notion that a domestic court can compel a foreign government to stand trial is indeed complex, and, under current international law, rarely successful.
But politics is not law. It is perception. And the public perception is this: the Namibian government, led by descendants of the colonised, appears to be defending a foreign power that committed atrocities against its own people.
That perception, fair or not, undermines trust, especially among those who already feel excluded from the corridors of power.
The optics of representation
When LPM’s Joyce Muzengua says, “You take taxpayer money against these very same affected communities, and you work against them,” it hits a nerve. The comment may not be entirely grounded in the procedural reality of litigation, but it resonates emotionally because it speaks to a broader sentiment of alienation.
To many ordinary Namibians, especially among the Ovaherero and Nama, the image of the state aligning with the letter of international law rather than the spirit of justice looks like a continuation of historical imbalance. They see an elite bureaucracy talking about legal doctrines while their ancestral grievances remain unresolved.
The government may be technically correct, but politically, it is losing the argument of empathy.
Beyond legalities
There is a difference between legality and legitimacy. Namibia, as a sovereign nation, must of course operate within international norms. But it must also be guided by the moral responsibility of a nation built upon the graves of genocide victims.
Defending the constitution should never mean erasing historical pain. The state’s role in such matters should be that of a reconciler, not merely a legal respondent. The descendants of those massacred are not litigants in isolation; they are citizens of this republic, bearers of Namibia’s oldest trauma.
A wise government would not allow this case to be seen as a courtroom clash between the state and the victims. It would instead ensure that every submission to court, every affidavit, and every legal position is framed in a way that affirms empathy, ownership, and national unity.
Namibia’s interest must come first
The lesson here is not about who wins the legal argument, but who preserves the nation’s moral standing. When the dust settles, Germany will continue being a wealthy nation with diplomatic leverage. The Ovaherero and Nama will still be seeking recognition, restitution, and closure. The Namibian government will still have to answer to its own citizens, not to Berlin.
Namibia’s first obligation is to its people. That means ensuring that justice, however delayed or imperfect, reflects the dignity of those who suffered. It also means being transparent about how taxpayer money is spent and ensuring that state actions never appear to contradict the very essence of national identity, the struggle against colonial oppression.
This case is not just about whether Germany enjoys sovereign immunity. It is about whether Namibia still stands for the principle that all her people, living and dead, deserve justice.
Whatever the court’s eventual ruling, the government must now do three things.
First, it must communicate better. Legal explanations, no matter how sound, must be matched with clear, empathetic language that the public can understand. Silence breeds suspicion.
Second, it must engage directly with genocide descendants, not through press statements, but through structured dialogue that includes their voices in future negotiations.
Third, it must ensure that every foreign policy decision, especially on the genocide issue, is anchored in national unity, not diplomatic convenience.
The genocide debate is not an academic exercise. It is a test of who we are as a nation. And while courts can rule on jurisdiction, only we, the people of Namibia, can rule on conscience.
Whether you stand with LPM or with the government, remember this: our loyalty must first and always be to Namibia, to her dignity, her people, and her truth.
Because in the end, it is not Germany’s lawyers or LPM’s litigants who must live with the outcome. It is us. And history will judge whether we stood on the side of the law or on the side of justice.
