There are moments in a nation’s public life that reveal far more about us than we intend. The reaction to Miss Namibia 2025, Johanna Swaartbooi, is one of them. What should have been support and celebration towards a young woman stepping into a national role that carries pride quickly exposed how easily our national conversations can be poisoned by old prejudices. Tribal slurs began to circulate. Derogatory remarks about her beauty and her worth followed. And Namibia, for a moment, felt smaller than it is.
Tribalism is not new in this country. It is a shadow that lingers, often dismissed as harmless banter or cultural rivalry, until it appears in full force and reminds us how fragile unity can be. The danger of tribalism is not only in the insults themselves but in the worldview they reinforce. Tribal thinking shrinks the imagination. It reduces a nation to fragments. It trains citizens to evaluate each other not by merit or character, but by ethnic lines. Normalising such logic makes it convenient to reserve dignity only for those who speak and look like us while stripping it from everyone else.
That is why the attacks on Swaartbooi matter. They transcend the personal and reveal an unresolved national question: Do we genuinely believe in a Namibian identity strong enough to rise above tribal divisions, or are we still governed by the fault lines of ethnicity, suspicion and superiority? When a national representative becomes the target of tribal hostility, it reflects more on us than on her. It forces us to confront what we reward, what we ridicule, and what we allow to flourish in our public spaces.
There is also something deeply counterproductive about the way we, as a society, respond to our own. We claim patriotism loudly, but we practise it selectively. We cheer for Namibians only once the world has validated them, once they have gone viral, won abroad, or achieved something under a foreign spotlight. However, when the moment arrives for us to rally behind them first, to affirm them before anyone else does, we hesitate. Instead of offering encouragement, we critique. Instead of pride, we offer cynicism. Instead of unity, we fall back into familiar tribal trenches.
Patriotism, at its core, is not merely a slogan; it is actually a mindset that translates into patriotic behaviour and actions. It is the willingness to defend the dignity of your fellow citizens, even when you do not know them personally. It is the understanding that national representatives carry more than their own narratives; they carry ours. And whether we like it or not, the treatment they receive tells the world something about the society that produced them.
The rhetoric aimed at Swaartbooi did not emerge in a vacuum. It speaks to the unresolved tension between our constitutional ideals and our everyday behaviour. Namibia aspires to be a nation that celebrates diversity, yet we have not fully confronted how we weaponise that diversity when it is convenient. We praise unity at official events, then undermine it in private conversations. We speak of inclusion, then ridicule those who do not fit narrow, inherited definitions of beauty, intelligence or belonging.
The truth is simple: Johanna Swaartbooi earned her title. She stepped into an open competition, met the criteria, received the votes, and emerged as the representative chosen to carry our flag. Her tribe did not win that crown. Her character, effort and ability did. And once she carries the title “Miss Namibia”, she represents all of us. We may critique constructively; that is part of public life. To demean her based on tribe or features, however, is to erode the very national project we depend on.
Johanna Swaartbooi does not need us to agree on her beauty. Beauty is subjective. What she does deserve, as any Namibian would, is respect. She deserves the confidence of a country capable of seeing beyond tribe. She deserves the dignity that our Constitution promises to every citizen. And she deserves a nation willing to demonstrate that we are bigger than our prejudices.
The greater tragedy is that we do not realise what we lose when we give in to tribal thinking. We lose the capacity to recognise excellence in all its forms. We lose the ability to support young people who step up to represent us. We lose credibility as a nation that claims unity while practising fragmentation. Most importantly, we lose the opportunity to grow into a mature society where difference is not a threat but a source of richness.
In a world that is becoming increasingly competitive, Namibia cannot afford to foment division. Today demands national coherence and not nations that fracture themselves along ethnic lines. If we miss this moment, we forego the opportunity to reaffirm what it means to be Namibian in public life. We miss the chance to model something better for younger generations, to show that tribalism has no place in a republic that prides itself on unity in diversity.
The purple movement in the region has shown how a colour can become a signal for accountability. Perhaps Namibia needs its own signal, one that rejects tribalism with the same clarity and one that rallies behind our own, not because they are perfect, but because they represent us.
Our national identity is still being written. Every public reaction becomes part of that narrative. With each insult or affirmation, each act of division or unity, we decide the kind of country we are becoming.
This moment invites us to choose well.
