The Office of the Judiciary this week announced the appointment of former judges from the region to Namibia’s High Court. A former judge of the High Court of Botswana, Gabriel Komboni, has been appointed on contract for two years and five months. Two Zimbabwean jurists, retired High Court judge David Mangota and former High Court judge James Devittie, have been appointed as acting judges for three years.
On paper, these are distinguished legal professionals. Their experience is not in question. Regional judicial exchange is not uncommon, and cross-border appointments can, in certain contexts, strengthen jurisprudential coherence within the Southern African region.
Yet the announcement invites a deeper, uncomfortable question: what kind of country are we building?
Namibia is now 36 years into independence. Our legal system, anchored in constitutional supremacy, has matured significantly since 1990. We have produced generations of lawyers, prosecutors, academics, magistrates and judges who have trained locally and internationally. Our universities graduate law students every year. Our courts are staffed by capable practitioners who understand the local context, customary law intersections, constitutional imperatives and the social realities that frame disputes before them.
Why, then, are we importing retired or former judges when we have qualified, capable Namibian legal professionals ready to serve?
This is not an argument against experience. Nor is it an attack on the individuals appointed. In fact, it is worth stating clearly: these jurists reached retirement age in their respective countries not because they were incompetent, but because legal systems must create space for generational renewal. That is how institutions evolve. That is how leadership pipelines are sustained. Retirement is not failure; it is succession.
But succession is precisely what must concern us.
If other countries have moved into a new phase of generational transition, why are we stepping in to absorb their retired capacity rather than accelerating our own? Are we confronting a genuine shortage of suitably qualified Namibian candidates for the High Court bench? Or is there a structural bottleneck in how judicial appointments are processed and developed?
More fundamentally: are we sufficiently investing in mentoring and preparing our own legal minds for elevation to the bench?
Judicial competence does not emerge overnight. It is cultivated through deliberate exposure to complex litigation, appellate reasoning, constitutional interpretation and administrative law. It requires shadowing, structured judicial education, and systematic grooming of candidates who can transition from practice to the bench seamlessly.
If such pathways are weak, the solution cannot be indefinite reliance on external stopgaps.
To be fair, there are pragmatic arguments in support of these appointments. Case backlogs remain a persistent challenge. Commercial disputes are growing more complex. Regional expertise may help expedite matters. Temporary appointments can stabilise workload pressures while longer-term reforms take shape.
But temporary measures have a way of becoming habitual if deeper institutional questions are left unaddressed.
Namibia must confront a core tension: are these appointments part of a strategic transitional plan, or do they reflect an implicit lack of confidence in local capacity?
That question matters for nation-building.
Confidence in local talent is not mere rhetoric. It is an institutional choice. It signals to young lawyers that the pathway to the highest levels of judicial responsibility is visible and attainable. It tells aspiring jurists that excellence will be recognised within their own borders, not deferred until foreign experience validates it.
If we consistently look outward for senior judicial reinforcement, what message does that send to our own bar and bench?
The irony of this week is striking. Almost simultaneously, Namibia celebrated a milestone: the appointment of Esi Schimming-Chase as the first woman to serve as a permanent member of the Supreme Court. That appointment represents progress, both in gender representation and in the strengthening of our highest court through local excellence.
It demonstrates that Namibia does, in fact, possess legal minds capable of ascending to the pinnacle of judicial authority.
So how do we reconcile that milestone with the decision to look beyond our borders for High Court capacity?
Is this a transitional bridge while local candidates are being prepared? If so, where is the publicly articulated strategy outlining that development pipeline? Are we pairing these acting judges with structured mentorship programmes for Namibian practitioners? Are we using their tenure to transfer knowledge, or merely to fill chairs?
Nation-building is not only about infrastructure and fiscal policy. It is about institutional psychology. A country that trusts its people builds resilient systems. A country that doubts its own capacity risks entrenching dependency.
This is not xenophobia. Namibia has long benefited from regional cooperation and shared expertise. Our legal system itself is rooted in Roman-Dutch law, inherited through colonial structures. We cannot pretend that our jurisprudence developed in isolation.
But independence was not simply about sovereignty over territory. It was about sovereignty over institutions.
Thirty-six years on, we must ask whether we are fully exercising that sovereignty in the development of our judiciary.
If we do not create opportunities for our own professionals, how will our institutions ever become self-sustaining? How will institutional memory and constitutional interpretation evolve in ways deeply anchored in Namibia’s lived realities?
And if the answer is that we lack sufficient qualified candidates, then the conversation must shift to education policy, professional development, transformation of briefing patterns at the bar, and transparency in judicial selection processes.
Silence on these questions breeds speculation. Transparency breeds trust.
The Office of the Judiciary would serve the nation well by articulating the strategic rationale behind these appointments. Are they workload-driven? Skills-specific? Transitional? What benchmarks will determine whether future appointments prioritise Namibian candidates?
These are not hostile questions. They are patriotic ones.
Because at its core, this moment forces us to reflect: are we building institutions that stand confidently on Namibian expertise, or are we defaulting to regional imports when pressure mounts?
Experience has value. But so does succession.
And if we are serious about building a self-sustaining judiciary, one that reflects both competence and confidence, then the real work lies not in who we appoint today, but in who we are preparing for tomorrow
