The recent revelation that the Swapo Party politburo has taken the bold step of directly deciding who should serve as mayors and members of management committees in towns under its control has sparked inevitable debate across the political landscape. Critics are already denouncing the move as heavy-handed centralisation, a retreat from democratic norms, and an overreach that sidelines elected councillors. Yet others, including this newspaper, see a more complex picture, one that reflects a maturing understanding within Swapo of its vulnerabilities, shortcomings, and the need to adapt to a political environment far less forgiving than the one it dominated for three decades.
To begin with, Swapo’s decision is neither unprecedented nor unique in the Namibian political space. Smaller political formations, from the PDM to the IPC, have long been alleged to impose leadership decisions from above. PDM has been dragged into court battles over candidate lists, while IPC has seen defections rooted in claims of “undemocratic practices” and centralised control. Swapo, however, is held to a higher standard precisely because it is the ruling party and because its internal processes are more closely scrutinised by the public and the media. What may be quietly tolerated in smaller parties becomes a national debate when Swapo does it.
This newspaper has previously argued in favour of what is termed “guided democracy” within political parties. The ideal of full internal democracy is noble and necessary, but it cannot exist in a vacuum. Democratic decision-making must be accompanied by competence, merit, and the basic functionality that ensures governance structures do not collapse under the weight of internal factionalism or inexperience. Namibia’s local authorities have, in recent years, provided ample evidence of what happens when this balance is not struck.
We have witnessed councils where cleaners, security guards, and drivers are elevated to chairperson positions in management committees, roles that require not only leadership but technical understanding, policy literacy, and administrative acumen. This is not to devalue the dignity of any profession but to acknowledge a pragmatic truth: a management committee is not an entry-level platform for learning governance. It is a central nerve of municipal administration, responsible for budgets, contracts, oversight, and providing direction to entire towns. When unprepared leaders are catapulted into such roles under the banner of pure internal democracy, the result is paralysis. Communities suffer, services deteriorate, and political parties are left to pick up the pieces.
Swapo’s decision must therefore be understood within this context. It is an attempt, perhaps overdue, to reassert internal coherence, minimise preventable political dramas, and restore credibility where it has been eroded. The City of Windhoek is the most glaring case study. The now-infamous infighting over the mayoral seat, spanning several years, significantly weakened Swapo’s standing and ultimately cost the party its grip on the capital. It was a strategic loss that reverberated beyond Windhoek’s municipal boundaries. A ruling party that cannot control the political direction of the nation’s capital appears, by default, less capable of governing the country at large.
Swapo knows this. It has felt the sting of what happens when internal democracy devolves into factional chaos. It has also seen what happens when inexperienced councillors become pawns in internal battles they barely understand. Swapo’s critics may interpret the politburo’s directive as authoritarian, but supporters within the party view it as self-correction, a recalibration after years of internal turbulence.
Guided democracy is not the enemy of democracy. Rather, it is an acknowledgement that leadership cannot be left to chance. Every political organisation must strike a balance between representing grassroots voices and ensuring that the most competent individuals rise to positions of responsibility. The problem in Namibia is not that political parties guide their internal leadership appointments; it is that they have often done so inconsistently or without transparent criteria. If Swapo’s new approach reflects a genuine effort to place competence over factional loyalty, to prioritise administrative ability over popularity contests, then it is a step in the right direction.
One might argue that such a model opens the door to abuse; indeed, any centralised system carries that risk. But Namibia’s political culture already demonstrates that decentralisation alone does not prevent abuse; in some cases, it amplifies it. What is needed is not decentralisation for its own sake, but a hybrid model: decentralised participation and centralised standards. Parties must ensure that public office bearers meet minimum competence thresholds and that those entrusted with leadership reflect not personal ambitions but the broader needs of communities.
Swapo’s politburo appears to recognise that the stakes are high and that its historical dominance can no longer be taken for granted. A party that once won elections by margins so large they seemed insurmountable now faces genuine competition. It cannot afford to lose cities and towns through preventable mismanagement or internal bickering. Consolidating the appointment of mayors and management committees may be a pragmatic way of preventing a repeat of the Windhoek debacle and perhaps a sign that Swapo understands the changing political tides.
Namibia’s democracy is not weakened when political parties ensure competence; it is strengthened when governance improves and public trust increases. The challenge, and Swapo’s responsibility, is to ensure that this centralisation does not become a tool of patronage but a mechanism for accountability, professionalism, and stability.
If this move represents genuine reform rather than political expediency, then guided democracy may indeed be the corrective action our politics has been waiting for.
