“Do you know who the biggest thieves in the country are? It’s black businesspeople. And do you know why you are not successful and why your life is miserable? It’s those same thieving, corrupt black empowerment elites and tenderpreneurs in this country.”
That statement, delivered casually in conversation, captures a dangerous narrative quietly normalized in Namibia’s public discourse. It is not merely an opinion; it is the product of a sustained ideological campaign that frames black entrepreneurship, particularly participation in public procurement, as inherently corrupt, morally suspect, and economically parasitic. As a black entrepreneur who has built a business through compliance, innovation, and persistence, I write from both a lived experience and scholarly observation to address the verification, indeed, the vindication, of black entrepreneurs in a climate where suspicion has become the default lens through which our success is viewed.
For more than three decades, Namibia has sought to address historic economic exclusion through empowerment measures. Yet it has failed to establish clear, codified, and transparent Black Economic Empowerment legislation. Into this policy vacuum, narratives have flourished. Words such as “tenderpreneur,” “chopper,” “black elite,” “those who are eating,” and “BEE thieves” have entered everyday vocabulary. Language is never neutral. These labels serve a political function: they collapse legitimate black enterprise into caricatures of corruption, constructing black businesspeople as economic saboteurs rather than economic participants.
No one denies that corruption exists. It is present in every economy, across every racial and political spectrum. What demands scholarly scrutiny is selective outrage. When a white-owned corporation manipulates transfer pricing, evades tax, or engages in price fixing, the language deployed is sanitized: “corporate misconduct,” “irregularities,” or “governance failures.” We all remember the recent Meatco saga. Instead of zeroing in on the individuals involved, as is the case with black entrepreneurs, focus was directed at the institution in question instead. When a black entrepreneur is accused, sometimes merely investigated, the narrative quickly escalates into a moral indictment of an entire class. Individual suspicion becomes racialized guilt.
This asymmetry in framing is not accidental. It draws from apartheid’s foundational myth: that white economic dominance is natural and earned, while black economic advancement is artificial and suspicious. Apartheid was not merely social separation; it was an economic architecture designed to ensure capital accumulation remained white-controlled. This historical reality is uncontested in academic literature on Southern African political economy. When black entrepreneurs enter sectors historically reserved for whites, their presence disrupts a deeply embedded sense of entitlement to economic space.
Media representation plays a decisive role in reinforcing these perceptions. When national newspapers consistently amplify allegations involving black entrepreneurs through sensationalist headlines and racialized imagery, especially caricatures depicting black businesspeople as greedy or criminal, the effect goes beyond reporting. It becomes narrative manufacturing. It instructs the public on who to trust and who to distrust. It conditions the poor black majority to interpret black success as betrayal rather than progress. Last week, a national newspaper published a cartoon by a white cartoonist portraying black entrepreneurs as greedy, undeserving criminals under the headline “Black Economic Enrichment.” The matter referenced has not been adjudicated, yet the public is invited to reach a verdict. The message is unmistakable: black entrepreneurs will be subjected to reputational lynching long before legal processes unfold.
The irony is profound. Black entrepreneurs are accused of exploiting public procurement, yet public procurement remains one of the few available mechanisms to correct structural exclusion. In economies that have successfully transformed, like Malaysia, South Korea, post-war Europe, and state-guided procurement, played a central role in developing national capital. In Namibia, however, when black entrepreneurs access the same instrument, it is framed not as development policy but as theft.
This leads to a question rarely posed: Why does Namibia still lack comprehensive BEE legislation? Why does empowerment operate through fragmented ministerial policies and ad hoc procurement preferences rather than a transparent legal framework with clear targets, reporting obligations, and accountability mechanisms? The absence of law ensures ambiguity. Ambiguity allows critics to portray empowerment as chaotic and corrupt while shielding established economic actors from measurable transformation requirements. This is not accidental policy failure; it is political convenience.
As a black entrepreneur, I know the scrutiny that accompanies every contract won, every loan approved, and every expansion undertaken. Our financial records are examined not only by regulators, which is appropriate, but also by a public conditioned to assume wrongdoing. Meanwhile, decades-old monopolies retain legitimacy despite histories of collusion, labor exploitation, and capital flight. This double standard erodes national cohesion and undermines the credibility of economic transformation.
Scholarly evidence supports this observation. Studies in post-colonial economies show that when emerging black business classes are delegitimized, transformation stalls and resentment deepens. The poor are encouraged to blame black elites rather than interrogate inherited structural inequalities. Meanwhile, entrenched capital maintains dominance behind the rhetoric of “good governance” and “market efficiency.”
None of this suggests that black entrepreneurs should be above criticism. Accountability is essential. Corruption must be prosecuted. But critique must be evidence-based, consistent across racial lines, and grounded in institutional reform rather than racial scapegoating. Namibia needs robust procurement oversight, transparent tender platforms, independent auditing systems, and enforceable empowerment legislation. These measures protect the public purse while legitimizing honest enterprise.
Ultimately, the verification of black entrepreneurs lies not in public suspicion but in measurable performance: jobs created, taxes paid, supply chains localized, and innovation achieved. That is how legitimate enterprise is assessed in any economy. If we genuinely believe black economic empowerment is necessary, as most policy statements claim, then we must stop criminalising its existence and start regulating its implementation fairly.
The greatest lie being sold is not that corruption exists in empowerment. The lie is that black entrepreneurship itself is the problem. Until Namibia confronts that narrative honestly, economic transformation will remain stalled, not by black entrepreneurs, but by the myths built around them.
