Banner 330x1440 (Fireplace Right) #1

Traitors and Other Heroes: When Thinking Becomes a Crime in Parliament

One brave, anonymous member of parliament (MP) recently committed the unthinkable: They voted with their brain.

Sowaar.

Instead of blindly toeing the party line like a good little card-carrying member, this shadowy rebel allegedly voted in favour of an opposition MP to lead a standing committee in parliament.

Everybody, including ‘Trouble N’, had a collective meltdown.

They shouted betrayal, treason and the usual “puppet” insult – just because the MP dared to vote in Namibia’s interest.

A puppet of what, exactly? Logic? Integrity? The Constitution? Clearly, this individual had the audacity to interpret their oath of office as a commitment to Namibia, and not some clique of conniving toddlers.

And for that cardinal sin, they are now Public Enemy Number One.

Mercifully, they are still to be named.

To this we say: “Longo live the mystery vote, longo live!”

Let’s take a moment to revisit what MPs actually swear to do when they’re sworn in. It’s not, as many now seem to think: “I solemnly swear to defend my party leader’s ego, no matter how fragile, and uphold nepotism in all its forms.”

No. The oath is to serve the people of Namibia.

Not the People’s Republic of Swapo. Not the Kingdom of Endless Meetings and Committee Chair Dreams. Namibia!

You know, the one with potholes, child kidnappings and killings, poverty and a perpetual youth unemployment rate that could scare off Satan.

The idea that someone might put the national interest above party loyalty seems to have left certain leaders shaken. Stirred. Possibly foaming at the mouth like a well-fermenting tombo brew.

And all because of a vote. A confidential and democratic vote in a democratic house, mind you. In parliament, the house of the people, where votes are supposed to happen based on conscience, competence, and, wait for it … country first.

What if the one they were instructed to vote for is as useless as a ball of donkey drops?

What if that candidate was going to be bad for Namibia or execute his mission to “make sure all corruption and misuse of state resources do not come to light”.

I think they wanted to ensure that even the committee on ‘Standing Committees’ has a trusted cadre with zero relevant qualifications, but a black belt in party karaoke.

Apparently, what’s offensive isn’t that a potentially better-suited candidate from another party won the vote, no. It’s that one of their own dared to think, assess and make a choice without consulting the Swapo oracle first. Heresy!

What’s next? Loyalty tests? Polygraphs at caucus meetings? Or maybe just a friendly old-fashioned witch-hunt. Burn the free thinkers! They dared to believe Namibia is more important than a political WhatsApp group. Burn them!

This incident is a mirror held up to our democracy, and the reflection is, well, unfortunate.

We’ve got leaders throwing tantrums over a vote, an internal vote, because the outcome didn’t align with their plan.

That’s not democracy. That’s dictatorship in bad drag. That’s exactly why the vote was intended to be a secret. Have they ever wondered why those types of votes should be a secret ballot?

The irony? Most Namibians, the people MPs are supposed to serve, are applauding.

Because, shockingly, we like the idea of people voting for competence over party. We want leaders who can lead, not just stand there and chant slogans from 1982.

The struggle was real, but this is ridiculous.

So, to the puppet who dared to cut their own strings, we salute you.

You’re not a traitor – you’re a role model. A patriot. A Namibian in the truest sense.

You may not get a statue, but you’ve earned something better: the respect of a public tired of party-first politics.

It’s just a pity that we don’t want to know who you are for the very fear that we might snitch on you and you could be sent packing.

As for the angry few yelling “traitor!” into the political loudspeaker, sit down!

Better yet, take a long, hard look at the oath you made.

It wasn’t to Swapo. It was to us.

And if that bothers you, maybe you are in the wrong parliament.

In an age of information overload, Sunrise is The Namibian’s morning briefing, delivered at 6h00 from Monday to Friday. It offers a curated rundown of the most important stories from the past 24 hours – occasionally with a light, witty touch. It’s an essential way to stay informed. Subscribe and join our newsletter community.

AI placeholder

The Namibian uses AI tools to assist with improved quality, accuracy and efficiency, while maintaining editorial oversight and journalistic integrity.

Stay informed with The Namibian – your source for credible journalism. Get in-depth reporting and opinions for only N$85 a month. Invest in journalism, invest in democracy –
Subscribe Now!


Latest News