There is something deeply unsettling about watching elected representatives behave as though the National Assembly were a political battlefield rather than the institution entrusted with debating and shaping the affairs of the Republic.
The latest confrontation in Parliament, involving Affirmative Repositioning MPs Job Amupanda and Ester Haikola-Sakaria being ordered out of the chamber after allegedly disrupting proceedings by banging on their desks, is not merely another parliamentary squabble to be consumed as political entertainment.
It should concern every Namibian.
The incident followed a heated exchange after Information and Communication Technology Minister Emma Theofilus referred to Independent Patriots for Change MP Bertha Victoria Nghifikwa as a “Swapo Party sister-in-law”. Opposition members protested, and proceedings subsequently descended into confrontation.
Whatever one’s political allegiance, there is a simple principle that should not be negotiable: Parliament must be better than this.
We say this not because politicians should agree with one another. Quite the opposite.
Parliament exists because people disagree.
Government and opposition are supposed to challenge one another. Ministers must be questioned. Policies must be scrutinised. Bills must be interrogated. Public expenditure must be examined. Those in power must be held accountable.
But there is a difference between robust political debate and political theatre.
There is a difference between shouting across the floor and making a compelling argument.
There is a difference between insulting an opponent and dismantling an opponent’s argument.
And there is a difference between protest and behaviour that prevents Parliament from doing the work for which Namibians elected its members.
The danger is that the distinction is increasingly becoming blurred.
The days of “out-shouting” and “out-insulting” one another appear to be upon us. And perhaps the most disturbing part is that we may be slowly accepting this as the new normal.
We should not.
Parliament’s own rules recognise the importance of order and decorum. The Speaker is charged with ensuring the orderly functioning of the House and is expected to act impartially and in the national interest. The rules also provide mechanisms for dealing with disorderly conduct and members who are ordered to leave the chamber.
These are not ceremonial provisions. They exist because democracy requires rules.
But rules alone will not save Parliament.
The people sitting in Parliament must believe in the institution they have been elected to serve.
Here is the uncomfortable question: You cannot be serving and in institutions and systems you do not respect.
And you cannot credibly claim to lead people you do not care about or respect.
Respect does not mean agreement. It does not mean deference to government. It does not mean opposition MPs must quietly accept everything said by ministers or presiding officers.
Respect means understanding that the institution is bigger than the individual politician.
An MP is temporary. Parliament is permanent.
A minister will eventually leave office. An opposition leader will eventually leave the chamber. Speakers will come and go. Political parties will rise and fall.
But the National Assembly must remain.
That is why the spectacle of politicians treating parliamentary proceedings as an arena for personal confrontation is so dangerous.
The institution becomes smaller every time an argument is reduced to who can shout the loudest.
It becomes weaker every time an insult replaces evidence.
It becomes less credible every time political theatre overwhelms substantive debate.
And ultimately, the public pays the price.
Namibians do not send MPs to Parliament to provide entertainment. They send them there to represent their interests.
They send them there because somebody must debate why food is expensive, why young people cannot find work, why healthcare remains under pressure, why businesses struggle, why land remains contested, why public money is not always producing public value and why government institutions sometimes fail ordinary citizens.
Those are the fights that matter.
A parliament consumed by personalities has less time and intellectual energy for those questions.
And there is another danger.
When young Namibians watch Parliament, what are they learning about leadership?
Are they learning that leadership means listening, reasoning, persuading and compromising?
Or are they learning that leadership means being louder than everyone else?
Are they learning that political courage means standing up for principle?
Or are they learning that political courage means humiliating an opponent?
Institutions teach through behaviour as much as through legislation.
If confrontation becomes normalised in Parliament, society will inevitably absorb some of that culture.
This is why both government and opposition must take responsibility.
Opposition parties have every right to be aggressive in holding government accountable. But accountability loses its power when it becomes disruption for its own sake.
Government ministers, equally, must understand that parliamentary authority does not give them licence to belittle opponents or reduce serious political disagreement to partisan taunts.
The Speaker, meanwhile, has perhaps the most difficult responsibility of all: maintaining order without creating the perception that order is being used to silence legitimate dissent. Parliament’s own rules recognise the importance of consistent conduct and parliamentary discipline, while its structures provide for dealing with alleged breaches of those rules.
The standard must therefore be the same for everyone.
No party should receive preferential treatment.
No MP should be above the rules.
And no Speaker should be above scrutiny.
Namibia deserves a Parliament where political opponents can disagree passionately without becoming enemies, where ministers can be challenged without being humiliated, and where opposition MPs can protest without turning the chamber into a shouting match.
We must ask ourselves whether this is what we wanted when we voted.
Perhaps, in some uncomfortable sense, it is.
After all, countries get the political leadership they produce through their democratic choices.
But democracy does not end on election day.
It is renewed every time an elected representative chooses responsibility over spectacle, argument over insult and national interest over personal political theatre.
We should demand nothing less.
Because Parliament is not a boxing ring.
It is the people’s House.
And the people deserve better than politicians competing over who can shout the loudest.
