Lazarus Kwedhi
For more than three decades, land has been the loudest issue in Namibian politics and the quietest in terms of results.
At every election, at every rally, and at two National Land Conferences, we have been told that the government has a solution to colonial land dispossession.
Yet drive through communal areas, urban peripheries, and even past vacant commercial farms, and the same question haunts us: where is the land promised to the people?
The answer we were given in 1991 was “willing seller, willing buyer.” It was repeated in 2018. But “willing seller, willing buyer” is not a policy of restitution.
It is a remix of the land economic market forces of supply and demand. And when you use market forces to correct a historical injustice, the market will always protect those who already hold the asset.
If we are honest, the problem is not only who owns the land. The problem is what the land is doing. A new path is possible. It is constitutional, it is fair, and it is urgent: make land productive, reward those who make it productive, and tax those who do not.
This is how we address both pre-independence and post-independence colonial land dispossession.
The constitutional trap we refuse to name
In 1990, Namibia chose reconciliation and the rule of law. That choice is written in Chapter 3 of our Constitution. Article 16 entrenches the fundamental right to property.
It says property may only be expropriated for a public purpose, by law, and with “just compensation” paid promptly.
Because of this, land that was acquired through colonial war and dispossession became, in law, private property. The state cannot take it without paying market price. It cannot force a sale.
“Willing seller, willing buyer” was therefore the only option the Constitution allowed. The state would buy land at market price and redistribute it.
The flaw was economic, not moral. The state could never afford to buy enough land to change the pattern. So the colonial map stayed frozen.
The First Land Conference in 1991 and the Second in 2018 ended in the same place, not because of a lack of will, but because both were bound by the same legal ceiling. And this is where political deception begins.
The three lies told at rallies
First, we are made to believe politicians have a solution to address colonial land dispossession outside Article 16. A government with a two-thirds majority, composed largely of people who are victims of colonial land dispossession, campaigns on bold promises.
Yet in Parliament, no one dares to touch Article 16. They know that to do so would weaken property rights, shake investor confidence, and the Constitution itself. The promise is made for votes. The law makes delivery impossible.
Second, we hear from the politicians’ mouths: “we can expropriate without compensation, like Zimbabwe.” It sounds revolutionary, but it is unconstitutional and, in my view, incitement to violence against a protected right.
Any such law would be thrown out by the courts within weeks. Political leaders know this very well. They say it loud to pull a crowd and to win elections.
Third, we are told “colonial land dispossession is over.” It is not. It has only changed its tools. The colonial regime used guns and proclamations to push Namibians into reserves.
Today we use town planning proclamations to dispossess people of their customary land rights, instead of protecting those rights by giving title deeds at the time of town proclamation.
When a town needs to expand, communal and rural land is proclaimed. People are paid “just compensation” and moved in the name of development. But when that same town expands into commercial farmland, the municipality must pay full market price to the owner.
Meanwhile, resettlement farms and municipal land meant for the poor and landless are allocated to political elites and property developers through Public-Private Partnerships (PPPs).
The public is then told that the government is solving the land question in vain. The redline is the clearest symbol. It divides this country and blocks the free movement of livestock and meat.
It limits the dignity, choice, and income of people north of the line. With a two-thirds majority, Parliament could amend the Animal Health Act and remove it, but it has failed to do so. Again, big talk, no structural change.
The alternative: Productivity, not just ownership
If we cannot amend Article 16, and we cannot afford to buy all the land, then we must change what we measure: stop measuring justice only by title deeds and start measuring it by output.
The principle is simple: it does not matter who owns the land. What matters is whether the land is feeding Namibians, employing Namibians, and building Namibia.
When land is productive, it does five things. It reduces hunger and food inflation because we import less. It creates jobs with proper working conditions in farming and agro-processing.
It drives innovation and value addition, so we export beef cuts instead of live cattle. It attracts investment because investors go where there are returns. And it gives the government control over food security and the economy.
This model addresses pre-independence dispossession because it breaks the link between “no title” and “no future.” If communal and resettlement land is productive, people can build wealth now.
It addresses post-independence dispossession because it exposes the new elite land grab. Land allocated through political connections can no longer sit idle and pretend to be “development.” Productivity becomes the test.
The two-lever solution: Carrot and stick
To make productivity the national standard, the government must do two things at the same time.
First, the government must provide incentives to productive land. Productivity is not magic. It needs support. The state must be a partner to farmers and agro-businesses, not just a regulator.
That means affordable finance based on business plans, not only on 1000-hectare title deeds. It means water, boreholes, irrigation, roads, and electricity in both commercial and communal areas.
It means building abattoirs and packhouses north of the redline so farmers there can access the same markets. It means government procurement that prioritises Namibian produce for schools and hospitals.
It means extension officers, research, and training in climate-smart agriculture. And it means tax relief: 0% land tax and lower corporate tax for farms and businesses that meet annual production and job-creation targets.
The message must be clear: if you produce food and create jobs, this country will back you.
Second, unproductive land must pay a high land tax. We must end the era where land is a parking lot for wealth. Set clear productivity benchmarks. If you meet them, you pay little or no land tax.
If you do not, you pay. And you pay more every year. A vacant commercial farm or an empty erf in Windhoek that sits for three years should face an escalating tax, for example 5% of market value per year. Apply it fairly to everyone: commercial farmers, urban developers, and even state-allocated land.
Crucially, all that tax revenue must go back into the incentives above. This is not punishment. It is a cycle: tax idleness, fund productivity. This approach does not violate Article 16. The state is not taking land. It is taxing it.
The owner can keep it if they choose to pay and be productive. But the economic pressure forces a choice: use it, lease it to someone who will, or sell it. Land will move from speculators to producers without breaking the Constitution.
The choice before us
Namibia cannot keep pretending that “willing seller, willing buyer” will deliver restitution. It will not, because it was never designed to. It was designed to keep peace in 1990. That peace is now being tested by poverty and inequality.
We also cannot keep allowing political leaders to sell us hope in rallies that the law makes impossible in Parliament. That cycle breeds cynicism and divides us. The alternative is to shift the national conversation from “who owns what” to “what is this land doing for us.”
Colonialism dispossessed Namibians of land. If we allow that same land to remain unproductive today, then the dispossession continues, just with a different face.
If we choose productivity, we choose jobs. We choose food security. We choose exports. We choose dignity for every Namibian farmer, irrespective of their geographical location. The time for political deception is over.
The time for production has come. Let us reward those who make the land work, and let us tax those who make the nation wait.
