Every August, as Namibia prepares to commemorate Heroes’ Day, the country enters a familiar season of remembrance. Names are recalled, sacrifices are celebrated and, inevitably, questions arise over who deserves the highest recognition the Republic can bestow.
But increasingly, another question is beginning to demand attention: Have Namibia’s national honours lost some of their meaning and allure because the public does not clearly understand how they are awarded?
The question is not intended to diminish the sacrifices of those who have received national recognition. Rather, it goes to the heart of what an honour is supposed to represent.
An honour derives much of its value from its exclusivity, its integrity and the confidence that the public can have in the process through which it is awarded. If citizens cannot clearly understand why one person receives a particular honour while another, apparently equally deserving, does not, the distinction itself risks losing its moral authority.
Namibia has a formal legal framework for national honours. The Conferment of National Honours Act of 2012 provides for orders, decorations and medals that may be conferred by the President on citizens, residents and friends of Namibia. The regulations establish several categories of general honours, including the Order of the Most Ancient Welwitschia Mirabilis, the Most Brilliant Order of the Sun, the Order of Mukurob, the Most Distinguished Order of Namibia, the Most Excellent Order of the Eagle, the Independence Medal, the Liberation Medal and the Foreign Service Medal.
There is also a National Honours Advisory Committee, which is intended to provide advice on the conferment of honours.
On paper, therefore, Namibia has a system.
The difficulty lies in how that system is understood and communicated to the public.
For years, Namibians have heard explanations surrounding recognition of liberation veterans and others that sound remarkably similar: this person sheltered combatants; that person provided food; another offered transport; another hid freedom fighters from the security forces.
All of these acts may have involved genuine courage and sacrifice. Some undoubtedly exposed individuals and their families to considerable danger.
But where is the line?
Is providing food to combatants sufficient for a national honour? Does the quantity of assistance matter? Does the duration matter? Does the risk undertaken matter? Is there a distinction between someone who provided assistance once and someone who maintained an underground support network for years? What evidence is required? Who verifies the claims?
And perhaps most importantly: how does Namibia distinguish between an act worthy of gratitude and an act worthy of one of the Republic’s highest honours?
These are not trivial questions.
The legislation itself provides an important clue. Under the regulations, the Minister responsible for general honours is required, in consultation with relevant institutions, to determine the criteria and conditions for eligibility for the various honours and submit those criteria to the Secretariat.
That suggests that the criteria exist within the administrative system.
But if they exist, why are they not more readily available to the public?
This is where Namibia’s honours system faces a credibility challenge.
A national honour should not merely be an announcement made during a state ceremony. It should tell the country why an individual has been distinguished. The citation accompanying an honour should be sufficiently detailed for a citizen to understand the contribution being recognised and why it meets the relevant threshold.
This becomes particularly important with National Hero Status and burial at Heroes’ Acre.
Namibians have repeatedly debated who qualifies as a hero. In earlier government discussions, heroism was described in terms of exceptional courage, perseverance, leadership, sacrifice and extraordinary deeds benefiting the nation. The proposed definition included political, military, economic and social excellence and service to the state and nation.
Yet questions about consistency have persisted.
In 2021, when the government was considering hero status for liberation veteran Seth Boois, then Presidency spokesperson Alfredo Hengari said the process was governed by the statutory body established for national honours. Political analyst Ndumba Kamwanyah, however, argued that the legislation did not provide sufficiently clear guidelines for determining who qualifies for hero status.
That observation remains relevant.
There is also a danger in allowing national honours to become overly associated with political history. Namibia’s liberation struggle is central to the country’s identity, but the honours system is broader than liberation credentials. The law provides for recognition across national life, including exceptional service and contribution through different spheres.
A successful entrepreneur who creates thousands of jobs, a scientist whose work transforms Namibian society, an educator who dedicates a lifetime to disadvantaged children, a journalist who courageously defends democratic values, an artist who takes Namibian culture to the world or a citizen who performs an extraordinary act of bravery may all make contributions worthy of national recognition.
The system must therefore answer a simple question: what exactly are we honouring?
Sacrifice? Courage? Impact? Longevity of service? Personal risk? National benefit? Or a combination of all these?
There is another reason for demanding clarity.
National honours are not simply decorations. They are instruments through which a nation writes its collective memory.
If recognition is perceived as political patronage, historical entitlement or personal favour, the honour becomes diminished. Conversely, when the criteria are transparent and consistently applied, even people who disagree with a particular recipient can understand the reasoning.
Namibia should therefore consider publishing, annually, the criteria, nominations, selection process and detailed citations associated with national honours, while protecting genuinely sensitive information where necessary.
The country could also publish an annual report from the National Honours Advisory Committee explaining, in broad terms, how nominations were assessed and why particular categories of recognition were selected.
That would not cheapen the honours.
It would strengthen them.
The people whose courage helped bring Namibia to independence deserve more than ceremonial applause. They deserve a system that records their sacrifices accurately, distinguishes degrees of contribution fairly and preserves their legacy for generations.
The same principle applies to every Namibian who contributes to the Republic today.
Perhaps the question is therefore not whether Namibia should give fewer honours.
It is whether the honour itself should mean more.
Because when everyone understands why a person is honoured, the medal carries weight.
When nobody quite knows, the medal may still shine, but its meaning begins to fade.
