There is something deeply uncomfortable about traditional leaders repeatedly ending up in the High Court to determine who should lead their own communities.
The latest Masubia succession dispute, which returns to court on 1 October, is therefore about considerably more than who should wear the crown of Munitenge Moraliswani III.
It raises a much bigger question about the credibility, resilience and relevance of Namibia’s traditional institutions.
For years, we have watched succession disputes among traditional authorities turn into protracted battles involving rival claimants, royal families, government investigations, competing interpretations of custom and, eventually, lawyers and judges.
The Masubia dispute is simply the latest reminder that something in the system is not working as it should.
Let us be clear: going to court is a democratic and constitutional right. Nobody should be denied the right to challenge a decision they believe is unlawful or procedurally defective.
Traditional leaders and members of royal families are citizens too. They have every right to approach the courts when they believe their rights have been infringed.
But there is a distinction between having the right to go to court and having a system that makes litigation the apparent destination of every serious disagreement.
That distinction matters.
Traditional authorities are supposed to be custodians of custom, tradition, community cohesion and customary law. Their customary courts deal with disputes that are deeply personal and sometimes enormously consequential.
They deal with family disagreements. They deal with land matters. They deal with inheritance. They deal with relationships, community conduct and disputes between ordinary people.
For many rural Namibians, the traditional authority remains the first port of call when something goes wrong.
And yet, when the dispute concerns the traditional authority itself, we increasingly see the matter escaping the customary system altogether and landing in the High Court.
There is an obvious contradiction here.
If a traditional court is capable of resolving complicated disputes between ordinary members of its community, why should it be so difficult for the traditional institution to resolve a question as fundamental as succession?
Succession is not supposed to be an administrative afterthought.
It is the very foundation upon which traditional leadership is constructed.
Every traditional authority has a history. It has clans, families, royal houses, elders, genealogies and customs. Somewhere within that history should be an understanding of who qualifies to succeed a leader and how that person is identified.
Yet too often, the rules appear to become clear only after the throne becomes vacant.
That is when competing interpretations emerge. That is when genealogy is suddenly scrutinised. That is when seniority becomes contested. That is when royal families disagree about who has authority to designate the successor.
And then government becomes involved.
Then lawyers become involved.
Then the courts become involved.
By that stage, what should have been a culturally grounded process of succession can become a legal contest in which relationships within communities are placed under enormous strain.
The Masubia case illustrates precisely this difficulty.
Following the death of Chief Kisco Maiba Liswani III in 2021, competing claims emerged. Government subsequently investigated the claims, held public hearings and consulted various stakeholders. Mutwa was eventually designated and formally recognised.
Yet recognition did not end the dispute.
Instead, the process itself is now being challenged.
The courts will determine whether that challenge has merit. That is precisely why we should allow the judicial process to run its course without prejudging either side.
But Namibia should not wait for the judgment before confronting the bigger problem.
Why are we repeatedly getting here?
And perhaps there is another question that is even more uncomfortable.
Is succession sometimes about more than culture and tradition?
Traditional leadership carries influence. Influence can carry access to land, development opportunities, community resources and other forms of authority.
It would therefore be naïve to assume that every succession battle is driven exclusively by questions of genealogy and cultural principle.
But it would be equally irresponsible to declare that particular individuals are fighting for traditional positions because of money without evidence.
The answer is not to speculate about motives. The answer is to create a system in which the rules are sufficiently clear that there is less room for such suspicion in the first place.
This is where government needs to show leadership.
Rather than waiting for each succession dispute to become a court case, the Ministry of Urban and Rural Development should initiate a national conversation with Namibia’s recognised traditional authorities.
Not to dictate who should succeed whom.
Not to interfere with legitimate customs.
And certainly not to impose one model on communities whose traditions are different.
The objective should be to ask each traditional authority to clearly document its own succession rules. Who qualifies? Who determines lineage? Who has the authority to nominate or designate a successor? What role does the royal family play?
What role do elders play? What role, if any, does the wider community play? What happens when two eligible candidates emerge?
And critically, who resolves the dispute before it becomes a High Court matter?
These rules should be known before a chief dies, not discovered after the funeral.
There should also be mechanisms for mediation and customary appeal where succession becomes contested.
The High Court must remain available as the ultimate guardian of legality. But the existence of that constitutional safety valve should not absolve traditional institutions of the responsibility to build credible mechanisms for resolving disputes themselves.
Because there is something fundamentally wrong when the people expected to teach their communities how to resolve disputes peacefully cannot resolve disputes over their own leadership.
The danger is not merely financial or administrative.
It is institutional.
Every succession battle that drags through the courts risks weakening public confidence in traditional leadership. Every rival faction risks dividing communities. Every disputed coronation risks turning a cultural institution into a political battleground.
And if this continues, we should not be surprised when younger generations begin asking whether these institutions still possess the authority they claim.
Namibia does not need fewer traditional authorities.
It needs stronger ones.
It needs traditional institutions whose rules are understood, whose processes are respected and whose decisions command legitimacy among the people they serve.
The Masubia succession dispute should therefore be treated as more than another case number on the High Court roll.
It should be a warning.
If traditional authorities cannot establish, according to their own customs, who should succeed their leaders, then how can they convincingly ask ordinary citizens to accept their authority when those citizens bring their own disputes before customary courts?
That is the question government, traditional leaders and communities should now confront. Before the next chief dies. Before the next crown is contested.
And before the next succession dispute becomes another court battle.
