Playing with words will not resolve the Uhuru Dempers questions

The controversy surrounding the role of Uhuru Dempers at the National Youth Council (NYC) is no longer simply about one individual. It has evolved into a broader question about transparency, accountability and respect for public procedures within the Ministry of Education, Innovation, Youth, Sport, Arts and Culture.

At the centre of the matter lies a contradiction that the ministry itself has failed to adequately address.

For months, Mr Dempers has reportedly attended meetings with and on behalf of Minister Sanet Steenkamp. Attendance records confirm his presence at numerous NYC engagements. Sources inside the youth sector describe him as having exercised influence over internal matters and even lobbying delegates ahead of the upcoming general assembly.

Those who interacted with him understood him to be functioning as a special advisor to the minister.

Yet, when confronted with questions, the ministry insists that Mr Dempers was never appointed as a “special advisor on youth matters”. Instead, according to Executive Director Gerard Vries, he is merely an independent consultant engaged on a temporary basis to support reforms at the National Youth Council.

The problem is that changing the terminology does not automatically eliminate the substance of the concerns.

If a person attends strategic meetings, provides guidance, participates in governance processes, represents ministerial interests and influences policy discussions, then ordinary Namibians are entitled to ask a simple question: what exactly is the difference between an advisor and a consultant in this context?

The public deserves more than semantic gymnastics.

The ministry’s response appears carefully constructed to avoid the legal implications associated with the appointment of special advisors. Under Namibia’s constitutional framework and the Special Advisors and Regional Governors Appointment Act, the authority to appoint special advisors rests exclusively with the President.

No minister possesses unilateral authority to appoint his or her own special advisor.

Recognising this legal reality, the ministry now insists that no such appointment ever occurred.

But if that is the case, further questions arise.

Why was Mr Dempers apparently performing functions that many stakeholders interpreted as advisory in nature?

Why was he present at internal board meetings and sensitive governance discussions?

Why was his role never clearly communicated to stakeholders from the outset?

And perhaps most importantly, through what procurement process was he engaged?

The ministry says his appointment followed “applicable methods and approval mechanisms governing consultancy services”. That statement, however, raises more questions than it answers.

Which methods?

Which approval mechanisms?

Was the consultancy publicly advertised?

Was there competitive bidding?

Was an exemption obtained from the Ministry of Finance if emergency procurement procedures were invoked?

What was the monetary value of the contract?

How long is the contract?

What are the precise deliverables?

These are not unreasonable questions. They are standard questions that apply to every public institution spending taxpayer money.

Public confidence depends on openness.

Instead of providing these answers, the ministry has offered broad explanations about governance challenges at the NYC and Mr Dempers’ extensive experience. Nobody disputes that experience matters. Nobody denies that institutional reform requires expertise.

But experience alone does not exempt anyone from due process.

The Public Procurement Act exists precisely to prevent the perception that individuals are handpicked behind closed doors. Even where exceptional circumstances justify direct procurement, those circumstances must be clearly documented and explained.

Transparency is not optional. It is a requirement.

Equally troubling is the ministry’s attempt to separate procurement from political appointments while ignoring the practical realities observed by stakeholders.

If Mr Dempers is purely a consultant, then his mandate should be technical and clearly defined. Consultants do not ordinarily become visible actors in internal politics, nor do they become associated with lobbying activities surrounding elections and board compositions.

The ministry may deny those allegations, but the allegations themselves underline why clarity is urgently required.

The issue here is not Mr Dempers personally.

By all accounts, he possesses considerable experience in civil society and development work. His qualifications are not the central issue.

The issue is process.

Governments are judged not only by the people they appoint but by how they appoint them.

Once public institutions begin relying on vague explanations and convenient terminology, suspicion inevitably grows. Citizens begin to wonder whether rules apply equally to everyone or whether some individuals enjoy privileged access to positions and influence.

That erosion of trust damages institutions far more than any single controversy.

Minister Steenkamp and her ministry still have an opportunity to put this matter to rest.

They should publicly disclose the consultancy agreement.

They should explain the procurement process followed.

They should clarify the scope of Mr Dempers’ responsibilities.

They should state whether he has authority to represent the minister or the ministry in any official capacity.

And they should do so without resorting to linguistic acrobatics designed to avoid uncomfortable questions.

Public institutions cannot expect citizens to accept “trust us” as an answer.

Words matter, but facts matter even more.

Whether Mr Dempers is called a consultant, facilitator, advisor or reform specialist, the public has a right to know precisely who he is, who engaged him, what authority he exercises and how public funds are being used.

Anything less would only reinforce the perception that the ministry is attempting to play with words to justify what may be, at best, an unprocedural arrangement and, at worst, something far more serious.

In a constitutional democracy, transparency is not a favour granted to the public.

It is an obligation owed to them.

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