Namibia celebrates 26 August as Heroes’ Day. It recalls the first military encounter between the South African army and members of the South West Africa People’s Organisation (Swapo), Namibia’s liberation movement, in 1966. Initially a German colony (1884-1915), the country was then administered by South Africa, which refused to give up the occupation.
Since independence in 1990, the heroic Swapo liberation narrative has also been inscribed in Heroes’ Acre, a monument built by North Korea.
The institutionalised public commemoration in Namibia today – rightly – recalls the sacrifices of those who were willing to fight for self determination. At the same time, it glosses over the toxic impact of the way warfare was conducted. Those involved in the struggle for independence were far from innocent in the execution of the military resistance. Yet their violations of human rights were never addressed.
This ambiguity was visible in 2025 in a public controversy when tribute poured out to the late Solomon Hawala, whose combat name was Jesus. He was a leading fighter in Swapo’s military wing, known as PLAN.
He also had a bloody track record of eliminating fellow Namibians in exile.
The celebration of Hawala finally moved me to resign as a member of Swapo, an organisation I joined when I was 24 years old. I set out my reasons in an interview accessible on YouTube.
Since the late 1970s I have specialised as an academic in Namibian history and politics. Since the early 1990s I have engaged with the traumatic side of so-called liberation. More recently I wrote a book chapter giving voice to the victims.
Patriotic history versus struggle realities
The history of liberation movements displays their authoritarian nature. Their camps in southern Africa forged bonds of comradeship. For Mozambique’s Frelimo, the African National Congress, Swapo, the People’s Movement for the Liberation of Angola and Zimbabwe African People’s Union, Tanzania’s Kongwa camp in the 1960s provided a first operational base in preparation for the armed struggle abroad.
The movements then started to arrange for their own bases in host countries.
In the early to mid 1970s Swapo established the Old Farm outside Lusaka in Zambia. This was followed by Nyango. Finally, a Health and Education Centre was established in Angola’s Kwanza Zul.
The administration and management required strict discipline and reinforced repressive hierarchies.
There were several times in Swapo’s exile history when internal critics were silenced. Testimonies of the early stages in the late 1960s and early to mid 1970s offer insights by those persecuted. These included the former Swapo secretary for information Andreas Shipanga, the first generation Swapo member Hans Beukes, the former Swapo Youth League activist Keshii Nathanael and one of the first PLAN cadres, Samson Ndeikwila.
Speaking out and thereby disclosing the crimes, the Namibian chaplain in exile Salatiel Ailonga and his wife Anita were forced to seek refuge elsewhere.
Some scholars have drawn attention to the plight of the dissidents. The first waves of repression triggered two of those academics in solidarity with the liberation struggles to ask questions about liberation and democracy.
These earlier events were only a prelude to the “spy drama” in the 1980s. This was a chapter of horrendous crimes, mainly committed by a group of PLAN members at the camp in Lubango in southern Angola.
Over 1,000 Swapo members were incarcerated in dungeons. Their fate was most likely triggered by setbacks in the border war in southern Angola between the South African army and PLAN units backed by Cuban forces. In 1978, the South African army had attacked a Swapo camp at Cassinga in Angola, killing hundreds of women and children.
Members of the higher ranking Swapo military, the so-called securocrats, blamed spies for the disaster and other military setbacks. They tortured the accused to extract confessions and to implicate others. With no proof of guilt, people were often executed, disappeared or died of neglect in the dungeons. Numbers of the missing with no traces were estimated by the surviving victims at around 2,000.
Victims were, in the main, rank and file Swapo members. That South African spies had most likely penetrated the higher echelons of the movement was ignored.
Some of the victims, like Oiva Angula, have published accounts of their suffering.
Those who pointed out the unfolding terror were dismissed by the international solidarity movement as anti-Swapo propaganda. This included the early revelations by Siegfried Groth, a pastor for the refugees in Zambia. He was blamed for besmirching the image of the freedom fighters.
Glorification of the perpetrators
With the passing on of the first generation of struggle stalwarts, the number of posthumously celebrated heroes increased. Many of the veterans were put to rest in full honour by state funerals.
Hawala passed away aged 89 on 11 August 2025. Until his retirement in 2006 he had been the chief of the defence force.
President Netumbo Nandi-Ndaitwah recognised his distinguished military service, steadfast leadership and unwavering dedication to the cause of Namibia’s liberation and nation-building. His legacy remains a symbol of courage, patriotism, and commitment to the ideals of freedom and independence.
This triggered a public debate. It brought back memories of heinous crimes in which he played a crucial role. Named the “Butcher of Lubango” by those who survived the ordeal, he was the personification of a brutal and ruthless system targeting those accused of spying and those who dissented with the leadership.
In his defence, a former Swapo MP pointed out that he was merely acting on Swapo’s instructions. People, he argued, “were killed with the knowledge of senior Swapo leaders”, and some of these were already buried at Heroes’ Acre.
Unheroic heroism
The survivors of the dungeons who are still alive were in shock over celebrating Hawala. But as they also pointed out, he personified a system.
I argued along similar lines when I was interviewed about my resignation from Swapo after more than 50 years as a member. Before the announcement that Hawala would get a state funeral I had urged in an article that his death should be an opportunity to finally address the plight of his victims. Instead the blinkers remained.
This motivated my letter of resignation: I had joined Swapo for believing in its slogan “Solidarity, Freedom, Justice”. Out of loyalty to these values and as a matter of – albeit belated – restoration of moral integrity, I had no choice but to depart.
Praising the perpetrators as heroes adds insult to injury to their surviving victims. Such denialism and amnesia lies like a lead cloak over truth and reconciliation. It shows the limits to liberation when Heroes’ Day is celebrated.
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