What happened? - The truth is: Nothing happened
Hope turned into disappointment
Many people could be asking: “What happened?” How did Swapo manage to claw back the ground it lost so dramatically in 2020?
How did the same opposition parties that once promised renewal, disruption and electoral realignment suddenly find themselves flat-footed, fragmented and fading?
The truth is simple, almost anticlimactic: nothing actually happened.
Nothing new was built. Nothing was consolidated. Nothing was sustained. The opposition’s moment came – and vanished – not because Swapo reinvented itself, but because the challengers failed to entrench the gains they made when public frustration was at its highest. And in politics, momentum wasted is momentum lost.
In 2020, IPC rode a wave of urban frustration and anti-establishment anger to deliver some of the most dramatic electoral upsets since independence.
The party, barely months old, swept through Erongo and captured Swakopmund, Walvis Bay Urban, Walvis Bay Rural and Arandis.
It even pushed into Windhoek East, where it won the constituency outright, signalling the scale of the moment and the depth of disillusionment with traditional politics.
But instead of turning those wins into durable political infrastructure – branches, manifestos, local governance reforms, policy credibility – IPC became consumed by internal disputes, councillor recalls, factionalism and chronic public silence.
The hope that it once symbolised slowly turned into disappointment. By 2024, what had been framed as a national movement began to look more like a momentary uprising.
LPM’s decline: A meteor, not a sunrise
LPM entered the political space with a moral vocabulary and clarity of purpose that resonated among young people and marginalised communities. Its 2020 victories in //Kharas and Hardap marked the first time Swapo ever ceded control of two entire regions.
But governance proved heavier than rhetoric. Internal battles, public fallouts, recalls, resignations, and inconsistent messaging chipped away at the party’s credibility. Councils became battlegrounds. Constituencies became courtrooms – the promise of a sharp, principled alternative weakened under the strain of infighting.
Again, this was not because Swapo did anything extraordinary, but because the alternative failed to hold.
Holding on tight
Perhaps the strangest twist in this election cycle is the Popular Democratic Movement (PDM). After losing senior figures, councillors, activists and much of its public visibility, many expected the party to collapse entirely.
Its parliamentary benches thinned, its internal tensions widened and the emergence of newer, louder opposition voices seemed to push it to the margins.
Yet PDM remained standing. It did not grow, but it did not die either. In a political landscape defined by volatility, recalls and implosions, PDM’s endurance speaks to something the newer parties lack: institutional memory. It is an organisation that has been battered, fragmented, written off – and yet it always manages to remain on the field. Whether this reflects strategy or merely survival instinct is debatable, but its persistence highlights the value of structures built over decades rather than months.
Swapo's rebound: A beneficiary of opposition drift
Swapo’s regained ground does not reflect a dramatic shift in policy, ideology or governance performance. The ruling party did not reinvent itself between 2020 and 2025.
Its internal tensions, factional strains and economic challenges remained visible. But voters returned, partly because disillusioned supporters stayed home, and low turnout always benefits the incumbent. The alternatives fought each other more than they confronted the ruling party.
The memory of the 2020 protest vote faded, especially as post-Covid fatigue set in.
Failures in opposition-run councils undermined their claim to credibility. When the choice became an imperfect continuity versus an unstable alternative, many voters defaulted to familiarity.
The opposition’s failure can be summarised in one sentence: they won seats, not systems. Winning an election is one thing; building a political machine is another.
IPC, LPM and even PDM struggled with weak or nonexistent constituency structures, inconsistent candidate vetting, leadership centralisation, disciplinary chaos, unclear economic plans and shifting public messages. Councillor recalls often appearing personal rather than principled.
Meanwhile, Swapo’s machinery – despite its flaws – remained intact, disciplined and nationwide. Districts, branches, sections, youth and women’s wings and mobilisation structures continued working at full capacity. Opponents mistook momentum for machinery.
Nothing happened – and that was enough
The tragedy of the Namibian opposition is that their biggest enemy was not Swapo, not the state nor the system, but the vacuum they allowed to form after 2020.
Nothing new was built.
Nothing sustainable was created. Nothing meaningful was communicated. Nothing disciplined was maintained.
Nothing electorally potent replaced the energy of that moment. The electorate responded accordingly.
If 2020 was the wake-up call, 2025 is the reminder that you do not win elections simply because the ruling party is vulnerable. You win because you have something credible, disciplined and durable to offer.
Swapo benefitted not from strength but from the opposition’s stagnation.
And unless the opposition learns to replace moments with movements, the same question will be asked again in five years: “What happened?” And the same answer will apply: nothing happened.
How did the same opposition parties that once promised renewal, disruption and electoral realignment suddenly find themselves flat-footed, fragmented and fading?
The truth is simple, almost anticlimactic: nothing actually happened.
Nothing new was built. Nothing was consolidated. Nothing was sustained. The opposition’s moment came – and vanished – not because Swapo reinvented itself, but because the challengers failed to entrench the gains they made when public frustration was at its highest. And in politics, momentum wasted is momentum lost.
In 2020, IPC rode a wave of urban frustration and anti-establishment anger to deliver some of the most dramatic electoral upsets since independence.
The party, barely months old, swept through Erongo and captured Swakopmund, Walvis Bay Urban, Walvis Bay Rural and Arandis.
It even pushed into Windhoek East, where it won the constituency outright, signalling the scale of the moment and the depth of disillusionment with traditional politics.
But instead of turning those wins into durable political infrastructure – branches, manifestos, local governance reforms, policy credibility – IPC became consumed by internal disputes, councillor recalls, factionalism and chronic public silence.
The hope that it once symbolised slowly turned into disappointment. By 2024, what had been framed as a national movement began to look more like a momentary uprising.
LPM’s decline: A meteor, not a sunrise
LPM entered the political space with a moral vocabulary and clarity of purpose that resonated among young people and marginalised communities. Its 2020 victories in //Kharas and Hardap marked the first time Swapo ever ceded control of two entire regions.
But governance proved heavier than rhetoric. Internal battles, public fallouts, recalls, resignations, and inconsistent messaging chipped away at the party’s credibility. Councils became battlegrounds. Constituencies became courtrooms – the promise of a sharp, principled alternative weakened under the strain of infighting.
Again, this was not because Swapo did anything extraordinary, but because the alternative failed to hold.
Holding on tight
Perhaps the strangest twist in this election cycle is the Popular Democratic Movement (PDM). After losing senior figures, councillors, activists and much of its public visibility, many expected the party to collapse entirely.
Its parliamentary benches thinned, its internal tensions widened and the emergence of newer, louder opposition voices seemed to push it to the margins.
Yet PDM remained standing. It did not grow, but it did not die either. In a political landscape defined by volatility, recalls and implosions, PDM’s endurance speaks to something the newer parties lack: institutional memory. It is an organisation that has been battered, fragmented, written off – and yet it always manages to remain on the field. Whether this reflects strategy or merely survival instinct is debatable, but its persistence highlights the value of structures built over decades rather than months.
Swapo's rebound: A beneficiary of opposition drift
Swapo’s regained ground does not reflect a dramatic shift in policy, ideology or governance performance. The ruling party did not reinvent itself between 2020 and 2025.
Its internal tensions, factional strains and economic challenges remained visible. But voters returned, partly because disillusioned supporters stayed home, and low turnout always benefits the incumbent. The alternatives fought each other more than they confronted the ruling party.
The memory of the 2020 protest vote faded, especially as post-Covid fatigue set in.
Failures in opposition-run councils undermined their claim to credibility. When the choice became an imperfect continuity versus an unstable alternative, many voters defaulted to familiarity.
The opposition’s failure can be summarised in one sentence: they won seats, not systems. Winning an election is one thing; building a political machine is another.
IPC, LPM and even PDM struggled with weak or nonexistent constituency structures, inconsistent candidate vetting, leadership centralisation, disciplinary chaos, unclear economic plans and shifting public messages. Councillor recalls often appearing personal rather than principled.
Meanwhile, Swapo’s machinery – despite its flaws – remained intact, disciplined and nationwide. Districts, branches, sections, youth and women’s wings and mobilisation structures continued working at full capacity. Opponents mistook momentum for machinery.
Nothing happened – and that was enough
The tragedy of the Namibian opposition is that their biggest enemy was not Swapo, not the state nor the system, but the vacuum they allowed to form after 2020.
Nothing new was built.
Nothing sustainable was created. Nothing meaningful was communicated. Nothing disciplined was maintained.
Nothing electorally potent replaced the energy of that moment. The electorate responded accordingly.
If 2020 was the wake-up call, 2025 is the reminder that you do not win elections simply because the ruling party is vulnerable. You win because you have something credible, disciplined and durable to offer.
Swapo benefitted not from strength but from the opposition’s stagnation.
And unless the opposition learns to replace moments with movements, the same question will be asked again in five years: “What happened?” And the same answer will apply: nothing happened.
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