By Gawie Kanjemba
Introduction: The Kitchen and the Keys
In Namibia, we know that if you don’t watch your pot, the meat disappears before it even hits the plate. Right now, we are all smelling the “Oil Feast” that’s coming, but while we are distracted, the Petroleum Bill is quietly moving the control of the kitchen away from the chefs (the Ministry) and into a single, locked office.
We are told it’s for “efficiency,” but they want to change the locks, so the President holds the only set of keys to the kitchen, the stove, and the pot. No one will have the right to go check what’s in the fridge, how we get our food, or who is cooking. We would only be able to stand outside with an empty plate, trusting that this one person (and her team) doesn’t give our food away at the back kitchen window – handing out the best cuts of meat while we wait out front.
We can’t go see how much food there is or how it’s being divided. We are trading our oversight for a promise, forgetting that a kitchen with only one key is a recipe for the most expensive “Fishrot” Namibia has ever seen.
This Petroleum (Exploration and Production) Amendment Bill 2025 is a complete rewiring of how power works in Namibia. For 30 years, our laws were built like a house with a safety fuse box: if one person tried to pull too much power or spend too much money, the “fuse” would trip and the system would stop them.
This Bill bypasses that fuse box entirely. It takes the power cables from the Ministry, the Treasury, and the Environment, and plugs them all directly into a single desk in the State House. By removing the “second signatures” and independent checks, the Bill turns the President from a supervisor into the sole operator of the entire industry. We are trading a system of safe, shared oversight for a system of absolute executive control – where the only thing protecting our billions is the hope that the person at that desk never makes a mistake.
Is this a necessary modernisation to get the oil flowing fast, or a blueprint for elite capture? A trap that risks turning Namibia into a classic resource curse victim. The Bill relies almost entirely on the integrity of individuals rather than the strength of independent institutions.
Understanding the President’s Position
Let’s understand the “why” first. Why do we need to change the 1991 laws at all? What is so wrong with them? Context.
Namibia has just gained independence, the nation was just finding its feet. Namibia was not an oil player then; it was a frontier jurisdiction – high risk. Nobody was really sure there was any oil there. The 1991 Petroleum Act was written as a sales pitch. The law was designed to be friendly, flexible, and inviting. It was designed to lure investors to come and take a gamble.
Fast forward to 2026… the gamble paid off. The oil is there. And now we are trying to manage a gold rush, and we as a country are overwhelmed. The Ministry of Mines and Energy isn’t just doing oil; they are regulating diamonds, uranium, lithium, green hydrogen… the government’s argument is about efficiency and speed.
The government argues that under the current system, the MME is just one among many. They can’t order the Environment Ministry to speed up a permit, or order the Minister of Finance to sign off on a tax agreement. We get bureaucracy: one Ministry says “go” and the other says “wait 6 months for this environmental study.” And all that time, the clock is ticking for the investors. Those investors are burning millions of dollars every day just waiting. The proposed fix is what is called “convening power” – creating a one-stop shop under the ultimate boss.
Furthermore, there is a trustee narrative argument: that because the resource is so big and transformative, it cannot be left to a “mere ministry.” It requires the Head of State to act as the ultimate guardian of this wealth of the people.
This sounds like pragmatic governance. It sounds like taking charge. BUT… when you peel back the layers of how all this is actually achieved, the text of the bill starts to look very conspicuous. The execution is where the controversy lies – and it’s specifically hidden in the legal text and its actual implications, regardless of intention.
While this is presented as a modernisation, it is really a concentration of power. It’s like someone sat down at a computer, opened the Microsoft Word document for the law, hit ‘Control+F’, typed in “Minister,” and replaced it with “President” or “Director General,” across more than 80 distinct sections.
This isn’t just updating language; it’s a structural shift. It takes the “Referee” (the regulator) off the field and moves them into the “Owner’s Box” (the Presidency). In soccer, if the referee is employed directly by the team owner, can the other players trust the game? The necessary distance between the political leadership and the technical regulator is gone.
The Puppet Master Problem and Asset Declaration: Section 3B
The Director General is appointed directly by the President. In this new Bill, there is an explicit bypass of the Public Service Commission (no civil servant oversight) and no parliamentary confirmation hearings.
The government’s defence says the DG will be a “specialised technocrat” for integrity, but Section 3B says the DG serves at the “direction and control” of the President and can be removed as she wishes, for any reason. The Bill also claims the President can delegate powers to a Minister who remains ‘accountable’ to Parliament. This is a classic shell game. If the President makes the actual decision behind the scenes, she is immune from being summoned to Parliament to answer for it. The Minister retains the political liability without the operational authority – a messenger sent to ‘stand in the fire’ at the National Assembly for a decision they didn’t make. It effectively insulates the real power-holder from the people’s representatives.
In law, if you can be fired without cause by the person you report to, you aren’t an independent technocrat – you are a political staffer. If you see a safety issue on a rig, or a deal that is bad for the country, but the person pushing for that deal is the President? The President effectively pays your salary. You can’t really say “no” because she will just fire and replace you. You become a client of the patron. The regulator is effectively captured by the President, by design.
Furthermore, Section 3B requires the Director-General (DG) and Deputy DG to declare their assets to the President to prevent conflicts of interest at the top. These declarations are made to the President, not to the public or an independent Anti-Corruption Commission. If the President or her close advisors are “ill-advised” or involved, an internal declaration offers no protection to the public.
The “Personal Presidential Purse” Risk (Section 63) – Single Point of Failure
If the hiring process makes you nervous, the financial controls will scare you. Section 63 deals with Royalty Remissions and is arguably the most dangerous clause in the entire 2025 Bill.
A tax is what you pay on your profit, but a royalty is the price of the rock (oil) itself – it’s the payment for the actual resource. You pay it regardless of profit, before you pay your workers. It is the foundation of national revenue. Under the 1991 Act, the Minister could grant a waiver, BUT ONLY “in concurrence” with the Minister of Finance. This means in agreement. It’s a two-factor verification… a dual key system.
The 2025 Bill swapped ONE WORD. The new rule says the President can waive royalties after “consultation” with the Minister of Finance.
In law, consultation means I can meet and listen to you, but I am not bound to follow your advice. The Finance Minister goes from being a co-signer to being a suggestion box.
Now, the government’s defense says, ‘Don’t worry, Section 63 says all these royalty waivers must be reported to Parliament by June 30th every year.’ But let’s be real – that is an obituary, not oversight. Reporting that you gave away N$5 Billion after the contract is signed doesn’t bring the money back. It’s like a burglar leaving you a Thank You note on the kitchen table. By then, the TV is gone, the door is wide open, and the note doesn’t help you get your stuff back. By then, the money is gone, the deal is legally binding, and Parliament is just reading a list of what we lost. We need a ‘Two-Key’ system that stops the deal before it happens, not a report that mourns it later. Real accountability means Parliament and the Finance Minister have the power to say ‘No’ before the door is locked, not just ‘Oh dear’ after the pot is empty.
Having the Finance Minister as an integral part of the process is the difference between having a brake pedal and just having a mouth. Under the 1991 Act, the Finance Minister was a co-pilot with her own set of emergency brakes. If the deal was bad or the car was heading for a cliff, she could hit the brakes, and the spending would stop. That is concurrence. The 2025 proposed Bill cuts her brake lines. Now, she is just a passenger in the back seat. She can see the crash coming. She can scream, ‘Watch out!’ or ‘We can’t afford this!’ The President hears her (that is your ‘consultation’), but she just turns up the radio, keeps her foot on the petrol, and drives us right over the edge. The Minister has a voice, but she no longer has a vote. We are building a high-speed engine with no emergency stop.
Furthermore, you cannot save what you never collect. By moving the Royalty Waiver power to the President “after consultation” (Section 63), the Bill creates a loophole where billions can be “remitted” or “deferred” before they ever reach the Welwitschia Fund.
This is terrifying. The Bill effectively designs a national purse that is under the direct control of the President – a personal presidential purse! Royalties could be waived for companies legally, and that money could be directed to an offshore account in Panama, and we will never know. It removes the safety lock from the national vault.
Conflict of Interest: Namibia vs. Norway
If we look at the gold standard of resource management, Norway, they keep three things separate: Policy, Regulation, and Commercial. Namibia is doing the exact opposite. It takes those three separate baskets and smashes them into one office.
Under this 2025 Bill, the President sets the policy, the President controls the regulations through the UPU, and the President oversees the commercial aspects through the UPU and Namcor. If the State needs cash fast (maybe there is an election coming up) and they want “good news,” but the oil rig has a safety problem that requires a shutdown? The President could simply ignore the risk and continue drilling because she needs the win. Safety and environmental standards get sacrificed because there is no independent voice to stop her.
The Ghost of Fishrot and the Briefcase Businessman
This sounds suspiciously familiar… and not in a good way. We can’t talk about discretion and power without the ghost of Fishrot! This Bill basically takes the betrayal of Fishrot, amplifies it, and elevates it to the President.
Fishrot wasn’t just people breaking the law in a dark room; it was the abuse of legal discretion. The Marine Resources Act gave the Minister of Fisheries sole discretion to allocate quotas – sounds so noble! But that discretion was used to handpick shell companies and siphon off millions. The 2025 Bill replicates this exact model of discretion but on a scale 100 times larger.
Then we have the “briefcase businessman” – the rent-seeker. Politically connected individuals who know nothing about oil, but they have a contact in the UPU. They can lobby the ONE PERSON in charge. This Bill means efficiency for the investor is also efficiency for the corruptor.
And look at Section 7 – the liability shield. It limits liability for officials when done in “good faith.” What does that even mean? It’s basically a get-out-of-jail-free card. “Oops, I didn’t mean to lose a billion dollars by giving a bad deal… I acted in good faith.” It makes it incredibly hard to hold the UPU accountable.
The “Global Model” Myth
Let’s play devil’s advocate. The government says, “Look at the UAE, they control oil from the palace, and they are rich.”
This is a misleading and dangerous argument. The UAE is a monarchy; it’s an autocracy. The ruling family is the government. Namibia is a constitutional democracy. We are built on checks and balances! You cannot copy and paste an autocratic model into a democracy and expect it to work.
The lawyers defending this Bill mislead the nation with examples like Angola, Nigeria, and Ghana.
Angola used to have a centralised model where Sonangol did everything – and it was a complete disaster of corruption! President Lourenço is actively dismantling this right now, building the very separation that Namibia wants to tear down. In Nigeria, the NUPRC is an independent agency. Its leadership is confirmed by the Senate, providing a legislative check that Namibia’s Bill lacks. Ghana’s regulator is a parastatal with an independent board and a separate legal identity from the President’s office. Namibia’s Bill does the opposite – it places the Unit inside the President’s office, making it an executive branch rather than a stand-alone referee. Namibia is moving backwards, adopting the mistakes our neighbours are trying to fix.
The Investor Paradox
The government says this is for investors. But there is something investors hate more than bureaucracy: Key Person Risk. If the stability of a multi-billion-dollar investment depends on one person, then the rules can change when the person changes. What happens when the President loses an election, or gets sick, or just changes their mind? The whole system fails. Investors like institutions because they are stable and boring—they survive elections.
When a system is built around one person, investors get nervous. And when they get nervous, they charge a “political risk premium.” They will demand a bigger share of the oil or better tax terms to compensate. So the country gets less money for our oil because the governance is seen as risky! The “efficiency” of an autocracy is actually expensive in the long run.
The Blueprint: How to Empower the Guardian Without Endangering the State
Let’s be clear: I do not think people oppose the UPU in principle, nor do they oppose bringing the industry into the periphery of the Presidency. Given the history of state capture in Namibia and beyond, there is a strong argument that we need the Head of State to act as the ultimate Trustee – a strong, motherly guardian who stands above the syndicates to protect the national wealth.
However, we must address a dangerous misconception. Some legal experts have argued that moving the regulator to the Presidency “removes political influence” and allows for “technocratic independence.”
I respectfully disagree. You do not depoliticise a regulator by moving it into the highest political office in the land; you super-charge it. If the Director General serves at the pleasure of the President, they are not a technocrat; they are a courtier.
To make that role effective and safe (to find that “sweet spot”) we must address the flaws of the 2025 Bill in its current form:
- Professionalise the UPU (The Structural Fix): We support the UPU, but it cannot be a mere desk in the State House. It should be established as a professional, independent parastatal (like CRAN), reporting to the Presidency but governed by an independent board. This gives the President a strong, technical arm to regulate the industry, rather than a political office that makes her vulnerable to every operational mistake.
- The “Meritocracy” Lock (The Personnel Fix): We cannot bypass the Public Service Commission. If we want true “technocrats,” they must be hired through a transparent, competitive process – not handpicked. We need a regulator who is loyal to the Law, not just the Lady. In the end, this is about the people, not the president.
- Preventing the “Petro-President” (The Efficiency Fix): To solve the “speed” problem, the President doesn’t need to sign every permit; she needs a system that moves automatically. Pass a law for “Deemed Approval”—if the regulator doesn’t answer in 90 days (for example), the license is automatically approved. The President has a nation to run, not just an oil rig. By forcing every technical decision to cross her desk, we risk turning the Head of State into a ‘Petro-President’ buried in permit applications. History shows that centralisation often looks like speed, but it inevitably results in the slow, grinding gear-box of autocracy. We need her to lead the Republic, not manage the oil queue.
- The “Glass House” Rule (The Oversight Fix): Reporting once a year is history, not oversight. The Director General should appear before a Parliamentary Standing Committee more frequently. If the kitchen is locked, we at least need a live video feed of what is cooking… at the very least.
- Separate the Player and Referee (The Namcor Fix): We must strictly separate the Player (Namcor) from the Referee (UPU). Currently, the UPU is a “Unit” inside the Presidency, meaning it has no separate legal standing from the State. This creates a conflict: The President appoints the UPU boss and ultimately controls Namcor. The UPU must be a distinct legal entity (a parastatal) so that it has the legal independence to penalize Namcor when the State breaks its own rules.
- Restore the “Two-Key” Safety (The Money Fix): A Guardian protects the wealth; she doesn’t spend it alone. Change Section 63 back to “In Concurrence.” The Finance Minister must co-sign any royalty waiver. This protects the President from being accused of favouritism and ensures the Treasury is always watching the pot.
- Light Up the Dark Corners (The Transparency Fix): If the President is to be the “Mother” of the industry, she needs to know exactly who is eating at the table. We need to mandate a Public Register of Beneficial Ownership. In the oil game, corruption doesn’t walk through the front door; it hides in the layers. It hides in “shell companies”. This is the playground of the “Access Merchant.” They use these layers to hide the fact that the real owner of a license is a politician’s cousin, a sanctioned oligarch, or a person with a conflict of interest. By enforcing a public register, we strip away the corporate veil.
Currently, our legal framework allows guests to sit at the national banquet wearing masks. We demand to know the name of the actual human being who ends up with the money – the person who will buy the Ferrari, not the lawyer who signed the documents. Transparency is the only disinfectant strong enough to keep the kitchen clean.
Conclusion: Designing for the Worst vs. The Mother We Deserve
We are told that delaying the Bill delays the Final Investment Decision (FID) on projects like Venus. This is “Legislative Blackmail.” Investors don’t just want fast decisions; they want stable ones. If a license is granted by a unit with no checks and balances, that license is vulnerable to being overturned by the High Court under Article 18 (Administrative Justice). Passing a flawed Bill actually increases legal uncertainty. Real investor confidence comes from a “Two-Key” system where the rules can’t be changed by the whim of one office.
I would like to believe the President has good intentions. I honestly believe they want to develop the country. But as legal scholars, we cannot write laws for good leaders; we have to write laws that can survive bad successors. That is the ultimate test. A law has to work even if the person in charge is the worst possible person for the job. We have to design the system to be failure-resistant.
If her team can find that ‘sweet spot’ (a system that infuses her into the process as a guardian without throwing away the checks and balances), then she would be the mother we deserve, the mother we never had, and the mother that we want.
A President’s legacy isn’t measured by the power she amasses, but by the institutions she leaves standing long after she is gone. This is not about one person; it’s about the Republic. In a democracy, the kitchen belongs to the people, and the President is the trustee, not the owner. We aren’t looking for a monarch; we are looking for a guardian.
Laws CANNOT… and MUST NOT… be designed for the good intentions of a saint. They must be built to withstand the worst intentions of a successor. We don’t write laws for the person we trust; we write them for the one we don’t.
The oil is in the ground… but the devil is in the details.
PROFILE: Gawie Kanjemba is a Lawyer and Energy Specialist with a B.Juris and LLB from the University of Namibia. He holds an MA/MSc in International Energy from Sciences Po Paris, with academic exchanges at Stanford and Peking University, and is currently a candidate for an Advanced Diploma at ETH Zürich. Gawie has worked with various global energy organisations and currently serves as the Climate Change Economic Advisor for Namibia under the NDC Partnership.
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