By Christopher Jefferson Jensen
In the long arc of history, there are moments when small nations stand at the nexus of global conflict, where decisions made within their borders shape the destinies of distant powers. Today, Namibia—rich in natural resources and positioned strategically along the Atlantic coast—stands at such a juncture. As the United States and China clash over trade, influence, and military primacy, Africa in general, and Namibia in particular, has become an unlikely yet critical theater in this new Cold War. Far more than a quiet African republic, Namibia holds in its soil the uranium that fuels nuclear futures, in its ports the gateways to Southern Africa’s economy, and in its networks the conduits of global intelligence. Increasingly, however, its sovereignty is being eroded—not by force, but by debt, dependency, and surveillance. China’s relentless march through Namibia’s industries, ports, and telecommunications signals not mere partnership, but quiet domination. America’s absence here is not neutrality—it is abdication. This essay explores Namibia’s entanglement in the US-China contest, from its uranium mines to its shifting alliances, and argues that America’s strategic interests—and moral obligations—demand renewed engagement in this pivotal nation.
Namibia’s Economic/Infrastructure Exposure, Debt Diplomacy & The Walvis Bay
Namibia’s economy is driven by its vast wealth in natural resources. Uranium, diamonds, beef, and fish comprise the bulk of its exports, much of which flow eastward to China. Beijing, as Namibia’s largest trading partner, wields outsized influence over Windhoek’s economic stability. However, this dependency binds Namibia’s fate to China’s economic whims, particularly as the US-China trade war disrupts global demand and supply chains. Any reduction in Chinese consumption of Namibian commodities—whether caused by tariffs, internal slowdowns, or shifting Chinese policies—directly undermines Namibia’s revenue streams. The fragile dependence leaves Namibia vulnerable to foreign pressures and unable to leverage independent economic strategies.
The US, meanwhile, has allowed its own commercial ties to Namibia to languish. Washington’s failure to offer viable alternative markets or investments leaves Namibia increasingly isolated from Western economies, driving it deeper into China’s embrace. Without deliberate American re-engagement, Namibia risks becoming a vassal state in China’s broader economic empire. China’s presence in Namibia extends beyond trade. It is etched into the concrete of Namibia’s highways, the scaffolding of its public buildings, and the towering cranes of Walvis Bay’s port. Under the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), Chinese banks and construction firms have financed and built Namibia’s critical infrastructure.
The loans attached to Chinese projects are often opaque and come with conditions that can compromise Namibia’s financial sovereignty. As debt accumulates, Beijing gains leverage, threatening to claim stakes in key national assets if repayment falters. This is the quiet strategy of modern imperialism: conquest not by armies, but by credit. For America, the pattern is clear. Inaction leaves space for Beijing to draw Namibia further into its sphere. Strategic investments by the US, offering fair terms and transparent partnerships, could restore balance. Instead, China writes the blueprints for Namibia’s future while Washington remains absent. Walvis Bay is more than a port; it is a lifeline for landlocked neighbors and a critical node in Southern Africa’s trade network. Positioned along the Atlantic’s vital maritime routes, Walvis Bay opens the heart of the continent to global markets. It is also, increasingly, a geopolitical prize.
China’s investments in upgrading Walvis Bay’s container terminal have expanded its capacity and efficiency, but with them come dual-use concerns. The same infrastructure that facilitates commerce could be leveraged for naval operations, military logistics, or intelligence gathering. Were Beijing to militarize Walvis Bay, it would shift the balance of maritime power in the South Atlantic and challenge US freedom-of-navigation interests. Washington’s response thus far has been tepid, limited to occasional naval cooperation and diplomatic overtures. Yet, failure to ensure open access and prevent military exploitation of Walvis Bay risks ceding a strategic corridor to authoritarian control. Namibia’s port, if left unchecked, may soon fly not just the flags of commerce, but the banners of foreign militaries.
America’s Moral Obligation and Strategic Interest in Namibia
There is something quietly revolting in watching a young nation like Namibia, forged from the fires of colonialism and struggle, drift into the orbit of powers who offer not liberty, but subtle servitude. China, Russia, and their BRICS allies cloak themselves in the language of partnership—but beneath their glittering infrastructure projects and easy credit lies something darker: the slow erosion of sovereignty, the tightening of strategic chains.
Namibia’s uranium, its ports, its digital networks—each has become a brick in the edifice of authoritarian expansion. Chinese corporations extract Namibia’s wealth to fuel Beijing’s ambitions. Huawei wires its data to distant servers. Military officers, trained abroad, return home bearing doctrines alien to freedom. And yet, what is most damning is not what these regimes have offered—but what America has neglected. For too long, Washington has treated Africa as an afterthought, a distant stage on which others perform. While Beijing’s checkbooks and weapons write Namibia’s future, America has lagged behind, offering rhetoric without commitment. But Namibia matters. It holds the keys to minerals, ports, and alliances that will shape the balance of power in the 21st century. If America continues to cede ground here, it cedes its standing as the defender of liberty, prosperity, and peace—not just in Africa, but everywhere.
Over the next thirty-six months, China will face another presidential transition and may escalate its military posture toward Taiwan. In light of this, I believe that the Department of Energy (DOE) must use this timeframe to move past corporate middlemen and lease Namibia’s uranium fields directly. There is historical precedent for this at a domestic level with the DOE directly leasing uranium mines through its Uranium Leasing Program (ULP), managed by the Office of Legacy Management. By cutting out middlemen and empowering the Department of Energy, we strip away the risk of private companies falling to foreign acquisition. We deny China the backdoor it seeks into Africa’s minerals. America’s promise must be direct and unyielding—never for sale, and never compromised by silent, invisible hands.
In return, we shall build desalination plants and great underground aqueducts—reviving parched farms, as Libya once did with their Great Man-Made River project (GMMR) ushered in by Muammar Gaddafi. The GMMR transports Sahara aquifer water to Libya’s arid communities for domestic, industrial, and agricultural use. While Namibia’s regional aquifers are drying up, partly due to climate change, it could still manage a major irrigation project using desalination plants stationed along Namibia’s long coastline, which could draw salt from the sea and feed lifelines to the barren interior by man-made routes. Communities outside Windhoek and Walvis Bay, long strangled by drought, will see green fields rise again. Farming villages will endure, water shortages will fall, and a new prosperity will bloom. Desalination plants have proven to be critical to other arid nations, and by supporting the construction of several facilities, the US could help resolve the freshwater crisis Namibia is facing in the wake of dried-up aquifers, which has only worsened in the wake of climate change.
Should these efforts prosper, America can begin to plan out a timeline for mingling our naval capabilities with those of Namibia. The US military could begin to offer joint naval drills with Namibian forces around Walvis Bay, exchanging discounted older vessels and free U.S. Navy training for greater port access. Specifically, the United States could transfer Oliver Hazard Perry-class guided missile frigates, as we have with other regional allies like Taiwan. These frigates, entrusted to Namibian hands, could guard Walvis Bay when American ships are absent—ensuring the security of both nations and strengthening a military friendship born not of conquest, but of common cause. While these ideas are merely hypothetical for now, I firmly believe that policies such as these, which bond our militaries together while uplifting Namibia’s agriculture and American mining interests, could be the start to outcompete Chinese influence and potential censorship in the region within several years.
International engagement is not charity; it is strategy. When America invests in Namibia’s ports, offers transparent trade, supports democratic institutions, and provides fair military cooperation, we do not merely uplift Namibia. We fortify ourselves. Namibia’s people deserve better than to be pawns in Beijing’s game or proxies in Moscow’s ambitions. America has both the moral obligation and strategic imperative to offer an alternative. It is time to return to Africa, not with condescension, but conviction. Increased American investment, expanded military cooperation, robust diplomatic presence—these are not optional. They are essential. Namibia stands at the crossroads. The question is whether Washington will meet her there.