When moral injury is invisible
Only recently did I come to understand that I had been living with moral injury, the deep psychological distress that arises when one’s values are violated, not necessarily by personal wrongdoing, but by systems, outcomes, and repeated exposure to injustice. Unlike trauma, moral injury is quieter. It disguises itself as exhaustion, cynicism and eventually withdrawal.
In 2025, I ran for public office as an independent candidate in Okahandja. One of my slogans was “Okahandja’s Last Hope.” At the time, I believed it reflected urgency and commitment. In hindsight, it reflected something else entirely: surrender disguised as responsibility.
I believed that if I did not carry the burden, no one else would. And that belief nearly broke me.
When the election results came and I did not succeed, I felt an overwhelming sense of futility. It seemed pointless to continue engaging in social problems when, election after election, people appeared to vote against their own long-term interests. I interpreted the outcome not simply as political loss, but as proof that trying to help was naïve.
That was the injury speaking. What changed my trajectory was not a sudden political awakening, but an unexpected process of reflection supported through extended conversations with ChatGPT. What emerged was a difficult but liberating realization: passion does not mean total responsibility.
I had confused commitment with self-erasure. I had internalised the idea that if systems fail, it is because individuals like me did not sacrifice enough. Through reflection, I began to see that meaningful contribution does not require carrying the entire moral weight of society. One can act, contribute, and remain engaged without believing that everything depends on them alone.
This insight reframed my relationship with politics entirely. I am not withdrawing from public life. I am repositioning within it. What became clear is that elections do not fail only because of political parties. They fail because of information gaps. Many citizens are never adequately taught how governance systems function, how accountability works, or how their vote translates into policy outcomes. Without civic and voter education, participation becomes symbolic rather than informed.
Seen from this angle, my responsibility did not end with electoral defeat, it simply changed form.
Rather than standing in front of society as a supposed savior, I now see my role as standing among citizens: contributing to civic education, democratic literacy, and long-term empowerment. This approach distributes responsibility where it belongs across institutions, communities, and informed individuals instead of concentrating it in a single person.
Technology played a critical role in this transition. Not by giving answers, but by creating space for structured self-examination. When used thoughtfully, digital tools can help individuals process failure, reframe identity, and regain direction without shame. In societies where mental health support and reflective spaces are limited, this matters deeply.
My hope in sharing this is twofold. First, to acknowledge that many people engaged in activism, politics, or social work may be carrying moral injury without realizing it mistaking burnout for weakness or disengagement for apathy.
Second, to encourage openness toward responsible uses of technology as tools for reflection, learning, and civic renewal. Technology will not replace human responsibility, but it can help us carry it more wisely.
I still believe in democratic participation. I still believe in justice. What I no longer believe is that hope must come at the cost of one’s humanity.
Sometimes, healing does not mean stepping away. It means stepping back and then stepping forward differently.
Finally, this reflection is also an invitation. There is a clear and urgent need for independent, transparent, and non-partisan civic and voter education that reaches people in all corners of our society. I have seen credible evidence that the body mandated to provide this education has, over time, failed to adequately inform citizens of their rights and the mechanics of governance a failure that ultimately serves the interests of those already in power.
If there are individuals, organisations, foundations, or partners willing to support a fair and inclusive civic education initiative one that equips people to understand their vote, their rights, and their role in a democracy. I am available and ready to contribute to that work.
I am not seeking public office at this stage. My focus is not on holding power, but on ensuring that those who grant power the citizens are empowered to do so consciously, responsibly, and without manipulation.
I still believe in democratic participation. I still believe in justice. What I no longer believe is that hope must come at the cost of one’s humanity.
