The Namibian government must understand this once and for all: jobs are not political slogans to be thrown around at convenience, they are a matter of national survival. Every mixed message, every contradictory pronouncement, and every vague promise chips away at public confidence and deepens the despair of thousands of unemployed Namibians.
When the Office of the Prime Minister announced recently that all unadvertised government positions would be frozen, many citizens reluctantly accepted it as part of much-needed fiscal discipline. The assumption was simple: government is tightening its belt to control the ballooning public wage bill, prioritising efficiency and redirecting scarce resources toward stimulating the private sector. That sounded reasonable, until, barely a week later, the same government announced new recruitment for the Namibia Defence Force (NDF).
What exactly is going on? Is there a freeze or not? Is this government creating jobs or cutting them? The contradictory messaging is not only confusing, it’s careless, and it reveals a worrying lack of coordination within the administration.
The public has every right to demand clarity. After all, this is the same government that has repeatedly pledged to create 500 000 jobs under the Swapo Party manifesto. How does that promise square with a job freeze across the public service? How does one announce austerity on Monday and expansion on Friday? The inconsistency is glaring, and it sends a damaging signal: that policy is being made on impulse rather than through coherent strategy.
This kind of flip-flopping is not a trivial public-relations issue. It strikes at the core of trust between government and citizens. When people cannot rely on their leaders’ words, when every statement is reversed a week later, it creates cynicism and fatigue among those already living on the margins. Namibia’s unemployment crisis is not abstract, it is lived daily in homes where parents cannot feed their children, where graduates roam the streets with degrees but no opportunities, and where the promise of “Vision 2030” feels increasingly hollow.
Let us be clear: no one disputes the importance of a strong and professional defence force. National security is non-negotiable. But when the government pleads poverty to justify freezing civil-service posts, only to suddenly find the money for military recruitment, it reeks of selective logic, and selective compassion. It tells the ordinary Namibian that job creation is political, not principled. It tells the youth that unless they wear a uniform, there may be no place for them in the state’s plans.
This is dangerous. It breeds resentment and mistrust at a time when the social fabric is already stretched thin. If the decision to recruit for the NDF is based on national-security considerations, the government must explain that openly. It must say why this exception exists, how many posts are being filled, and what impact this has on the wage bill and broader employment strategy. Silence and contradiction only fuel speculation, and speculation breeds anger.
Moreover, the 500 000-job promise cannot remain a decorative number in party manifestos and speeches. Citizens deserve to know how this target will be achieved, sector by sector. Will it be through industrialisation? Through investment in renewable energy? Through the expansion of tourism, agriculture, and technology? Or is the strategy simply to shuffle people around within the public service to inflate employment statistics? The time for vague rhetoric has passed.
The government must produce a clear, comprehensive national employment roadmap, one that details timelines, responsible ministries, funding sources, and measurable indicators. The private sector, labour unions, and civil society should all be part of this process. Without such transparency, talk of job creation remains just that, talk.
Freezing unadvertised positions could have been a turning point. Done properly, it might have redirected resources toward productive investment in the real economy. It could have forced ministries to cut bureaucratic fat and fund projects that create value-factories, digital hubs, small-business incubators, and agricultural enterprises. Instead, the move now looks haphazard and politically driven. A freeze that excludes one sector while binding all others only magnifies perceptions of bias and confusion.
This confusion also carries broader consequences. It weakens investor confidence. It tells the business community that government policy can change without warning, making it difficult to plan or invest. It tells development partners that Namibia’s fiscal house is not in order. And it tells citizens that the leadership is out of touch with the daily reality of unemployment, hunger, and hopelessness.
The Windhoek Observer therefore calls on the government to pause, reflect, and reset. It is time to end the scattergun approach to employment policy. It is time to stop announcing politically convenient job drives that are not anchored in fiscal and developmental logic. If Namibia is serious about tackling unemployment, it must design and execute an integrated national strategy, one that combines public-sector reform, private-sector growth, entrepreneurship funding, and skills development.
There is also an urgent need for honesty. If the economy cannot support the promise of 500 000 new jobs, government must say so. Namibians can handle the truth, but they cannot handle being misled. Pretending that a few thousand new recruits in one sector amount to job creation insults the intelligence of the electorate.
It is entirely possible for government to balance fiscal discipline with employment creation. But that requires coherence, communication, and courage. It requires ministers to speak with one voice, guided by one plan. It requires the Prime Minister’s Office, the Ministry of Finance, and the Ministry of Labour to coordinate, not contradict, each other.
Mixed signals kill confidence. And without confidence, no policy can take root.
Namibia’s young people are watching closely. They want leadership that is decisive, consistent, and transparent. They want hope grounded in reality, not confusion disguised as progress. Government must remember that credibility is its most valuable currency, and right now, it is spending it recklessly.
On an issue as urgent and contentious as jobs, clarity is not optional. It is the difference between order and chaos, between faith and frustration. The time for double-speak is over. Namibia deserves a government that says what it means, means what it says, and acts on what it promises. Anything less is not leadership, it’s confusion dressed as governance.
