Once again, Namibia finds itself staring into a familiar abyss, an abyss carved by misjudged investments, blurred oversight, and a dangerous institutional culture of “explanations without consequences”. The revelation that the Government Institutions Pension Fund (GIPF) has impaired a staggering N$815 million through its exposure to the South African-based Signal Structured Finance Fund (SSFF) is not just another line item in an audit report. It is a reminder of past failures, a warning of present vulnerabilities, and a test of our collective commitment to accountability.
For many Namibians, particularly pensioners whose livelihoods depend on the prudent stewardship of their savings, this moment feels painfully familiar. As the saying goes, it’s déjà vu all over again.
The echoes of the Development Capital Portfolio (DCP) debacle still linger in national memory. Between 1994 and 2004, GIPF disbursed more than N$600 million in loans with the expectation of handsome returns. Instead, the country watched as only N$380 million was recovered, countless companies collapsed, and investigations fizzled into nothingness. No one was held to account. No one repaid what was lost. And pensioners were told, much like they are being told today, that the fund remained financially sound and that there was no need to worry.
But soundness is not the point. Accountability is.
When GIPF chief executive Martin Inkumbi confirmed that the SSFF impairment contributes to a N$922.2 million total impairment across the 2025 portfolio, the fund was quick to emphasise that the loss remains below its materiality threshold and does not threaten its financial stability. In accounting terms, that may be correct. But in ethical terms, it is profoundly insufficient.
A loss of nearly a billion dollars, impaired or otherwise, is not something that can be swept aside with technical jargon. It is not a matter that can be pacified with calm assurances about balance sheets. It is a direct hit to the trust that public servants, teachers, nurses, soldiers, cleaners, and retirees place in an institution responsible for safeguarding their future.
Former finance minister Calle Schlettwein is right: calling the loss “non-material” does nothing to address the underlying failure. It does nothing to illuminate what went wrong, who approved the investment, what due diligence was performed, and whether risks, such as the very tax claim now crippling the investment, were identified or wilfully ignored.
The fact that the impairment stems from a claim by the South African Revenue Service (SARS) should not distract us. Whether the instability came from Johannesburg, Cape Town, or Windhoek is irrelevant. What matters is that GIPF chose to place pensioners’ money into the fund. What matters is that GIPF had a responsibility to anticipate and evaluate such risks. And what matters most is that GIPF must answer, in full, for how this loss came to be.
The public has heard this tune before. The DCP saga showed us what happens when oversight collapses, when investment decisions are driven by optimism instead of evidence, and when institutional accountability becomes a polite suggestion rather than a binding obligation. At the time, promises were made, promises of improved governance, rigorous due diligence, stricter investment policies, and greater transparency.
Were those lessons learnt? Or were they quietly archived as soon as public outrage subsided?
If GIPF is confident that its governance systems are strong, then it should have no difficulty opening its books, publishing its due-diligence reports, and explaining the roles played by all internal committees and external advisers. Not selectively. Not strategically. Fully.
The pensioners whose contributions built GIPF are not a secondary stakeholder. They are the primary owners of this institution. They deserve a comprehensive and unembellished account of what transpired.
Moreover, there must be consequences, real, tangible consequences, if negligence or misconduct is uncovered. If someone failed in their fiduciary duty, they must be disciplined. If someone ignored warnings, they must answer for it. If someone benefitted while the fund lost, they must be held liable.
Namibia must abandon the national habit of allowing scandals to dissipate into dust simply because time has passed or because “the institution remains financially sound.” Public confidence is not measured in balance sheets; it is earned through consistent demonstration of responsibility.
This moment offers GIPF an opportunity to break from a troubled history. It can show that it is not the same institution that lost hundreds of millions through the DCP. It can demonstrate that this is not another cycle of mismanagement followed by apologetic press releases and quiet forgetfulness. It can choose transparency over defensiveness, accountability over arrogance, and proactive governance over reactive explanations.
And, crucially, government must resist the temptation to downplay or politicise this issue. Pension funds exist for workers, not for officials. Safeguarding them is not optional—it is mandatory.
If we allow nearly a billion dollars to be impaired without a full, detailed explanation, then we have learnt nothing from our past. If we allow this moment to pass without accountability, then we guarantee that it will happen again. And again. And again.
Because déjà vu is not a mystery. It is a consequence.
Namibia must decide whether to break the cycle or continue repeating it.
Someone must be held accountable. This cannot be swept under the rug. Not again.
