EDITORIAL: The high price of silence
Namibia is once again counting the cost of silence - the cost of looking away while public enterprises are quietly hollowed out behind closed boardroom doors.
The latest corruption storm swirling around Namcor feels like déjà vu. Former executives are being led away in handcuffs. Prosecutors warn of more arrests. And what do we find at the heart of it? A familiar pattern: politically connected companies feasting on unsecured credit, while a state-owned enterprise bleeds N$1.6 billion in debt.
It’s the Fishrot playbook, reissued with a fuel-slicked cover.
Back then, Fishcor was drained dry under the cloak of political protection. Now it’s Namcor, another public asset turned into a private ATM.
The signs were always there. Media reports flagged the rot. Whistleblowers whispered. Documents hinted. But those charged with oversight chose silence - some out of fear, others for favours, and a few perhaps just because complicity paid better than courage.
When those in power treat public companies like personal estates, accountability is no longer a principle - it’s a threat. And when political proximity becomes a shield from scrutiny, corruption is no longer a risk - it’s a guarantee.
Namcor is now another cautionary tale of what happens when state entities are run like fiefdoms, answerable not to the public but to patrons and pals. The result? A broken balance sheet, a crisis of credibility, and another scar on the already bruised face of public trust.
Let us be clear: this did not happen in a vacuum. It grew in the fertile soil of inaction. And while billions vanished, the guardians of oversight - be it ministers, boards, or auditors - looked the other way.
But looking away doesn’t make rot disappear. It just delays the reckoning. And now, that reckoning has arrived - late, expensive, and devastating.
The latest corruption storm swirling around Namcor feels like déjà vu. Former executives are being led away in handcuffs. Prosecutors warn of more arrests. And what do we find at the heart of it? A familiar pattern: politically connected companies feasting on unsecured credit, while a state-owned enterprise bleeds N$1.6 billion in debt.
It’s the Fishrot playbook, reissued with a fuel-slicked cover.
Back then, Fishcor was drained dry under the cloak of political protection. Now it’s Namcor, another public asset turned into a private ATM.
The signs were always there. Media reports flagged the rot. Whistleblowers whispered. Documents hinted. But those charged with oversight chose silence - some out of fear, others for favours, and a few perhaps just because complicity paid better than courage.
When those in power treat public companies like personal estates, accountability is no longer a principle - it’s a threat. And when political proximity becomes a shield from scrutiny, corruption is no longer a risk - it’s a guarantee.
Namcor is now another cautionary tale of what happens when state entities are run like fiefdoms, answerable not to the public but to patrons and pals. The result? A broken balance sheet, a crisis of credibility, and another scar on the already bruised face of public trust.
Let us be clear: this did not happen in a vacuum. It grew in the fertile soil of inaction. And while billions vanished, the guardians of oversight - be it ministers, boards, or auditors - looked the other way.
But looking away doesn’t make rot disappear. It just delays the reckoning. And now, that reckoning has arrived - late, expensive, and devastating.
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