I have always been reading about AI on social media, but this week I finally found the time to sit down and do proper research on it. Lately, every time I scroll on Facebook, I come across my brother and former colleague, Maximalliant Katjimune, warning about Artificial Intelligence with the kind of urgency you don’t ignore. Katjimune, a former Member of Parliament, has never been casual about national issues, but his constant concern about AI has slowly become what I can only describe as a Katjimune necessary worry — a worry that is not alarmist, not exaggerated, but one that is truly worth debating in our country before we sleepwalk into an irreversible future.

He once wrote on Facebook: “Absolutely not. AI is a project to enrich a few tech companies and make billionaires wealthier at the expense of jobs and the working class. There’s a jobs bloodbath currently happening in the US because of AI.” When I first read it, I brushed it off as one of those political warnings we hear from time to time. But the more I dug into global reports, labour trends, and the direction Namibia is taking, the more I realised that Katjimune’s worry is not just necessary — it is overdue.

Interestingly, as I was wrapping up this draft, I came across Ndumba Kamwanyah’s article. Until that moment, I had only seen his Facebook question-style posts without knowing he was preparing a full, educational piece on AI. While his angle is very different from mine — more optimistic about Africa seizing the AI moment — I appreciate his perspective. It reminds us that AI is not just a threat; it can also be a tool. Our opinions may differ, but they speak to the same truth: Namibia cannot afford to ignore this conversation.

AI is already inside Namibia’s economy. Shops are using it. Banks are using it. Companies are applying it quietly behind the scenes. And the truth is simple: if we allow AI to spread without national rules, without labour protections, without data safeguards and without clear constitutional guardrails, the impact on our workers, our teachers, our children and our national dignity will be harsh and unforgiving.

Namibia has taken the first baby steps — assessments, strategy drafts and preliminary consultations — but nothing strong enough to meaningfully protect the public yet. The Draft Data Protection Bill has still not matured into law. There is no binding AI framework. There are no regulations requiring companies to consult workers before replacing jobs with automation. There is no protection against AI profiling of school children. There are no rules ensuring teachers remain central in the classroom instead of being quietly substituted by algorithmic teaching tools. And even where the Constitution protects privacy, dignity, equality and education, these rights remain vulnerable in the face of sophisticated AI systems capable of tracking, predicting and analysing ordinary citizens without consent.

This is where the danger becomes real. Article 8 of the Constitution protects human dignity, yet AI-powered surveillance can reduce a person to a data point, stripping dignity away silently. Article 10 guarantees equality, yet AI systems trained on biased global data can discriminate in hiring, lending, policing or school assessments without anyone noticing.

Article 13 protects privacy, but AI thrives on the same personal data that a lawless environment leaves wide open. Article 20 guarantees the right to education, but without rules, AI can slowly shift the classroom dynamic, turning learning into automated content delivery instead of human-guided development. These risks are not theoretical — they are happening elsewhere, and Namibia must not pretend immunity.

Jobs remain the greatest red flag. Cashiers, receptionists, retail workers, call-centre agents, junior clerks, drivers and administrative staff are at the highest risk of replacement. In wealthy nations, at least there are safety nets. In Namibia, when someone loses a job, the economic and emotional consequences hit immediately. Families collapse under the weight of one lost income. AI-driven mass displacement would not simply be a labour market shift — it would be a national shock.

Our children and teachers are equally exposed. Schools around the world are already adopting systems that monitor behaviour, track performance, record facial expressions and generate predictive academic profiles. Without a strong policy, Namibian children could easily become subjects of lifelong digital tracking. Teachers, too, risk being sidelined if AI is introduced without clarity on its limits. No machine should ever replace a teacher’s role in guiding, mentoring and shaping human character.

AI is not evil by itself. It can improve healthcare, support teachers, modernise agriculture, strengthen small businesses and expand opportunities if regulated properly. But Namibia must choose the direction deliberately — technology must serve the people, not exploit them. That requires stronger data protection laws, mandatory AI impact assessments, updated labour regulations, protection for children, and clear rules that ensure AI never undermines the Constitution.

Katjimune’s worry is not just justified — it is the national conversation we have avoided for too long. And after studying it closely, I now understand why he never stops raising the alarm. AI will either be one of Namibia’s greatest tools for progress or the quickest threat to our workers, our children, our teachers and our constitutional values. The path we choose now will determine whether this technology becomes a servant of the nation or a silent destroyer of livelihoods.

The responsibility to act lies with us, and the time is now, before the future arrives without our permission.

-Hidipo Hamata writes from Omafo – Ohangwena region. In his personal capacity.