Fact: Some of the beneficiaries of the Government Institutions Pension Fund’s (GIPF) Housing Scheme will default on their home loans. While this may not be intentional, unforeseen circumstances or financial mismanagement will inevitably lead a pensioner to lose part of their pension because they defaulted on their loan.
The question then remains: How will that pensioner be able to sustain themselves after retirement if a significant part of their pension has been lost?
This and other concerns have reignited a national conversation about access to housing finance, affordability, and the role of public institutions in solving structural economic concerns.
For some, GIPF’s housing scheme represents long-overdue relief for civil servants and public-sector employees who have struggled to secure competitive home loans. For others, it is merely a repackaging of debt rather than a fundamental fix to Namibia’s historical and persistent housing crisis.
At its core, the GIPF Housing Scheme allows qualifying members to access housing loans by using their pension savings as collateral, at slightly lower interest rates than those offered by commercial banks. The intent is clear and, on the surface, commendable: reduce the cost of borrowing, expand home ownership, and use domestic capital to address a domestic problem.
Supporters of the initiative argue that the scheme corrects a long-standing imbalance. Commercial banks, they say, have enjoyed decades of dominance in the mortgage market, often pricing loans beyond the reach of middle- and lower-income earners. From this perspective, GIPF is simply filling a gap by using members’ funds to meet members’ needs, while still earning returns for the pension fund.
There is also a strong emotional appeal to the scheme. Housing is not a luxury but is instead a basic human right and a cornerstone of dignity and stability. For a nurse, teacher, police officer, or clerk who has paid into GIPF’s fund for years, the idea that their own savings can help them secure a home feels both fair and empowering.
However, criticism of the scheme cannot be dismissed as mere pessimism or resistance to change. One of the most persistent concerns is that the initiative does not create new money or new value within the housing system. Instead, it largely moves loans from one entity to another.
A mortgage that once sat on a commercial bank’s balance sheet is now transferred to GIPF’s books. The borrower still owes the money. The house still costs the same. The national housing shortage remains unchanged.
By framing the scheme as a breakthrough solution, policymakers risk obscuring deeper structural issues, including land availability, serviced land costs, municipal inefficiencies, and construction bottlenecks. Without addressing these root causes, cheaper loans alone may inflate demand without increasing supply, potentially pushing property prices even higher. In that scenario, today’s relief could become tomorrow’s affordability crisis.
There is also the matter of risk. Pension funds exist primarily to safeguard members’ retirement income. While housing loans are generally considered stable, they are not risk-free. Economic downturns, unemployment, or policy missteps could expose the fund to defaults. When that happens, the cost is not borne by abstract institutions, but by the same members whose futures the fund is meant to protect.
A real test of the GIPF Housing Scheme lies in transparency about risks, strict governance, and alignment with broader housing and land reform policies. If paired with increased land servicing, support for affordable housing developers, and stronger urban planning, the scheme could form part of a genuine solution to Namibia’s housing dilemma. Ultimately, the GIPF Housing Scheme is a financial rearrangement with potential benefits and real limitations.
The fact is that recognising both is the only way to ensure that the pursuit of housing security does not come at the expense of long-term retirement security.
