Africa-Press – Botswana. Within days of taking office, the new government delivered a doubleton of announcements that left the public oscillating between disbelief and intrigue. One could be forgiven for thinking the declaration of centralised power and pot legalised were a prank.
Special Correspondent
After 58 years of a single political party, Botswana’s end-of-October elections ushered in the Second Republic with a suddenness that startled even seasoned analysts. As if to add to the bewilderment, the new government delivered a pair of announcements that left the public oscillating between disbelief and intrigue within days of taking office.
First, all security services the army, the police, border patrol, and the controversial Directorate of Intelligence and Security (DIS) – would henceforth report directly to the Office of the President. Second, Botswana would legalise cultivation of cannabis.
One could be forgiven for thinking this was a prank. Centralisation of power and legalisation of pot in quick succession of each other?
It sounded like a surreal combination of George Orwell and Snoop Dogg, but it was all for real. In the smoke rising from the ashes of the First Republic, a new national story is beginning to take shape. It is a story that might be called “From Diamonds to Dagga.”
Botswana’s success story has been told and retold with a kind of reverence usually reserved for Nordic fairy tales: a stable democracy, a small population, vast diamond wealth, and one of Africa’s fastest GDP growth rates for decades.
But this fairy tale came with fine print: the state was always dependent on a single resource. When the sparkle began to fade as diamond demand dipped, youth unemployment soared, and public services creaked, the illusion of economic invincibility wore off.
Like a lion fed on easy meat…
The First Republic had grown comfortable. The public sector ballooned, civil servants grew used to annual raises, and the economy, like a lion fed on easy meat, forgot how to hunt. The private sector, mostly dependent on government contracts, mirrored this laziness.
And in the background, the human cost of economic stagnation began to show: rising gender-based violence, disillusioned youth, a shrinking middle class, and deepening inequality between urban elites and rural poor.
Then came the Second Republic, striding in with new boots, fantastic promises, and an unmistakable whiff of political cannabis in the air. The move to legalise cultivation of cannabis is, on paper, a masterstroke. It taps into a global industry expected to be worth over USD 100 billion by 2030. Lesotho and Zimbabwe have already moved in this direction. Why not Botswana?
Afterall, cannabis requires less water than maize, commands higher margins than beef, and – perhaps most importantly – doesn’t rely on Chinese buyers or secretive De Beers’ auctions. For a country running on economic fumes, this could be the green pivot Botswana didn’t know it needed.
Like a well-rolled joint…
But let’s not get high on our own supply just yet. The cannabis policy, like a well-rolled joint, may offer temporary euphoria without addressing the deeper malaise. Is there a clear strategy for beneficiation? Will small-scale farmers benefit, or will licensing favour politically-connected agribusinesses? What safeguards are in place to ensure that cannabis cultivation doesn’t end up as yet another extractive industry, sending profits abroad while communities stay poor?
And then there’s the security reorganisation – a move so sweeping and quiet that it deserves a few lines in bold. The army, the police, border patrol services, and DISS are now all answerable directly to the President! No parliamentary oversight structures were strengthened and no public debate preceded the change. It was, quite literally, a memo from the top – a Trumpian decree.
To some, this is prudent consolidation. The world is unstable, and southern Africa is not immune to coups, insurgencies or geopolitical games. Centralising security under the presidency, they argue, enables faster response and clearer accountability. To others, it smells of something else entirely. It smacks of fear. Or ambition. Or both.
Like a desert highway at dawn…
History offers too many examples of post-liberation governments that started out as liberators and ended up as enforcers. Zimbabwe, Uganda, Rwanda, Burkina Faso – pick your poison. The moment the military is fully aligned with the executive without strong checks, the road to authoritarianism opens like a desert highway at dawn.
In that light, cannabis legalisation begins to look less like an economic reform and more like political sedation — a way to soften public discontent; to replace political agency with pacified buzz. As Karl Marx once said of vodka and Russian society, perhaps cannabis may actually become “the opium of the (Batswana) people”.
Before the next drought
But perhaps this is too cynical. Perhaps the Second Republic genuinely sees cannabis as a modern crop for a post-mineral economy. Perhaps it genuinely believes that centralised security is the only way to defend the republic against the looming threats of militancy, climate disasters, and transnational and cyber-crime. Perhaps the leaders want to act fast before the next drought or youth protest catches them off guard.
Still, in politics – as in pharmacology – dose and context matter. If dagga is to be a tool for economic emancipation, then the policies must be transparent and subject to scrutiny. If security centralisation is to work, it must come with new layers of oversight and accountability. Otherwise, Botswana risks trading its democratic reputation for something far darker. As Julius Nyerere once said, “Democracy is not a bottle of Coca-Cola which you can import. It must be home grown.” What is being grown now may be green, but the roots must still be democratic.
Dreams of a generation
The Second Republic has just begun. It carries the dreams of a generation that no longer believes that diamonds will secure their future. It also carries the weight of a nation that once stood as a continental beacon but now stands at a crossroads. As Nelson Mandela reminded us, “A nation should not be judged by how it treats its highest citizens but its lowest ones.”
That includes the unemployed, the landless, the women afraid to walk home, and the young man trying to grow hemp and hope in the same dry soil. From diamonds to dagga, from comfort to crisis, from old power to new potential, Botswana is, at last, being forced to decide what kind of republic it truly wants to be. And the world is watching.
Source: Botswana Gazette
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