The Tragic Decline of Lesotho’s Youth Leadership: A Tribute to Tito Mboweni

As we reflect on the legacy of leaders like Tito Mboweni, who rose to national prominence at a young age, it's hard not to compare the vibrant youth activism of his generation with the lack of bold leadership we see today. What happened to our fire? Where did our spirit go?

On Monday morning, I stumbled upon a post on X (formerly Twitter) that caught my attention.

It read: “At just 34, Tito Mboweni was appointed Minister of Labour, tasked with overturning the horrific labour injustices of the past. By 39, Tito Mboweni became South Africa’s first Black Reserve Bank Governor—no, wait—at 39, his signature was on the country's money. Makes you think—are we truly living up to our fullest potential? ‘To be young, gifted, and black.’”

Then, on Tuesday afternoon (today), I came across a tribute on the University of Limpopo website. It said, “Known as ‘Duke’ for his charisma and leadership, Mboweni’s legacy extends far beyond his public roles. He was a mentor, a nation-builder, and a symbol of resilience. His journey from student activist to national leader is a source of inspiration for future generations…”

Mboweni was not just some run-of-the-mill politician. Born on March 16, 1959, in Tzaneen, he passed away in Johannesburg on Saturday, October 12, 2024, after a short illness.

His story is one of greatness, but what makes it more profound for me, and perhaps for all of us, is that Mboweni was an alumnus of our very own National University of Lesotho (NUL), and yet the contrast between the greatness of his journey and what we see around us today’s the so-called “youth” is nothing short of embarrassing.

The post on X and the tribute made me pause and ask myself, what are we doing? What will our generation be remembered for? Do we even care?

What leadership have we shown? What bold, defining conversations have we led in Lesotho?

What issues have we made our own? Where are the ideas that shake the foundation of this country?

How are we making our mark?

Now, I usually shy away from comparisons, but it’s hard not to notice what the youth of South Africa have achieved.

A few years ago, young activists in the ANC Youth League launched a political programme called ‘Youth Action for Economic Freedom in Our Lifetime.’ For them, economic freedom wasn’t just a slogan, it was a political mission, one that required unyielding commitment, both individually and collectively.

They fought, pushed boundaries, and disrupted the political order.

We know how their story evolved. Some of them were expelled from the ANC, but they didn’t retreat into obscurity; they formed the Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF) and continued shaking things up.

In 2015, the Rhodes Must Fall movement, originating at the University of Cape Town (UCT), shook the world as it demanded the removal of colonial symbols and sparked a wider movement to decolonise education across South Africa. Similarly, the #FeesMustFall protests, which began at Wits University and rapidly spread nationwide, forced the South African government to freeze university tuition fees for 2016, a major victory for students. These were young people refusing to accept the status quo. They made things happen.

I can’t help but reflect on these moments with admiration, but also with a sense of disappointment.

The youth of Lesotho seem to have taken a different path, one more focused on crafting a perfect self-image and staying on the good side of the government, rather than blazing trails of political leadership. Where is our fight for change? Our determination to create a new future?

Thousands of graduates from NUL joined the already overflowing pool of unemployed young people last week. Some of these graduates have been waiting for jobs for over a decade, since 2012 in some cases.

Meanwhile, the private sector is dominated by a few powerful corporations with headquarters abroad, or worse, in the hands of Chinese and Indian businesses, leaving the public sector as the main employer. But even that is riddled with cronyism and corruption, making it nearly impossible for talented, qualified youth to break in.

In fact, most of those in the public sector are over 35 years old, with many reluctant to retire, blocking opportunities for the next generation. And instead of challenging this, many young people have become government cheerleaders, hoping that by being loyal supporters, they will be rewarded with jobs or government tenders.

Tonight, Kabelo Mollo and Nelson Khetheng are hosting a Space on X to discuss the government’s progress, or lack thereof. If you think I’m exaggerating when I say the youth have become cheerleaders, join the Space tonight.

The systemic challenges I’ve mentioned, unemployment, cronyism, corruption, will hardly be touched upon by those who will be given a chance to speak.

The deeper issues? The gap between the rich and the poor? The significant mismatch between Lesotho’s education system and the skills demanded by the labour market? The total exclusion of youth from any real decision-making? Youth apathy and disempowerment?

Forget it. You won’t hear a word. And you know why? Because too many of us have turned into government lapdogs, scared of biting the hand we hope will one day feed us.

Instead, you’ll hear praises for the new streetlights in Maseru and rehabilitated roads.

As always, the courageous Paballo Qobete pointed out on X yesterday that these “developments” haven’t reached other districts, but she’s hesitant to say too much for fear of being attacked by young people eager to shield the government.

Here’s the truth: if we don’t wake up, if we don’t get serious, the next election will roll around, and we’ll see another crop of aging, uninspiring leaders walk into government offices, continuing the same tired, meaningless rhetoric.

And we’ll still be here, stuck in the same cycle of unemployment, poverty, and hopelessness.

Young people of Lesotho, it’s time to rise. Not for a pat on the back, not for a government contract, but for real change. If we don’t disrupt the status quo now, we’ll be condemned to the sidelines of history, watching as the country stagnates under the weight of the old guard.

It’s time to upset the apple cart. If not us, who? If not now, when? Let us claim our place in history.

I cannot conclude the article without addressing another key issue exacerbating the stagnation of youth leadership: the collapse of youth leagues within political parties.

These once-vibrant platforms, which provided young people with the space to challenge the status quo, have crumbled, leaving a vacuum of active youth involvement in political discourse.

Today’s youth in political parties are struggling to live up to the legacy of figures like Thuso Litjobo and Libe Moremoholo, youth leaders who – though controversial – represented a bold, youthful energy within Lesotho’s political landscape.

Litjobo, for instance, was often labeled a troublemaker, a factionalist, and an uneducated hothead who was manipulated by elder politicians to push their agendas. Yet, if we’re being honest, during his time, one could actually feel the presence of young people in the political arena.

Whether you agreed with him or not, Litjobo and his ilk embodied a defiant spirit of youth activism that challenged the complacency of older politicians. They were loud, fearless, and unafraid to rattle the political cages, even if their methods were unpolished.

Today, the landscape is starkly different.

We have a new crop of young politicians, many of them highly educated, yet their impact is almost invisible. Instead of using their education and influence to push for radical change or to speak truth to power, they have become pacified, seemingly content to play the role of silent protectors of their party leaders.

Their ambitions have been reduced to safeguarding the interests of those already in power rather than charting a new course for the future.

The problem isn’t just with the individuals; it's systemic.

The collapse of youth leagues has stripped young politicians of the platforms that once allowed them to grow into formidable leaders. In the past, youth leagues acted as a breeding ground for new ideas, a place where young people could cut their teeth in political battles. Today, they have either been co-opted by the establishment or dismantled altogether.

The absence of these platforms has created a generation of educated but muted political participants, people who know better, but lack the courage or the opportunity to do better. ENDS