THERE is an old African proverb that warns, “when elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers.” It is a timeless caution against the destructive consequences of power struggles, and today it speaks directly to unfolding events in the Ministry of Local Government, Chieftainship, Home Affairs and Police where the Minister and his Permanent Secretary are at loggerheads.
As tensions simmer within this key government ministry, persistent failures continue to burden ordinary Basotho.
Long before the present impasse, the ministry had already been struggling to deliver on its most basic responsibilities.
Perhaps the most visible and frustrating of these failures is the continued inability to issue passports efficiently.
For years, Basotho have endured long delays, uncertainty, and bureaucratic bottlenecks when applying for travel documents. In a country where many citizens rely on opportunities beyond its borders for survival, a passport is not a luxury – it is a lifeline. Yet countless applicants remain stuck in limbo, unable to travel for work, education, or family obligations.
This is more than an administrative inconvenience; it is an economic and social crisis. Every delayed passport represents a missed opportunity, a job not taken, a scholarship forfeited, or a family left divided. The backlog has become a symbol of state failure, eroding confidence in the government’s ability to perform even its most fundamental duties.
Equally alarming is the state of the Lesotho Mounted Police Service, which falls under the same ministry. At a time when crime remains a pressing concern, the police continue to operate under severe resource constraints. Officers on the ground frequently lack the tools, equipment, and logistical support necessary to effectively combat criminal activity. Investigations are hampered by limited capacity while available vehicles are not compatible with issues such as our terrain, and response times suffer as a result.
The consequences are predictable. Communities feel increasingly vulnerable, and criminals are emboldened by the visible weaknesses in law enforcement. Public safety, which is one of the core responsibilities of any government, becomes compromised. When citizens cannot rely on the police for protection, the social contract between the state and its people begins to fray.
Adding to these challenges is the troubling rise in land-related fraud, with Basotho being sold bogus plots and sites. Unscrupulous individuals exploit gaps in oversight and regulation, selling land that either does not exist, is already occupied, or is not legally transferable. Victims often invest their life savings, only to discover they have been deceived.
This points to serious failures in land administration and local governance systems. Proper record-keeping, verification processes, and enforcement mechanisms appear to be either weak or inconsistently applied. The result is a growing sense of insecurity around land ownership—an issue that strikes at the heart of both economic stability and personal dignity.
What makes these problems particularly concerning is their persistence. They are not new. They have been reported, debated, and acknowledged over time, yet meaningful solutions remain elusive. The current leadership conflict, rather than addressing these issues, risks deepening them. Energy that should be directed toward reform and service delivery is instead consumed by internal battles.
This is where the proverb becomes painfully relevant. While leaders argue over authority and procedure, the everyday struggles of citizens intensify. The young person waiting for a passport does not care about bureaucratic disputes—they need a document to secure their future. The community facing rising crime does not care about internal memos—they need safety and protection. The family defrauded of land does not care about legal technicalities—they need justice and accountability.
Governance requires both adherence to the law and decisive leadership. Due process cannot be ignored, but neither can the urgency of addressing corruption and inefficiency. The challenge lies in balancing these imperatives without allowing them to become excuses for inaction.
Unfortunately, that balance appears to be missing. Instead, there is a growing perception of a ministry caught in a cycle of dysfunction—where problems are identified but not resolved, where responsibility is diffused rather than owned, and where citizens are left to navigate the consequences on their own.
The danger of such a situation extends beyond immediate service delivery. It undermines public trust in institutions. When people repeatedly encounter delays, inefficiencies, and injustices, they begin to lose faith in the system as a whole. This erosion of trust can have long-term implications, affecting everything from civic participation to economic investment.
Moreover, unresolved systemic problems create fertile ground for further abuse. Corruption thrives in environments where oversight is weak and accountability is inconsistent. Whether it is the irregular handling of official documents, the exploitation of land allocation systems, or the misuse of limited police resources, the risks multiply when institutions are not functioning effectively.
The path forward requires more than resolving the current leadership dispute. It demands a comprehensive effort to address the underlying issues that have plagued the ministry for years. This includes modernising systems for issuing passports, adequately resourcing the police, strengthening land administration frameworks, and ensuring clear lines of accountability at all levels.
It also requires a shift in mindset. Leadership must move beyond internal conflicts and refocus on the core mandate of serving the public. Collaboration, not confrontation, should define the relationship between political and administrative actors. Where disagreements arise, they must be resolved swiftly and constructively, without compromising service delivery.
Above all, there must be a renewed commitment to the people. Governance is not an abstract exercise—it has real, tangible impacts on everyday lives. Every delayed passport, every unresolved crime, every fraudulent land sale is a reminder of the human cost of institutional failure.
The proverb warns us of what happens when the powerful lose sight of this reality. The grass suffers quietly, but its suffering accumulates, shaping the health of the entire ecosystem. In the same way, a nation cannot thrive when its citizens are weighed down by persistent failures and unmet needs.
If Lesotho is to move forward, its leaders must heed this warning. The elephants must stop fighting – not just for their own sake, but for the sake of the grass beneath them. For in the end, it is the well-being of the people that defines the strength of a nation.
PPPs the way to go