This week, Namibia made international headlines as President Netumbo Nandi-Ndaitwah announced that, starting in 2026, all tertiary education at state-run universities and vocational training centres will be fully subsidised by the government. This historic policy is not just a win for Namibian students, it is a challenge to neighbouring countries like Lesotho to reflect on the sustainability, equity, and vision of their own higher education systems.
Lesotho’s Current Model
In Lesotho, the National Manpower Development Secretariat (NMDS) serves as the primary financier for tertiary education. However, the system is under immense strain. A 2015 World Bank report revealed that only about 4% of NMDS loans are recovered annually, effectively rendering the scheme a de facto grant system. This low repayment rate undermines the sustainability of the fund, limiting opportunities for new students and placing additional pressure on the national budget.
The Vicious Cycle of Debt and Unemployment
The repayment challenges are exacerbated by high youth unemployment. According to Finance Minister Dr. Retsélisitsoe Matlanyane in her budget speech, findings from the 2024 Labour Force Survey reveal that out of 760,230 young Basotho aged 15 to 35, approximately 145,087 are unemployed. Nearly 39% of youth actively searching for jobs struggle to find employment. The overall youth unemployment rate stands at 38.9%, with young women facing greater difficulties at 40.8%, compared to 37.1% for young men. Additionally, only 31.48% of young people are either employed or actively seeking work. A significant number have lost hope, with over 226,857 no longer searching for employment. This economic reality makes it difficult for graduates to repay their NMDS loans, further straining the fund and limiting access for future students.
Quality Education: Bridging the Gap
While Lesotho has made strides in increasing access to education, quality remains a significant concern. The introduction of free primary education in 2010 led to higher enrollment rates. However, disparities between public and private schools persist, with private institutions often offering superior resources and outcomes. Does free always mean quality? If it were, I believe the same people who introduced free education would be taking their kids to the very ‘free’ schools.
Recently, the Ministry of Education has initiated efforts to integrate artificial intelligence (AI) into the curriculum. However, the success of such initiatives hinges on the preparedness of educators. Are the present teachers relevant? How often do they upgrade their studies? I believe it is high time it becomes mandatory for teachers to upgrade while temporarily being substituted by those with necessary skills.
Building the Foundation for Economic Sustainability
Investing in early childhood education (ECE) is crucial for Lesotho’s long-term economic development and human capital formation. On a lighter note, recognising this, Lesotho has partnered with organisations like UNICEF and the Global Partnership for Education to enhance ECE through initiatives such as the “Better Early Learning and Development at Scale” (BELDS) program.
Early Retirement As Pathway to Youth Employment
Another strategy to combat youth unemployment can be the implementation of early retirement policies. By encouraging older employees to retire earlier, opportunities can be created for younger individuals entering the workforce. This also making right by the education system, with teachers having relevant, necessary skills.
The Government of Lesotho’s Public Service Reform report suggests that reducing the retirement age to 50 could be a component of a holistic youth employment policy, although political will in implementation becomes a challenge.
Namibia’s bold step should serve as a wake-up call for Lesotho. Ensuring equitable access to higher education is not just a matter of social justice-it is an economic imperative. By rethinking its higher education financing model, investing in teacher training, and implementing policies to boost youth employment, Lesotho can build a more sustainable and inclusive future.
Maseru
In Lesotho’s High Court, justice is not determined by law and evidence alone—language holds a powerful, often decisive role. The words of lawyers, the crafted arguments, and the strategic use of rhetoric all have the potential to shape the outcome of a case. While legal rhetoric—the art of persuasion in the courtroom—can ensure fair trials, it also creates significant barriers for those unable to navigate its complexities. In a system where access to justice should be universal, the intricate language of the law often serves to exclude the very people it is meant to protect.
In a society where access to justice should be a fundamental right, the language of the law often excludes the very people it is meant to protect. Many ordinary citizens, lacking formal legal education, struggle to understand the legal jargon, convoluted sentence structures, and Latin expressions that dominate court proceedings. This linguistic gap creates an imbalance of power, where those who can afford skilled legal practitioners gain an advantage, while the marginalized are left to navigate a system designed for the elite.
The power of legal rhetoric lies in its ability to shape perception. Lawyers do not merely present facts; they frame narratives, appeal to emotions, and establish credibility through strategic language use. Aristotle’s three pillars of persuasion—ethos (credibility), pathos (emotional appeal), and logos (logical reasoning)—are deeply embedded in the practice of law. A well-crafted legal argument does not just state the law; it convinces, persuades, and influences.
However, while rhetoric is an essential tool for advocacy, it can also be a weapon of exclusion. The excessive use of legal jargon distances the law from the people it serves. Latin phrases such as habeas corpus or stare decisis may add to the prestige of legal discourse, but they also alienate those who do not speak the language of the courts. For many defendants and plaintiffs, stepping into a courtroom feels like entering a world where words hold power they cannot access—a world where justice is spoken in a language they do not understand.
This exclusion is particularly evident in cases involving gender-based violence, where survivors often struggle to articulate their experiences in legally persuasive terms. A woman seeking justice against an abusive partner may find her emotional testimony dismissed in favor of a defense attorney’s meticulously crafted argument, laden with legal technicalities. The legal system, designed to be impartial, can sometimes become a space where language determines whose voice is heard and whose suffering is validated.
Beyond individual cases, legal rhetoric influences judicial decision-making. Judges, tasked with interpreting arguments and applying the law, are not immune to the power of persuasive language. A well-structured argument, presented confidently and backed by legal precedent, carries weight. Lawyers who master the art of persuasion are often more successful, not necessarily because their clients have a stronger case, but because their rhetorical skills make their arguments more compelling.
This reliance on rhetoric raises fundamental questions about fairness. Should justice be influenced by how well an argument is framed rather than the truth it represents? If a defendant with a skilled lawyer is more likely to win a case than one with a less experienced advocate, does that not suggest that justice is unequally distributed? These questions highlight the urgent need to reform how legal language is used in Lesotho’s courts.
One way to bridge this gap is by simplifying legal discourse. Many countries have adopted plain language policies to ensure that legal documents are written clearly and comprehensibly to non-lawyers. If Lesotho’s courts were to implement similar measures, it would significantly improve public access to justice. Legal arguments should not be a maze of complex terminology but a straightforward presentation of facts and principles that every citizen can understand.
Furthermore, legal education must prioritize rhetorical training, not just for lawyers but also for judges. Understanding how language shapes legal outcomes can help ensure that judicial decisions are based on substance rather than style. Court clerks and paralegals should also be trained to assist individuals who may struggle with legal terminology, ensuring that no one is excluded from the justice system simply because they do not speak its language.
Legal aid services must also play a stronger role in addressing linguistic barriers. Many individuals facing legal challenges do not have the financial resources to hire top legal practitioners. Strengthening legal aid programs and providing access to well-trained advocates can help level the playing field, ensuring that justice is not reserved for those with wealth and influence.
Ultimately, the reform of legal language is about more than just simplifying words—it is about making justice truly accessible. A legal system that relies on rhetoric must also recognize its responsibility to ensure that all citizens, regardless of their educational background or economic status, can fully participate in the process. Justice should not be a privilege of the articulate; it should be a right for all.
The language of the law should empower, not exclude. If Lesotho is to build a legal system that serves all its people, it must start by breaking down the linguistic barriers that prevent so many from accessing justice. In a democracy, the right to a fair trial should not depend on one’s ability to navigate legal rhetoric—it should depend on truth, fairness, and equality before the law.
“You are too young to have sex…too young to be pregnant….” These are words etched in the echoes of time, often passed from older generations to the younger generations or “Ma2000” as we often call them. Parents speak avoidance but what happens when avoidance eventually becomes experimentation? Just like telling a toddler not to put his hand on a flame – the most you will succeed in doing is making them even more curious…curious enough to touch the flame when your back is turned.
Curiosity, experimentation and then consequences. Now, as we said before, parents and the community preach avoidance so what happens when the flame burns the toddler or in our case, the young women of Lesotho? Those in the rural areas barely have access to SRH education and talking about anything sexually related, including contraceptives, sexually transmitted diseases, pregnancy and others, stigma becomes the order of the day. How do we expect girls, women and people of the LGBTQ+ community to feel free and open enough to seek information on Sexual and Reproductive Health with all the stigma attached to seeking such services?
Let us have a look at infrastructure for one. Do we cater for all persons regardless of their backgrounds including age, disabilities, race or sexual orientation, while observing ethics and principles that include non judgmental attitudes? For instance, men who have sexual relations with other men have countlessly advocated to have inclusive hospitals and clinics where they can feel at ease to share their issues without being stigmatized by other patients and/or doctors and nurses.
The negative outcome of this stigmatization is that it has led to defaulting on medications and treatment for many people, particularly people living with HIV/AIDS. For example, lately, there has been talk about one hospital with an infectious diseases wing and a taxi conversation constantly replays in my head. Two people, a man and a woman, were stating that they would never go to that particular hospital because then everyone would know that they potentially have sexually transmitted diseases or HIV/AIDS. That was their understanding about the infectious diseases wing. That is just how much we lack knowledge on SRHR.
Moving from the issue of high disease prevalence due to either lack of access to information and/or resources, once a girl or woman is pregnant, the chances of maternal and infant mortality gain momentum, especially in the highlands of Lesotho. Why? People who are skilled in delivering SRHR information and services are in shortage. Despite the trainings and capacity building for community healthcare workers to bridge the issue of economic barriers, there is always a gap in information reaching the people who need it most – young people and people in rural areas who are dominated by cultural practices that prohibit use of contraceptives or any talk related to SRHR.
But there is hope, particularly in this digital transition era where technology has a far and wide reach. In the digital age, innovation is transforming how we approach public health, offering new opportunities to address longstanding challenges. One such area where technology holds immense potential is sexual and reproductive health (SRH) education for young women, particularly in low- and middle-income countries (LMICs) where access to healthcare resources can be limited. A recent study in Lesotho testing the use of a digital conversational agent, “Nthabi,” to deliver SRH education provides promising insights into how digital tools can bridge gaps in knowledge and empower young women.
The importance of SRH education for young women cannot be overstated. Unwanted pregnancies, sexually transmitted infections (STIs), and the broader challenges of reproductive health often disproportionately affect young women, especially those in under-resourced settings. In countries like Lesotho, where nearly 70% of young women are students and many remain unmarried, the need for accessible, reliable health education is more urgent than ever.
The trial, which involved 172 young women using Nthabi to learn about family planning, folic acid use, and healthy eating, demonstrates that digital health interventions can be effective in improving knowledge. Participants showed a significant increase in understanding of family planning (a 4.4% improvement in correct responses) and folic acid use (a striking 26.3% increase in correct answers). These findings suggest that Nthabi is not only accessible but also impactful, offering a scalable solution to address the SRH education gap in Lesotho.
What makes Nthabi particularly promising is its adaptability. The system can be accessed on both smartphones and loaned tablets, ensuring that the intervention reaches a wide audience, regardless of device ownership. Additionally, the relatively high engagement with the content—an average of 8.6 interactions per participant signals a level of interest and willingness among young women to learn.