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‘Government is broke,’ an earworm that refused to leave airwaves

The government at the time was reportedly struggling to meet even basic obligations PIC: MORERI SEJAKGOMO
 
The government at the time was reportedly struggling to meet even basic obligations PIC: MORERI SEJAKGOMO

The phrase escaped official speeches and entered the public’s vocabulary. It began being used sarcastically at bus stops, continued to be whispered angrily in clinics, and was joked about in bars. It became the punchline to delayed salaries, unpaid invoices, and suspended projects.

Just as DJs know the songs that refuse to leave the airwaves, Batswana came to understand that the nation’s coffers were dry, resources were depleted, and that the treasury was under siege. Like every overplayed track, it began to wear thin when, earlier this year, there was a growing national irritation when the “government is broke” narrative backfired on the authorities.

Leaders had leaned on the phrase to justify austerity measures, only for citizens to turn the phrase back on them, demanding that those who preach leanness must themselves live it, even in travel spending and official allowances.

Not long after, reports emerged of a widespread supplier payment crisis. Suppliers began facing prolonged delays in settling invoices owed by the government. This was a symptom of strained cash inflows and a public treasury under distress as revenues lagged, and payroll pressures mounted.

It was not only corporate suppliers feeling the pinch, but social welfare workers and Ipelegeng contractors struggled too. Payments were delayed, highlighting how deep the liquidity squeeze had become. Local construction companies also faced major challenges as the government grappled with a worsening financial crisis. The government at the time was reportedly struggling to meet even basic obligations, leaving some contractor invoices unpaid for months. As a result, most of the major billion-pula works contract projects across the country were affected by the government’s non-payment, contractors revealed then. The contractors indicated that they had lost confidence that the government could be counted upon to pay its legitimate bills. Things worsened in August, when the government admitted that Botswana’s public health sector was on the verge of collapse, with the Ministry of Health (MoH) confirming that the country was under a national health emergency. The Ministry painted a grim picture of the country’s deteriorating health services, severe medicine shortages, postponed surgical procedures, and a staggering debt amounting to billions owed to private medical suppliers and facilities.

“Due to the ongoing financial challenges facing the country, which have left the country’s medicines and medical commodities situation severely strained, the Ministry has had to streamline some health services and prioritise saving lives over everything else,” the statement read. The country’s severe financial constraints continued to be strained as the nation’s medical system reached a breaking point.

Events CancellationsIn April, the 48th Botswana Defence Force Day celebrations were cancelled because of financial constraints. “We regret to inform members of the public and our stakeholders that due to circumstances beyond our control, we highly regret any inconvenience caused,” BDF announced then.

Leader of Opposition, Dumelang Saleshando, had a month earlier called for the temporary suspension of BDF Day and other ceremonial functions, citing the country’s economic challenges. Speaking in Parliament, Saleshando had urged the government to reconsider the allocation of resources to these events, which he argued were costly and unnecessary during difficult financial times.

He emphasised the need for the government to focus on more urgent national issues, such as unemployment and poverty, rather than ceremonial activities.

“The country is facing a serious economic crisis, and the government needs to take a closer look at spending on non-essential events. Ceremonial functions like BDF Day should be put on hold until we are in a better financial situation,” he said. In September, Minister of State President, Moeti Mohwasa announced that there would be no official Independence Day festivities as the country celebrated its 59th year of independence on September 30. The constant chorus was rooted in hard economic realities. Botswana’s diamond industry, which has been the engine of national prosperity for so long, stumbled badly as diamonds continued to lose their shine. Sales dropped precipitously, with diamond exports down sharply and key revenues collapsing relative to past years. Economists and analysts grew increasingly concerned.

In Parliament, ministers also painted a candid picture with their repeated assurances like “we must live within our means,” and “we are tightening spending,” which became the year’s lyrics. And like any song played on loop, the government stirred fatigue and frustration among listeners.

The public’s responseWhat began as cautious messaging to explain fiscal tightening soon felt like a broken record to many Batswana. The phrase “government is broke” or “sepache se makgwakgwa”, as the Vice President Ndaba Gaolathe would say, crossed from technical budgetary language into annoyance. Tertiary students in Botswana started demanding that the ruling Umbrella for Democratic Change (UDC) government fulfil its election promise to increase monthly student allowances from P1,900 to P2,500. Frustrated by the delay nearly a year into the UDC’s term, students threatened to organise a nationwide strike and attempted to protest in August. President, Duma Boko and the Minister of Higher Education, Prince Maele, acknowledged the promise but cited financial constraints and economic realities as reasons for the delay.

As the government continued to cry about its financial constraints, the coalition of the 5+1 trade unions breathed down the latter’s neck, unresolved over labour grievances. At some point, the unions petitioned Minister Mohwasa, and raised serious concerns that the 2025-26 salary negotiations had stalled as a direct result of poor leadership. BOPEU, BTU, BONU, BDU, and NALCGPWU were involved in back-and-forth salary negotiations with the government, which was at the time failing to come to any fruition.

The government and 5+1 CTU concluded their negotiations in October, marking an end to an unprecedented six-month journey marred by litigation along the way. The parties agreed to disagree on the issue of P4,000.00 minimum wage/living wage as the government proposed increases of P653.00 for A3-A2 and P400 for A1-D1.

The negotiations between the parties began on May 20 this year and ended on October 21, a record period of negotiations in Botswana, according to the unions’ leaders. They described their concluded salary and conditions of service with the employer as the most toxic and acrimonious, accusing the government of negotiating in bad faith throughout the process.

Demand for a change of playlistFew things can age as quickly as a song that captures national anxiety, but this year, that’s exactly what happened. What was meant to be a serious economic explanation became instead a cultural earworm, one that many hoped Botswana would skip once December’s calendar flipped to 2026.

But patience has limits, so as the year dragged on, the soothing effect was lost. As the year winds down, voices from business, civil society, and opposition parties are demanding a new track, one that speaks of growth, opportunity, and prosperity rather than budget deficits and dry coffers. They point back to the promises made during the lead-up to the 2024 election, promises of a diversified economy, broader revenue streams, and social upliftment that could resonate with citizens’ everyday aspirations.

For many, the song of 2025 was a cautionary tune and a reminder of structural vulnerabilities, particularly the nation’s heavy dependency on a single commodity, diamond. In music, as in politics and economics, no one wants to end the year on a sour note. As the final bars of 2025 fade, Batswana are tuning their ears for something cheerful, a song that resonates not with scarcity and stalled payments, but resilience, recovery, and a future that finally delivers on the promises once sung with optimism before the government took office. They are waiting for the song to end and are hoping for a new playlist in 2026. As fireworks mark the arrival of 2026, there is a quiet but widespread hope that the next year will come with a different soundtrack. Every era is remembered by its music, but for Botswana, 2025 will be remembered as the year of one song, played too often, too loudly, and for too long. “We’ve heard that song it, please change it,” that is the clear message from people as the final notes fade.