Let us be honest. The world feels a little shaky nowadays. Democracy, that word we used to say with such pride, now feels fragile. Since 2019, the global democratic landscape has seen six straight years of decline. Think about that. Six years of backsliding. Elections are more contested, parliaments weaker, and public trust dangerously low. Across the world, the press -that once mighty pillar of democracy - is under siege. And here at home, we would be naïve to think Botswana is immune. I remember covering one of the past general elections in a rural area. It was dusty, hot, but full of hope. An elderly woman would say to me, “Ke batla gore bana ba me ba nne le bokamoso jo bo botoka.” She did not speak about politicians or parties. She spoke about faith in the process. The belief that democracy worked because it allowed her to dream for her children. That faith is what sustains a democracy. But lately, one can feel it slipping, not through violence or coups but through something quieter, the corrosion of trust. Something that we must not lose sight of is that democracy runs on trust. Trust that institutions are fair, that the ballot counts, and that the media tells the truth. But today, that trust is under assault. It is, therefore, because of this assault that I always find myself repeating this: that on social media, misinformation moves faster than our newsrooms can respond. Imagine how artificial intelligence (brilliant but dangerous) can now generate fake statements, images and even voices that sound real.
One deepfake video can spread across WhatsApp groups before a journalist can even open their laptop. By the time truth catches up, the damage is done. On the other hand, sadly so, it has now become common to overhear young voters say, “I don’t read newspapers anymore. Everything is online anyway.” But the “online” they usually speak of is not credible journalism. It is Facebook rumours, TikTok clips and anonymous posts shared without context. That is the new battlefield. And we, as Botswana journalists, are often arriving late to the fight. For years, our media has operated in a space of relative calm. We have not faced the outright repression seen in some countries. No violent newsroom raids and journalists vanishing into thin air. However, we have laws that sometimes make our work difficult, notwithstanding that we have had the freedom to question, probe and tell our stories. Yet perhaps this stability has made us too comfortable. Comfort, after all, breeds complacency and complacency in journalism is deadly. While we debate newsroom budgets and lament the rise of citizen journalism, something deeper is happening. People are no longer sure whether to believe what they read or hear.
