Cattle, not just assets but deeply woven into the lives and identities of families, were shot and buried in mass graves. It was not just a veterinary crisis. It was an emotional one. The pain could not be fully measured in numbers. It was in the silence of farmers who could no longer speak. It was in the tear-streaked faces of herders who had watched their way of life disappear in a single afternoon. And it was in the dust that hung in the air long after the gunshots faded. Only journalists could have captured that story. They were on the ground, listening, asking, and witnessing. They stood beside grieving farmers and documented not just the loss of livestock but the erosion of dignity and identity. That form of reporting requires more than data. It requires human presence, compassion, and courage. Fast forward to today.
The media industry is at a crossroads. Artificial Intelligence (AI) is increasingly being used to generate headlines, summarise press releases, write basic reports, and even simulate interviews. These technologies offer speed and efficiency, but they also risk replacing depth with convenience and truth with plausibility. AI cannot attend a village meeting, feel the tension in a room, or ask a follow-up question that changes everything. It cannot parse the subtleties of silence or recognise when a subject’s eyes contradict their words. It cannot, quite simply, cry. This is why Botswana still needs ethical journalists. Not just writers or broadcasters but professionals who see journalism as a calling, one that demands integrity, empathy, and accountability. It is in this context that President Advocate Duma Boko’s remarks at the Ghanzi Show take on added significance. Addressing what he described as a tense but necessary relationship between government and media, President Boko urged journalists to be fearless but also fair. “We expect the best from you. You are entitled to expect the best from us,” he said. “You must report without fear, but you must also report without favour.”
