By Khotso Mahonko
Lesotho is apparently sending a high-level delegation of negotiators to Washington in a bold attempt to secure relief from the newly imposed U.S. tariffs. Our garment exports, which are the heartbeat of our manufacturing sector, now face a 15% duty under America’s revised trade policy. The mission is ambitious: to persuade the United States to lower that tariff, ideally to zero while also pushing for AGOA’s renewal for another ten years. These talks arrive at a decisive moment when AGOA itself expires this month, and without an extension, the foundations of Lesotho’s export economy could be shaken to the core.
What makes the story more complex is the journey we have traveled in just a few months. InApril, Lesotho was suddenly struck with a crippling 50% tariff on U.S. exports, a blow that threatened to wipe out the industry overnight. When Washington revised the structure in August, pulling that rate down to 15%, there was a moment of relief, even gratitude. But the truth is sobering: while 15% is certainly better than 50%, it remains unbearably steep for a low-margin garment sector where profit margins often hover between three and seven percent. In practical terms, that means most of our factories are now producing at a loss whenever their garments land in American ports.
And these are not abstract numbers. We are talking about 11 factories in Lesotho that supply the U.S. market, together employing around 12,000 Basotho workers. These are mothers, fathers, young people and most importantly the breadwinners whose monthly wages sustain households, educate children, and inject life into local economies. Their livelihoods hang in the
balance of these negotiations. If we fail, it will not just be an economic setback, it will be a human crisis.
Even Kenya, a much larger economy placed at the baseline tariff of 10%, has raised alarm bells
that it cannot sustain competitiveness under the new system. If Kenya is “crying” at 10%, how much more desperate is Lesotho at 15%? This perspective is important: our country is not asking for extraordinary favours out of greed, but rather fighting for survival in a sector where even a modest duty becomes suffocating.
The danger is simple but brutal. If buyers cannot make orders viable in Lesotho, they will not hesitate to redirect their sourcing elsewhere. Ethiopia offers one such destination. Over the last decade, Ethiopia has deliberately built competitive industrial parks such as Hawassa, combining ultra-low labour costs, subsidised utilities, and integrated logistics to lure global apparel brands.
Firms there enjoy structural advantages that Lesotho does not yet match. Add in Asia with Vietnam, Bangladesh, and Cambodia leading the pack through economies of scale, integrated textile value chains, and world-class shipping networks and you see how fragile Lesotho’s position has become. Global buyers are pragmatic: they will not wait for us to solve our problems when alternatives are already waiting with open arms.That is why these negotiations in Washington carry such urgency. Without relief, closures in factories in Lesotho are almost inevitable. Thousands of Basotho families will suddenly face unemployment, and the knock-on effects will ripple through schools, small shops, taxis, and entire communities. Lesotho’s economy leans heavily on textiles as a core pillar of export earnings, and any collapse here will shake the country’s already fragile economic foundations.
Importantly, Lesotho is not crying alone. South Africa, Madagascar, Mauritius, and Kenya have all mobilised to press their own cases to Washington. Madagascar, for example, has openly warned that 60,000 jobs in its textile sector are at risk. Kenya has dusted off its earlier pursuit of a bilateral trade deal with the U.S. to seek protection for its industries. This continental mobilisation shows that Lesotho’s plea is part of a larger African alarm. Washington cannot ignore this chorus without undermining its Africa strategy, especially at a time when China and other powers are actively deepening their influence on the continent.
But here lies the central tension: can the U.S. realistically bend on its 10% baseline? That’s what I doubt could happen. In Washington, that floor has been presented as a matter of principle, a demonstration of “reciprocity” designed to quiet domestic critics who argue that AGOA gave Africa free rides for too long. To roll it back for one country risks setting a precedent, if America compromises on its 10% baseline tariffs for Lesotho even if it’s on a
humanitarian card, they would have set a precedent that other countries can beg USA to give them 0% as well. Politically, it is a hard sell and I really don’t think USA will give Lesotho anything below 10% baseline no matter how we can sell a desperate case of vulnerability.
Yet again, trade policy is never carved in stone. The U.S. has a track record of making surgical exceptions when the humanitarian costs are severe and the financial costs are minimal. Lesotho fits that profile perfectly: our export volume is tiny in the grand scheme of U.S. trade, but the livelihood impact is colossal at home. Granting relief to Lesotho would not shake American industries, but it would save thousands of jobs here and generate goodwill that strengthens Washington’s standing in Africa.
So what is realistically possible? We should not dream of a wholesale exemption, but we can hope for carefully designed carve-outs. The U.S. might reduce tariffs to zero only on specific apparel lines, or grant temporary waivers for two or three years to allow breathing space.
Another possibility is quota-based relief, letting a fixed volume of Lesotho’s garments enter duty-free. Each of these models would let Washington preserve its political principle while also demonstrating flexibility.
But let us not be naïve: America does not give without taking. Relief will almost certainly come with conditions. Some will be symbolic, others substantive. On the softer side, Washington may
expect Lesotho to deliver public diplomacy wins like high-profile visits, public thanks, and statements aligning with U.S. narratives. But there may also be tougher requests: like voting alignment at the United Nations, greater security cooperation, or opening our procurement markets to American firms. At worst, they might even push us to loosen our ties with China, given the U.S. and China rivalry.For a small country negotiating from desperation, these demands are dangerous. The challenge is to give away symbols, not sovereignty. Public gestures and UN votes are cheap but binding economic concessions that limit our future development choices are not. Our negotiators must be vigilant in drawing red lines.
What happens if Lesotho succeeds? At best, we save 12,000 jobs, stabilise our export base, and buy time to build competitiveness. But that time must not be wasted. Relief should be coupled with reforms: investing in local textile inputs, diversifying products, raising productivity, improving our environment for a successful industrialization that can attract investors and I would argue even diversifying our exports to other markets outside the U.S. Only then will Lesotho stand a chance to compete without leaning permanently on mercy.
And what if we fail? Well, the consequences will be immediate and devastating. Factories will close down. Jobs will vanish. Export revenues will shrink, straining foreign reserves and weakening the loti. Investor confidence will crumble. The deindustrialisation of our garment sector would not just be an economic loss; it would be a social catastrophe that could take generations to repair.
That is why this delegation’s mission is not a technical exercise, it is a fight for Lesotho’s future.
We must present a case that is firm, evidence-based, and compassionate. We must make Washington see not just trade statistics but human lives: the 12,000 Basotho workers who risk losing everything, the families who depend on their wages, the fragile stability that hangs in the balance. And we must also show a plan, a commitment that any reprieve we receive will be used as a springboard for real transformation.
At the end of the day, AGOA or any American mercy cannot carry us forever. At best, it can buy us time. And what we do with that time will define whether our garment sector survives or fades into history. If we use it to strengthen our foundations, we can stand taller in the global economy as a textile production powerhouse. If we squander it, we will find ourselves back here again,only weaker.
Lesotho must hope for mercy. But more importantly, Lesotho must prepare for transformation
