Category: The Conversation – Africa

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Jacqui Glencross, Seabird ecologist, University of St Andrews

South Africa is home to 88% of the world’s colonies of African penguins (Spheniscus demersus). The species is classified as Critically Endangered by the International Union for Conservation of Nature. This means there is a high risk the birds could go extinct in the wild following rapid population declines.

This species was once abundant along the coasts of South Africa and Namibia. But the population has fallen by about 78% over the last 30 years, driven by food scarcity, oil spills and climate-related shifts in the marine environment. African penguins mainly feed on anchovy and sardine. Changes in ocean conditions and overfishing have made it more difficult for the penguins to get enough food. In recent years, conservation organisations, scientists and government agencies have escalated efforts to halt this decline.

One of the most significant developments was a March 2025 court ruling that supported the introduction of improved no-fishing zones around key breeding colonies, to protect the penguins’ foraging grounds. Robben Island (11km north-west of Cape Town) is one of the colonies.

Protecting waters adjacent to breeding colonies is essential for the species’ long-term recovery. Food shortages in these areas, driven in part by competition with the purse-seine fishery (which uses a large net to surround schooling fish), have been directly linked to declining chick survival and the ongoing population collapse.

The court case (led by the organisations BirdLife South Africa and the Southern African Foundation for the Conservation of Coastal Birds) concluded that fish can no longer be caught within a 20km radius of Robben Island.

We are penguin researchers from the University of St Andrews, University of Exeter, the South African Department of Forestry, Fisheries and the Environment, and BirdLife South Africa.
Our work has examined the interactions between penguins and fishing operations in detail, and can offer insights to guide the management of their respective needs.

Overlap with the fishing industry

Previous research into the effects of fishing on penguin populations has mostly looked at metrics such as the amount of fish removed by the fishery. But technology to track fishing locations and animal movement now enables us to look at the picture on a fine spatial scale. We can see where and how intensely commercial fishing and penguins overlaps, helping us identify areas that should be protected.

Our recent research used tracking data from penguins on Robben and Dassen islands, in the Western Cape of South Africa. We measured population-level spatial overlap between penguins and the local fishery. A small proportion of penguins were tracked using GPS devices, then we were able to simulate where more of the colony were going.

Knowing where a large proportion of the penguin population is sharing a particular space with fishing vessels makes it easier to target which areas to protect and when. It provides benefits for the fishing industry (allowing fishing in areas which are of lower importance to the penguins) and for the penguins (limiting competition with the fishery during the breeding season).

We also developed a new metric, “overlap intensity”, which captures not only how much space penguins share with fishing vessels, but how many individual penguins are affected. Traditional measures of spatial overlap simply calculate the percentage of area shared between predators (penguins) and fishing vessels. But this can dramatically underestimate the actual degree of interaction, especially when only a few areas are shared but many animals use them.

It reveals insight into ecological pressure and competition that area overlap alone misses. For example, it suggests stronger competition for prey than spatial overlap metrics imply. This method can not only be expanded to other colonies but more broadly to other species and ecosystems.

Our findings show that overlap increases sharply in years when fish are scarce. During 2016, a year of low fish abundance, around 20% of penguins foraged in the same areas as active fishing vessels. In years with healthier fish stocks, however, overlap dropped to just 4%. This pattern indicates that competition between penguins and the fishery intensifies when prey is limited. It poses the highest risk during sensitive periods such as chick-rearing, when adults must forage efficiently to provide for their young.

A new tool for risk and management

By quantifying overlap intensity at the population level, our study offers a powerful new tool for assessing ecological risk and supporting ecosystem-based fisheries management. It also provides practical guidance for designing dynamic marine protected areas that respond to real-time changes in predator–prey interactions.

Our results further show that the new no-fishing zone around Robben Island will protect a key foraging area to the north-east of the colony. This was previously one of the regions with the highest overlap between penguins and fishing vessels.

Continued monitoring will be essential to determine how overlap changes in response to the new ten-year purse-seine closures around both colonies. Similar assessments should also be conducted at additional breeding sites, including other islands involved in the closures. Foraging ranges of the penguins and the areas covered by the no-take zones vary from colony to colony.

Meanwhile, over the past few years, weighbridges have been installed at some colonies (including Robben Island) collecting penguin weights when they leave to feed and when they return. Data from these large scales will tell us more about how the closures affect penguin foraging success.

Jacqui Glencross does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Can African penguins be brought back from the brink? Better designed no-fishing zones could help – https://theconversation.com/can-african-penguins-be-brought-back-from-the-brink-better-designed-no-fishing-zones-could-help-271762

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Siviwe Malongweni, Research Scientist, Sol Plaatje University

Mesquite (Neltuma juliflora), a woody plant native to parts of South America, was introduced into South Africa’s drylands in the 1880s with good intentions.

Bringing it to South Africa was meant to stabilise soils, provide shade, and offer a source of fuelwood in some of the country’s most water-limited landscapes. But today, particularly in the Northern Cape province, it’s a clear example of how an introduced species can quietly transform ecosystems, livelihoods and local climates in ways that are difficult and costly to reverse.

Across the Northern Cape’s arid and semi-arid rangelands, mesquite has spread extensively along riverbanks, floodplains and grazing areas. Unlike many indigenous plants that lie dormant during dry periods, mesquite remains active year-round. Its deep root system allows it to extract water from far below the surface, steadily depleting soil moisture and groundwater reserves.

I am an environmental and climate scientist in the Northern Cape, where agriculture contributes about 8% of the provincial GDP and employs roughly 16% of the workforce. My work focuses on addressing invasive species, land degradation and climate impacts to protect ecosystems, support rural livelihoods and strengthen the regional economy.

My team and I conducted research into the effect that invasive mesquite has had on the soils in this dry area of South Africa.

We found that mesquite drains moisture and nutrients from the soil, making it hard for other plants to grow. The dense roots and thick canopy also reduce water availability for livestock and people, while the soil becomes compacted and less fertile. All of this together makes farming much more difficult and threatens local livelihoods.

What the science shows

Our study compared soils from mesquite-invaded areas with those from nearby uninvaded rangelands. Our findings show striking differences.

In mesquite-dominated landscapes, soils tended to hold less moisture, had altered nutrient balances and displayed changes in physical structure compared with soils under native vegetation.

This may not sound dramatic at first, but soil moisture and nutrient balance are foundational to how ecosystems function. Soil that stays moist supports grass growth. Grass protects soil from erosion, feeds livestock, and keeps water in the landscape. When mesquite replaces grass with dense thickets, that entire cascade of benefits begins to unravel.

Mesquite roots dig deep and draw water year-round. Where native plants go dormant in dry seasons, mesquite continues to transpire (release water from its leaves), reducing soil moisture. Over time, this leads to drier soils that struggle to support the plants crucial for grazing and wildlife.

The outcome is a quieter, slower form of ecosystem change; one that doesn’t always show up in dramatic headlines but that steadily degrades land and undermines livelihoods dependent on healthy soil.

---

Read more:
How South Africa’s second most invasive tree can be managed better

---

Why this matters for climate and livelihoods

Soil and climate are intimately connected. Dryland systems like the Northern Cape are already vulnerable to climate change due to hotter temperatures, more erratic rainfall and longer droughts. In this context, invasive species with high drought tolerance gain an edge. Mesquite, which is native to Central and South America, thrives where native vegetation falters. But that advantage comes at a cost of reduced water availability for human consumption, agricultural use and wildlife, altered carbon cycles and increased land degradation.

For pastoralist communities and smallholder farmers, the effects are tangible. Our team carried out a skills assessment and facilitated workshops in collaboration with the Northern Cape provincial government and the International Union for Conservation of Nature, and documented evidence of these impacts (it is not yet online).

Livestock grazing depends on grass cover. Our direct observations and assessments in the Northern Cape show that as mesquite thickets grow, grazing land shrinks. Farmers find themselves forced to reduce herd sizes or travel longer distances for forage. Over time, income declines, pressure on household food security increases, and people become more vulnerable to climatic and economic shocks.

The human dimension

The invasion of mesquite isn’t just an ecological problem; it’s a social one. Reduced grazing and degraded land translate into fewer resources for families that depend on livestock. In regions where economic opportunities are already limited, this can exacerbate inequality, increase rural poverty and push people towards unsustainable coping strategies.

---

Read more:
Nearly 25% of land in Africa has been damaged – what’s to blame, and what can be done

---

In our ongoing research, communities across the Northern Cape have told us similar stories: land that used to support healthy herds now supports thorny thickets that livestock avoid; water points dry faster; and the rhythm of life shifts as people adapt to a changed landscape. These are not abstract scientific outcomes; they are lived experiences.

Yet, amid these challenges, there are also opportunities.

Repurposing pathways for mesquite

The same biological traits that make mesquite a problem can also be harnessed for benefit, if approached thoughtfully. Mesquite pods are rich in sugars and have been used as supplementary livestock feed in dry seasons. They could also potentially be used for flour and baking, natural sweeteners, coffee substitutes, snacks, and traditional medicine for regulating blood sugar. The wood is dense and burns hot, making it valuable for charcoal and energy. Craft industries can use mesquite timber for artisanal products, creating potential income streams for rural communities. Mesquite biomass can be processed into low-carbon, climate-adaptive building materials with a net negative carbon footprint, and into biochar that can be used to restore degraded soils after invasive species removal.

The key is to repurpose eradicated mesquite in support of ecological restoration. Overharvesting without a plan can worsen the situation if it encourages regrowth or fails to address underlying ecosystem changes. But when combined with targeted clearing and rehabilitation, utilisation can be part of a broader, sustainable strategy.

---

Read more:
Black wattle as firewood: how South African communities are putting invasive species to work

---

What needs to happen next

Clearing mesquite is possible, but expensive. Mechanical removal requires labour, machinery and follow-up work to prevent regrowth. If land is cleared but not rehabilitated, grasses and native vegetation may struggle to return because the soil has already changed. That means investment must be long-term, not just a one-off effort.

South Africa needs an integrated approach that includes:

• early detection and mapping

• community-led clearing and rehabilitation, so that efforts are sustained and rooted in local knowledge

• soil restoration efforts, reintroducing native grasses and shrubs

• economic integration, developing value chains for mesquite products

• climate-responsive planning and land management that improves water retention and soil health.

Mesquite invasion in the Northern Cape is more than a botanical curiosity. It is a transformation of land that affects soil, water, climate resilience and human wellbeing. The research on soil properties makes it clear that the impacts are real and measurable, but it also points to pathways for action.

Siviwe Malongweni works for the Centre for Global Change. This research is implemented by the IUCN in partnership with the DFFE and funded by the Global Environment Facility (GEF-7).

– ref. Invasive mesquite plants do more than deplete water reserves – new research in South Africa shows they damage soil too – https://theconversation.com/invasive-mesquite-plants-do-more-than-deplete-water-reserves-new-research-in-south-africa-shows-they-damage-soil-too-274126

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Sarah Venter, Baobab Ecologist, University of the Witwatersrand

Baobabs aren’t supposed to fall. They can live for up to 2,500 years. Famous for their resilience, these huge trees have stood tall across Africa, weathering droughts and winds that flatten everything else.

A small population of 102 baobabs is also found in Oman on the south-eastern tip of the Arabian Peninsula, where baobabs were introduced over 1,500 years ago by traders from Africa.

However, several baobabs have recently collapsed and died in Oman, not from disease, drought or old age, but from infestation by a beetle that has suddenly proven deadly to baobab trees – the mango stem-borer (Batocera rufomaculata).

I’m a baobab ecologist who worked with two environmental scientists from Oman, Ali Salem Musallm Akaak and Mohammed Mubarak Suhail Akaak, to investigate how many trees had been infected by the beetle, how the infestation had affected the trees and how many had died as a result.

We surveyed 91 baobab trees in Oman and found that six had been killed by the beetle. A further 12 baobab trees were infested by the beetle’s larvae.

This is the first time that an insect has been found to kill adult baobab trees. The same beetle is known to damage and kill other species of trees.

Our findings have important implications for the conservation and management of baobabs throughout Africa. The mango-borer beetle has not been found in mainland Africa yet but it may become a new threat to baobabs if it disperses.

Our findings allow for early detection as well as research into effective ways to control the beetle before it spreads to Africa.

If the mango stem-borer were to reach mainland Africa, where the baobab is considered a keystone species, it could devastate both ecosystems and livelihoods. Baobabs have over 300 uses for people, including fibre made from the bark, food from the leaves and the fruit, which is harvested for its nutritious pulp and sold in local and global markets.

Meet the killer

The mango stem-borer is native to south-east Asia. Adults live for only two to three months, feeding on shoots and bark. During that time females can lay up to 200 eggs, cutting small slits in tree bark and sealing each egg inside.

The grubs or larvae spend almost a year hidden within the wood, tunnelling through the living tissue that carries water and nutrients. As they feed, they weaken the tree and eventually kill it.

This beetle has long been one of Asia’s most damaging fruit-tree pests. It attacks mango, jackfruit, mulberry and fig trees, often killing mature hosts. It spread to the Middle East, where it was first recorded in 1950 and has damaged fig plantations.

In 2021, an adult baobab in Wadi Hinna, a semi-arid valley in Oman’s Dhofar Mountains, collapsed and died. When researchers examined the fallen trunk, they discovered it was infested by mango stem-borer larvae.

By 2025, seven baobabs had died, and many more were infected, confirming that a seemingly innocuous fruit-tree pest had found a new host.

---

Read more:
Madagascar’s ancient baobab forests are being restored by communities – with a little help from AI

---

The very qualities that make baobabs extraordinary survivors in dry climates also make them ideal nurseries for borer beetle larvae. Their stored water, soft trunks and nutrient rich tissue feed and protect larvae for nearly a year until they mature.

As the larvae feed, they hollow out the interior of the baobab, leaving the outer bark intact and the infestation hidden, until the stem suddenly collapses.

Battling the beetle

When the first deaths were recorded, Oman’s Environment Authority launched an emergency control programme with help from local communities and researchers.

Infested trees were treated with systemic insecticides, larvae were manually removed from trunks, and light traps were set to attract and kill adult beetles at night. Tree stems were also coated with agricultural lime and fungicide to deter further egg-laying.

These actions seem to have slowed the outbreak, but they are labour-intensive and feasible only for a small area. Across a continent, such methods would be impossible to maintain.

---

Read more:
The secret life of baobabs: how bats and moths keep Africa’s giant trees alive

---

In Asia, scientists have identified natural enemies of the mango stem-borer, including parasitic mites and nematodes. These could be used as the base of a long-term biological control strategy.

My research argues that using biological control to stop the beetle reproducing must be developed as a priority before infestations cross into Africa.

Preventing a spread to Africa

Adult beetles can fly up to 14 kilometres in a single night, and global trade makes it easy for insects to cross borders unnoticed, hidden in plants and ornamentals destined for the agriculture and garden sector.

---

Read more:
Baobab trees all come from Madagascar – new study reveals that their seeds and seedlings floated to mainland Africa and all the way to Australia

---

The beetle already occurs on islands such as Madagascar, Réunion and Mauritius. Baobab researchers do not know if the mango stem-borer has attacked the local baobab populations of Madagascar, where the trees are an indigenous plant.

Early detection and prevention are far cheaper, and far more effective, than trying to stop an outbreak once it begins. Stronger biosecurity inspections and other measures are needed at African ports and borders to stop the beetle crossing borders, particularly in shipments of wood and live plants.

Collaboration between research institutions, agricultural departments and the baobab industry will also help: sharing data, testing biological controls and setting up monitoring systems before further outbreaks occur.

A warning – and an opportunity

The death of baobabs in Oman is more than a localised problem. It’s a warning of what could happen elsewhere if the beetle spreads unchecked.

But it also offers a chance to prepare. If African countries act now, tightening biosecurity, supporting research and raising awareness, they can protect one of the continent’s most iconic and life-sustaining trees before this threat ever reaches African shores.

Sarah Venter receives funding from the Baobab Foundation.
Sarah Venter is an advisory member of the African Baobab Alliance

– ref. Killer beetles in the baobabs: researcher warns of risk to African trees – https://theconversation.com/killer-beetles-in-the-baobabs-researcher-warns-of-risk-to-african-trees-275715

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Lyla Latif, Co-Founder & Research Lead, Committee on Fiscal Studies, University of Nairobi

Public finance, or how governments at all levels raise and allocate money, is in evidence everywhere you look. That pothole destroying your car. The health clinic without medicine. The dilapidated school. Public money is not government money. It is yours, writes Kenyan finance scholar Lyla Latif in her new book Governing Public Money. Drawing on a decade of experience across 32 countries, the author sets out what ails Africa’s public finances and what could change. The Conversation Africa asked her about the book’s main themes.

What prompted you to write this book?

Most books on public finance are written by men, from institutions in the global north, about systems designed in the global north. There is not a single comprehensive treatment of public finance law focused on Kenya or, for that matter, on any African country. I wanted to change that.

But the deeper motivation was a question that had been forming across more than a decade of working inside fiscal systems. As an international tax expert and scholar, I have spent years watching how public money actually moves: through revenue authorities and treasury departments, through regional customs unions and international treaty negotiations, through county governments and sovereign debt markets.

What struck me is that everyone assumes they know what public finance is. Fewer people understand how it is governed, and fewer still appreciate how profoundly interconnected its parts are. That interconnectedness is what the book’s 11 chapters try to capture. Revenue policy shapes debt sustainability. Debt sustainability constrains budgeting. Budgeting determines what devolution can deliver. Regional integration reshapes revenue options. International treaty regimes limit domestic policy space. Technology transforms administration. Corruption corrodes everything.

No single chapter can be understood in isolation, just as no fiscal challenge can be solved in isolation.

The final chapter examines Islamic public finance. Here, I discuss:

• zakat, a mandatory wealth based contribution used to support social welfare

• waqf, an endowment dedicated to public benefit such as education or health

• sukuk, asset backed Islamic financial certificates often compared to bonds but structured without interest.

I argue that these are fiscal institutions within a legal tradition that colonial administration suppressed but never displaced. Writing that chapter felt like an act of intellectual justice.

What are the key messages on public finance?

The book opens with a memory. During the frequent power cuts of my childhood in Nairobi, my father would gather us around candles and draw. One evening he sketched a woman carrying water on her head and a child on her back, walking toward a distant horizon.

I did not then understand that the darkness itself was fiscal: the consequence of under-investment, deferred maintenance, and policy choices that left entire communities without reliable electricity. That image captures the book’s central argument. Public finance is not a technical subject confined to treasury officials and economists. It is the means through which societies either raise living standards or entrench dependence.

Every unbuilt school, every underfunded clinic, every collapsed road is a fiscal failure before it is anything else. And every act of governance, from defending a nation’s borders to delivering clean water, ultimately resolves into a fiscal question.

The book argues that law does not merely regulate public finance; it constitutes it. The authority to tax, to borrow, to spend, and to hold officials accountable derives from legal instruments. Kenya’s 2010 constitution devotes an entire chapter to public finance, establishing principles of equity, transparency and public participation. These are not decorative provisions. They are the architecture through which fiscal power is authorised, constrained and contested.

Yet the book is equally insistent that legal frameworks do not determine outcomes. The gap between what constitutions promise and what citizens experience is shaped by political economy: by who holds power, whose interests prevail, and what international forces constrain domestic choices.

How is Africa disadvantaged in the international fiscal system?

Africa’s disadvantage is not accidental or temporary. It reflects a continuing structure shaped by history and reproduced through modern international rules. Colonial fiscal systems were designed for extraction, not development.

In Kenya, the Native Hut and Poll Tax Ordinance of 1910 compelled African populations into wage labour to meet obligations denominated in colonial currency. Revenue was directed towards the Uganda Railway and export corridors serving London rather than towards African education or health.

As Kenyan scholars George Ndege, Ahmed Mohiddin and I have documented, colonial administrations relied on indirect taxes that fell hardest on African populations. They directed expenditure towards export infrastructure serving metropolitan markets and concentrated authority in executive hands with minimal accountability.

Independence brought formal sovereignty but did not dismantle the international architecture within which African fiscal governance operates. Tax treaties, negotiated primarily among developed countries, allocate taxing rights in ways that systematically favour capital exporters. The status quo allows multinational enterprises to derive substantial income from African markets without triggering source country taxation.

Investment treaties expose African governments to billion dollar arbitration claims when they adjust fiscal policy. Trade agreements constrain tariff choices that might support industrial development. African countries have been positioned as passive recipients of rules rather than their authors. The frameworks that govern cross border taxation, sovereign debt restructuring and investment protection were designed in forums where African states had little or no voice.

For over 60 years, the rules governing cross border taxation have been written principally within the OECD, a body of wealthy capital-exporting states where African countries had no seat.

Thanks to African advocacy, a new UN Framework Convention on International Tax Cooperation adopted in 2023 is changing that. The convention creates space for binding obligations on cross border services, digital economy taxation and illicit financial flows. These are areas where voluntary frameworks have consistently failed the continent.

This represents the most significant shift in international tax governance in decades.

African states are beginning to write rules rather than merely absorb them.

What could countries and citizens change?

The most consequential shift would be for African countries to look inward. That means confronting the revenue gap that defines African fiscal governance. The continent’s average tax-to-GDP ratio remains below 16%, well beneath what is needed to fund basic public goods without chronic dependence on external financing.

This requires building professionally independent revenue authorities, transparent public financial management, and the political will to tax wealth and rents that elite capture has long shielded. It also means developing indigenous fiscal scholarship rather than importing policy knowledge from Washington, Paris and Geneva.

Looking inward is not autarky, meaning a withdrawal into economic self sufficiency and disengagement from global exchange. Rather, it is about consolidating internal clarity and capacity so that engagement outward happens on African terms. My colleague Daniel Nuer, a senior official at the Ghana Revenue Authority, once said to me:

If Africa starts looking inward, every non-African state will be forced to comply with African approaches.

There is a quiet but powerful logic in that observation. When African countries strengthen domestic revenue mobilisation, they reduce dependence on aid and on borrowing from international markets on terms set by creditors. When they build effective tax administrations, they create the institutional capacity that underpins state legitimacy.

When they coordinate regionally, such as through the East African Community or the African Continental Free Trade Area, they create the scale that individual economies cannot achieve alone. As African revenue systems become more effective, the current international architecture, built on the assumption that developing countries will remain rule takers, becomes unsustainable.

A continent that mobilises its own resources, governs its own debt, and taxes its own digital economy does not need to accept frameworks designed elsewhere for the benefit of others. That is not merely a hope. In 2024, African states voted for a multilateral tax convention over the opposition of the world’s wealthiest countries. The African Continental Free Trade Area is building the coordinated market that no single African economy can sustain alone.

But fiscal sovereignty does not emerge in ideal conditions. It must contend with structural pressures that continue to narrow policy space. Sovereign debt repayments are absorbing resources that should be financing development, while illicit financial flows drain more from the continent each year than it receives in aid. What is shaping Africa’s fiscal future, then, is not the abstract market logics often associated with Adam Smith, but deliberate political choices about how public money is governed and how power over it is exercised.

Consequently, citizens have a role that extends beyond compliance. The fiscal contract between state and citizen depends on both sides. Governments must mobilise resources equitably and deploy them transparently. Citizens must demand accountability and participate in the budget processes that constitutions – such as Kenya’s – now require.

Civil society organisations and investigative journalists have proven essential in exposing fiscal failures that formal institutions missed. The work ahead is neither simple nor quick. But the direction is clear. African fiscal governance must be built from African foundations, informed by African needs, and accountable to African citizens. That is what governing public money should mean.

Lyla Latif does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Africa’s public finances are in a mess: a new book explains why and what to do – https://theconversation.com/africas-public-finances-are-in-a-mess-a-new-book-explains-why-and-what-to-do-275761

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Yohannes Gedamu, Senior Lecturer of Political Science, Georgia Gwinnett College

The histories of Eritrea and Ethiopia have long been closely intertwined. Once part of Ethiopia, Eritrea launched an armed struggle for independence in 1961 that resulted in its secession in 1993 following a referendum. But since Eritrea’s independence, relations between the two countries have evolved through many ups and downs, which include a devastating war from 1998 to 2000, followed by two decades of mutual isolationism.

The two countries appeared to have healed their broken relations when Eritrea’s Isaias Afwerki accepted the newly appointed Ethiopian prime minister Abiy Ahmed’s overtures for peace in 2018. Unfortunately, by early 2026, that started to feel like a distant memory with the re-emergence of the prospect of a return to war. Political science scholar Yohannes Gedamu explains the context and potential consequences.

What’s the history of conflict between the two countries?

A border dispute in 1998 ignited a deadly war between Ethiopia and Eritrea, which share a border of over 1,000km. The war started when Eritrean troops invaded Badme, a contested town in Tigray, the northernmost region of Ethiopia. It became one of the deadliest conflicts of contemporary Africa as tens of thousands lost their lives.

The war ended in June 2000 with the Algiers Agreement. It established a ceasefire, mandated the deployment of UN peacekeepers, and created a boundary commission to legally demarcate the disputed border. However, the fact that borders are yet to be demarcated means tensions could persist.

At the time, Ethiopia was ruled under a four-party political coalition created and dominated by Tigray People’s Liberation Front. The coalition, known as Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front, ruled the country between 1991 and 2018.

Eritrea’s ruling party was historically an ally of the Tigray People’s Liberation Front. That changed because the ally was in charge of Ethiopia when it won the war.

The resentment has never gone away.

Tensions have flared from time to time. The border is heavily militarised, with a no man’s land between the two armies serving as a security corridor.

Abiy Ahmed’s peace overtures to Eritrea in 2018 and the resulting peace agreement were lauded by many in the global community and locally. Most recognise that the countries have more in common than what sets them apart.

But the agreement did not lead to increased political and economic cooperation. It created only a short-lived marriage of convenience. Here is why.

After Abiy came to power in April 2018, the Tigrayan grip on Ethiopia ended. In November 2020, the Tigray war started. Eritrea blamed the Tigray People’s Liberation Front for its own economic and political fragility and isolation, and supported Abiy against the Tigrayans.

The Tigray war became a devastating conflict with allegations of war crimes committed by all parties – but most were attributed to the Eritrean troops.

The prospect of a new war in the ever volatile Horn of Africa would threaten a region already ravaged by the ongoing conflict in Sudan.

What’s driving the present tensions?

Despite the peace agreement in 2018 between the countries, fault lines persist. The biggest is access to the sea.

Eritrea’s independence in 2000 gave it control of a long coastline across the Red Sea, but left populous Ethiopia a landlocked nation. Addis Ababa now depends on the goodwill of its neighbours like Djibouti for port access.

In recent years, especially since the Tigray war ended in 2022, Abiy has brought up the topic of access to the sea, naming Eritrea and Somaliland as potential avenues. He argues that Ethiopia has a historical claim to Eritrea’s port of Assab, which is a mere 60km from the Ethiopian border.

Indeed, many Ethiopians consider the loss of access to the sea as a national tragedy. Abiy’s plea for a diplomatic solution that would give Ethiopia access to the sea has galvanised support at home.

This has angered Eritrea, which doesn’t accept Ethiopia’s claim to Assab.

The second fault line is Eritrea’s documented support to various Ethiopian rebel organisations and movements in recent periods. This support was evident before the peace deal in 2018. There are also new allegations of Eritrean military support for Tigrayan and other rebellions in Amhara and Oromia, especially since 2022.

The most important fault line, however, has developed in the aftermath of the Tigray War. Eritrea fought on Ethiopia’s side during the war. When the war ended, Eritrea complained that it was not consulted or invited by Ethiopia to be a party to the peace accord.

Ethiopia now claims that Eritrea has switched alliances. After the Tigray war concluded and a provisional administration was installed in Mekelle, the Tigray People’s Liberation Front and the government of Ethiopia failed to address their differences. And Eritrea extended its hand to its historic foe, the Tigray People’s Liberation Front.

This has angered Ethiopia and stoked cross-border animosities.

Is war inevitable?

In October 2025, Ethiopia’s foreign minister Gedion Timothewos wrote to the United Nations accusing Eritrea of making new incursions into Ethiopia’s territories and movement of its troops into Tigray.

He claimed that Eritrea’s collusion with the Tigray People’s Liberation Front had become “more evident over the past few months”. He also accused Eritrea of “funding, mobilising and directing armed groups” in Ethiopia’s Amhara region, where militiamen known as Fano have been battling the federal government.

In February 2026, Ethiopia also wrote to Eritrea demanding the withdrawal of troops from its territory. Eritrea fired back that the allegations were “patently false and fabricated”.

The danger of a return to war is real. And time is running out for diplomatic and political efforts to defuse tensions. In its letter to Eritrea, Ethiopia said it remained open to dialogue. Addis also indicated willingness to engage in broader negotiations, including maritime affairs and potential access to the sea through the port of Assab.

A dialogue could address Ethiopia’s desire for reliable sea access and Eritrea’s fears of an attack on its sovereignty.

Diplomacy now could prevent the onset of conflict. Just three years after the Tigray war – and with the Sudan war soon dragging into its fourth year – the region can ill afford another. Headquartered in Addis Ababa, the African Union especially needs to invite both countries to the negotiating table before time runs out.

Yohannes Gedamu does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Ethiopia and Eritrea are on edge again: what’s behind the growing risk of war – https://theconversation.com/ethiopia-and-eritrea-are-on-edge-again-whats-behind-the-growing-risk-of-war-276424

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Adewumi Badiora, Senior Lecturer, Department of Urban and Regional Planning, Olabisi Onabanjo University

Nigeria is urbanising at a remarkable speed. Some of the world’s fastest growing cities are in the west African country.

With the current rate of urbanisation, Kano, Ibadan, Abuja and Port Harcourt will surpass the 10 million inhabitants mega city threshold by 2050. According to United Nations estimates, Lagos will be the largest city in the world by 2100, accommodating more than 88 million people, up from the present population of about 25 million.

The rapid urbanisation and other issues, such as climate change, limited public finance and extreme poverty, are putting pressure on the government to provide better basic public infrastructure, especially in informal settlements.

Street lighting is one area of public infrastructure where there is a clear need, and potential, for improvement.

Street lighting plays a crucial role in public safety and security, and it promotes inclusive social and economic development by boosting local commerce, street businesses and community engagement.

Conventional grid-based street lights and other technologies like LED lights powered by solar energy have been installed in parts of Nigeria but are still lacking in many cities.

I have been researching various aspects of urban and community safety in Nigeria, particularly in the country’s south-west. I currently lead the African Cities Research Consortium safety and security domain action research in Lagos.

I co-authored a recent research report about the condition of street lights in Lagos. I interviewed 17 key informants in a bid to understand the provision, challenges, quality and impact of street lighting in Africa’s foremost mega city. Respondents included residents and community associations, state agencies, private sector companies, and nongovernmental agencies.

We found that street light provision by the state has been orientated towards elite neighbourhoods, while households in disadvantaged settlements have less access.

Nevertheless, low-income communities across the city have come together to drive progress. They have enabled residents to achieve some level of street light infrastructure in their neighbourhood by working with the local government, civil society organisations and NGOs.

We argue that solutions will only be found through inclusive engagements that push against established approaches to infrastructure development.

Multiple paybacks of street lighting

Research was conducted in three selected communities: Ilaje-Bariga on the Mainland, Brazilian Quarters on the Island and Ajegunle-Ikorodu in the
peri-urban area. The three communities have either past or ongoing street light projects being delivered via sponsorship or collaboration between the Community Development Association, state or nonstate institutions.

Economic and social benefits were particularly prominent. Residents feel safer going out after dark when streets are well lit, while workers feel safer walking to and from their homes early in the morning and at night.

Businesses on newly lit streets have seen increased revenue as a result of vendors and traders being able to operate for longer after nightfall.

A previous case study established that extending trading times beyond daylight hours could add tens of thousands of working hours daily to the economy.

A respondent commented: “Policing work is now better in the night and we do not need to rely on battery-powered torchlight while on street patrol or checks.”

Another added: “We used to have cases of robbery, but the street light makes everywhere lit like daytime … the hoodlums are no longer able to perpetrate their act.”

Hurdles of street light provisions

Some obstacles remain, however. Our research uncovered many reasons as to why street light projects are not long-lasting or are unsuccessful. Limited budgeting and politically driven procurement are key challenges.

We found that the high costs and limited state budgets mean that certain areas of the city are prioritised and other areas neglected. The ruling class receives more political and economic support.

Across the three communities researched, the average cost of installation of one solar street light pole is US$200-800, compared to US$1,150 for a conventional grid powered streetlight. The difference in operating costs is where the economics of solar powered, compared to conventional, street lighting becomes most compelling.

Politically driven procurement spotlights the need to favour cronies on the selection, awarding and implementation of street light infrastructure. Projects are awarded in favour of individuals (usually party members and not necessarily an expert) in exchange for political support.

The lack of technical expertise at the local and state levels remains a critical barrier, according to our study. This is displayed in poor procurement processes, infrastructure maintenance issues and inefficient use of limited public funds.

Because of corruption, the full value of project allocation is rarely received by suppliers. As one respondent explained: “In most cases, the money allocated for projects does not get to us. There are bottlenecks here and there that will drain off most of the project fund.” This leaves limited capital to deliver quality infrastructure and streetlight projects are poorly delivered or abandoned before completion, for want of funds.

Other street lighting projects are abandoned because succeeding regimes refuse to continue predecessor projects.

There is also the challenge of vandalism and theft involving street light equipment. There have been situations where “area boys” – Lagos street gangs – restricted street light installation and where equipment parts were stolen.

Overcoming the obstacles

The solutions can only be found through inclusive engagements. Our study recommends the following steps:

• Involve a wide range of players, particularly local communities, in planning and delivering street lighting.

• Build an enabling environment for private-sector-led renewable solutions and investment in sustainable lighting technologies, such as LED lights.

• Create a robust regulatory framework to produce sustainable lighting technologies locally.

• Improve state budget and investment funding for street lighting.

• Develop capacity in the public sector to plan, design, finance and deliver projects.

• Support low-income neighbourhoods and informal communities.

• Separate political, personal interests from good governance and ensure transparency in the procurement process in practice.

So far, the large-scale initiative involving the deployment of over 22,000 solar street lights has engaged with residents in areas like Ikotun, Alausa, Ketu, Kosofe, Marina, Lekki and Surulere. Community feedback on the safety and environmental benefits has been integrated into the project. The project adopted LED lighting, which is more cost effective and energy-efficient.

Adewumi Badiora does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Streetlights in Lagos can boost safety and grow the economy. Why not everyone benefits – https://theconversation.com/streetlights-in-lagos-can-boost-safety-and-grow-the-economy-why-not-everyone-benefits-275581

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Ulf Engel, Professor, Institute of African Studies, University of Leipzig

The African Union held its 39th Assembly of Heads of State and Government in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, in February 2026. The two-day assembly produced the usual number of decisions and declarations across African peace and security, trade, governance and development.

Such gatherings, however, can feel distant from the everyday realities of African citizens. They are a showcase of high-level diplomacy that can feel far removed from public life.

Since the Union’s establishment in July 2002, the AU Assembly and the AU Executive Council (the meeting of ministers) have taken more than 2,000 decisions. Usually decisions are prepared by ambassadors to the African Union, and then adopted by the assembly or the executive council.

If one were to go by media reports, the AU would be largely seen as ineffective and irrelevant, a political project driven by elites who are detached from citizens in the 55 member states. But the reality is more multifaceted and complex.

In its 2000 Constitutive Act the AU aimed at becoming a union of and for African people. So have its decisions and processes translated into meaningful change for African people?

Very little is known about how African citizens think about the African Union. In 2025, Afrobarometer, a survey research network, polled thousands of respondents in 30 African countries. Of these, 57% said their country’s interests were recognised in continental affairs. But this doesn’t say anything about how they as citizens feel represented and served by the union. Further, an average of 55% of respondents thought that the AU’s economic and political influence on their own country was positive. This varied between 79% (Liberia) and 30% (Tunisia).

Following conflicts and power grabs across parts of the continent, criticism of the AU’s effectiveness is growing. This is particularly in the vital area of peace and security, which affects millions of people’s lives.

In my view as a researcher of the AU, and a long-standing observer and advisor on its political affairs, peace and security department, I would argue that the AU is making a difference for African citizens. I’ll highlight three areas that are not usually the focus of attention but that make my point.

These are climate change, governance and public health. In my view, these three stand out because each of them really shows how the continental organisation can make a difference for the people.

The AU in people’s lives

1. Climate change

The challenges arising from the consequences of climate change in Africa are enormous and can be observed in many parts of the continent. Just think of the torrential rains and floods in southern Africa in early 2026.

Climate mitigation and adaption are negotiated in global forums. This mainly happens at the annual Conference of the Parties (COP). This is the decision-making body of the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change.

Without a common African position – which is developed by the AU – citizens would have no chance of being heard internationally or have their interests addressed. The system is not perfect, but the AU empowers its member states and enables several African NGOs to come into these international processes.

2. Governance

The AU has opened and secured considerable legal opportunities for citizens in the area of governance through the establishment of several institutions and policies. These include the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights (located in Gabon), the African Court on Human and Peoples’ Rights (Tanzania) and the African Peer Review Mechanism (South Africa). These structures allow African citizens to make legal claims. NGOs can shadow report on their governments’ submissions to these bodies. Additionally, civil society organisations can contribute to a country’s governance self-assessment.

In this way, the AU is a driving force in the further development of the rights of its citizens.

It is also driving the Africanisation of international law. This refers to development or co-production of international legal norms and standards.

What’s needed now is for member states to ratify existing legal provisions so citizens can reap the intended rewards.

3. Public health

The establishment of Africa Centres for Disease Control and Prevention (Africa CDC) following the Ebola epidemic in west Africa in 2014-2016 was a turning point for public health in Africa.

During the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020-2022, the Africa CDC enabled member countries to prepare their national health systems to respond better to the pandemic. This was done by, among other things, rolling out a response fund and providing access to health equipment. The gradual build-up of African vaccination capacity after the pandemic would hardly have been possible without a pan-African organisation.

The Africa CDC is now focusing on strengthening public health systems, and building and harmonising disease surveillance systems across countries. It is also developing and implementing emergency preparedness plans for a wide range of diseases, including malaria and tuberculosis.

These are just three out of many more examples that showcase the AU’s impact in everyday life. Others include policies around the free movement of people, free trade, women’s rights and infrastructure development.

These structures demonstrate the usefulness of an organisation that negotiates relations between Africa and the rest of the world, and that also exerts influence within the continent.

What if the AU didn’t exist?

The AU still struggles with numerous challenges, internal tensions and contradictions.

But in the end, member states are the ones that decide how efficient the organisation can be. They also decide how well financed it is to implement the many decisions that member states take at the AU Assembly or Executive Council sessions. Currently, member states’ contributions are capped at US$200 million, which was done to address the economic impacts of COVID-19 but has never been revised. This amount is less than 27% of the AU’s 2026 budget. The remainder is provided by the AU’s international partners, such as the European Union.

Still, the question of what would happen if the AU did not exist does not really arise. It is the body that represents a (particular) vision of pan-African unity and develops common African norms (such as on governance and women rights). It devises practical responses to specific challenges (like health, infrastructure and trade).

Without the AU, the continent would have weaker bargaining power and slower coordination around issues that touch on public life. It offers a way to give 55 countries a common voice in global politics, and to bring together often-conflicting national interests.

In an increasingly volatile global environment, the negotiating and decision-making power of the eight officially recognised regional economic communities alone would not be sufficient for this – even if it sometimes seems as if the distance between the AU headquarters in Addis Ababa and the people of the continent remains great.

Ulf Engel receives funding from the German Federal Ministry of Research, Technology and Space for a research project on African non-military conflict intervention practices (2022-2028).

– ref. African Union: how does it make a difference in everyday life and what would happen if it didn’t exist? – https://theconversation.com/african-union-how-does-it-make-a-difference-in-everyday-life-and-what-would-happen-if-it-didnt-exist-276185

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Lindy Heinecken, Professor of Sociology in the Department of Sociology and Social Anthropology., Stellenbosch University

When President Cyril Ramaphosa announced the deployment of the South African National Defence Force to the provinces of Gauteng and the Western Cape in his 2026 State of the Nation Address, he was met with desperate applause by a crime-weary nation. This is largely due to police failure in almost every aspect of their duties in protecting citizens from crime and violence. Hence the call to bring in the army.

But my research in the field of armed forces and society suggests this “show of force” creates a dangerous moral hazard. If the army is always available to “stablise” a hot spot, there’s no pressure on the South African Police Service to root out corruption, improve intelligence-gathering and rebuild community trust.

All three are weak spots in the country’s police service, affecting their ability to deal with criminal and violent crime.

Gang violence – one of the areas the defence force has been called on to control – is the byproduct of systemic neglect such as unemployment, lack of infrastructure and poor education. As long as the structural violence (lack of jobs and infrastructure) and cultural violence (the need for gang identity) remain, the military can only provide a temporary “lid” on the violence. But constantly relying on the military when core governance and policing institutions fail places the country on a dangerous, remilitarised path where military solutions begin to dominate civilian life.

An extensive international comparative study which drew in experts from 26 different countries shows that domestic military use raises concerns about democratic backsliding and extra-judicial abuse of coercive power. It shows most countries avoid using the military internally for coercive law enforcement roles due to these concerns.

The façade of action

South Africans voice the same concerns, yet the South African National Defence Force has increasingly found itself deployed to “safeguard the nation”, which includes combating gang violence.

In the 2019 deployment to the Cape Flats, gang-affected neighbourhoods in Cape Town, the initial presence of troops saw a temporary dip in crime. In 2019, the situation in the Cape Flats was described as “war zone”. In the first six months of 2019 alone, over 1,800 murders were recorded in the Western Cape.

The intervention showed that the South African National Defence Force could stabilise and bring about a “negative peace” by temporarily stopping the shooting and violence, but this was not lasting. Once the troops withdrew, the murder rate surged back to – and in some areas exceeded – pre-deployment levels.

Similar trends have been found in countries such as Brazil, El Salvador and Mexico, where the army is deployed.

An initial visible drop is frequently short-lived. It’s also costly to civil liberties and prone to fragmenting criminal groups into even more violent factions.

Military trained for combat

While the president may order the South African National Defence Force to deploy and the generals can command them into “battle”, troops on the ground express major misgivings.

The views of soldiers were presented to the Joint Standing Committee on Defence in Parliament on 13 February 2026 in Cape Town. These were based on a soon-to-be-published study of the experiences of soldiers on external and internal deployments.

Their responses reveal a deep conflict.

Soldiers overwhelmingly said they believed that this was not what the South African National Defence Force was established for.

My research shows four major challenges.

Firstly, there is inherent conflict between military training and policing roles.

Soldiers are trained to use lethal force, not for the restraint, negotiation and minimum force required in civilian law enforcement.

Secondly, they also lack the necessary “minimum force” tools (body cameras, non-lethal restraints) necessary for urban operations. Instead, they’re equipped with assault rifles like the R4. In dense urban environments like the Cape Flats, using such a weapon creates a massive risk of collateral damage. A single bullet can travel through multiple shack walls or bystanders.

Thirdly, they haven’t been trained in the “soft skills” of policing, such as persuasion and de-escalation. The result is that soldiers often resort to intimidation to maintain control. In the absence of handcuffs or the legal power to process arrests, soldiers sometimes resort to “street justice”. For example, during the COVID-19 lockdown, the public witnessed soldiers forcing citizens to “frog jump” or do push-ups as punishment.

These incidents severely damaged the military’s professional reputation.

Fourth, the mandate and rules of engagement for soldiers are often limited. Criminals and “zama zamas” (illegal artisanal miners – the other area Ramaphosa listed for troop deployment) have morphed into criminal syndicates. These exploit the fact that soldiers are not legally empowered to shoot unless their lives are directly threatened.

This creates a “toothless tiger” effect where the military is present but unable to intervene in active property crimes or smuggling without risking murder charges.

Lastly, these deployments prevent the army from meeting its primary mandate: while soldiers are diverted to “gangbusting”, South Africa’s borders remain porous, allowing criminals and illegal immigrants to flow into the country. The South African Defence Force has few dedicated resources for domestic operations. It has to draw equipment and personnel from other units, which are needed elsewhere.

Currently, the defence force has only 15 companies to protect a land border approximately 4,470km long. This requires at least 22 companies.

In 2023, the president authorised some 3,300 soldiers to be deployed at an estimated cost of roughly R492 million (over US$30 million) against illegal mining across all provinces.

Troops are being used to guard holes in the ground, tying up elite infantry units in static guard duties, causing their primary combat skills to atrophy.

The way forward

If the state continues to use the military internally, the current “one-size-fits-all” combat model must be abandoned. The soldiers themselves suggest a need for a specialised, multi-role component, akin to Italy’s Carabiniere or the United States National Guard, trained specifically for internal security and non-lethal force. This requires a change in military doctrine and the core mandate of the South African National Defence Force.

What this implies is that the military must develop a specific Urban Constabulary Doctrine that integrates human rights frameworks and community-centric policing strategies into its training. This demands a doctrinal pivot. A revision in the military’s core mandate is essential to ensure that soldiers are trained in proportionality, de-escalation and civil-military cooperation, rather than purely kinetic combat operations.

Until then, the goal must be a “task-oriented” approach – intervene, contain, and exit. The details and timeframe of the latest deployment are yet to be confirmed. The military should be a temporary shield, not a permanent crutch for a failing police service. South Africa must stop asking its soldiers to be the police before they lose the pride and dignity that defines a professional army.

Lindy Heinecken does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Should South Africa use the army to fight gangs? The short answer is no – https://theconversation.com/should-south-africa-use-the-army-to-fight-gangs-the-short-answer-is-no-276286

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Guy Lamb, Criminologist / Senior Lecturer, Stellenbosch University

Soldiers from the South African National Defence Force are going to be deployed alongside members of the South African Police Service to combat gangs and armed groups associated with illegal mining.

The announcement by South African president Cyril Ramaphosa in his State of the Nation address in mid-February 2026 received the support of opposition political parties, including the Democratic Alliance and the Economic Freedom Fighters.

More broadly, the decision was both praised and condemned by commentators.

I have studied militarised forms of policing for many years. The findings of my research suggest that there are both positive and negative aspects to these kinds of interventions.

There are clear drawbacks to the domestic deployment of the military in a policing role. But, under certain conditions, there have been crime reduction effects.

The history

The military have been deployed to assist the police in crime fighting (including
combating gang violence) in South Africa on regular occasions since the late 1990s. It was commonplace during the 1980s in apartheid South Africa.

Examples include Operation Recoil (1997), Operation Slasher (2001),
Operation Combat (2012), Operation Thunder (2018) and Operation Lockdown (2019).

The defence force was also deployed alongside the police in 2020 to enforce
“hard” COVID-19 lockdown restrictions.

This situation is not unique to South Africa. Numerous countries, such as Brazil, Colombia, El Salvador, Kenya, Mexico and the US, have used their militaries for policing.

Decisions by governments to use soldiers to perform policing functions are
primarily due to pragmatic and political considerations.

Police are at times not sufficiently capable of responding to specific criminal dangers due to their hyper violent nature (such as gang conflicts) or due to constraints such as a lack of resources, inadequate training and corruption.

The military sometimes takes on policing roles when a government wants to demonstrate that it is capable of containing criminal threats.

There are other reasons too for the use of soldiers in civilian settings. Soldiers have been deployed in contexts of intense rivalries between political parties. For example, policing scholars have emphasised that the US federal government’s deployment of the National Guard to Democrat-led cities (such as Los Angeles and Chicago) in 2025 and 2026 was an effort by the Trump administration to undermine the credibility of the political leadership in these cities.

My research has established that both pragmatic and political reasons have been behind the defence force’s involvement in police work in South Africa over the past 30 years. That is, in many high crime areas the authorities have had to contend with well-armed criminal groups and highly dangerous environments where there are low levels of community trust in the police.

In September 2025, the acting police minister, Firoz Cachalia, admitted that there was no practical plan to respond to gang violence in the Western Cape. Moreover, during times of elevated crime levels, government tends to frame its policing as a “war” and criminals as “enemies” on which the police and defence force must “stamp their authority”.

To date there has been no comprehensive multi-country research on the impact of
military involvement in combating crime. Existing studies are based on single case analyses (such as Colombia). These studies indicate that the crime reduction effect of using the military for policing is limited.

A study on US troop deployment in Africa, Latin America and the Middle East indicates that it was associated with an increase in property crime.

Furthermore, there’s evidence that the use of the military in the “war on drugs” has led to human rights abuses. In the case of the Philippines for example, it also led to extrajudicial killings.

My research on high density policing operations in South Africa has demonstrated that deploying the military can result in the reduction of violent crime (especially murder) in targeted areas. But this is dependent on the arrest of large numbers of “wanted” criminals. And the seizure of large quantities of illegal firearms.

The domestic deployment of the defence force also increases the risk of human rights abuses. Soldiers are trained to use lethal force and are not schooled in the subtleties of police work.

This was evident during the defence force’s enforcement of the COVID-19 lockdown, when numerous allegations of abuse were reported. There was also video footage on social media of soldiers forcing people to perform demeaning physical exercises as punishment for not adhering to lockdown regulations.

My research has shown that the crime reduction effect of military deployment is temporary. Violent crime levels tend to increase in high crime areas within a year of the intervention being concluded. This has been confirmed in a study done in 2023. The reason is that police operations involving the military typically do not address the underlying societal causes of violent crime and the external sources of illegal firearms.

It’s therefore encouraging that the president committed the government to carrying out the Integrated Crime and Violence Prevention Strategy and pursuing tighter firearm controls.

Guy Lamb is a Commissioner with the National Planning Commission.

– ref. South Africa is sending in the army to fight crime (again). Does it ever work? – https://theconversation.com/south-africa-is-sending-in-the-army-to-fight-crime-again-does-it-ever-work-276285

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Clement Sefa-Nyarko, Lecturer in Security, Development and Leadership in Africa, King’s College London

Clean technologies depend on critical minerals such as lithium and cobalt. Over 65% of the world’s cobalt is mined in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Nearly 40% of the world’s manganese is mined in South Africa. Substantial deposits of lithium are found in Zimbabwe. Ghana is emerging as a miner of that mineral of lithium too.

What’s less well understood is how the supply chains of these minerals are assessed and managed. The dominant view is that only three players matter: the mineral-mining industry, the host state where the minerals are found, and the wider geopolitical equation.

But there’s a fourth piece of the puzzle: the role of communities.

I am an academic researching justice and equity in critical minerals governance and energy transitions. In a recent paper, I examined the role of communities and the presence or absence of a social licence to operate. In other words, community “approval” that allows a project to proceed.

I focused on Ghana’s emerging lithium sector. Communities here are already feeling livelihood and social pressures following the commercial discovery. My research shows that weak and opaque governance around critical-mineral projects create early friction between communities, companies and the state. I found that delays in legal and regulatory processes, exclusion from decision making, and inadequate compensation routinely disrupt livelihoods in lithium rich communities.

These governance failures heighten local tensions. When communities feel sidelined or harmed, the risk of social conflict rises sharply. It can result in project delays, shutdowns and higher costs for both states and companies. These pressures are not incidental. They directly affect the stability of global supply chains.

I argue that effective risk governance must move beyond geopolitics. It must embed the fundamentals of social legitimacy. These include:

• free, prior and informed consent

• fair and transparent benefit-sharing

• sustained, meaningful engagement with affected communities.

Without these basics, no amount of technological innovation or diplomatic negotiation can secure the minerals needed for the energy transition.

As global competition intensifies over access to strategic minerals, the governance of mining sites in the global south becomes important for supply chain assurance.

Why local participation matters

My argument is that local participation is one of the strongest predictors of whether mining projects gain or lose legitimacy, and therefore whether supply chains remain stable or face disruption.

When communities are involved early and meaningfully in decisions about land access, water use, environmental safeguards and compensation, they are more likely to see mining not as an imposed threat but as a negotiated partnership. This reduces uncertainty, builds trust and lowers the likelihood of conflict. Those conditions are essential for predictable mineral flows.

Research in sustainable mining consistently shows that communities are not passive recipients of mining impacts. They are active agents whose consent, cooperation or resistance can determine the lifespan of entire supply chains. Participation creates the space for communities to articulate their needs. It shapes benefit‑sharing mechanisms and ensures that mining does not undermine local livelihoods. When people have no voice in decisions that affect their land, water or social well-being, grievances accumulate and protests, legal challenges or operational blockages become far more likely.

Findings from my research further demonstrate that participation is a practical risk-management tool. It is not a symbolic gesture. In mining communities, weak engagement and unclear communication about land restrictions and compensation create perceptions of dispossession. They intensify tensions that threaten project timelines. Conversely, when engagement is consistent and meaningful, concerns are addressed early. This reduces the likelihood of costly shutdowns and strengthens the long‑term security of mineral supply chains.

Participation anchors mining projects in social legitimacy. It shifts extraction from something done to communities towards something negotiated with them. It turns potential flashpoints into points of cooperation. In a world where a single protest can disrupt global supply chains, community participation is no longer optional. It is a fundamental safeguard for the energy transition.

Way forward

Reducing the risk of supply-chain disruptions is not easy, but there is a clear path to it.

First, future global meetings like the COP climate summits and UN processes should explicitly include critical minerals, sustainable mining and community protections as formal agenda items. This will close the long-standing governance gap that leaves mineral supply chains exposed.

Second, international bodies should develop shared indicators for meaningful participation, benefit-sharing and community legitimacy. Social licence must be treated as a material risk factor that can halt mines and disrupt global markets.

Instead of resisting regulation, mineral-producing countries should help shape global environmental, social and governance expectations. They should reflect local priorities, environmental conditions and value-addition goals, while ensuring stable, responsible mineral flows.

Governments and companies should establish shared governance arrangements covering water use, land access, benefit-sharing and grievance processes. This will build trust early and prevent local conflict.

Also, mineral-rich countries should align on minimum social and environmental standards, free, prior and informed consent requirements, and value-addition policies. These will ensure diversification does not encourage weak oversight or exploitation.

Clement Sefa-Nyarko receives funding from UK Research and Innovation (UKRI) through a Future Leaders Fellowship for a project on justice in critical minerals governance and energy transitions. He also occasionally consults for Participatory Development Associates on international development in Africa, but this work is not related to mining.

– ref. Critical mineral supply faces risks if local communities aren’t consulted enough: the case of lithium in Ghana – https://theconversation.com/critical-mineral-supply-faces-risks-if-local-communities-arent-consulted-enough-the-case-of-lithium-in-ghana-275723