Category: The Conversation – Africa

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

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Genevieve Sekumbo, PhD Candidate- Anthropology and Sociology, Graduate Institute – Institut de hautes études internationales et du développement (IHEID)

When young Tanzanians poured into the streets on 29 October 2025, most observers saw an election protest. Protests in Dar es Salaam, Arusha, Mwanza and other cities were met with live ammunition and internet blackouts. There were hundreds of casualties, according to human rights organisations.

My research suggests a deeper dynamic: a generation asserting their right to become adults.

As a PhD candidate, I set out in 2020 to understand how Tanzania’s natural gas industry was shaping young people’s transitions to adulthood. My research examined two interconnected questions. How does the gas industry shape youth transitions and experiences in Mtwara, a resource rich region, particularly in the context of unmet development promises? And how do young people themselves navigate and shape development narratives tied to natural gas extraction?

I found that youth transitions to adulthood are closely tied to commodity cycles: while the gas boom of 2010 briefly expanded pathways to employment, independence and social recognition, the subsequent downturn left many young people in prolonged “waithood”.

This broader pattern of blocked transitions helps explain why youth-led protests such as those on 29 October resonate so deeply.

Blocked transitions to adulthood

My research lasted 15 months between 2020 and 2022. I conducted ethnographic fieldwork focused on young people aged 20-35. I began fieldwork in Mtwara region just as the gas sector entered a “gas bust”. This was a dramatic reversal from the earlier “gas rush” of 2010-2015. The 2010 discovery of offshore natural gas had generated enormous expectations. Then president Jakaya Kikwete promised “Mtwara will be the new Dubai”.

Young people saw prospects for industrialisation, jobs and economic independence. These were necessary to marry, build homes and establish themselves as adults. But by 2015, contractual disputes between the Tanzanian government and international oil companies, combined with falling global commodity prices, halted exploration. The promised transformation never materialised.

I documented how the gas sector’s boom-bust cycle shaped young people’s economic strategies and life trajectories.

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Read more:
Tanzania’s gas boom that never was – when local hopes are dashed by global realities

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Understanding what adulthood means in Tanzania requires recognising it as more than just age. It requires overcoming structural barriers to employment, housing and family formation, and being able to marry, start a family, and establish an independent household. Achieving these milestones enables the social and cultural responsibilities of adulthood. These include gaining respect, supporting extended family and participating meaningfully in community life. Tanzania’s National Youth Development Policy defines youth as those up to age 35. That is over one-third of the population and nearly two-thirds of the labour force. For many young Tanzanians, the markers of adulthood remain perpetually out of reach.

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Read more:
What does it mean to become an adult? In Namibia, it’s caring for others

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My fieldwork revealed three interconnected dynamics that help explain both the everyday crisis young people face and the mobilisation on 29 October.

First, the crisis is not only about unemployment. It is about blocked adulthood. Young people I worked with understood clearly that Tanzania is not a poor country. They see natural resources extracted, infrastructure projects announced, and political elites displaying wealth on social media. From their perspective, their stalled transitions are not the result of national scarcity. They are born from a system in which political and social connections shape who benefits from public investment.

The economic reality reinforces this perception. Street vending, casual labour, motorcycle taxi driving and short-term contracts provide survival income. This is rarely enough to save, secure housing, or plan for family life. In Mtwara, young people watched offshore gas extraction generate capital flows with minimal local employment. Beyond the initial construction phase, the highly technical nature of operations excluded many from core jobs and from ancillary sectors operating in their own region.

Second, educational credentials have proved insufficient to overcome structural barriers. Many young people in their late twenties and thirties held secondary diplomas or tertiary certificates. They were unable to secure stable employment that would enable them to attain recognised markers of adulthood. What emerged was a prolonged phase of waithood: a social limbo in which young people cannot fully claim adult status or access the respect and authority associated with it.

Thirdly, prolonged exclusion generates political consciousness, not only frustration. When young people cannot meet the economic and social criteria for adulthood, their claims to full citizenship are weakened. Their voices carry less weight, their grievances are dismissed, and their participation is treated as peripheral. Economic precarity, in this sense, translates into civic marginalisation.

During my study young people frequently referred to the 2013 and 2014 gas protests. These followed the government’s decision to pipe newly discovered gas to Dar es Salaam rather than process it locally. The demonstrations became a defining political moment in the region. In conversations, they were described as about more than employment. They were framed as claims to recognition and inclusion in national development.

The 29 October protests follow a similar pattern: blocked economic futures translating into collective mobilisation for political recognition.

Why October 2025 became a breaking point

October 2025 brought together the structural conditions I documented between 2020 and 2022 with a tightening of political controls. In the months preceding the election, opposition leaders were jailed or barred from contesting, and reports of abductions and targeted violence circulated widely. President Samia Suluhu Hassan was declared the winner with 97.66% of the vote.

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Read more:
Tanzania’s ruling party has crushed the opposition – the elections are a mere formality

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In my fieldwork, economic and political exclusion were consistently discussed as intertwined. Conversations about employment and income were frequently accompanied by concerns about voice and representation – perceptions of not being heard by authorities. These discussions reflected a broader sense that both economic mobility and political participation were constrained.

Seen in this context, the October protests reflected longer-term frustrations rooted in stalled transitions to adulthood and limited access to stable employment. They were linked not only to electoral developments but to perceptions of unequal access to opportunity and national resources.

The state’s response followed patterns observed in earlier episodes of unrest in Mtwara. Security operations were concentrated in neighbourhoods where protests had taken place. Reports suggested an uneven use of force, with young men disproportionately affected. When further demonstrations were called for 9 December, they did not materialise.

The structural conditions shaping prolonged waithood and youth disillusionment, however, remain in place.

From this perspective, youth protest is tied to how young people attempt to secure economic independence, social recognition and meaningful inclusion under constrained conditions. Where pathways to adulthood remain uncertain, mobilisation becomes one of the few visible ways to assert presence and claim belonging.

Genevieve Sekumbo received funding from the Emslie Horniman Scholarship Fund (Royal Anthropological Institute, UK) in 2021 to support fieldwork.

– ref. Young Tanzanians are fed up with not getting a slice of the economic action – research – https://theconversation.com/young-tanzanians-are-fed-up-with-not-getting-a-slice-of-the-economic-action-research-273818

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Amanda Bisong, Policy Leader Fellow, School of Transnational Governance, European University Institute

New governments in Niger, Mali and Burkina Faso formally left the Economic Community of West African States (Ecowas) a year ago, having created the Alliance of Sahel States (AES). The move happened as a consequence of diplomatic tensions related to military coups in the three countries, after which the regional body suspended them and imposed harsh sanctions.

The repercussions of the breakup of Ecowas are still unfolding, but one area that will likely be affected is migration and free movement in the region.

Ecowas has several free movement protocols that allow visa-free travel and, in theory, give citizens in the region the rights of residence and establishment.

Our work on migration governance in west Africa, at the regional level and in particular contexts like Niger, informs our views on the impact of the breakaway.

We argue that though free movement is still technically possible at the moment, it is rapidly changing. Considering the recent changes from the vantage point of mobility also reveals the wider institutional fragility of Ecowas, which was established to enhance cooperation between the states in the region.

Ecowas without the Sahel alliance states

At a regional level, leaders have shown continued commitment to safeguarding free movement. According to the president of the Ecowas Commission, Omar Touray, speaking on the day that the AES withdrawal came into force, “We remain a community, a family.”

National IDs and passports with the Ecowas logo from citizens of Burkina Faso, Mali and Niger will continue to be recognised. Until further notice, so will all the protocol rights related to the right of movement, residence and establishment. The Sahel alliance states, for their part, have offered visa-free access to Ecowas for the time being. But this is just a temporary fix.

In December 2025, Burkina Faso’s military leader Ibrahim Traoré launched the first AES biometric ID card in Burkina Faso. It is set to replace Ecowas documents within five years.

Movement on the ground is already changing. From stricter entry requirements to new passport designs and identity systems, citizens crossing borders face growing uncertainty and rising costs. At the same time, cross border movements remain a necessity for livelihoods and survival.

Despite the changes induced by AES countries leaving Ecowas, the threat to free movement caused by the European Union’s (EU) externalisation interests also continue to affect Ecowas.

Within the wider region, EU funding for border externalisation continues, with a detrimental effect on free movement. Efforts include the EU funding top-ups for migration and border control infrastructure, in Senegal for instance, and various ongoing border capacity building projects.

Notably, this trend has partially been reversed by AES states. One striking example is the repeal of the infamous law 2015-36 on migrant smuggling in Niger. Though a Nigerien law, its implementation was strongly supported by the EU capacity building projects, and effectively criminalised a longstanding mobility industry. Through repeal of the law, the new Nigerien government effectively stopped the law’s detrimental effects on the economy, migrant rights and free movement in the region.

Overall, the Sahel alliance withdrawal already affects regional mobility. Beyond the rights to free movement, the Sahel alliance withdrawal also has very real effects on the Ecowas institutional framework, in terms of its legitimacy, institutional strength and migrant rights protection.

Legitimacy and funding challenges

Ecowas struggles with a growing legitimacy crisis. The withdrawal of the Alliance of Sahel States countries exposed Ecowas’ weakness in responding to unconstitutional changes in government. Responses were often delayed and selective, and sanctions, when they were imposed, had detrimental effects for local populations. The exit of these countries, which all had coups, confirmed the widespread perception of selective enforcement of norms by the organisation, contributing to public scepticism.

Further, inefficient processes, weak utilisation of existing capacities and poor communication of outcomes have resulted in low implementation rates for Ecowas projects and programmes since the beginning. For example, several member states have not abolished the 90 day stay requirement as agreed in 2014.

Consequently, citizens don’t see tangible benefits of regional integration. Many west Africans continue to view it as little more than a “club of heads of state”.

The disconnect between the organisation and its citizens is also driven by Ecowas’ heavy dependence on external donors. Reduced contributions from member states, often due to non-payment of the Ecowas levy, have left the commission facing shortages of basic resources. It’s forced to cut back on meetings and engagements essential for policy implementation. As a result, regional priorities are frequently shaped by donor interests rather than by the needs of citizens.

Although there have been recent improvements, including increased payments from countries such as Nigeria, the levy collection system remains weak and easily exploited by member states. This has always affected the implementation of free movement protocols in the past, but is set to further weaken their position.

Lastly, the breakup of Ecowas also affects access to justice, including migrant rights. A group of migrant rights groups brought a collective case to the Ecowas Court of Justice in 2022, claiming that, among other issues, migrant rights to free movement were being violated in Niger. In March 2025, the court dismissed all cases pertaining to Niger, Mali and Burkina Faso.

What does the future hold?

Movement within the region will continue as an economic necessity. As we have shown in our previous research, no matter what the law says, people will continue to migrate, and policymakers accept this.

But at what cost to ordinary migrants and citizens if these institutional weaknesses persist? Ecowas needs to confront its legitimacy crisis, implement meaningful reforms and reconnect with the realities of everyday life in west Africa. It can then provide a strong framework for protection of migrants and people on the move in the region.

Without decisive change, the gap between the organisation’s rhetoric of an “Ecowas of the peoples: peace and prosperity for all” and its impact will continue to widen.

Franzisca Zanker receives funding from the European Union (ERC, PolMig, 101161856). Views and opinions expressed are however those of the author only and do not necessarily reflect those of the European Union or the European Research Council. Neither the European Union nor the granting authority can be held responsible for them.

Leonie Jegen received funding from the Rosa Luxemburg Foundation.

Amanda Bisong 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. Ecowas without the Sahel states: how the split is testing free movement and regional legitimacy – https://theconversation.com/ecowas-without-the-sahel-states-how-the-split-is-testing-free-movement-and-regional-legitimacy-274501

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Danielle Resnick, Senior Research Fellow, International Food Policy Research Institute (IFPRI)

Militaries play a major role in the politics of many countries. They determine whether elections can occur and who can compete. From Egypt to Pakistan and Myanmar to Uganda, the military is often the most important powerholder.

In parallel, violent non-state actors – including criminal networks, terrorist groups and paramilitaries – have proliferated over the last two decades.

To maintain their influence and finance their operations, militaries and violent non-state actors often become heavily involved in both legal and illicit business activities. Studies of their economic activities often focus on their role in extracting natural resources like gold, oil and timber.

Their involvement in agricultural and food systems is less well understood.

This is important to study since many of the world’s most fragile countries are highly dependent on agriculture for economic growth. We drew on our multidisciplinary expertise in food systems and agriculture to help fill this gap. Our recently published article looked at the role of the military and paramilitary in Sudan’s agrifood system just prior to the outbreak of the current war.

The two main belligerents in the country’s devastating conflict – the Sudanese Armed Forces and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF) – have built extensive empires. They have investments in land, food processing and agricultural trade.

Our study mapped the companies that the army and RSF have in the agrifood system. It also analysed the different strategies they have used to gain profit in different agricultural sectors, especially livestock, wheat, gum arabic and horticulture.

We found that the army and RSF used a range of strategies. For example, they dominated in low-complexity value chains with limited private sector activity, such as livestock trade or raw gum arabic trade.

In these sectors, both forces focused on extracting profits to fund their operations without investing in upgrading.

We also found that they were less active in more technically complex sectors, like gum arabic spray drying, cotton ginning, dairy or finished sesame.

Economic competition between the Sudanese army and the paramilitary RSF was a major factor in the outbreak of the April 2023 war. Identifying these strategies expands insights into the political and economic roots of large-scale conflict.

The study

Our study drew on interviews with over 50 Sudanese key informants with extensive experience in major agro-food companies, the agricultural and livestock sectors, the previous civilian-led government, and within transparency and governance non-governmental organisations.

We brought together two strands of research that are rarely combined. These are studies on agricultural value chain upgrading – which refers to improving the quality, efficiency and value of agricultural products – and military commercialism.

The value chains literature highlights that more sophisticated products – such as speciality coffee and cocoa, wine, cheeses, edible oils, meats and poultry, and horticulture – need higher levels of expertise and equipment. This in turn requires larger outlays of investment.

Military commercialism studies underscore that armed actors have short time horizons because they seek off-budget profits to purchase weapons and machinery, and to retain the support of rank-and-file soldiers.

We therefore argue that the value chains in which armed actors engage – and the degree to which they invest in them – is based on how quickly profits can be extracted. This decision depends on two factors:

1. the level of technical complexity to generate profits from the agricultural product

2. the extent of existing private sector involvement in the value chain.

The strategies

We identified four distinct strategies armed actors use in agrifood value chains in Sudan.

1. Exclusive capture and rent extraction. This is most clearly illustrated by the livestock trade. This is one of Sudan’s biggest export earners after gold. However, some countries, such as Saudi Arabia, have declared import bans on Sudanese livestock due to non-compliance with sanitary and phytosanitary standards, and vaccination protocols. These require investments in traceability systems and quarantine practices. Despite such restrictions, the Sudanese army and RSF capture significant profit from the trade. The army, for instance, benefits from demand from the Egyptian military. The RSF leverages demand from Gulf countries and close cultural ties with pastoralist communities in Darfur and Kordofan where a significant share of livestock trade originates.

2. Biased competition through licensing and quota allocations. A case in point is the processing of wheat into flour for Sudan’s most important staple good, bread. Flour processing in Sudan has had several prominent private sector operators since the mid-1990s when wheat milling was liberalised. Almost two decades later, Sudan’s intelligence services began operating Seen Milling Company. This was transferred to the army after the 2019 ouster of Omar Al-Bashir. Seen Milling Company benefited from several sets of distortions that skewed the playing field against the private sector. These include preferential exchange rates and import subsidies that almost put the private sector out of business.

3. Concede to private competitors when value addition is too complex. Gum arabic from Sudan accounts for approximately 70% of global trade. The product is most profitable when it is transformed through a highly complex technique known as spray drying. It is then used in the pharmaceutical industry, textiles and in food and beverages. Traditionally two French companies spray dried most of Sudan’s raw gum arabic. But in 2017 one of Sudan’s largest private sector agro-processing firms, DAL, established its own spray drying facility and began exporting all over the world. While the army attempted to mimic this approach via one of its companies, Green Zone, it lacked the technology and technical skills. The army ultimately abandoned the venture.

4. Innovation when profit potential is high and the private sector is absent. This is best illustrated in the horticultural sector. The army’s Zadna corporation, which is currently sanctioned by the US and the European Union, became a leader in horticulture research and development. The horticultural sector offers large opportunities for domestic growth and export potential. However, it has previously been hindered by underinvestment and minimal private sector involvement. Zadna entered the sector by establishing a major tissue culture lab and large nursery for preparing high-quality seedlings for many horticulture products. It also conducted research on new seed varieties, fruit and vegetable drying, and waste management.

Why the findings matter

By showing the diverse strategies that armed actors might employ, we hope to advance discussions about the political economy of food system transformations, with a focus on fragile contexts.

We show that armed actors’ strategies are sometimes very extractive (for instance, livestock) and sometimes more progressive (for instance, horticulture).

For private sector companies operating in such contexts, one of the main findings from our study is that shifting to more complex upgrading that requires greater technical skills can often mitigate the loss of market access to armed actors. We found this in dairy and gum arabic spray drying, for instance.

Our research underscores the importance of understanding the political economy incentives that drive large-scale conflict. Peace efforts in Sudan cannot just be about negotiations over ceasefire conditions and reconciliation processes. They also need to address who retains access to the country’s valuable resources and at what cost.

Danielle Resnick received funding from USAID for this work.

Hala M.E. Abushama, Khalid Siddig, and Oliver Kiptoo Kirui do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Sudan: how warring factions gained influence in the country’s food system – and what it means for the current conflict – https://theconversation.com/sudan-how-warring-factions-gained-influence-in-the-countrys-food-system-and-what-it-means-for-the-current-conflict-275687

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Luisa T. Schneider, Assistant Professor, Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam; Independent Social Research Foundation

In the decades after Sierra Leone’s civil war (1991-2002), there was pressure on the west African country to demonstrate progress on gender equality. Laws were passed to fight domestic violence, rape and teen pregnancy. But drawing on colonial legal models, the reforms don’t always match social realities and in many cases are harming young people from poor communities. Punishment is being made more important than resolution or education.

Luisa T. Schneider is an anthropologist who has spent a decade researching the subject. We asked her about her open source book Love and Violence in Sierra Leone: Mediating Intimacy after Conflict.

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What did your study involve?

My research began in Freetown in 2012, ten years after the civil war’s violence, especially against women and girls. In 2016 I began living in a hillside community in eastern Freetown and also with a group of young men downtown. For 13 months I studied intimate relationships and followed disputes from household quarrels to community mediations and court cases, tracing over 100 through the magistrate’s court. I also spent time in Central Prison, interviewing men and boys convicted in “women cases”.

I wanted to know how love and violence intersect in everyday life and how law reshapes both.

What did you find?

In Sierra Leone, gender and relationships lie at the heart of moral life. Care, warmth and resilience are virtues held in high regard, and they are cultivated and learnt from women. But this masks the widespread abuse of women and places the unpaid labour of holding families and communities together on them. When the state tries to regulate intimacy without considering these moral realities, it deepens the very violence it seeks to end.

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Read more:
Why Sierra Leonean women don’t feel protected by domestic violence laws

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Love and violence often live together, tangled in ways that make harm hard to end. People say that when harm occurs, judgment falls not only on the act but on the person’s character. Communities call for state involvement in cases of rape against minors or severe violence. But everyday conflicts in consensual relationships are generally understood as matters of character and relational repair rather than criminal intent. They are mediated internally, often by women who bear the burden to prioritise group stability over punishment.

Yet, the country’s legal system often tells a different story.

After the war, new laws were introduced to protect women and girls from rape, early pregnancy, and domestic violence. Key laws include:

• Sexual Offences Act (2012; amended 2019): criminalises rape, sexual assault and sexual exploitation; raises age of consent to 18; mandatory sentences; zero-tolerance enforcement reshapes policing of adolescent sexuality and youth relationships.

• Domestic Violence Act (2007): criminalises physical, sexual, emotional and economic abuse within intimate and family relationships; recognises private-sphere violence as a public concern.

• Child Rights Act (2007; revised 2025): defines children as rights-bearing subjects entitled to care, protection and due process, aligned with international standards.

• Prevention of Child Marriage Act (2024): prohibits marriage under 18 to end early marriage and related health and educational harms.

• Diversion and Alternatives to Detention Framework (2025): redirects children in conflict with the law from imprisonment to rehabilitation, mediation and reintegration.

Together, these reforms are meant to protect. But I found they also collapse care, consent and harm into a single criminal framework that misfits the lived realities of the Sierra Leoneans I lived and worked with. Importantly, mine is not an argument against protecting children from sexual harm, but about how protection is defined and enforced.

Although recent reforms frame children as having rights and promote alternatives to detention, boys charged under sexual offences law are routinely denied bail and treated as adult perpetrators. This reveals a contradiction in the system. It conflates rape, harm and consensual adolescent intimacy into a single category of criminality.

By raising the age of consent to 18, many ordinary youth relationships became criminalised. A 19-year-old can now face years in prison because his girlfriend is 17, even though she has chosen to love him. In aiming for zero tolerance, the state has policed intimacy instead of teaching consent.

In a society battling poverty and corruption, the new laws often shield the wealthy and punish the powerless. Young couples, especially across class lines, can be convicted, while powerful older men who abuse children can walk free.

One High Court judge told me:

We have serious problems with rape in this country. But of 25 or maybe 30 cases … mostly there are boyfriends here, you know, lovers. Maybe almost 23 of them are lovers. But the law is so rigid that I have to convict no matter the circumstance.

The updated Sexual Offences Act has deepened fear. It lowered the age of criminal responsibility to 12; sexual cases are now sent directly to the High Court; and life sentences are allowed.

Convictions happen even when girls testify that they love the boy or man who stands accused and confirm consensual sex took place. Many of the cases I studied are initiated by parents, neighbours, or teachers. This was often after pregnancies, school conflicts, or community disputes made relationships visible. Often the relationship happened within unequal social conditions between the partners.

In my view, what communities seek to mend through care, the law isolates and punishes. Conversations about consent, safety and protection disappear when love itself risks imprisonment. Women in violent relationships, meanwhile, lose attention and resources as the system turns to criminalising consensual intimacy.

What does this say about gender and justice?

Sierra Leoneans believe a good man is made not by punishment but by being raised with respect, love and care for others. As a community elder put it:

A child taught to kill becomes cruel. A child taught to love protects everyone.

Yet laws carry war’s legacy in their effort to discipline masculinity instead of guiding it.

What do you hope readers take away from your book?

Sierra Leone’s moral vision, found in everyday speech, mediation practices and women’s community leadership, reminds us that femininity is not weakness but wisdom. And that any just system must build on that strength.

If women were actually treated as they are morally regarded in Freetown – as strong, capable and central to social wellbeing – then both patriarchy and violence would begin to lose their hold. Ending violence begins in the home, in everyday care, and in the way we raise our children.

This isn’t just about Sierra Leone. It matters the world over. Law alone cannot end violence. Laws can punish, but they cannot teach care, consent or empathy. Yet punishment increasingly replaces education.

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Read more:
We used performing arts to map out gender violence in Sierra Leone. What we found

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The lesson is clear: without engaging local understandings of care, consent and responsibility, laws meant to protect risk reproducing harm rather than preventing it.

Luisa T. Schneider receives funding from the Dutch Network of Women Professors, Oxford University, the Studienstiftung des deutschen Volkes and the Royal Anthropological Institute.

I am assistant professor in Anthropology at Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam and a Research Partner at the Max Planck Institute for Social Anthropology in Halle (Saale)

– ref. Sierra Leone’s harsh new laws to protect women and girls are causing harm in the wrong places – https://theconversation.com/sierra-leones-harsh-new-laws-to-protect-women-and-girls-are-causing-harm-in-the-wrong-places-269662

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Tinashe Sithole, Postdoctoral research fellow at the SARChI Chair: African Diplomacy and Foreign Policy, University of Johannesburg

Since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2022, South Africa’s foreign policy has been under sustained international scrutiny.

Its stance on the war in Ukraine has been one of active non-alignment. This means it has called for negotiations while abstaining from UN resolutions condemning Russia. However, it decided to take Israel to the International Court of Justice over the Gaza conflict in December 2023.

To many observers, including US policymakers and international analysts, these decisions suggest uncertainty or inconsistency. However, a closer look suggests a different interpretation.

In my recent research, I show how South Africa’s negotiated transition to democracy has shaped a foreign policy tradition that prioritises mediation, multilateralism and non-alignment.

I argue that South Africa’s foreign policy since 1994, including the period after the 2024 election, has been shaped by more than political shifts.

Instead, its negotiated democratic transition experience continues to guide how the country understands conflict and cooperation. This is even as the costs of maintaining this approach rise in a more fragmented and competitive global order. I describe this trajectory as “idealism under strain” – a principle-based foreign policy maintained under growing external pressure.

As a middle power, South Africa exerts influence most effectively through international institutions. By working through the African Union (AU), the Southern African Development Community (SADC) and the UN, it helps broker agreements and shape regional and global agendas.

What has changed is the international environment. Global politics has become more polarised and more transactional. States are increasingly expected to take clear sides on major issues, from security alignments to trade relations. This shift has narrowed the space for diplomatic independence.

In this context, South Africa’s preference for dialogue and institutional process has become harder to sustain and easier to misinterpret. Positions that once appeared principled are now criticised as evasive or contradictory.

This matters because South Africa’s influence depends less on power and more on trust.

To remain effective, it needs to continue leading regional mediation and peace efforts and to apply its principles consistently. When its positions on international law or human rights appear selective, its credibility weakens. When they are consistent, its voice carries more weight.

Behind the choices

South Africa’s post-apartheid foreign policy reflects the negotiated nature of its democratic transition. The end of apartheid in 1994 came through compromise rather than a military victory. This experience shaped a preference for mediation over coercion; for dialogue over exclusion.

These preferences shaped the country’s early diplomatic engagements on the continent. In Burundi (1999-2003), the Democratic Republic of Congo (2002-2003) and Lesotho (1998 and again from 2014 to 2017), South Africa promoted negotiated political settlements and power-sharing arrangements rather than military solutions.

This history helps explain current policy choices, including the call for negotiations on Ukraine.

It also explains the contrast in how the country engages across crises. For example, in 2023 it brought the case against Israel at the International Court of Justice. In other situations, such as political tensions in Zimbabwe, it has relied on quiet diplomacy, working behind the scenes rather than openly criticising the government.

In my view, these decisions reflect an adaptation to constraint rather than inconsistency.

This pattern has persisted across administrations. Successive governments have sought to balance democratic values with geopolitical realities rather than abandon one in favour of the other.

What has changed is the level of external pressure under which this balance must now be maintained.

A changing world

A more polarised and transactional world has narrowed the space for diplomatic independence.

Pressure from the US to align with the west has become more explicit, particularly following the South Africa vs Israel case.

Tensions have also affected the trade relationship. In Washington, some lawmakers called for a review of South Africa’s eligibility for the African Growth and Opportunity Act (Agoa). The legislation provides duty-free access to the US market. The criticism reflected concerns that South Africa’s positions on Russia and Israel, and its broader stance of non-alignment, were increasingly seen as out of step with US foreign policy priorities.

South Africa’s Agoa benefits expired in September 2025 and were only renewed on 3 February 2026. The months of uncertainty highlighted the economic risks that can accompany geopolitical pressure.

For a country whose influence depends more on diplomacy and external partnerships, such signals matter. They show how the costs of maintaining diplomatic independence are rising in a more competitive international environment.

What needs to happen next

South Africa is unlikely to abandon its preference for mediation, multilateralism and non-alignment. The key challenge is how it sustains this approach as international pressure intensifies.

First, South Africa needs to use the institutions where it already has influence more actively. This means taking visible leadership roles in the AU and SADC, and continuing its involvement in UN peace missions. These platforms are the main channels through which the country exercises diplomatic influence.

Second, regional cooperation needs to result in coordinated action. Conflicts in places such as Mozambique or eastern Democratic Republic of Congo affect neighbouring states and cannot be managed by one country alone. Working with regional partners on joint mediation and shared responses helps avoid fragmented or competing interventions.

Third, consistency matters. When South Africa calls for international law, negotiated settlements or civilian protection, the same principles should guide its positions across different conflicts. Applying these standards evenly reduces accusations of selectivity and helps preserve trust in its role.

These priorities do not require a new foreign policy. They reflect the need to apply an existing approach more clearly and more consistently.

Tinashe Sithole 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. South Africa’s foreign policy is rooted in negotiation with all nations – a shifting global order makes this difficult – https://theconversation.com/south-africas-foreign-policy-is-rooted-in-negotiation-with-all-nations-a-shifting-global-order-makes-this-difficult-275033

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Barney Walsh, Senior Lecturer in Security, Leadership and Development Education, King’s College London

Uganda’s Kizza Besigye has been described as possibly the most arrested man in Africa. Besigye was once President Yoweri Museveni’s ally, and personal physician. He broke ranks with Museveni in 1999, and emerged as the most long-standing political opponent to the ageing president, who has run the country since 1986. For this, Besigye has been jailed, kept under house arrest, renditioned, forced into exile, and endured state violence countless times. He has been in jail since 2024. Barney Walsh and Dennis Jjuuko have studied Besigye’s remarkable political career.

Who is Kizza Besigye?

Kizza Besigye was born in Rukungiri district, south-western Uganda, in April 1956. After graduating with a degree in human medicine from Makerere University in 1980, he joined the National Resistance Army (NRA) rebellion, which dislodged the dictatorial rule of President Milton Obote in 1986.

Besigye served in different senior positions in Museveni’s new government, including minister of state for internal affairs and the president’s office. In 1993, he was appointed the army’s chief of logistics and engineering and later senior military adviser to the defence minister. He was part of the inner sanctum of the National Resistance Movement which became the civilian government.

Besigye remained close to Museveni until 1999, when he abandoned the ruling party. He said the movement had departed from its original principles, like democracy through free elections, security for all and eliminating corruption.

He believed Uganda needed liberation again, this time from a government he’d helped establish. This would define his life’s work.

Under the pressure group “Reform Agenda”, and later the political party Forum for Democratic Change, he was the leading contender against Museveni in successive presidential polls. He scored 27% of the vote in 2001, 37% in 2006, 26% in 2011, and 35% in 2016. The Ugandan supreme court acknowledged irregularities but refused to overturn the result in 2006.

After leaving the government, Besigye became the focal point for Ugandans wary of Museveni’s increasingly vicious authoritarianism. He was forced to flee to South Africa after the 2001 presidential elections. He has been brutalised, detained and charged numerous times. His younger brother died in 2007 from illness associated with incarceration on trumped-up conspiracy charges.

When the opposition one day take the reins of power in Uganda, the debt it owes Besigye will be immense.

What are the highlights of this legacy?

Besigye, 69, stands out as the foremost opposition figure who was part of Museveni’s original Bush War victory. His 2011 “walk to work” protests, in response to dramatic fuel prices and general inflation, will not be forgotten in the history of Uganda’s political economy.

Besigye seemed to think this civil action could be Uganda’s “Arab Spring” moment. Some mocked his efforts as a mis-reading of the socio-economic conditions in sub-Saharan Africa.

The protests were, indeed, subdued in the face of brutal repression by security agencies.

But similar protests would soon remove Robert Mugabe in Zimbabwe in 2017 and Blaise Compaoré in Burkina Faso in 2014.

Besigye has developed credibility as someone trustworthy because of what he has been through. And he has a heartfelt connection with supporters.

His leadership has transcended other opposition figures during Museveni’s administration in terms of longevity and consistent vision for change. Other opposition leaders have emerged only fleetingly, failing to sustain any moral standing or coherent transformative vision.

As we argue in our recent paper, it is unclear whether opposition leader Robert Kyagulanyi (better known as Bobi Wine) could have emerged without Besigye laying the foundation and sustaining the momentum for change.

It’s important, too, to recognise his failings.

He is given to outbursts. His call for Chinese debts to be written off as odious was thought to alienate an essential development partner. His storming of what he described as a “rigging centre” during the 2016 election led to accusations of leading mobs to take over elections.

He is also partly to blame for the fact that Uganda’s opposition has not yet mustered a single candidate against Museveni due to competing egos and moral certitudes. Besigye has never seemed to be able to convince other opposition candidates to drop their candidacy and support him (or to do that for them).

Nevertheless, his individual role has been fundamental to the emergence of the idea and principle of peaceful opposition politics emerging in Uganda in the post-1986 era.

This is not to be underestimated in a country which has yet to experience a peaceful change of government since independence in 1962.

What is the context in which you assess his legacy?

Uganda’s post-1986 political landscape has been dominated, and controlled, by Museveni. His most recent election victory in January 2026 will extend his reign beyond 40 years.

While his public popularity has been in decline, Museveni has relied on two things. First is the Ugandan political and military elite. Since the mid-2000s he has taken steps to proof his regime against a military coup, by keeping influential military personnel on board.

Second is external support, mainly from western governments. This stems from Uganda’s involvement as a key security actor in the sub-region at the behest of western powers. This role has gradually been prioritised over the west’s pursuit of human rights.

Partly for these reasons, Besigye was never able to get the full backing of western donors to support his democratic goals. Instead they supported Museveni’s regime.

A lack of support for Besigye in western capitals was evident in 2024 when he was abducted while visiting Kenya, and returned as a prisoner to Kampala. It barely registered international condemnation or action – save for a belated push from US lawmakers.

This silence must be seen within a global context of democratic backsliding, including developments within President Donald Trump’s second term.

In east Africa, Kenya’s violent response to the 2024 Gen Z riots in Nairobi included state-led abductions and enforced disappearances targeting young people linked to the protest movement.

In Tanzania, the October 2025 presidential elections also saw human rights abuses of protestors met with unjustified lethal force.

What next?

Besigye has not managed to shake up Museveni’s inner circle of corrupt powerbrokers. This is because his progressive democratic vision of change threatens their privileges.

Neither has he ever enjoyed the global profile that he would have hoped for, such as Raila Odinga of Kenya or Morgan Tsvangirai of Zimbabwe managed – even as Bobi Wine did briefly before the 2021 election.

But the idea of a free and fair election is now at least ingrained in Uganda’s people. In a February 2025 interview, he revealed the lens through which his life work should be viewed:

We can only influence whether change happens quickly or is delayed, but change is inevitable. Sooner or later, Ugandans will take charge of their destiny and rebuild their country in a way that ensures equal opportunities for everyone.

If Besigye’s decades of sacrifice are to mean anything beyond retrospective praise, they demand engagement now, not memorialisation later. To remain silent is to collude in the slow erasure of a political life spent insisting that a truly democratic Uganda was a cause worth fighting for.

The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Kizza Besigye: the firebrand who has shaped opposition politics in Uganda – https://theconversation.com/kizza-besigye-the-firebrand-who-has-shaped-opposition-politics-in-uganda-275568

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Kennedy Mkutu, Associate Professor, International Relations, United States International University

The sun is rising in Kenya’s Kajiado county, just outside Nairobi, and a truck is rumbling over dusty ground towards a riverbank. Young men guide the driver to a parking spot and then spring into action, each with a scoop, filling the truck from a heap of the most desirable building sand for which the area is famous.

The driver passes the time with a snack and a mug of tea poured from a flask by a mobile vendor. He pays each of the young men around US$10 for their labour and the landowner US$40-US$50 for the sand. The driver then starts out on his journey to deliver sand to hardware stores, building sites or informal selling points in Nairobi and its suburbs, paying county taxes and police bribes along the way.

Sand mining sites like this have been mushrooming along Kenya’s numerous river systems. They are serving a construction boom sparked by urbanisation and grandiose infrastructure programmes.

Yet Kenya has been singled out by the UN’s environmental programme as a country of unsustainable sand harvesting. The industry is troubled by insufficient regulation, environmental degradation and, at times, violent conflict.

We are peace and security researchers who have studied controversies around sub-Saharan Africa’s infrastructure projects. In a recent study, we researched contestations around sand harvesting, as well as sand commodity chains in Kenya. We mapped where industry benefits are concentrated and looked at how locally established governance mechanisms work to distribute benefits – and harms.

We examined sites in seven Kenyan counties. In the west, we visited Homa Bay near Lake Victoria. Outside Nairobi, we studied sites in Nakuru and Kajiado. In the drier eastern parts, we visited Taita Taveta and Makueni – once a hotspot of violent conflict among sand mining cartels. In dry regions, sand is critical to water storage, where it’s used to create dams that boost underground water storage. On the Kenyan coast, we studied sites in Kwale and Kilifi, which serve developments in and around the city of Mombasa. We spoke to loaders, landowners, leaders of informal youth groups and cooperatives, transporters, brokers and administrators.

We found the industry to be ordered and unruly at the same time.

National regulation on sand harvesting in most counties is rarely enforced. Therefore, the stability of extraction and transport of sand hinges on complex informal rules that distribute the benefits of the industry. The greatest profits in the sand industry are not made at the extraction sites but higher up along the commodity chain. Sand supports large numbers of people at the community level.

We argue that making the most of Kenya’s sand industry doesn’t lie in introducing top-down legislation. Rather, existing informal regulation should be harnessed and harmonised within formal rules. This would go a long way towards ensuring sustainable livelihoods and widespread inclusion.

The winners and losers

Scholarship on the extraction of natural resources across the global south has demonstrated the tendency toward the removal of natural resources and accumulation by powerful agents. They forcefully control mining activities and value chains and leave behind high social and ecological costs, a phenomenon known as extractivism.

Extractivism depletes ecosystems and deprives communities of the use of natural resources, fair access to them and the opportunity to benefit from the wealth generated.

Does sand harvesting in Kenya display these characteristics? Not entirely.

Sand is perhaps a bit different to precious minerals like gemstones. It’s bulky, less valuable, and in many countries widespread and accessible with basic tools. Sand is found in rivers and fields, and on private and common land.

At harvesting sites, groups of loaders and homegrown sand cooperatives are in many places highly organised with rules, rosters and even external shareholders. They ensure a wider distribution of gains at the local level. Loader group membership positions are coveted and bought at a high price from group organisers, and some groups or cooperatives build up economic strength and attract better transporting contracts. Larger contractors dictate conditions, driving down prices at the harvesting sites.

As a development mineral, sand also feeds concrete production that’s pivotal for grand infrastructure and housing schemes. These have the potential to boost economic growth.

However, there are certainly some tendencies for benefits to flow away from the source. Unsurprisingly, the largest profits are made at urban markets. While truck drivers at harvesting sites pay around US$90 for a 12-ton truck of sand, the same load is sold in Nairobi for up to US$400. In-transit costs such as taxes, bribes, fuel and salaries amount to around US$100.

Landowners accumulate revenues, too. However, where land is contested upon a backdrop of colonial and post-colonial dispossession – such as in the Kedong site in Nakuru – this can be particularly controversial. At one point when landowners hired excavators, community members rioted and destroyed them, fearing complete displacement from their source of livelihood.

County governments also benefit greatly from local taxation and have little incentive to regulate overextraction from fragile sites.

Bribery in the sand business also thrives on the informality. The police capitalise on regular sand transporting routes and uniformly request US$4-8 from every truck. Overloading can be managed with a “fee” at weighbridges. Some drivers find ways to store sand and sell it without their bosses’ knowledge.

Though ecological harms were not fully explored in our work, we found evidence of them, particularly in drier counties, such as Taita Taveta and Makueni, where river sand is a vital container for water storage. Communities are aware of the environmental cost of overextraction and call for better regulation of the industry.

What needs to happen

Effective collaboration is needed between various layers of governance to make the sand trade in Kenya equitable and sustainable.

This is largely absent. One notable exception is the robust and participatory management of sand in Makueni county, which also took decisive action against cartels and prevented exports out of the county until ecosystem recovery was certain.

Instead of introducing top-down legislation to manage the industry, however, harnessing existing informal regulations and harmonising them within formal rules would go a long way towards ensuring sustainable livelihoods and widespread inclusion, as the Makueni case has demonstrated.

These discussions matter because Kenya, among many other countries in the global south, is rapidly urbanising and has a number of huge infrastructure projects in the works.

Several of the sites we studied provided sand for the construction of the Standard Gauge Railway (built from 2014 to 2019). While many communities benefited from the project, it also exposed unequal relations between government, businesses and communities that made exploitative sand extraction possible.

Given that the railway line will be extended to the Ugandan border, regulation that allows for broad local participation is critical for assuring trust in the Kenyan governance system.

Kennedy Mkutu receives funding from FORMAS the Swedish Research Council for the promotion of research for a sustainable society as well as from VR – the Swedish Research Council.

Jan Bachmann receives funding from FORMAS, the Swedish Research Council for the promotion of research for a sustainable society as well as from VR – the Swedish Research Council.

– ref. Sand mining and Kenya’s building boom: better rules are needed, but not from the top down – https://theconversation.com/sand-mining-and-kenyas-building-boom-better-rules-are-needed-but-not-from-the-top-down-275321

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Debbie Collier, Professor of Law and Director of the Centre for Transformative Regulation of Work, University of the Western Cape

Communities in South Africa continue to be fractured by service delivery failures, crime and gang-related violence. The impact is felt by families and communities, and in schools, universities and businesses across the country.

A vicious cycle is being fuelled by a number of factors. These include constraints on law enforcement and credible allegations of corruption and political interference in the criminal justice system. At the same time, the judiciary is under strain.

The result is that government agencies, municipalities and service providers are frequently drawn into disputes. If litigated, these can take years to resolve. This drains public resources and further erodes trust in public institutions. Justice delayed is justice denied.

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Read more:
Legal claims for medical mistakes are on the rise in South Africa: what’s behind the trend

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Mediation can provide a crucial, timely and constructive way to resolve conflict before matters escalate into violence or protracted litigation. Mediation, facilitated by an impartial third party, supports dialogue and meaningful engagement between parties, and the settlement of disputes on mutually acceptable terms.

Mediation paved the way for South Africa’s transition from apartheid to democracy in 1994. It is deeply rooted in the country’s approach to conflict resolution and social dialogue.

Mediation is common practice in community disputes and in labour law and other statutory dispute resolution contexts. But its use in court proceedings has been limited.

The rules of court for the Magistrates’ Courts and the High Court provide for mediation in civil litigated matters. But the uptake has been slow. And the court-annexed mediation project in the Magistrates’ Courts has been put on hold.

Recent developments have seen a shift toward mandatory mediation in civil litigated matters. These include the South Africa Law Reform Commission’s discussion paper. This was published in early 2025 for public input on mediation in civil, commercial and community disputes.

As a labour law scholar and in leading the South African Law Reform Commission’s project on alternative dispute resolution, I have come to appreciate how mediation can transform conflict. It can provide an accessible dispute resolution mechanism across diverse contexts.

But to optimise the use of mediation the following are required:

• wide-ranging awareness of mediation across institutions and communities and within the legal profession

• support for training and skills development, particularly for community mediators who play a crucial role in dispute resolution and transforming conflict

• an integrated and enabling regulatory, institutional and skills development framework, responsive to the diverse contexts in which mediation takes place.

The role of mediators in different contexts

A skilled mediator can mean the difference between conflict that results in violence, destruction and tragedy, and a negotiated outcome and constructive dialogue.

Community leaders, including religious and traditional leaders, can resolve a range of disputes and manage conflict within communities. This includes curbing community violence, de-escalating election violence, and intervening in student unrest and the destruction of property.

Training for community mediators

Mediation training should also be provided to counteract bullying in schools. Scholars can be equipped to intervene as peer mediators and resolve conflict constructively.

Mediation and peace building skills could also equip women to dismantle violence.

Mediation is already used in specialised statutory institutions and tribunals such as the Commission for Conciliation, Mediation and Arbitration, the Companies Tribunal and the South African Revenue Service. Its use can be extended to other administrative bodies supported by an enabling framework.

Mediation is part of a range of alternative dispute resolution mechanisms that can facilitate early dispute resolution and avoid protracted litigation. Hence many countries use court-connected mediation and alternative dispute resolution to improve access to justice.

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Read more:
Do you need your day in court? The evolution of dispute resolution

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Momentum towards court-connected mandatory mediation

A number of developments are under way, including:

• the South African Law Reform Commission’s proposal for a Mediation Act for South Africa

• the Land Court Act 6 of 2023, which allows the court to direct parties to attempt to settle an issue through mediation

• court-mandated mediation introduced in 2025 to manage the Gauteng provincial division’s caseload. A directive and a mediation protocol were introduced.

• proposed changes to the law on family disputes. The draft bill proposes mandatory mediation before commencing with court processes.

However, the idea of mandatory mediation has received mixed reactions.

Concerns

A range of arguments against mandatory mediation have been mounted. These include:

• fears that mandatory mediation will be imposed where a matter isn’t suited to mediation, and the risk of coercion to settle

• concerns that mediation doesn’t generate legal precedent and can produce outcomes not grounded in legal merits

• the burden of additional costs and delays.

Safeguards must be put in place to mitigate these risks. This includes judicial oversight and case management to ensure that mediation in court processes is used appropriately and supports access to justice.

Mediation isn’t a substitute for court proceedings in matters better suited to litigation. Judicial reform remains important, and litigation must be accessible in cases where it is best suited.

A compelling case for mediation

Integrating mediation within judicial processes provides an opportunity to resolve structural tensions within South Africa’s plural legal system.

South Africa’s legal system incorporates elements of English common law and Roman-Dutch civilian law, alongside deep-rooted systems of indigenous laws and traditional methods of conflict resolution. The result is a dissonance between the community oriented features of indigenous customs and the individualistic and industrial nature of statutory laws.

This dissonance is countered by the relational and restorative justice potential of mediation, which resonates with traditional methods of conflict resolution and opens up space to centre the foundational values of indigenous laws.

Next steps

The move towards mandatory mediation adds momentum to an evolving legal system and legal practice. It affirms indigenous values and practices.

Mediation could relieve pressure on the justice system and contribute to an enabling environment for social and economic development.

Access to justice is a public good. It requires access to appropriate legal resources, institutions, and dispute resolution mechanisms. Importantly, building an effective justice system is an ongoing project and a complex human undertaking that cannot be achieved through policy and law reform alone.

Debbie Collier is a commissioner of the South African Law Reform Commission (SALRC) and the project leader for Project 94 on Alternative Dispute Resolution. The views expressed in this article are not necessarily those of the SALRC. Debbie Collier receives funding from the National Research Foundation (NRF).

– ref. Mediation can speed up justice in South Africa: legal scholar makes the case – https://theconversation.com/mediation-can-speed-up-justice-in-south-africa-legal-scholar-makes-the-case-270110

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Salah Ben Hammou, Postdoctoral Research Associate, Rice University

The end of January 2026 effectively marked the end of party politics in Burkina Faso. On 29 January, Captain Ibrahim Traoré’s government formally dissolved all political parties, including those that had supported his September 2022 coup.

Parties had already been suspended since Traoré took power, but the junta framed this latest step as part of a broader state “restructuring” meant to reduce social divisions.

In practice, the move shuts down what little space remained for independent civic participation and further concentrates authority in Traoré’s hands. Party assets have also been taken over by the state.

For a junta that initially relied on enthusiastic civilian backing, the decision sits awkwardly alongside its rhetoric of popular mobilisation and revolutionary renewal. Yet this trajectory is far from surprising.

Across the Sahel and elsewhere in Africa, supporters of military takeovers are discovering that early enthusiasm rarely translates into lasting political influence. Coups that begin with popular support often end with the junta sidelining or overtly suppressing the very groups that helped stabilise its hold on power. The trend goes back decades.

I have extensively studied and written on military coups for nearly a decade, especially the recent coup wave in Africa.

I argue that once in power, military rulers have little incentive to share authority. Civilian groups are useful in the first days of a takeover. They provide crowds, legitimacy, and a sense that the coup reflects public frustration.

But those same groups quickly become inconvenient. They have their own leaders, their own constituencies, and their own expectations for the transition. They can criticise delays or mobilise supporters. This independence is precisely what juntas fear.

Early civilian enthusiasm should not be mistaken for a durable mandate, nor should it be read as evidence that a transition will remain inclusive.

Burkina Faso’s recent party ban is only the latest reminder. Support from outside the barracks may help usher in or stabilise a coup, but it rarely guarantees any lasting influence over what follows.

Buyer beware: Civilian support rarely leads to lasting influence

Contrary to how we typically think of coups, military takeovers frequently attract support from at least some segments of the civilian population. Sometimes civilians actively encourage a coup. They can also help ensure that it succeeds and stabilises.

These dynamics have been especially visible during Africa’s recent wave of coups. From Mali to Niger, military interventions have been welcomed, celebrated, and even endorsed by civil society groups, political parties, and other domestic actors. For coup leaders, these alliances offer visible legitimacy and a ready-made support base.

But an equally common trend follows. While civilian groups pledge support to maintain some influence in the post-coup order, juntas frequently sideline, marginalise, or altogether suppress even their erstwhile allies.

This pattern appears across eras and regions, cutting across ideological and social lines.

After Sudan’s 1969 coup, for instance, the Communist Party initially aligned itself with the Free Officers led by Col. Jaafar Nimeiri, offering crucial political backing. But within seven months, Nimeiri began sidelining the party, removing key Communist figures from government. By 1971, he had turned on them entirely, launching a brutal crackdown that crushed the party.

A similar trajectory followed Egypt’s 2013 coup. The protest movement Tamarod openly advocated for and later endorsed General Abdelfattah el-Sisi’s takeover. The influence of the movement and other political parties soon evaporated as civic space shrank.

Buyer’s remorse among coup supporters in the Sahel

Today, many of the civilian groups that championed the Sahel’s recent coups are going through the same experience as their predecessors elsewhere.

In Mali, the June 5 Movement–Rally of Patriotic Forces (M5‑RFP) – a broad coalition of opposition parties, clerics and activists associated with Imam Mahmoud Dicko – has become one of the most outspoken critics of Colonel Assimi Goïta’s junta.

Yet M5‑RFP was among the coup’s earliest supporters. After months of mass protests against President Ibrahim Boubacar Keïta, the movement welcomed the military’s intervention in August 2020 and expected to help steer the transition.

That expectation faded quickly. The junta sidelined M5‑RFP during the formation of the transitional government, excluding many of its leaders from key positions.

When Goïta carried out a second coup in May 2021, removing the civilian interim leadership and consolidating the military’s control, the movement’s influence shrank even further. What began as a tactical alliance ended with M5‑RFP pushed to the margins.

The aftermath of Guinea’s 2021 coup followed a similar trajectory. Opposition leaders against former president Alpha Conde initially welcomed Gen. Mamady Doumbouya’s coup. Expecting a meaningful role in the transition, party leaders even urged the Economic Community of West African States (Ecowas) not to impose sanctions and publicly legitimised the coup as a necessary move.

But much like the Malian experience, the junta did not accommodate the parties for their support, barring them from substantial representation. Little more than a year later, party members were arrested when they voiced opposition to their lack of inclusion in the transition.

Seen in this comparative light, Burkina Faso’s recent party dissolution fits an established pattern. Early political backing does not guarantee continued access or influence once military rulers entrench themselves.

Salah Ben Hammou 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. Burkina Faso has dissolved all political parties: why African coup leaders often turn on the people who supported them – https://theconversation.com/burkina-faso-has-dissolved-all-political-parties-why-african-coup-leaders-often-turn-on-the-people-who-supported-them-275637