What will it take to make Africa food secure? G20 group points to trade, resilient supply chains and sustainable farming

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Wandile Sihlobo, Senior Fellow, Department of Agricultural Economics, Stellenbosch University

The Sustainable Food and Agricultural Systems work stream of the Business 20, a G20 engagement group, has endorsed three principles that it argues will contribute to the building of sustainable food systems and agriculture. The principles are increased trade, resilient supply chains, and sustainable agricultural practices.

Agricultural economist Wandile Sihlobo explains these three principles and how African countries can put them to good use.

What is global food security? How does it differ from food poverty?

Global food security is more comprehensive, seeking to address the challenges of access to food, nutrition, sustainability and affordability. The broad ambition of global food security is to ensure that countries, especially the G20 members, work collaboratively on initiatives that reduce global poverty levels. This reduction of poverty must be material at both national and at household level.

Achieving this goal will demand that each country’s domestic agricultural policy enables increases in food production, prioritises environmentally friendly production approaches, and eases trade friction. This will enable countries that cannot produce enough food to import it, and most importantly, do so affordably. Also, countries should ease the global logistics friction, removing tariffs and ensuring that a flow of agricultural products is smooth. This also includes the removal of export bans in certain cases. For example, in 2023, India banned the exports of rice and that caused a surge in global food prices.

It is for this reason that I have championed the approach of “achieving food security through trade”. Such an approach is essential in an environment characterised by trade friction, which generally increases transaction costs for all. Ultimately, the goal of improving global food security seeks to improve the living standards for all, with the focus on the poor regions of the world, mainly Africa, the Middle East and Asia.

How can increased trade, resilient supply chains and sustainable agricultural practices enhance food security?

These interventions are at the heart of easing costs. If trade friction (tariffs, non-tariff barriers and export bans) are eased, we are able to lower the transaction costs of getting the goods from the production areas to the consumption points affordably.

Resilient supply chains also mean that food can be produced, processed and transferred to consumption points with less friction even in times of natural disasters and conflicts.

Sustainable agricultural practices are at the core of the food system. Still, this does not mean a move away from improved seed cultivars and genetics, and elimination of agro-chemicals and other inputs. It mainly refers to using them better.

I have noted a troubling trend of activism that seeks to eliminate agricultural inputs, a path that would lead to lower agricultural productivity and output, and eventually worsen hunger. The key should be safe and optimal use of these inputs.

In the recent farm protests in the European Union, the EU’s regulatory approach to sustainable farming practices was one of the issues farmers raised as the major risk. They cited the EU’s Green Deal, which aimed to accelerate the reduction of the use of inputs, such as pesticides, fertilisers and certain other chemicals, that are critical for increased production.

In my view, the G20 should guard against activist moves that are dangerous to global food security.

What specific policies should countries, especially African nations, put in place to ensure the success of these principles?

South Africa and the African Union, which are both G20 members, should push for three broad interventions in agriculture to achieve the three G20 principles and boost food production that could benefit the African continent.

1. Climate-smart farming

First, there should be a strong call for sharing knowledge on climate-smart agricultural practices. These are new innovations and ways of farming that minimise the damage to crops caused by climate-related disasters like drought and heatwaves. This is important because Africa is very vulnerable to natural disasters.

For African agriculture to take off, governments must set up co-ordinated policies on how to respond to disasters. These responses must include everything African countries need to mitigate climate-related disasters, adapt to climate change, and recover quickly when disasters hit.

2. Trade reform

Second, Africa must push for a reform of the global trading system, and to improve food security in Africa through trade. South Africa already enjoys deeper access to agricultural trade with several G20 economies through lower tariffs and some tariff free access.

It is in the interests of all G20 members to ensure open trade among the nations of the world. Open agricultural trade enables countries to buy and sell agricultural produce at lower prices. This is vital in the current environment where some nations are taking a more confrontational approach to trade.

African countries whose agriculture is less productive, with generally lower or poor crop yields, may not benefit as much in the short term from open trade. They will, however, benefit in the long run.

3. Improve access to fertilisers

Third, Africa should continue prioritising discussions about improving fertiliser manufacturing and trade. Sub-Saharan African countries have poor fertiliser access and usage. Yet, greater fertiliser adoption is a key input to increased food production and therefore a reduction in food insecurity. Access to affordable finance is also a challenge for African agriculture.

Therefore, linking discussions on fertiliser with investments in network industries such as roads and ports is key. It is one thing to have fertilisers available, but moving them to areas of farming is difficult in some countries, and increases the costs for farmers. As part of this, the G20 should drive localised production.

Producing fertiliser on the continent would lessen the negative impact of global price shocks. It would also make it affordable for even the most vulnerable African countries to buy and distribute fertiliser.

Where do you suggest the balance is between more efficient agricultural production and reducing agriculture’s contribution to climate change?

We must use technology to adapt to climate change rather than demonising the use of agrochemicals and seed breeding, which certainly is a rising trend in some areas in South Africa. If we use high yielding seed cultivars, fertilisers and agrochemicals to control diseases, we can then farm a relatively smaller area, and rely on ample output.

But if we reduce these inputs substantially, we rely more on expansion of the area we plant. Tilling more land means hurting the environment. The main focus should be the optimal and safe use of agricultural inputs to improving increase food production. This is key to achieving global food security.

The G20 has a role to play in ensuring that we are moving towards a better world. These agricultural principles we outline above are some of the approaches that could help us move towards a more food secure and better world.

The Conversation

Wandile Sihlobo is the Chief Economist of the Agricultural Business Chamber of South Africa (Agbiz) and a member of the Presidential Economic Advisory Council (PEAC).

ref. What will it take to make Africa food secure? G20 group points to trade, resilient supply chains and sustainable farming – https://theconversation.com/what-will-it-take-to-make-africa-food-secure-g20-group-points-to-trade-resilient-supply-chains-and-sustainable-farming-267653

Harare’s street traders create their own system to survive in the city

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Elmond Bandauko, Assistant Professor of Human Geography, University of Alberta

The informal sector has become a dominant source of livelihoods for urban residents in African cities. Within this sector, street trading is one of the most visible and vital components of urban economies.

In Zimbabwe’s capital city, too, street traders, selling clothing, snacks, fruits and vegetables, household goods, electronics and many other products, are a dominant feature in the economy. As in most African cities, the majority of Harare’s traders operate without licences, and they are often victims of municipal raids and displacements. Yet, despite this hostile environment, street trading continues to flourish.

How do traders organise themselves in such a difficult setting? Who decides who sells where? And how is order maintained in a space where the state’s control is weak or repressive?

I am an urban geographer whose work focuses on urban informality and governance in African cities. These questions are at the heart of a study that was part of my doctoral research on urban governance and the spatial politics of street traders in Harare. I am especially interested in how the urban poor wield their individual and collective agency to challenge urban exclusion.

Drawing on interviews and focus groups with traders in Harare’s central business district, the research explores the invisible systems of informal governance that regulate access to trading spaces. The study shows that street trading is structured by its own internal rules, norms and power relations.

Informality is not the absence of order. It is a different kind of order, rooted in everyday negotiation, social trust, and the shared struggle to survive in an unequal city.

I concluded that city authorities and others should recognise that these informal governance systems are legitimate, and can even be useful when it comes to formalising activities in the city. Ignoring them could lead to conflict and deeper inequalities.

Systems of organisation

Zimbabwe’s economy as a whole has been unstable over the past four decades. As a result, the informal economy has become very important. The relationship between urban authorities and street traders has always been antagonistic, however. That conflict has been the focus of most of the research on street trading. Harare’s city officials, like those in many other African cities, often treat traders as illegal, criminal, or a threat to “modern” urban order.

My research takes a different view: I shift attention away from state repression to the everyday systems of organisation and control that traders themselves have developed.

I conducted 19 semi-structured interviews and three focus groups with traders, to learn about their individual strategies and shared social mechanisms for keeping order on the streets.

Traders in Harare use informal governance mechanisms – unwritten rules, social norms and personal relationships – to decide who can occupy which space, for how long, and under what conditions. These community-based systems are built on mutual recognition and trust, but also shaped by hierarchy, gender and seniority.

Claiming and defending space

The interviews reveal that the most important rule for maintaining order is consistency. Traders often stay in the same spot for years – sometimes decades – to build customer loyalty and to assert their informal claim.

As one vendor explained:

I stay in the same spot so that people always know where to find me … When everyone sticks to their usual place, it reduces disputes.

This practice, described by another scholar, Asef Bayat, as “quiet encroachment”, involves small, everyday acts of claiming space without formal permission. Over time, these acts become socially recognised by other traders and even by local residents or shopkeepers. If a new vendor tries to take over someone’s space, existing traders usually intervene before conflict escalates.

As one woman put it:

No one can just occupy the space without our permission.

This peer-enforced control system maintains order but also reinforces informal hierarchies.

Leadership and street apprenticeship

Although there are no official leaders, senior traders – those with long experience or strong social influence – often act as custodians of space. They mediate disputes, mentor newcomers and enforce unspoken rules.

alt
Market, Harare.
Shack Dwellers International, Wikimedia Commons, CC BY

New entrants typically undergo an informal “street apprenticeship”, during which they learn how to operate, when to display goods, how to evade municipal police, and whom to approach for protection. Newcomers cannot simply choose a spot and start selling. They must seek the approval of those already established. This process reflects an internalised authority system rooted in social norms rather than written law.

Social networks and inheritance

The study also uncovers how social capital – networks of trust, kinship and friendship – plays a central role in accessing space.

Many traders gain their first selling spot through relatives or friends who are already part of the informal economy. In this way, street trading becomes an intergenerational practice, often “inherited” from parents or grandparents.

One participant explained that her grandmother had traded in the same area for decades, and when she lost her formal job, she joined the family business. Others said they felt morally obliged to reserve a deceased vendor’s spot for their children or relatives.




Read more:
Ethiopian quarter: how migrants have shaped a thriving shopping district in South Africa’s city of gold


Competition and exclusion

However, these systems are not equal or fair. Power among traders is unevenly distributed. Long-term vendors and those with strong social connections often dominate lucrative areas, while newcomers (especially young people, women and persons with disabilities) struggle to gain a foothold.

For example, male traders often control spots near busy transport hubs, which are more profitable but also riskier. Women, who are concerned about safety or need to balance caregiving duties, tend to occupy less visible areas. One visually impaired trader said he relied on others to protect his spot, showing how trust and vulnerability shape spatial access.




Read more:
Why do identical informal businesses set up side by side? It’s a survival tactic – Kenya study


There are also reports of traders using aggressive tactics to defend their territory. Some long-time vendors admitted to “chasing away” new sellers or even tipping off municipal officers to get competitors arrested. These practices reveal how informal governance can both protect livelihoods and reproduce exclusion.

Everyday politics and quiet power

My study shows that power in Harare’s informal economy is not only top-down, from the state to the traders, but also horizontal, negotiated among the traders themselves.

Those with seniority or strong networks act as gatekeepers, deciding who can sell where. Women traders often face verbal or physical harassment from male counterparts but also develop their own strategies of resistance: confronting aggressors, forming alliances, or using moral arguments about fairness to defend their right to trade. These acts of quiet defiance demonstrate that informal governance is a site of both control and agency.




Read more:
How the informal economy solves some urban challenges in a Zimbabwean town


Beyond stereotypes of chaos

What emerges from this research is a more nuanced picture of Harare’s informal economy. Street traders are not simply victims of a repressive state or chaotic actors in an unregulated market. They are also self-organising agents who build complex systems of order, reciprocity and social regulation in the absence of formal protection.

At the same time, these systems are not utopian. They involve competition, hierarchy and exclusion. Informal governance is both a survival mechanism and a structure of power.

Understanding this duality is crucial for policymakers who wish to design fairer urban policies.

The Conversation

Elmond Bandauko works at the University of Alberta as an Assistant Professor of Human Geography. He received funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada (SSHRC), International Development Research Centre (IDRC) and the International Journal of Urban and Research (IJURR) Foundation to conduct this research.

ref. Harare’s street traders create their own system to survive in the city – https://theconversation.com/harares-street-traders-create-their-own-system-to-survive-in-the-city-268996

Africa’s drone wars are growing – but they rarely deliver victory

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Brendon J. Cannon, Associate Professor, Khalifa University

In the last decade, armed drones have become one of the most visible symbols of modern warfare. Once the preserve of advanced militaries, armed drones are now widely available on the global arms market. Countries such as Turkey, China and Iran are producing lower-cost models and exporting them. In Sudan’s ongoing war, which began in 2023, drones have been used by the two major warring parties to gain ground – but have caused massive civilian casualties in the process.

A drone is essentially a remotely piloted aircraft that can observe, track and sometimes strike targets with missiles or bombs. The promise of armed drones is alluring: a lethal, precise and affordable weapon that can surveil and strike enemies without troops being exposed. But can these drones deliver on their promise in African battlespaces? Brendon J. Cannon shares insights from his study of drone use in Sub-Saharan African conflicts.

What’s driving up the use of drones in sub-Saharan Africa?

Drones offer tactical advantages. They are seen as a solution to pressing internal security problems, from jihadist incursions in the Sahel to armed insurgencies in Ethiopia and civil war in Sudan.

Since 2019, a growing number of African states – among them Niger, Ethiopia, Togo, Sudan and Somalia – have acquired medium-altitude long-endurance (Male) drones. Among these types of drones, Turkey’s Bayraktar TB2 – along with its successors, the TB3 and Kızılelma (Red Apple) – has captured outsized attention. In the case of the Turkish TB2 model, for instance, some sources estimate 40 units have been sold to more than 10 African countries since 2019, but actual figures are not public.

The TB2 is cheap by military standards (roughly US$5 million a unit) and relatively easy to operate. It has been hailed as a “game-changer” for its reliability, cost and ready availability.

An unmanned drone in the sky.
The medium-altitude long-eundurance Bayraktar TB2 drone.
Wikimedia Commons, CC BY

It has been combat-tested in Syria, Libya and the Caucasus, a natural border between Europe and Asia.

Its success in destroying tanks, artillery and air defence systems in these conflicts impressed African leaders. As Turkish president Recep Tayyip Erdoğan boasted

Everywhere I go in Africa, everyone talks to me about drones.

What has been the effectiveness of these drones in African conflicts?

Medium-altitude long-endurance drones like the TB2 are entering African conflicts, which are marked by vast geography, difficult terrain and complex insurgencies that frequently span borders.

While drones can deliver lethal force, their ability to shape battlefield outcomes is also contingent on variables like

  • distance, terrain and weather

  • the competence of operators

  • the existence of supporting intelligence, logistics and command systems.

With these variables in mind, my recent research with my colleague, Ash Rossiter, found that drones are unlikely to significantly alter the course of conflicts in much of sub-Saharan Africa, for a couple of reasons.

First, there is a general absence of modern integrated air defences in the region. This is required to deploy drones as lethal precision weapons, particularly in targeting isolated groups.

Second, the success of these drones depends on competent operation, their employment in sufficient numbers, and adequate support infrastructure, such as fuel, communication masts and ground control stations. These are often lacking in remote places where insurgents operate in places like Somalia, Niger and northern Burkina Faso.

What factors limit the lethality of drones?

Where adversaries lack modern, integrated air defences – as is currently common among insurgent and militia forces in much of sub-Saharan Africa – drones can loiter with minimal risk. They can collect actionable intelligence, and conduct precise strikes against vehicles, small groups and supply lines.

This lethality, however, is limited by a number of factors.

Distance: Africa’s size and scale blunt drone range – and therefore efficacy. The TB2’s circa 300km range, for instance, means it worked well in the Caucasus. However, 300km will not get you far in Ethiopia or the Sahel. In Ethiopia, for example, the TB2s had to be repositioned by the government in 2022 from bases near Addis Ababa to Bahir Dar. This was a distance of about 300km, to reach targets in Tigray. This shows how drone bases, security architecture and forward infrastructure, such as communications masts and logistics support closer to conflict areas, are needed. This increases range and, therefore, outcomes.

Terrain and weather: Dust and sandstorms in the Sahel can impair the drones’ visible-light sensors. Sandstorms occur frequently in the region, particularly during the dry season. Dense forest canopies in central Africa can conceal movement from drones. Persistent cloud cover over Ethiopia’s highlands or along the Gulf of Guinea may limit efficacy. Electro-optical and infrared payloads, which provide high-definition and thermal imaging, give drones like the TB2 a 360-degree view. This allows them to operate in diverse weather conditions. But they may need to fly under the weather to see targets in these African terrains. This brings its own risks, as it exposes the drones to potential small-arms fire. This has happened in Sudan, where paramilitary troops reported shooting down army drones in August 2025.

Operator capabilities: Effectively operating a drone requires trained operators, disciplined targeting procedures and dependable maintenance. Failures can be costly. A Burkinabè TB2 crash in 2023 exposed maintenance and operational fragilities, destroying one of five TB2 drones from the Burkinabè arsenal. A Nigerian drone strike in 2023 that was reportedly aimed at terrorists instead killed about 85 civilians. This was after an incorrect grid reference. It underscored how weak operator capabilities can transform precision weapons into harbingers of tragedy.

Fit to conflict: Drones are most useful for hitting supply convoys, eliminating specific targets and targeting loose militant networks. These are missions typical of low-intensity, irregular warfare. They are far less decisive in conflicts against massed troop formations or for holding territory, which has characterised recent wars in Ethiopia and Sudan. These tasks still rely on fighter-bombers or attack aircraft, and ground forces.

What does all this mean for the use of drones in sub-Saharan African conflicts?

First, medium-altitude long-endurance drones can deliver tactical gains but rarely provide a silver bullet.

The initial impression of the TB2 has unfortunately obscured some of its limitations, such as operations across extreme distance, in inclement weather, and the importance of operator proficiency.

Second, in conflicts like Ethiopia and the Sahel, geography and logistics play a critical role. Basing, relay links and forward-deployed maintenance determine a drone strike’s coverage, persistence and power.

Third, a drone’s overall effect depends on trained crews, reliable maintenance, and disciplined targeting and command review. Weakness in any of these can result in tragedy, such as civilian deaths.

Finally, as non-state armed groups increasingly adopt drones and some African states like Rwanda and Kenya begin to field better air defences, the advantage currently held by national governments that own drones will narrow.




Read more:
US military is leaving Niger even less secure: why it didn’t succeed in combating terrorism


Lasting utility, therefore, requires three things.

First, counter-drone defences, which means countries need to develop strategies and acquire sensors, jammers and systems to detect, track and neutralise hostile drones.

Second, better protection of the locations and networks from which drones are controlled so that these are not disrupted, sabotaged or targeted.

Third, sustained investment, not just in drone acquisition but also in maintenance, operator training and basing infrastructure to support continuous flight operations and extend drone reach deeper into battlespaces.

The Conversation

Brendon J. Cannon 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 drone wars are growing – but they rarely deliver victory – https://theconversation.com/africas-drone-wars-are-growing-but-they-rarely-deliver-victory-265904

South Africa’s flagship telescope at 20: an eye on the sky and on the community

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Vanessa McBride, Science Director, International Science Council; University of Cape Town

The Southern African Large Telescope (SALT) celebrates 20 years of observing the sky. SALT is the largest optical telescope in the southern hemisphere. It’s been steadily revealing new science knowledge, ranging from the discovery of planets outside our solar system to understanding the unusual physics around black holes. It’s also 20 years of doing science for society.

SALT is where I conducted much of my PhD research. I’d grown up in rural Eastern Cape, marvelling at the diamond night skies. My first fascination for astronomy was sparked when learning about the concept of SALT at a science fest in high school. Years later, I received the first SALT Stobie scholarship for PhD study. It was a dream opportunity to start a multi-year observing campaign.

My research sought to understand how mass moves from one star to another in a gravitationally bound pair. This contributed to the scientific understanding of how these stars evolve in different environments. So it’s with a sense of personal, professional and national pride that I look back on the last two decades of SALT’s achievements.

Africa’s giant eye in the sky

One of SALT’s most significant scientific achievements was based on its ability to respond rapidly to time-critical astronomical events. This allowed SALT to observe the immediate optical glow from a gravitational wave event in 2017, providing a crucial piece of evidence for the type of nuclear processes taking place in the gravitational wave event.

Gravitational waves are ripples in spacetime caused by moving masses, and have only been observable with special detectors since 2015. The plateau on which SALT is built, just outside the town of Sutherland in South Africa’s largest province the Northern Cape, is one of the darkest observing sites in the the world. This makes it an excellent site from which to observe very low brightness objects in the night sky.

In 2022, SALT observed a nearby but faint galaxy, which showed unusually low levels of elements heavier than hydrogen. This unexpected result challenged our understanding of how and when stars begin to form within galaxies. With a repertoire of over 600 scientific publications based on observations from the telescope, SALT has certainly made an impact on our knowledge of the cosmos.

Funded by a consortium of international partners which were led by South Africa’s National Research Foundation, SALT represented an increase of 30x in light gathering capacity compared to the Radcliffe telescope – the previous biggest in South Africa. At concept phase, even astronomers had to be encouraged to think big. The original plans were for a 4 metre class telescope, but it was not audacious enough for a government that wanted to showcase South Africa’s prowess and potential in science.

Engineers and scientists worked with the Hobby-Eberly Telescope in the US to replicate a unique and cost-effective design. Smaller mirror segments were easier and cheaper to manufacture to the required smoothness specifications, and these smaller hexagonal segments could fit together like a honeycomb to create a mirror of 11 metres in diameter. The telescope was designed to point at a fixed angle above the horizon. This meant less warping of the mirror, but a more complicated observing strategy, as astronomers would have to wait for sky to pass over SALT’s pointing direction.

A telescope with heart

SALT was conceived just as South Africa was coming out of the shadow of apartheid. Apartheid – a policy of institutionalised racism – was dismantled in 1994 through South Africa’s first democratic election. In 1996 the new government had written an ambitious white paper setting out a vision for science in a country reborn, where it felt like anything and everything was possible:

Scientific endeavour is not purely utilitarian in its objectives and has important associated cultural and social values. It is also important to maintain a basic competence in ‘flagship’ sciences such as physics and astronomy for cultural reasons. Not to offer them would be to take a negative view of our future – the view that we are a second class nation, chained forever to the treadmill of feeding and clothing ourselves.

SALT has always been more than just a science infrastructure project. It has heart too. Unemployment is a major issue in Sutherland. Fetal alcohol syndrome is also a challenge people battle with in the region, and, through the years of its construction, South Africa was deep into the HIV/AIDS epidemic.

Alongside the investment in engineering and science, was a plan to ensure benefit to previously disadvantaged South Africans, especially the rural community in the Northern Cape. Even today, 20 years after SALT was inaugurated, a fraction of the operation costs that are contributed by all SALT partners, local and international, go into this collateral benefits programme.

The results are a library, skills training centre and a high school mathematics and science teacher in Sutherland. Most recently, the SALT partners and South Africa’s Department of Science, Technology and Innovation, have contributed to a renovated trauma room, for victims of gender-based violence, in the Sutherland police station. In its early years, this programme also trained astronomers through the funding of graduate programmes.

Beyond the horizon

Now, this new generation of South African scientists and engineers is at the helm. For the first time in the 200-year history of the South African Astronomical Observatory, the director is South African. Almost 80% of the staff employed in all roles across SALT, from science and operations to software and mechanical, is South African. These individuals are deeply embedded in, and leading, international science partnerships and research infrastructure projects, and the connection between science and societal development is ingrained in the DNA of these projects and partnerships.

We are often focused on the differences between “us” and “them”, it’s worth remembering the power of science, both as a mechanism for development and as a partnership to unite. This World Science Day for Peace and Development, SALT shows the capabilities science has for both peace, and development.

The Conversation

Vanessa McBride has received funding from the National Research Foundation.

ref. South Africa’s flagship telescope at 20: an eye on the sky and on the community – https://theconversation.com/south-africas-flagship-telescope-at-20-an-eye-on-the-sky-and-on-the-community-269234

Culture as a sustainable development goal? It’s starting to become a reality

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Ribio Nzeza Bunketi Buse, Assistant Professor, University of Kinshasa

Eight global millennium development goals were established in 2000 by member states of the United Nations (UN) and endorsed by other multilateral organisations. They ranged from eliminating hunger to empowering women, and from reducing child mortality to environmental sustainability.

The millennium development goals were not fully achieved by 2015, so 17 sustainable development goals (SDGs) were devised to be reached by 2030. The longer list responded mostly to growing climate threats and urbanisation and included aspects of wellbeing and healthy living.

The focus now is on developing the next agenda after 2030. There is a growing drive to include culture as a goal. Nowhere was the bid more pronounced than at the recent global cultural policy meeting called Mondiacult, held every three years by the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (Unesco).

Ribio Nzeza Bunketi Buse is a scholar of cultural development. We asked him why a culture SDG matters.


Why should culture be an SDG in its own right?

Since 1982, several of these meetings have emphasised the link between culture and sustainable development. Now there’s a call for it to be a standalone SDG in the post-2030 development agenda.

A strong argument is made in the Unesco global report on cultural policies, released in Barcelona during Mondiacult in September 2025. According to this report, 93% of responding member states affirm that culture is a central point in their national sustainable development plans. This is an increase from 88% four years ago.

The document reports also that cultural and creative industries account for 3.39% of the global gross domestic product (a measure of the health of an economy) and 3.55% of jobs. That makes it comparable to the automotive sector. Cultural tourism generates US$741.3 billion in 250 cities each year.

Given this, there’s a broad consensus that culture is one of the keys to sustainable economic development. But it goes deeper.

Unesco defines culture as:

A set of distinctive spiritual, material, intellectual and emotional features that characterise a society or social group including not only arts and letters, but modes of life, value systems, traditions and beliefs.

From this definition, culture is a human right. The final declaration of Mondiacult 2025 recognises it as such, alongside other human rights. Indeed, many countries’ constitutions and other international conventions, like the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, recognise this.

If the 17 SDGs (like education, gender equality and healthy living) are related to human rights, why should culture, which is also a human right, not be an SDG?

To get there, the Mondiacult declaration reinforces that culture needs to be emphasised and endorsed in the 2030 development agenda.




Read more:
What is Mondiacult? 6 take-aways from the world’s biggest cultural policy gathering


The Culture Committee of the United Cities and Local Governments organisation campaigned for culture to be included in the post-2015 development agenda. (Since its 2004 Agenda 21 for Culture initiative, the organisation has worked to include culture in local and regional development.)

In 2022, a network of leading global cultural organisations began an advocacy campaign for culture to be a dedicated SDG. The #Culture2030Goal campaign’s draft zero has five focus areas:

  • adequate attention to culture at the highest level of government

  • recognise connections between culture and other policy areas

  • the culture sector must feel a sense of engagement in and ownership of the goal

  • mobilise power of culture for all other goals

  • achievement of all goals through a cultural lens.

The campaign formulated culture as an SDG as follows:

Ensure cultural sustainability for the wellbeing of all.

Sustainability is culture’s capacity to endure over time and also speaks to new thinking about sustainability for a healthier future for the world.

What difference would it make if it was an SDG?

A standalone SDG would recognise culture as a global public good that all countries should protect.

This would draw attention to culture as an area of intervention. Justin O’Connor, a professor of cultural economy, writes in the Cultural Policy Forum that:

A specific goal is needed to better coordinate culture’s contribution to each and every goal, and to make it mandatory for governments and agencies to pay attention to it, and hopefully direct resources to it.

So, it would also encourage governments to take culture into account in their national economic development agendas.

What are the obstacles?

There are two main constraints in the path to culture becoming an SDG: the understanding of its role for development; and the capacity of policymakers to give it the necessary space.

Mondiacult 2022 recommended including culture in the UN’s 2024 Summit of the Future and that was successful. In fact, Action 11 of the summit’s final document Pact for the Future includes culture. However, it is associated with sport, and is not considered a stand-alone issue.




Read more:
Culture can build a better world: four key issues on Africa’s G20 agenda


Against this backdrop, the ambition of having culture as an SDG still has a way to go. There is no set timeline. It all depends on how negotiations evolve among multiple UN stakeholders (international agencies and member states) in the preparation process for the post-2030 agenda.

Although South Africa is leading the 2025 G20 meetings, where culture is firmly on the agenda, Africa can still play a far stronger mobilising role among the world’s leaders, to convince them to come on board.

The Conversation

Ribio Nzeza Bunketi Buse 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. Culture as a sustainable development goal? It’s starting to become a reality – https://theconversation.com/culture-as-a-sustainable-development-goal-its-starting-to-become-a-reality-267996

The comedy economy: Nigeria’s online video skits are making millions

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Nnamdi O. Madichie, Professor of Marketing & Entrepreneurship, Unizik Business School, Nnamdi Azikiwe University

Short comedy videos circulating on social media have created a booming industry in Nigeria in the past few years. The country’s comedy creators put their skits out on platforms like YouTube, TikTok and Instagram to reach a massive audience.

As these online comedians gain followers they make their money from advertising, by endorsing brands as influencers, and through collaborations. In Nigeria the industry is popularly called the skit economy.

This phenomenon represents more than a major new entertainment trend. It highlights the ingenuity of young Nigerians in using technology to create livelihoods and influence culture. In the process, they contribute to national economic growth.

The skit industry has joined the likes of Nollywood film, Afrobeats music and local fashion to put the country on the entertainment map globally.

The rise of the industry is chronicled in the 2024 book Skit Economy: How Nigeria’s Comedy Skit-Makers Are Redefining Africa’s Digital Content Landscape, by entrepreneurship scholar and polling guru Bell Ihua. His work is supported by findings from the Africa Polling Institute.

As he explains:

The Nigerian entertainment industry is undoubtedly creating job opportunities and contributing to the country’s diversification from oil … The industry is rated as the second most significant employer of youths in Nigeria after agriculture, employing over one million people.

According to his book, skit-making is estimated to be Nigeria’s third largest entertainment industry sector, with a net worth of over US$31 million.

As a marketing scholar focusing on the cultural and creative industries and digital entrepreneurship who has had the privilege of interviewing Ihua, I’d like to share my thoughts about his book.

What becomes clear as you read it is that social media platforms have not only amplified the reach and impact of skits. Online platforms have allowed creators to reach global audiences while preserving the culture, language and stories unique to their communities. Skit creators prove the potential of comedy as a medium for both entertainment and cultural diplomacy.

However, as the industry grows, argues Ihua, the skit economy must navigate new challenges related to representation and ethics.

What’s in the book

The book’s eight chapters cover Africa’s digital content landscape, taking into account the continent’s youth bulge and the evolution of social media and content creation.

Ihua then explores Nigeria’s booming cultural and creative industries before homing in on comedy skit-making in chapter 4. It attempts to classify various types of digital content creation in Nigeria and outline the trends in online videos before embarking on an in-depth national study on comedy skit-making in chapter 7. He then considers implications for public policy and future research in the field.

What makes the book so compelling is that it recognises skit-making as an ecosystem on its own terms. It then defines what that ecosystem looks like in Nigeria. In the process Ihua makes it clear why books like this matter.

They are a call for taking entertainment seriously and investing future research in it. Social media and digital technology have reconfigured an unsung economic sector that’s capable of including the bulging youth population in the national conversation. This is despite limited institutional support.

What’s driving the boom

Ihua traces its boom to COVID-19 lockdowns that began in Nigeria in 2020:

They provided a source of laughter and relief to many Nigerians, as most people found it safer to stay at home and get entertained with skits.

Today, writes Ihua, two-thirds of Nigerians watch comedy skits frequently. According to his study they serve as stress relief and social commentary.

With 63% of Nigerians under 25 and high social media uptake, skit-making taps into abundant creative energy and mobile-first audiences.

Value

The Skit-Economy highlights how skit comedians create direct and indirect jobs (editors, social media managers, brand consultants). They generate income through endorsements, platform monetisation (the revenue they get from advertising on a space like YouTube), and various partnerships and collaborations.




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Their cultural value is not just measured in their global influence. Skits reflect everyday Nigerian realities with humour and satire, influencing local public opinion and reinforcing national identity.

As prominent Nigerian entrepreneur and cultural worker Obi Asika notes in the book’s foreword:

Their success … stems from a combination of talent, creativity, innovation, an entrepreneurial spirit, and a deep understanding of their audience’s preferences and cultural nuances.

Challenges

However, Ihua identifies a number of challenges facing the industry.

Financial rewards are unequal. Only top creators earn sustainably. For many skit-makers revenue is unstable.

Working from Nigeria means dealing with infrastructure deficits. Electricity supply is unreliable, the internet is expensive and there is limited access to digital production tools.




Read more:
Nigerian TikTok star Charity Ekezie uses hilarious skits to dispel ignorance about Africa


Nigerian skit-makers also operate in a climate where there are weak intellectual property protections. Piracy and unauthorised reuse undermine earnings.

The job can be an ethical minefield. Pranks can be harmful. They can perpetuate stereotypes and be insensitive to minorities.

These challenges are enhanced by a policy vacuum. There is little government recognition or support for digital creatives in Nigeria.

An African future?

For Ihua, skit-making is a good example of how new digital industries can aid in absorbing Africa’s growing youth workforce. With adequate support, skit-making can help provide dignified livelihoods.

So, for Ihua these creators are not merely entertainers. They’re also job creators, cultural ambassadors, and catalysts of digital transformation.

For Africa broadly, the rise of skit-making underscores the continent’s potential to innovate in ways that are uniquely aligned with its youthful demographics and digital future.

Nigeria’s skit economy offers a blueprint for the continent. Already, skit-making is spreading to other countries, like Ghana, Kenya and South Africa. The lines are blurring between stand-up or TV comedians and skit makers.

If nurtured with the right infrastructure, policy, and industry support, the skit economy could evolve from an informal hustle into a structured pillar of Africa’s creative economy. This could further solidify the continent’s role in the global cultural imagination.

The Conversation

Nnamdi O. Madichie 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. The comedy economy: Nigeria’s online video skits are making millions – https://theconversation.com/the-comedy-economy-nigerias-online-video-skits-are-making-millions-267784

African poetry is celebrated in a groundbreaking publishing project

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Tinashe Mushakavanhu, Assistant Professor, Harvard University

For 10 years, Ghanaian poet Kwame Dawes and his friend the Nigerian writer Chris Abani have sifted through piles of manuscripts looking for Africa’s new poetic talent. Since 2014, the African Poetry Book Fund has been assembling a formidable archive of writing through the New Generation African Poets Chapbook Series.

A chapbook – a small publication usually under 40 pages – is an accessible and honoured format for poets to publish focused selections of their work. In this series, each chapbook features an emerging African poet, and is presented as part of a beautifully designed box set of 10 or more chapbooks. Besides the poetry itself, each box set also showcases the work of a commissioned African visual artist. The artists include Sokari Douglas Camp, Victor Ehikhamenor, Ficre Ghebreyesus and Aida Muluneh, among others.

This ever-growing archive has now published over 100 poets, and offers a window into the diversity of African poetic expression today.

Marking the project’s 10th anniversary is a new anthology called Toward a Living Archive of African Poetry, edited by Jordanian writer Siwar Masannat. It collects Dawes and Abani’s rich introductions to each box set and has a foreword by Masannat. In it, readers learn about the impact of the series, offering a layered and necessary account of how these chapbooks have transformed the visibility of African poets over the past decade.

My work as a scholar of African literature focuses on recovering overlooked histories and interrogating the spaces in which literature is made and circulated.

This new anthology matters because it documents not just poems, but a cultural movement that redefines what an African literary archive can be, and why poetry remains central to that conversation.

Decidedly diasporic

While the series places Africa at the centre of its imagination, its focus is largely diasporic, shaped by Africans living outside the continent. The majority of the poets live in the US or the UK. Poets based on the continent form a minority and are scattered geographically.

The editors acknowledge this imbalance, attributing it to “better access to workshops and craft education” available to diaspora poets. The result is an archive arguably shaped less by the immediacies of the continent and more by the diaspora’s sensibilities and infrastructures.

Nigeria, more than any of the 25-odd countries included in the chapbooks, shapes the aesthetics of the series. This reflects both the density of the country’s literary networks and the curatorial choices of the editors. They rely heavily on personal connections and prize pools to spot new and emerging talents.

A recurring feature of the poets in the series is the “hyphenated African”: Somali-American, Ghanaian-British, Ethiopian-German, Sierra Leonean-American. Some were born in countries outside Africa or migrated as toddlers. Their Africanness is claimed through memory, nostalgia, heritage, or family history, rather than geography.

The editors assert that all the poets “self-identify as Africans in the full and complicated way that Africanness is best defined”. This also underscores how the project expands the category of African poetry.
In fact, the transcontinental profile of these writers shows how African poetry today cannot be read solely through a nationalist lens. The hybridity of identity and place becomes central. Many poets occupy in-between spaces – culturally, geographically, linguistically and emotionally.

Still, the series impresses on many other levels. Particularly in its commitment to highlighting the continent’s plural and localised poetics, and in its rare, long-term investment in the future of African poetry.

Gender

The series has been notably attentive to gender parity. Women poets like Warsan Shire, Safia Elhillo, Victoria Adukwei Bulley, Momtaza Mehri, Tsitsi Jaji and Vuyelwa Maluleke, among others, form a significant portion of the archive.




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This signals an important feminist turn in African poetics. The chapbook form becomes a space where African women’s voices are nurtured and given international circulation, countering historical silences. The poets here highlight a generational continuity of feminist expression.

Intergenerational

The birth years of poets in the series range from 1963 to 2007, showcasing a vibrant intergenerational dialogue. The older poets often engage in socio-political critique informed by post-independence transitions. Millennial and Gen Z poets frequently explore themes of identity, queerness, internet culture, displacement and decoloniality with linguistic experimentation and digital fluency.

Ghanaian poet Tryphena Yeboah, in her chapbook, A Mouthful of Home, exemplifies this:

I TELL MY MOTHER I WANT A BODY THAT

EXPANDS

Into a map. She wants to know where I’ll travel to. I say

“myself”.

The act of travel becomes a metaphor for self-mapping that captures how younger African poets reimagine movement, belonging and home as internal, affective geographies.

In contrast, South African poet Ashley Makue, in her chapbook, i know how to fix myself, offers a more visceral expression of embodied trauma and inherited violence:

my mother is a war zone

they don’t tell her that

these men that pee in her

and leave with gunpowder in their chests

Living archive

The New Generation African Poets Chapbook Series has been an extraordinary intervention in the history of African poetry. It has foregrounded a generation, opened an aesthetic safe space, and created a beautiful, living archive.

Dawes and Abani introduce each of the box sets with two introductions – what they call “simultaneous conversations” – and they often debate identity, the style of the poetry, circulation, and other issues.

This is more than an impressive catalogue; it is a breathing archive of African poetic consciousness, one that resists static definitions. It captures the fluidity of identity, the urgency of voice, and the diverse shaping of African poetry today.

What it tells us: that African poetry is thriving, diverse and globally mobile. What it does not tell us: how poets working entirely from the continent might imagine and enact African poetics differently.

But by foregrounding new and emerging voices, the Africa Poetry Book Fund affirms that poets remain vital chroniclers of the African experience, articulating emotion, history and imagination in ways that other forms of writing often cannot.

They don’t just do this through publications, but running prizes, supporting African poetry libraries and maintaining a digital archive.

The Conversation

Tinashe Mushakavanhu 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. African poetry is celebrated in a groundbreaking publishing project – https://theconversation.com/african-poetry-is-celebrated-in-a-groundbreaking-publishing-project-267772

Access to water has a long racial history in Durban: I followed the story in the city’s archives

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Kristin Brig, Lecturer in Public Health & Society, Washington University in St. Louis

The water infrastructure politics of eThekwini, the municipality that includes the city of Durban, have been splashed across the digital pages of South Africa’s news outlets in recent years.

They’ve covered the 2022 floods that damaged kilometres of pipes, water tanker purchases as a response to increasing water scarcity, and the disconnection of residential water storage tanks from municipal pipes to cope with leaky infrastructure. Like other South African municipalities, eThekwini has fallen behind on maintaining its piped water infrastructure and has looked to stopgap solutions.

The city’s water politics has a long history. Some of the infrastructure issues can be traced back to the mid-1800s, when it was a British imperial port.

I’m a historian with an interest in coastal communities and urban life. As part of my work on water as a public health concern in colonial cities, I spent months in the Durban Archives Repository, going through correspondence, reports, business contracts, newspaper clippings and town council minutes.

The records revealed how the system of colonial-era water infrastructure worked – and for whom.

The first water technologies in Durban were British-styled wells. Anyone could use them, for free. They brought people of different origins and class together for practical purposes but also created anxiety about social difference. For colonial officials, the public had to follow British standards or lose access to the infrastructure altogether. They created Durban’s first water-policing system, purportedly for better public health and conservation. While wealthier and white people eventually came to rely on piped water, poorer and black (Zulu and Indian) people were excluded.

This system formed the basis for the uneven access to water that today’s residents experience. People still depend on private water infrastructure as the municipal system struggles.

Nineteenth-century infrastructure

Founded by British traders as Port Natal in 1824, the colonial borough of Durban depended on stand-alone water infrastructures from the beginning. Brick and cement wells were the first technologies from which residents drew water, since they were easy to build and maintain. Most wells had either a bucket or a pump attached to them. Pumps attached to wells became common after the borough made most wells publicly available in the mid-1850s.

Water tanks, on the other hand, were private technologies which mainly lay underground. Only wealthier households and businesses could afford to build them. They became prominent in the 1870s.

It’s hard to know exactly how many of these infrastructures existed in total. By the 1870s, though, official reports indicate that about 18 public wells and pumps across the town served the bulk of the town’s approximately 20,000 inhabitants.

Piped water came to Durban in the 1880s, supplied initially by the spring at Curries Fountain. In 1889, the city’s laws were extended to cover private tanks that were filled from the municipal pipes. Even so, much of the population still relied on standalone infrastructures for water supplies.

As time went by, conflicts began to brew. The rising population placed a strain on these stand-alone infrastructures, which offered varying amounts of water depending on rainfall patterns. Arguments sparked when a community drew too much water or polluted a well, creating a local water scarcity.

Clashes and restrictions

White colonists blamed much of the water scarcity and contamination on African labourers who worked as household or business servants, sanitary workers and launderers. These positions demanded a close relationship with fresh water collection and use, which meant African labourers became the main users of wells, pumps and tanks.

Labourers did not always use water technologies according to colonial expectations, however. Local people were accustomed to using open water sources like rivers and streams, not restrictive iron and brick infrastructures. So, they modified their traditional work at open sources, like washing objects and produce, to the new technologies they had to use.

That sometimes created problems, according to the archive records. They accidentally broke handles and chains when pumping too quickly. They drew water from tanks without using a filter, which was officially perceived as a disease risk. They publicly washed clothing, bodies and food at wells, where the dirty wash water flowed back into the enclosed water supply.

Colonists exploited this situation to place restrictions on how labourers could use stand-alone water infrastructures. Borough officials crafted new laws that forced colonised residents to conform with British standards. They punished those who did not comply with fines, verbal lashings and even jail time.

Durban was part of a colonial system predicated on white supremacy. The government sought to maintain segregation between white colonists and African and South Asian residents. So, it imbued its water technology regulations with the notion that some water management actions – British – were “healthier” than others, namely African and South Asian. If someone used a technology contrary to British standards, then they faced restricted access to public technologies and the water they provided.

Water system legacy

Stand-alone water infrastructures still exist across eThekwini. Many residents of informal settlements and formerly racially segregated areas remain officially unconnected with municipal pipes. They instead depend on local wells, pumps and illegal individualised connections. An increasing number of households are investing in water tanks as the municipal water system becomes more unreliable.




Read more:
The lack of water in South Africa is the result of a long history of injustice – and legislation should start there


Things have, of course, changed since the 19th century. However, the municipality continues to require residents to use these technologies within regulatory boundaries if residents want to maintain access to them. Cutting off municipal water supply to private storage tanks is an example.

Infrastructural stopgaps further expose a water system that was never meant to supply every resident equitably and without restriction. These actions tell us that today’s officials have inherited and inadvertently continue a water system that was meant to exclude more than include, to punish more than teach, to restrict more than provide.

The Conversation

Kristin Brig receives funding from the US Fulbright Program, the US National Science Foundation (NSF), and Johns Hopkins University.

ref. Access to water has a long racial history in Durban: I followed the story in the city’s archives – https://theconversation.com/access-to-water-has-a-long-racial-history-in-durban-i-followed-the-story-in-the-citys-archives-267302

Is there a Christian genocide in Nigeria? Evidence shows all faiths are under attack by terrorists

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Olayinka Ajala, Associate professor in Politics and International Relations, Leeds Beckett University

Terrorism and insurgency have ravaged parts of Nigeria since 2009, especially in the northern regions. Tens of thousands of Nigerians have been killed and millions have been displaced by the violence. Nigeria was ranked sixth in the 2025 Global Terrorism Index, with a score of 7.658, moving up from eighth place in 2023 and 2024.

US president Donald Trump declared Nigeria a “country of particular concern” in November 2025.

This was the result of a campaign by US congressman Riley Moore, who alleged that there was an “alarming and ongoing persecution of Christians” in the west African country. The congressman stated that 7,000 Nigerian Christians had been killed in 2025 alone, an average of 35 a day.

Trump also threatened to take direct military action against Islamist militant groups operating in Nigeria.

In response, Nigeria’s President Bola Tinubu objected, stating that the US characterisation of Nigeria did not reflect the country’s reality or values. He said successive governments had made efforts to uphold peaceful existence among diverse faith communities.

I have been researching conflicts, terrorism and the formation of insurgent groups in Nigeria for over a decade.

To understand the degree and intensity of terrorist and insurgency activities in Nigeria in the last 10 years, I analysed data from Armed Conflict Location and Event Data (ACLED), an independent violence monitor.

The analysis shows it is difficult, if not impossible, to delineate the killings based on religious affiliations. All the religions in the country have been affected, and there have been fatalities across several ethnic and religious lines.

Is there a religious genocide in Nigeria?

Religious violence started in Nigeria in 1953, seven years before the country gained independence.

Successive military and civilian regimes have since struggled to curtail the string of religious violence, which is often linked to issues such as ethnicity, resource management, competition for resources and colonial boundaries. (British colonialists placed different ethnic groups with sometimes different values in one country.)

Figure 1 shows that while the number of attacks carried out by terrorist and insurgent groups have been roughly similar in the last four years, the number of fatalities has declined.

This chart does not explain the categories of people attacked. To understand whether there is a disproportionate attack on Christians, I compared the number of attacks on churches and mosques in Nigeria in the last 10 years.

The data shows that non-state actors have attacked both churches and mosques in Nigeria. While there have been more attacks on churches in the last six years, the data reveals that there were more attacks on mosques in 2015 and 2017.

Generally, Nigeria’s population is considered to be roughly evenly split between the two religions, with only around 0.6% adhering to traditional African religions or other beliefs.

Although it is difficult to extract the number of fatalities in these cases, the number of attacks on places of worship is an indication that both Christians and Muslims are under attack by terrorist and insurgent groups in Nigeria.

Trump’s history with Nigeria

This is the second time Trump has designated Nigeria as a country of particular concern. The first time was in December 2020, when he stated that the government of Nigeria was not doing enough to protect the safety of Nigerians, especially Christians. This was under the regime of former president Muhammadu Buhari.

Events leading to the designation of Nigeria as a country of particular concern this time started in March 2025, two months after Trump was sworn in for a second term. The US House foreign affairs sub-committee on Africa approved measures urging the president to impose sanctions on Nigeria due to the widespread persecution of Christians.

In addition, the US Commission on International Religious Freedom report on Nigeria (2025) argued that religious freedom in Nigeria remains poor. It said the federal and state governments in Nigeria continue to “tolerate attacks or failed to respond to violent actions” by non-state actors on Christians in the country.

The commission recommended that the US government designate Nigeria as a country of particular concern for “engaging in and tolerating systematic, ongoing, and egregious violations of religious freedom, as defined by the International Religious Freedom Act”.

What the designation means for Nigeria

The “country of particular concern” status is an official classification under the US International Religious Freedom Act of 1998. The act requires the president of the US to declare this status where the government of a country has “engaged in or tolerated particularly severe violations of religious freedom”.

Such violations include arbitrary execution based on faith, torture or inhuman treatment based on religion as well as other denials of the rights to life, liberty, or security because of a person’s religion.

In the case of Nigeria, there is no evidence that any of these acts have been carried out by the government.

The designation of a country as country of particular concern requires the US government to consider a range of options for ending the violations identified. The first steps include diplomatic or direct engagement, public condemnation or withdrawal of assistance. This could be followed by further actions such as economic sanctions and withdrawal of aid or other forms of economic assistance.

The US government, rather than engaging in diplomatic or direct engagement with the Nigerian government as a first step, has already threatened sanctions such as the withdrawal of aid and direct military action.

What should the US do to support Nigeria?

To assist the country in its fight against terrorism, the US needs to reconsider the classification of Nigeria and revert to the first step identified earlier: diplomacy and direct engagement.

Second, the US should support Nigeria’s effort to identify the sponsors of these groups and their sources of finance within and outside the country.

Third, there is a need for a regional and international approach to curb the menace of terrorism in Nigeria and the west African and Sahel region. The US could play a significant role in supporting organisations such as the Multi-National Joint Task Force which was set up to fight terrorism in the region.

The Conversation

Olayinka Ajala 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. Is there a Christian genocide in Nigeria? Evidence shows all faiths are under attack by terrorists – https://theconversation.com/is-there-a-christian-genocide-in-nigeria-evidence-shows-all-faiths-are-under-attack-by-terrorists-268929

Can South Africa’s social grants help people make a better life? Research offers hope

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Leila Patel, Professor of Social Development Studies, University of Johannesburg

There is now a growing global consensus that additional measures are needed to support the agency of social protection beneficiaries. Such support will strengthen their self-sustaining livelihoods and pathways that would accelerate social and economic improvements and participation in the labour market, and promote wider social and political stability.

For instance, emerging evidence from 104 programmes around the world has found a net gain of US$4-$5 when cash and livelihood support are provided. Cash plus labour activation programmes for youth that are designed to address barriers to economic inclusion were effective human capital investments, leading to improved outcomes.

South Africa, which has one of the largest cash transfer programmes, is reviewing its social protection system. At issue is what complementary cash plus employment and livelihoods interventions government needs to consider if it is to introduce some kind of basic income support grant.

Calls for such a grant in South Africa have gained momentum since the government introduced the COVID-19 social relief distress grant in May 2020. It now stands at R370 (about US$21) a person a month, reaching over 8 million recipients.

These issues were discussed at a recent two-day policy colloquium on the future of social protection and its potential to promote economic inclusion hosted by South Africa’s Department of Social Development and the Presidency. South Africa will also draw from lessons learnt from the Second World Summit for Social Development in Doha. Lessons learnt will be shared from countries such as Brazil, Indonesia and Ghana. These countries are attempting to integrate or craft economic and social inclusion policies onto existing cash transfer programmes.

The exponential growth in social assistance, especially cash transfers, has helped to alleviate extreme poverty globally. Over the last decade alone, the cash transfers have reduced poverty by 11% on average and extreme poverty by 37% in low- and middle-income countries.

The University of Johannesburg’s Centre for Social Development in Africa has done extensive research in this area over almost two decades.

The centre’s research findings are that social grant beneficiaries in South Africa are pointing the way. Beneficiaries already use grants to improve livelihood outcomes. There is much to learn from how grant beneficiaries are using their agency to improve income and meet consumption needs.

Reimagining social grants

Here I share stories drawn from our research on grants, livelihoods, employment and services over the years. All names are anonymised.

Nandi was 23 years old when our colleague, the late Tessa Hochfeld, interviewed her in 2018. She left school at the end of grade 9. She had three children; one died of pneumonia at 20 days of age.

She is one of four out of 10 primary caregivers who receive the child support grant nationally – now a basic R560 (US$32) a month – who did not pursue any livelihood activity. Livelihood activity is anything that a person does to make a living to meet their basic needs.

Nandi was unemployed and likely to face long term unemployment. Her children are part of the country’s largest cash transfer programme. It is one of the 10th largest in the world, reaching 82% of poor children.

Nandi’s story is similar to that of other young women who are beneficiaries of the child grant. It tells of the complexity of human needs, risks and vulnerabilities that young women face, which is carefully documented in Hochfeld’s book.

Supplementing incomes

Only a quarter of all grant beneficiaries were engaged in informal work in 2021.

They said they were variously motivated to engage in complementary livelihood activities by a desire for self-efficacy, and a strong desire to work rather than sit at home.

They engaged in informal, micro-livelihood activities on the streets as well as in their homes and backyards. These included buying and selling goods, supplying goods, building, repairs, photography and running restaurants or taverns. They also engaged in renting out accommodation, traditional healing, fahfee betting, recycling, farming, community gardening, beadwork, sewing and shoe making.

They received very little support from the government. Some received support from an NGO. Another received one-off technical support from the Department of Agriculture and Land Affairs. The majority turned to their families for support, or to informal borrowing, and used grant money to start their businesses.

Luthando is a 41-year-old ex-offender who wanted to reintegrate into the community. His girlfriend challenged him to earn an honest living instead of robbing other people.

She gave him R150 (about US$8.66) out of his son’s R560 ($32.33) child support grant to buy goods for resale. He borrowed another R300 (about $17.32) from a mashonisa (money lender). He now runs a micro business. He said proudly, displaying his wares:

I can say that everything you see on this table today started with R450 (about $30).

Sthandiso used part of the child support grant for his two sons to become a photographer and a videographer. Two other child support grant recipients pooled their money to buy chickens, pluck them and sell them on grant days. “This way we doubled our money.”

But they faced many obstacles such as a lack of jobs, safety issues, childcare, high transport costs, lack of access to capital and credit, lack of experience, knowledge and information as well as skills in financial literacy, mentorship and coaching.

Sphamandla’s story tells of how his life changed:

I have not yet reached financial independence because I have not gotten to where I want. Having money to feed my family and do some little things is different from being financially independent … It is true that I no longer borrow or depend on anybody to feed my family, but I still have the problem of not having money to buy a house and do other things that I need. But I am hopeful that slowly I will get there through these things I am doing for money. That is why we save money little by little every month.

Looking forward

These stories dispel myths that grants create dependency on government. They do not idolise the grant beneficiaries but open the door to thinking differently about how to support the agency of the millions of men and women who rely on social grants by building their livelihood capabilities.

The stories of the recipients show that there is scope for exploring new areas of employment growth and support for informal workers. A thorny issue is whether there should be behavioural conditions attached to a redesigned Social Relief of Distress grant that would compel recipients to pursue employment and livelihoods.

Given South Africa’s huge unemployment rate, this is not an option. Supporting beneficiary choice and aligning hard and soft incentives could go a long way to supporting human capabilities of people that have been left behind, in promoting social and labour market inclusion and inclusive growth.

One way to do this is to grow and strengthen grant beneficiaries’ participation in the informal economy, which could be an important driver of employment in the country.

The Conversation

Leila Patel received funding from the National Research Foundation and the Department of Science, Technology and Innovation. She is a collaborating partner with the Interim Chair for Welfare and Social Development, Centre for Social Development in Africa, University of Johannesburg.

ref. Can South Africa’s social grants help people make a better life? Research offers hope – https://theconversation.com/can-south-africas-social-grants-help-people-make-a-better-life-research-offers-hope-268994