The Conversation – Africa – Page 15

November 4, 2025

African countries need strong development banks: how they can push back against narratives to weaken them

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Misheck Mutize, Post Doctoral Researcher, Graduate School of Business (GSB), University of Cape Town

A quiet but consequential contest is playing out in the global financial architecture. One that could determine Africa’s ability to finance its own development.

In recent months, powerful voices from the International Monetary Fund (IMF), the Paris Club and US investment bank JP Morgan have questioned the preferred creditor status of African multilateral development finance institutions. These institutions include the Africa Export-Import Bank (Afreximbank) and the Trade and Development Bank (TDB).

Preferred creditor status is a long-standing practice in global finance. It gives multilateral development finance institutions priority in being repaid when a country faces financial distress. The idea is simple. These institutions lend to promote development. During crises, they step in with counter cyclical lending – increasing support when commercial creditors pull out.

This reliability depends on their strong credit ratings, which in turn rest on the assurance that they will be repaid even when others are not. That assurance is what the preferred creditor status guarantees. The World Bank, IMF and regional development banks in Asia and Latin America all enjoy this protection as a matter of practice. Borrowers respect it because breaching it would threaten their access to future concessional lending – loans offered on much lower interest rates and other terms.

The voices against African multilateral finance institutions argue that they are too small to deserve preferred creditor status. Or that, unlike the World Bank and IMF, they do not lend at concessional rates. JP Morgan has even warned that Africa’s development banks might lose their status altogether.

The debate about the preferred creditor status of Africa’s multilateral development finance institutions may sound technical. It is not. If left unchallenged, this narrative could justify the continued high interest rates Africa faces on international markets.

Drawing on decades of researching Africa’s capital markets and the institutions that govern them, I recommend that African governments must reaffirm and defend the preferred creditor status of multilateral development banks. African multilateral development banks must also act collectively to defend their credibility. And the African Union must embed the preferred creditor status of the continent’s development banks in its financial sovereignty agenda.

Unwritten privilege vs law

For the IMF, World Bank and Paris Club, the preferred creditor status is an unwritten privilege. For African multilateral development banks, it is law.

The founding treaties of Afreximbank, the African Development Bank and TDB explicitly enshrine this status. These treaties are registered under Article 102 of the UN Charter, making them binding under international law. African member states have also ratified them into law, domestically.

This makes the status of African multilateral development banks more legally secure than that of Bretton Woods institutions. Yet it is the African banks whose status is now described as “uncertain” or “controversial”.

African governments must correct this perception. The African Union and its members have already endorsed this principle, but stronger, coordinated public statements are needed, especially from finance ministers and central banks. The aim will be to reassure investors that these protections are real, enforceable and backed by political will.

Collective action

Institutions such as Afreximbank, the AfDB, TDB, Shelter Afriqué Development Bank and the Africa Finance Corporation have grown rapidly. Together, they hold more than US$640 billion in assets, expanding by about 15% a year. They have mobilised billions from global capital markets and stepped up lending when global finance withdrew. They have diversified into the panda bonds in China, proving their resilience and capacity to tap into nontraditional capital markets.

Their success, however, has attracted resistance. International creditors and rating agencies have started questioning their preferred creditor status, describing it as “weak” or “shaky”. This has real consequences. It weakens investor confidence. Investors demand higher returns, raising the cost of borrowing for the banks and, by extension, for African countries, based on a risk factor that does not exist.

To counter this, African multilateral development banks must coordinate their responses. The newly formed Association of African Multilateral Financial Institutions is a promising platform. It should be more active and become the unified voice defending the preferred creditor status. It should be used to issue joint legal opinions, engage directly with credit rating agencies and Paris Club members, and run global investor education campaigns that clarify the legal standing and strong performance of African multilateral development banks. The continent’s development banks must speak with one voice. Silence allows others to define their credibility.

Continent’s financial sovereignty

Protecting preferred creditor status is about more than technical finance. It is about sovereignty. Africa is building its own financial ecosystem through the African Credit Rating Agency. The other financial institutions in the ecosystem – which aren’t yet operational – are the African Central Bank, African Investment Bank and African Monetary Fund. Their purpose will be to reduce dependence on external actors and keep Africa’s development agenda in African hands.

A battle of perception

Global finance runs on perception which is shaped by narratives. Those who control the narratives control the cost of money. If the preferred creditor status of African multilateral development banks continues to be misrepresented, Africa’s access to affordable finance will remain hostage to external opinion rather than legal reality.

It will also weaken African development banks just as they are becoming more effective. Their ability to borrow cheaply and on favourable terms depends on their credit ratings, which rest on the assumption that they will be repaid first in case of distress. If that assumption is shaken, borrowing costs will rise.

By reaffirming the legal basis of the preferred creditor status of African multilateral development banks, coordinating their response and embedding this status in the AU’s financial sovereignty framework, African governments and multilateral development lenders can protect one of the most important tools for affordable development finance.

This is not just about defending institutions, it’s about defending Africa’s right to finance its own future on fair terms.

Misheck Mutize is affiliated with the African Union – African Peer Review Mechanism as a Lead Expert on credit ratings

– ref. African countries need strong development banks: how they can push back against narratives to weaken them – https://theconversation.com/african-countries-need-strong-development-banks-how-they-can-push-back-against-narratives-to-weaken-them-267989

November 4, 2025

Social work is a serious profession – why not youth work? What South Africa needs to get right

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Thulani Andrew Chauke, Lecturer, University of South Africa

About 3.5 million South Africans aged 15-24 are disengaged from the formal economy and education system. In the first quarter of 2025, 37.1% of young people were not in employment, education, or training.

These alarming figures highlight an urgent need for youth development.
Interventions such as skills and entrepreneurship development are needed to expertly guide young people towards participating in the mainstream economy.

Designing and running those interventions requires professional youth workers.

Youth work is an emerging profession within the social services sector. It aims to promote positive youth development through young people’s voluntary participation. The expertise needed in this work includes empathy, strong communication, and advocacy skills. It’s similar to social work but its main focus is the empowerment of young people. Examples include peer-to-peer literacy support and community-based drug prevention campaigns.

For youth work to be regarded as a profession, it must be organised and subject to regulations and standards that guide practice. This involves the establishment of a code of ethics and standardised formal training in the higher education sector.

In South Africa, much of this kind of work is done by non-profit organisations. It is often performed by a mix of qualified practitioners (people with a degree or diploma in youth development) and dedicated, yet unqualified, volunteers. The country does not have a database to indicate how many youth workers there are.

It’s often treated as voluntary or ancillary work. The result is that some practitioners are poorly remunerated and the field lacks the stature and regulation of other social services, such as social work.

South Africa does have policy and legislative frameworks to support youth work. These include the National Youth Policy 2015 and the National Youth Development Agency’s
2022 Integrated Youth Development Strategy.

So, given the need for youth work and the supporting policies, why hasn’t youth work been professionalised in South Africa? As an academic who researches youth development initiatives, I wanted to understand this better. In a recent study, my co-author Doris Kakuru (a social scientist in Canada) and I asked youth work stakeholders for their perspectives on the barriers to professionalisation.

We asked a selection of 30 people involved in youth development work, including qualified youth workers, a policymaker, and youth development experts from universities. They identified three main barriers:

lack of political will
absence of organised spaces for the profession
non-existence of a standardised curriculum.

Removing these barriers would result in a sector with formal ethics, qualifications and standards. This would protect the workers and the young people they work with, and make their work more effective.

South Africa’s youth work landscape

Unlike that of teachers or social workers, youth work remains unregulated. Practitioners are not required to hold accredited qualifications, there is no professional association representing them, and there is no uniform standard of practice.

The University of Venda in South Africa’s Limpopo province offers a four-year Bachelor’s degree in Youth Development and the University of South Africa (distance learning) previously offered a diploma. Many youth workers have been trained since 1999. But the field has not achieved full professional recognition: rules, ethics, formal training, standards, organisation.

To explore the reasons for this, our study used a qualitative research approach. The participants had a qualification in youth development, work experience in the sector, or teaching experience in youth development qualifications.

Our findings identified three main barriers to the professionalisation of youth work in South Africa:

The first is lack of political will. Despite policy acknowledgements, in practice there is no political commitment to regulating youth work. Respondents in our study said that individuals in positions of political authority fear that formal regulation, which would require formal qualifications, could jeopardise their own positions as “gatekeepers” in the sector.

The second barrier is an absence of advocacy spaces. Fragmentation within the sector means there is no organised, professional youth work association to advocate for regulation. Qualified practitioners are not sufficiently organised to champion their profession.

Thirdly, there is no standardised curriculum to train youth workers. This has weakened the professional identity of youth work. Universities use different programme titles (such as Diploma in Youth Development and BA in Youth in Development), making it difficult for graduates to be uniformly recognised as “youth workers”.

Strengthening the machinery of youth development must start with the formal recognition of youth work as a profession. For youth work to be regarded as a profession, it must be organised and subject to regulations and standards that guide youth work practice. This involves the establishment of a code of ethics and formal training in the higher education sector.

This step is crucial to ensuring that interventions are designed, coordinated and managed by skilled, accredited practitioners.

Benefits of recognition

Formal recognition of youth work in South Africa would deliver several benefits:

a code of ethics to guide practices, protecting both the youth workers and the young people they serve
formal qualifications, ensuring practitioners work with young people in an effective and professional manner
minimum standards for all individuals working with young people in informal education settings.

The way forward

To regulate youth work as a profession in South Africa, key stakeholders, including the government and civil society, must take decisive action:

Establish a dedicated task team: The parliamentary portfolio committee on women, youth and persons with disabilities should set up a task team. This should be composed of senior government officials, heads of departments from institutions offering youth development qualifications, youth workers from NGOs, and experts in the field. The task force must oversee the translation of regulatory frameworks into concrete practices.
Standardise curriculum and qualifications: Institutions of higher education must agree on what to teach. This will ensure that graduates share a common understanding of youth development work.
Organise a professional association: Qualified youth workers must form an association. It could accommodate current practitioners (even those without formal qualifications), encouraging them to pursue training.
Prioritise youth work in academia: Staff who teach, design curricula and supervise research must have postgraduate qualifications in youth development.
Mandate qualifications: Qualifications should be a prerequisite for youth development positions in government departments, local government and civil society.

The professionalisation of youth work is not a mere bureaucratic formality; it is an economic and social imperative for the future of South Africa’s youth.

Thulani Andrew Chauke works for University of South Africa. He receives funding from the University through VKP to conduct this study.

– ref. Social work is a serious profession – why not youth work? What South Africa needs to get right – https://theconversation.com/social-work-is-a-serious-profession-why-not-youth-work-what-south-africa-needs-to-get-right-267298

November 4, 2025

AI in the courtroom: the dangers of using ChatGTP in legal practice in South Africa

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Jacques Matthee, Senior Lecturer, University of the Free State

A South African court case made headlines for all the wrong reasons in January 2025. The legal team in Mavundla v MEC: Department of Co-Operative Government and Traditional Affairs KwaZulu-Natal and Others had relied on case law that simply didn’t exist. It had been generated by ChatGPT, a generative artificial intelligence (AI) chatbot developed by OpenAI.

Only two of the nine case authorities the legal team submitted to the High Court were genuine. The rest were AI-fabricated “hallucinations”. The court called this conduct “irresponsible and unprofessional” and referred the matter to the Legal Practice Council, the statutory body that regulates legal practitioners in South Africa, for investigation.

It was not the first time South African courts had encountered such an incident. Parker v Forsyth in 2023 also dealt with fake case law produced by ChatGPT. But the judge was more forgiving in that instance, finding no intent to mislead. The Mavundla ruling marks a turning point: courts are losing patience with legal practitioners who use AI irresponsibly.

We are legal academics who have been doing research on the growing use of AI, particularly generative AI, in legal research and education. While these technologies offer powerful tools for enhancing efficiency and productivity, they also present serious risks when used irresponsibly.

Aspiring legal practitioners who misuse AI tools without proper guidance or ethical grounding risk severe professional consequences, even before their careers begin. Law schools should equip students with the skills and judgment to use AI tools responsibly. But most institutions remain unprepared for the pace at which AI is being adopted.

Very few universities have formal policies or training on AI. Students are left with no guide through this rapidly evolving terrain. Our work calls for a proactive and structured approach to AI education in law schools.

When technology becomes a liability

The advocate in the Mavundla case admitted she had not verified the citations and relied instead on research done by a junior colleague. That colleague, a candidate attorney, claimed to have obtained the material from an online research tool. While she denied using ChatGPT, the pattern matched similar global incidents where lawyers unknowingly filed AI-generated judgments.

In the 2024 American case of Park v Kim, the attorney cited non-existent case law in her reply brief, which she admitted was generated using ChatGPT. In the 2024 Canadian case of Zhang v Chen, the lawyer filed a notice of application containing two non-existent case authorities fabricated by ChatGPT.

The court in Mavundla was unequivocal: no matter how advanced technology becomes, lawyers remain responsible for ensuring that every source they present is accurate. Workload pressure or ignorance of AI’s risks is no defence.

The judge also criticised the supervising attorney for failing to check the documents before filing them. The episode underscored a broader ethical principle: senior lawyers must properly train and supervise junior colleagues.

The lesson here extends far beyond one law firm. Integrity, accuracy and critical thinking are not optional extras in the legal profession. They are core values that must be taught and practised from the beginning, during legal education.

The classroom is the first courtroom

The Mavundla case should serve as a warning to universities. If experienced legal practitioners can fall into AI traps regarding law, students still learning to research and reason can too.

Generative AI tools like ChatGPT can be powerful allies – they can summarise cases, draft arguments and analyse complex texts in seconds. But they can also confidently fabricate information. Because AI models don’t always “know” when they are wrong, they produce text that looks authoritative but may be entirely false.

For students, the dangers are twofold. First, over-reliance on AI can stunt the development of critical research skills. Second, it can lead to serious academic or professional misconduct. A student who submits AI-fabricated content could face disciplinary action at university and reputational damage that follows them into their legal career.

In our paper we argue that, instead of banning AI tools outright, law schools should teach students to use them responsibly. This means developing “AI literacy”: the ability to question, verify and contextualise AI-generated information. Students should learn to treat AI systems as assistants, not authorities.

In South African legal practice, authority traditionally refers to recognised sources such as legislation, judicial precedent and academic commentary, which lawyers cite to support their arguments. These sources are accessed through established legal databases and law reports, a process that, while time-consuming, ensures accuracy, accountability and adherence to the rule of law.

From law faculties to courtrooms

Legal educators can embed AI literacy into existing courses on research methodology, professional ethics and legal writing. Exercises could include verifying AI-generated summaries against real judgments or analysing the ethical implications of relying on machine-produced arguments.

Teaching responsible AI use is not simply about avoiding embarrassment in court. It is about protecting the integrity of the justice system itself. As seen in Mavundla, one candidate attorney’s uncritical use of AI led to professional investigation, public scrutiny and reputational damage to the firm.

The financial risks are also real. Courts can order lawyers to pay costs out of their pockets, when serious professional misconduct occurs. In the digital era, where court judgments and media reports spread instantly online, a lawyer’s reputation can collapse overnight if they are found to have relied on fake or unverified AI material. It would also be beneficial for courts to be trained in detecting fake cases generated by AI.

The way forward

Our study concludes that AI is here to stay, and so is its use in law. The challenge is not whether the legal profession should use AI, but how. Law schools have a critical opportunity, and an ethical duty, to prepare future practitioners for a world where technology and human judgment must work side by side.

Speed and convenience can never replace accuracy and integrity. As AI becomes a routine part of legal research, tomorrow’s lawyers must be trained not just to prompt – but to think.

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. AI in the courtroom: the dangers of using ChatGTP in legal practice in South Africa – https://theconversation.com/ai-in-the-courtroom-the-dangers-of-using-chatgtp-in-legal-practice-in-south-africa-267691

November 3, 2025

African countries need strong development banks: how they can push back against narrative to weaken them

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Misheck Mutize, Post Doctoral Researcher, Graduate School of Business (GSB), University of Cape Town

A quiet but consequential contest is playing out in the global financial architecture. One that could determine Africa’s ability to finance its own development.

Unwritten privilege vs law

For the IMF, World Bank and Paris Club, the preferred creditor status is an unwritten privilege. For African multilateral development banks, it is law.

Collective action

Continent’s financial sovereignty

A battle of perception

This is not just about defending institutions, it’s about defending Africa’s right to finance its own future on fair terms.

Misheck Mutize is affiliated with the African Union – African Peer Review Mechanism as a Lead Expert on credit ratings

– ref. African countries need strong development banks: how they can push back against narrative to weaken them – https://theconversation.com/african-countries-need-strong-development-banks-how-they-can-push-back-against-narrative-to-weaken-them-267989

November 3, 2025

Boys, bullying and belonging: understanding violent initiation at a South African school

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Ndumiso Daluxolo Ngidi, Senior Lecturer, University of KwaZulu-Natal

Violence among learners in South African schools is a pressing concern. The minister of basic education told parliament in 2025 that hundreds of bullying cases had been reported in the first few weeks of the year. Since then, a series of alarming incidents have further drawn public attention.

While these occurrences mirror the high rates of violence in the country, they are also symptoms of systemic challenges within South African schools.

In 2015 the government introduced the National School Safety Framework to set minimum standards of safety and help schools understand and meet their responsibilities. It noted “the relationship between violence and other ecological factors relating to safe and caring schools by locating the school within its broader community”.

The framework suggests an awareness of structural determinants of violence in schools. But the sustained rise in incidents of interpersonal violence among learners points to the need for renewed attention, especially among schoolboys.

We are researchers whose interests include the anthropology of masculinities and health, and inclusive education and children’s geographies. In a recent study we encountered a practice in schools called ukufikisana: a kind of initiation through which senior boys assert their dominance over junior boys, often through violence and intimidation.

Derived from the isiZulu phrase ukufikisana emandleni (“testing each other’s power”), the practice shares similarities with “hazing” or bullying. But it also reveals the social and cultural dimensions of violence within schools. For instance, schoolboys described ukufikisana as how one becomes “fully a boy”, suggesting that the experience and exertion of violence are inevitable.

Our findings demonstrate how ukufikisana reinforces hierarchical gender relations and normalises violence as a means of navigating power and identity among boys. This is deeply entrenched in the school environment.

We suggest that solutions lie in the interplay of poverty, violence and gender norms.

What boys said about bullying

The study
drew on a larger photovoice study exploring learners’ perspectives on violence in and around their school. It focused on 14 teenage boys (aged 14-17) attending a poorly resourced, co-educational school in Inanda, KwaZulu-Natal province. Inanda is an urban area characterised by poverty, unemployment and high levels of violence and crime. Its circumstances are a legacy of the policies applied to black South Africans under apartheid.

The study engaged boys as experts in their own lives, allowing them to share their experiences through images and films. We followed ethical protocols to get consent from schools, parents and learners. A social worker was available to provide support.

We prompted the participants to visually depict what violence looked like in their school environment.

Working in pairs, the boys captured images of simulated acts and experiences of violence using cellphones, discussed them and added captions. Then they presented this material in focus group discussions, which were recorded audiovisually and transcribed. We looked for themes in what was discussed.

The boys produced images showing the various ways that violence emerged at school. In one instance, two participants recreated a stabbing incident in which senior boys threatened to stab a junior boy.

Senior boys spoke of ukufikisana as an initiation practice that reinforced their position as “leaders”. One described the “younger and powerless boys” as “puppets”; another said “it’s to show them who is boss in this school”. Another spoke of it as a “baptism of fire”, saying:

they must always be prepared for it because it is coming for them … We show them that we are in charge of the school and they must respect that.

Younger boys told us:

They don’t listen when we try to stop them; they just threaten to beat us.

I was scared of them. So I just kept quiet and let them do whatever they wanted.

It hurt in more ways than one. One boy said:

Ukufikisana is not just what they do; it is also what they say to you … After that experience, I just kept to myself, and I am now more reserved at school.

What ukufikisana does

From our analysis of what the boys said, it appears that ukufikisana serves a dual function. For senior boys, it works as a rite of passage that solidifies their position as “fully boys”, and warrants their demonstration of physical strength, authority and control. For junior boys, the experience enforces submission and vulnerability, framing them as incomplete or “lesser boys”.

This dynamic normalises violence among boys in school settings. It also perpetuates rigid and harmful ways of being boys at school. At school, boys must always be ready to fight and to show their power through violence.

From this perspective, it’s possible to understand why violence may be prevalent and persisting in some South African schools.

For most boys, ukufikisana primes boys to think that bullying and the reinforcement of power through violence are key attributes for their lives. The participants described how this practice shaped their daily interactions, fostering a culture where dominance and submission were ingrained in their understanding of what it meant to be a man.

These findings align with broader concerns raised in recent anti-bullying research, globally and locally, which highlights the need for school approaches to address bullying.

What needs to change

We suggest that to effectively combat bullying, schools should move beyond punitive measures and zero-tolerance policies. Instead, they should adopt participatory and community-driven strategies that not only consider the interplay of poverty, violence and gender norms, but also allow learners to contribute to possible solutions to violence.

One way this might be done is through actively involving learners as equal stakeholders in school violence interventions.

Melusi Andile Dlamini receives funding from the National Research Foundation.

Ndumiso Daluxolo Ngidi 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. Boys, bullying and belonging: understanding violent initiation at a South African school – https://theconversation.com/boys-bullying-and-belonging-understanding-violent-initiation-at-a-south-african-school-256008

November 3, 2025

Africa’s trade deal with the US was left in limbo: what exporters can do about it

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Bedassa Tadesse, Professor of Economics, University of Minnesota Duluth

The US-Africa preferential trade deal – in place for a quarter century – expired on 30 September 2025. It’s far from certain if the trade deal will be renewed and, if so, how. Through the African Growth and Opportunity Act (Agoa), roughly 35 sub-Saharan African countries could export thousands of products to the American market duty-free.

First signed into law in 2000, it was designed to encourage African exports, create jobs, and deepen trade ties. Its usage varied widely: South Africa shipped cars and citrus; Kenya and Ethiopia focused on apparel; Lesotho and Eswatini relied heavily on garments; Mauritius sent textiles and seafood.

Those exports support hundreds of thousands of jobs. A sizeable proportion are held by women and young workers, particularly in areas where formal employment is scarce. For African exporters, a world without Agoa and with broader US tariffs is a double squeeze on competitiveness.

Will Agoa be revived at all or quickly enough? It rests with the US Congress rather than the White House, which has publicly supported a one-year extension. Transitional deals are being floated, but only an enacted law restores certainty. If the deal remains off – or remains uncertain – the sharpest pain falls on smaller, apparel-focused exporters that employ many low-income workers.

I am a scholar of international trade with an interest in the economic development problems of developing countries. My 2023 analysis of scholarly articles and policy reports examined the impact of Agoa on the economic performance of sub-Saharan Africa.

If Congress cannot agree quickly, the lapse continues. Even if a renewal arrives later, some damage, such as cancelled orders and lost shifts, will already have occurred, and any retroactive fix will be uneven across sectors and firms. Uncertainty is costly: ambiguity surrounding Agoa’s renewal dampens orders and investment, particularly in labour-intensive sectors such as apparel and automotive components.

Amid the present economic uncertainties, Agoa exporters should prioritise three key measures. First, take steps to redirect vulnerable orders to the EU preference schemes, and regional buyers under the African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA). Second, invest in competitiveness through improved ports and predictable customs. Finally, lobby smartly in Washington to argue for a short, retroactive “bridge” renewal.

The high cost of uncertainty for Africa

The duty-free status matters for Africa. Take the case of a basic cotton T-shirt from a country like Kenya or Lesotho that qualifies under Agoa enters the US duty-free. Without Agoa, the standard most-favoured-nation duty is about 16.5% on cotton T-shirts. That swing alone can erase thin margins and redirect orders.

The US imported $791 billion worth of goods from 2001 to 2021 from Agoa eligible countries. The corresponding value of US economic assistance to these countries amounted to $145 billion from 2001 through 2019. The striking difference in magnitude indicates the significance of Agoa in the US-Africa economic relationship.

The trade preferences have particularly benefited apparel, textiles, agriculture and light manufacturing. However, the impact has been uneven. Some countries have used the opportunities more effectively than others, so the consequences of a lapse will likewise be uneven among exporters.

Apparel hubs hit hardest: Lesotho, Eswatini, Madagascar, Kenya and Mauritius built entire export bases around Agoa’s duty-free access for clothing. Without it, typical US most-favoured-nation tariffs (usually 10%-20%) apply immediately, razor-thin margins vanish, and orders get pulled. Factory closures and job losses follow quickly.

South Africa’s cars and fruit: South Africa’s shipments of vehicles, parts, wine, citrus and nuts also face new tariffs. These globally competitive sectors are highly cost-sensitive; the loss of preferences undercuts auto supply-chain investment and farm incomes.

Oil exporters are less exposed: Crude oil generally faces low US tariffs already, so countries like Nigeria and Angola are less affected than non-oil manufacturers and farmers.

Recent returnees are vulnerable: Countries that only recently regained eligibility – after earlier suspensions over concerns about human rights, governance (including coups), or labour rights – are likely to see investors hesitate again amid renewed uncertainty.

What African exporters can do

Given the mix of US statute and presidential practice, there are three realistic paths out of the trade limbo. Congress could pass a multi-year extension in the weeks ahead. That would restore certainty for buyers and factories. Another is a short “bridge” renewal in which lawmakers agree to a one- or two-year extension. This scenario averts a cliff but keeps investment on pause: buyers may place smaller, repeat orders, and postpone new lines until the long-term outlook is resolved. The last is a continued lapse.

While the uncertainty persists, African exporters can look to other measures to shore up business. I propose these three:

Plan for uncertainty: Redirect vulnerable orders to the European Union’s preference routes. Use the Generalised Scheme of Preferences and relevant Economic Partnership Agreements where rules of origin are met. Also pivot to regional buyers under the African Continental Free Trade Area. This can be paired with quick logistics wins such as:

pre-clearance: allowing customs processing before goods reach port, cutting dwell times
single-window customs: a digital portal where all trade documents are submitted once, reducing delays and paperwork
scheduled sailings: fixed, reliable shipping timetables that shorten delivery cycles and improve buyer confidence.

Together, these steps can improve margins through faster lead times. Countries can also bridge working-capital gaps for exposed firms with trade guarantees or invoice discounting, so confirmed orders don’t collapse. They should also maintain a standing public–private task force ready to pivot as US decisions evolve.

Lobby smartly in Washington: Affected countries should coordinate with embassies and lead exporters. They should present hard evidence, including buyer letters, job counts and likely US price pass-through, to argue for a short, retroactive “bridge” renewal. They can also stress that predictable access supports US supply-chain diversification away from China and stabilises consumer prices.

These countries could also align their messages across affected sectors, ranging from apparel to autos and agro-processing. The goal is to show a broad economic impact rather than narrow special pleading. They should also time their outreach to coincide with congressional windows and committee calendars.

Invest in competitiveness: Trade officials should compete on reliability. This is because dependable power, faster ports and predictable customs often matter more to buyers than wages alone. Build regional inputs (yarn-to-garment, packaging, parts) so a shock in one market doesn’t halt production, and scale testing and certification so one run meets US, EU and UK standards.

They should aim to move up the value chain: from free-on-board/full-package (for example, in apparel, not just cut-make-trim but also sourcing fabric and trims and arranging logistics) to components, branded, and ready-to-eat lines, where margins are stickier. Tie investment incentives to verifiable outcomes: jobs, on-time-in-full delivery, and clean production.

For three decades, African governments were urged to liberalise and build export capacity on the promise of predictable rules. A sudden US pullback moves the goalposts—raising prices at home, cutting jobs abroad, and shrinking the space for rules-based trade. Exporters can buy time with EU routes, regional buyers and logistics fixes. But only Congress can restore certainty: pass a short, retroactive bridge renewal now, then set a clear timeline for a multi-year AGOA update.

Bedassa Tadesse 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 trade deal with the US was left in limbo: what exporters can do about it – https://theconversation.com/africas-trade-deal-with-the-us-was-left-in-limbo-what-exporters-can-do-about-it-268515

November 3, 2025

What is Françafrique? The taboo word that reveals the shifting influence of France in Africa

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Christophe Premat, Professor, Canadian and Cultural Studies, Stockholm University

The term “Françafrique” describes the political, economic and military networks built to preserve French influence in Africa. It refers to a past era but many believe that it still shapes relations between France and its former colonies today.

The word was popularised by French economist, historian and activist François-Xavier Verschave in his 1998 book Françafrique: The Longest Scandal of the Republic. He used it to condemn a neocolonial system that created dependence and allowed for French interference. Originally, the idea meant a close cooperation between France and Francophone Africa.

As a researcher in political discourse and Franco-African relations, I am interested in how the idea of Françafrique still affects the way both sides see each other today.

How Françafrique got its name

The term Françafrique was first used in 1945 by Jean Piot, editor-in-chief of L’Aurore newspaper. He saw it as a way to unite France and Africa to renew the French Empire. Later, Félix Houphouët-Boigny, the first president of independent Côte d’Ivoire, gave the term a positive meaning. In 1955, he used it to describe a positive partnership. He wanted to celebrate the shared language, culture and economic ties between France and Africa.

Verschave completely redefined the meaning of the term. For him, Françafrique symbolised a shadowy system of corruption, patronage and political interference.

A key architect of this system was Jacques Foccart. He was the African affairs adviser to French presidents between 1958 and 1974 and then adviser to Prime Minister Jacques Chirac between 1986 and 1988. He also served as the secretary-general for the Community and African and Malagasy Affairs, a body designed by General Charles de Gaulle to manage France’s relations with its former colonies.

The pillars of Françafrique

Françafrique is based on three main pillars:

1. Political and military support

Since African independence in the 1960s, France has maintained close ties with leaders considered to be “friends of France”. Through specific defence agreements, Paris retained the right to conduct military interventions to stabilise or protect allied governments. Key examples include Operation Manta in Chad in 1983 and Operation Serval in Mali in 2013. This structure was upheld by a shadow network. It was made up of unofficial advisors, intelligence services and personal connections among the elite. It was best symolised by the so-called “African cell” within the Élysée Palace, which was long led by Foccart.

2. Economic ties

The economic pillar of Françafrique is defined by deep financial ties. The CFA franc currency, created in 1945, is a clear legacy of colonial-era monetary dependence. Major French corporations like Elf, Bolloré, Bouygues and Total gained privileged access to key sectors such as oil, infrastructure and telecommunications in Africa. In return, these companies often funded a hidden system of financial support for African political parties and regimes. This corrupt system was exposed in the 1990s when a judicial investigation revealed that the French state-owned oil giant, Elf-Aquitaine, operated a vast network of corruption that involved both French politicians and African leaders.

3. Personal and informal networks

Beyond official diplomacy, Françafrique thrived on personal and informal networks. It operated through a web of businessmen, diplomats and military figures. These intermediaries formed a powerful “parallel state”. Their networks mixed business deals, intelligence work and personal friendships. This system effectively bypassed standard diplomatic channels. The importance of these personal ties is confirmed in the 2024 memoirs of Robert Bourgi, a key insider. As a disciple of Foccart, he details his extensive relationships with numerous African political leaders.

Is Françafrique really over?

The Francafrique system was weakened by major global and regional shifts. The Soviet Union’s collapse, growing demands for democracy in Africa, and financial scandals in France all challenged its existence.

A key turning point was the 1990 La Baule speech by French president François Mitterrand. He declared that French aid would be tied to democratic reforms. Despite this, French influence persisted, simply changing its form through privatisation, new military partnerships and economic diplomacy.

In the 2000s, successive French presidents – Jacques Chirac, Nicolas Sarkozy and François Hollande – all vowed to end the Françafrique era. However, continued French military action in Côte d’Ivoire in 2002, Mali in 2013, and the wider Sahel region until 2023 demonstrated a lasting French security role on the continent.

A concept in crisis

Today, the concept of Françafrique is in crisis. Under President Emmanuel Macron, the term itself has become politically taboo. Since his 2017 speech in Ouagadougou, he has insisted on breaking with the old logic of paternalism. He advocates instead for a “partnership of equals”.

Symbolic initiatives aim to modernise the relationship. These include returning looted artworks to Benin, acknowledging France’s role in the Rwandan genocide, and creating a new Africa-France Summit format.

Yet for many Africans, this new rhetoric does not match reality. French military presence in the Sahel, the ongoing use of the CFA franc (even as it is slowly rebranded), and the dominance of large French companies fuel a powerful feeling that French influence remains largely unchanged.

In countries like Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger rejection of France is now expressed through pan-Africanist and sovereignty rhetoric, which has led to regime changes.

The rise of competing powers

A key feature of the current era is the diversification of Africa’s international partners. Countries like China, Turkey, Russia and Gulf states are now major players in both economic and security sectors. The era of France having an exclusive “backyard” in Africa is over. African states now enjoy significantly greater geopolitical leeway.

In this new competitive landscape, France is attempting to redefine its policy. It now emphasises targeted bilateral relations, support for civil society, and academic and cultural cooperation. However, this strategic shift is struggling to overcome decades of deep-seated mistrust.

The powerful and enduring image of Françafrique continues to shape perceptions, especially among a younger generations of Africans who view past relations with scepticism.

An unfinished break

Today, discussing Françafrique means confronting both a historical system and a powerful political idea. While the shadowy networks of the past have faded, the underlying structures of economic influence remain. So too do the powerful postcolonial emotions that shape relations between France and Africa.

Françafrique may no longer be an official policy. Yet it remains a powerful lens. It is the key to understanding how colonial legacies continue to shape the present day.

Christophe Premat is a Professor of Francophone Cultural Studies and Director of the Centre for Canadian Studies at Stockholm University. He is also Co-Editor-in-Chief of the Nordic Journal of Francophone Studies. He recently published Sensibilités intellectuelles africaines with Buata Malela (Hermann Editions, https://www.editions-hermann.fr/livre/sensibilites-intellectuelles-africaines-buata-b-malela).

– ref. What is Françafrique? The taboo word that reveals the shifting influence of France in Africa – https://theconversation.com/what-is-francafrique-the-taboo-word-that-reveals-the-shifting-influence-of-france-in-africa-268129

November 2, 2025

Starvation as a weapon of war: how Ethiopia created a famine in Tigray

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Teklehaymanot G. Weldemichel, Lecturer in Environment and Development, University of Manchester

Famine – the extreme scarcity of food – devastated Ethiopia’s Tigray region during and after a two-year war that began in November 2020. Yet, the famine’s impact is one of the least documented crises of recent years.

Despite the enormous scale of suffering and the far-reaching consequences of the 2020-2022 war, there hasn’t been enough attention paid to all aspects of the disaster, or to aid to enable the region to recover.

The famine dimension of the conflict – how starvation was used as a weapon of war and continues to shape the region today – has largely failed to garner the global and domestic attention it demands.

We have closely followed and extensively written on the Tigray crisis since 2020 as researchers and firsthand witnesses. In a recent article published by the World Peace Foundation – a research institution focused on understanding and preventing conflict, particularly in Africa – we argued that the famine in Tigray was deliberately produced and deliberately obscured. In a recent journal article, too, one of us examined how the Ethiopian government and its allies created a “zone of invisibility” around the Tigray war.

In our view, famine was used as a weapon in a campaign of destruction in Tigray. Our research draws on humanitarian reports, testimonies, satellite imagery and conflict data to reconstruct how deprivation unfolded. We studied who was affected and why global famine detection systems failed to recognise the scale of the crisis.

The lack of reliable data caused by government restrictions, international inaction and structural blind spots in global famine monitoring systems hid the scale of one of the deadliest wars of the 21st century.

Famine in Tigray was not an outcome of war. It was the result of policies – a siege, economic blockade and obstruction of aid – designed to destroy civilian life.

Failure to document the famine has serious implications. It distorts global understanding of what happened in Tigray, limits accountability for war crimes and leaves the international community unprepared to respond to future politically induced famines.

When famine goes unrecorded, the suffering of entire populations is erased from the world’s moral and political map. It also weakens the mechanisms designed to prevent such atrocities elsewhere.

As a result, modern famines driven by political violence – in places like Tigray, Sudan and Gaza – are missed, downplayed or denied until it is too late.

Background: war and siege

The Tigray war broke out in November 2020 between the regional leadership, Tigray People’s Liberation Front, and the central government.

From the earliest days it was marked by large-scale and systematic destruction and looting of social and economic infrastructures. Industries, farms, irrigation systems, food stocks, crop fields, orchards, food storage facilities and businesses across Tigray were looted and destroyed.

Beyond the physical damage, occupying forces actively obstructed farmers from tilling and planting their land. Within six months, this had driven Tigray – home to about six million people at the time – into mass starvation.

In famines caused by natural calamity and economic crisis, poorer communities or those in remote locations are often the worst hit. In Tigray, places along roads were devastated because they were accessible to invading forces.

The destruction and looting of infrastructure was followed by a siege that lasted more than two years. The Ethiopian government and its allies imposed a full-scale blockade on Tigray.

Banks were shut down. The bank accounts of ethnic Tigrayans – both within the region and nationwide – were frozen. The movement of people, goods and humanitarian aid to and from the region, and within Tigray, was brought to a near complete halt.

Communications and access to the media were shut down. The multilayered siege left Tigray almost entirely cut off from the world. Commercial and humanitarian supplies were deliberately obstructed for most of the period.

This resulted in widespread deprivation, suffering and death, much of which has received little documentation or recognition.

The conflict is now described by some studies as a genocide and the deadliest conflict of the 21st century. An estimated 800,000 people were killed through massacres, enforced disappearances and starvation.

Even after the 2022 African Union-brokered ceasefire, hunger and deprivation persist, especially in the western zones and areas bordering Eritrea that remain under occupation. Urban populations whose livelihoods and workplaces were destroyed have yet to rebuild.

The implications

The Tigray famine reveals deep flaws in how global institutions – including the UN and international humanitarian agencies – measure and classify famine.

The siege prevented humanitarian access and data collection. This made famine difficult to measure and easier to deny.

International famine frameworks rely on indicators like market food prices and malnutrition rates among displaced people. They look at crop failure, loss of livestock and disrupted rural livelihoods. Not at urban households, civil servants or small traders – groups who were among the worst affected in Tigray. They don’t capture urban forms of deprivation, such as banking exclusion or a sudden loss of salary or assets.

Agencies’ dependence on official government data led to a system failure. The absence of data was treated as an absence of suffering.

Famine in Tigray was a deliberate effort to weaken and humiliate a population. The implications go beyond Ethiopia. They expose how global systems remain unfit for documenting or responding to politically induced famine.

What must change

To prevent future famines from being erased, there needs to be a transformation of global famine detection and humanitarian response systems.

First, the UN and humanitarian agencies must reform famine assessment metrics and systems to account for politically induced starvation. They must include urban and middle-income groups in their analyses. This will help identify and expose deliberate starvation strategies early.
Second, human rights bodies should investigate famine as an intentional act of war rather than as an unfortunate by-product. This is a step in the direction of holding perpetrators to account for policies such as sieges, blockades and aid obstruction.
Third, donor governments and humanitarian organisations must insist on accountability and transparency in their engagement with states that obstruct humanitarian access to populations in need.
Finally, scholars and human rights advocacy organisations should continue documenting how famine functions as a tool of genocide. This would ensure that invisibility does not shield perpetrators from scrutiny. In an age of global connectivity, the absence of data should trigger investigation.

Failing to learn from Tigray will leave the world just as blind to the next famine.

– ref. Starvation as a weapon of war: how Ethiopia created a famine in Tigray – https://theconversation.com/starvation-as-a-weapon-of-war-how-ethiopia-created-a-famine-in-tigray-268395

November 1, 2025

Tanzania: President Samia Hassan’s grip on power has been shaken by unprecedented protests

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Dan Paget, Assistant professor, University of Sussex

In Tanzania, something snapped this year. Protests followed the 29 October 2025 elections. They are unprecedented in their scale, national breadth and political content since the country’s independence in 1961.

But the repression unleashed by newly re-elected President Samia Suluhu Hassan has also been unprecedented. She has gone further than her autocratic predecessors in closing off the political space and silencing opposition figures.

By putting her main rival Tundu Lissu on trial for treason and barring others from contesting the presidency, Hassan has crossed autocratic thresholds that other leaders have not. Activists have been arrested, brutalised or disappeared.

The protests spread across a series of major cities and towns in Tanzania. However, an internet blackout created a fog of war in which details are difficult to ascertain.

I am an assistant professor of politics at the University of Sussex. I have dedicated 11 years to studying Tanzania’s anti-authoritarian struggle.

Amateur and professional coverage found its way through the internet blackout. What I see in this footage is anger and tragedy running through these protests, and the struggle of the anti-authoritarian movement at large. However, at least fleetingly, there has been hope as well.

The anger is directed at the regime. It simultaneously focuses on Tanzanians’ material circumstances and what they see as the political sources of those circumstances. The hope comes from a changing sense of what is possible – the regime long seemed invulnerable. The protests have thrown its authority into doubt.

The protests

The immediate trigger for the public protests was the sham general election.

The protests turned violent. Protesters set police stations and other buildings ablaze, hijacked police and ruling party vehicles, and ransacked polling stations.

The regime responded with force. Police met civilians with gunfire and teargas.

Two people were reportedly killed and several others injured on election day. Media sources, who include opposition leaders and diplomats in Tanzania, put the number of those killed over three days of protests in the hundreds.

The triggers

Tanzanians have plenty of reasons to be angry at the government.

The causes are many. About 72% of citizens work as street vendors, motorcycle taxi drivers and in other informal jobs. Yet Hassan’s neo-liberal government suppresses the demands of these constituencies.

Under Hassan’s rule, young people in particular have been neglected. Tanzania is a youthful country, with more than half of the population below the age of 18. They have especially suffered from Tanzania’s under-investment in education and health relative to its regional neighbours.

While Hassan has presided over an economy that has continued to steadily grow, it has remained deeply unequal. More than 66% of Tanzanians remain poor.

The anger is not just about policy, but politics too.

The ruling party, Chama Cha Mapinduzi (CCM), has deep roots. It has ruled Tanzania in one form or another since the country’s independence from Britain in 1961. For years, CCM has used autocratic measures to tip the playing field in its favour.

Since 2014, under former president John Pombe Magufuli, it has been steadily extending those measures. By 2020, the playing field had become all but closed.

Protesters are directing their anger against the regime. They have torn down posters of Hassan. They are demanding constitutional reform, a truly independent electoral commission, and free and fair elections.

Unprecedented protests

These people’s-power protesters, in short, are defining their cause in terms of democracy.

There is no precedent for protests like this in Tanzania. There have been many vigorous protests over the year. However, they have been localised protests against the forced eviction of the Maasai from ancestral lands, extraction by transnational gold mining corporations and exclusion of the public from the proceeds of natural gas extraction.

In semi-autonomous archipelago Zanzibar, electoral manipulation has been consistently protested for three decades,

Yet, Zanzibar aside, protests against the regime itself have always remained anaemic, until now.

It is not for want of trying.

The main opposition party Chadema has steadily turned to protest since 2016. It called for nationwide protests in the wake of the apparent rigging of the 2020 elections. Yet, few turned out to join them.

Chadema, and the opposition at large, has struggled in the face of a violent state apparatus to draw protesters beyond a cadre of committed activists to its banner. Until now.

What’s different

Until days ago, the sort of protests unfolding across Tanzania seemed like a fool’s hope. The CCM regime, and its security apparatus, would never allow them. Protesters were arrested, brutalised, abducted or killed. Resistance, it seemed, was futile.

The 2025 protests have thrown all of this into doubt.

As political scientists Adam Branch and Zachariah Mamphilly observe, in protests, what seems possible can change profoundly and suddenly. Whenever protests gather momentum, the dynamics of their formation and repression change. Security personnel can seem hopelessly outnumbered. Protests can seem unassailably large.

In this context, protesters have created spaces in which they – rather than the regime – rule, at least temporarily. The footage of protesters making off with ballot boxes, tearing down posters and saying the previously unsayable shows moments that have an air of emancipation.

The exuberance may not last. Tanzania’s regime has not endured for 64 years for nothing. If the crackdown hardens, and the death toll climbs, the streets may clear quickly. If, in contrast, the police are unable to contain the protests and the military refuse to support them, they may quickly lose control.

Whatever follows, Tanzania has changed almost overnight. One way or another, the change is almost certainly not yet over.

Dan Paget is the Principal Investigator of NEWREPUBLIC, a research project funded by the European Research Council.

He is also in receipt of a Small Research Grant from the British Academy and the Leverhulme Trust to investigate anti-autocratic ideas.

For further information about NEWREPUBLIC and his wider research, see https://www.danpaget.com/.

Dan is a member of the British Labour Party.

– ref. Tanzania: President Samia Hassan’s grip on power has been shaken by unprecedented protests – https://theconversation.com/tanzania-president-samia-hassans-grip-on-power-has-been-shaken-by-unprecedented-protests-268849

October 31, 2025

Bamako under siege: why Mali’s army is struggling to break the jihadist blockade of the capital

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Oluwole Ojewale, Research Fellow, Obafemi Awolowo University, Regional Coordinator, Institute for Security Studies

When the military overthrew the democratically elected government in Mali in 2020, coup leader General Assimi Goita promised to root out jihadists in the north of the country. Mali had been struggling to defeat them for nearly a decade.

Multiple terrorist groups operate in Mali. An al Qaida-linked group known locally as Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin (JNIM) is the most lethal, considering the audacity and scale of its attacks. The group rejects the state’s authority, and seeks to impose its interpretation of Islam and sharia.

Despite the military government’s pledge to enhance security, there has been a 38% rise in violence directed at civilians in Mali in 2023, as reported by the Armed Conflict Location and Event Data.

Human Rights Watch reports that Islamist armed groups carried out 326 attacks against civilians between 1 January and 31 October 2024, and 478 people were killed.

In September 2024, JNIM attacked Bamako’s international airport and a military barracks in the capital city.

After years of mounting attacks, Mali’s insurgency has entered a new phase. Violence has now diffused from northern and central Mali to southern Mali. JNIM’s blockade of southern Mali since September 2025 has cut off trade routes, starved towns, and tested the limits of the Malian state’s control over the landlocked country.

As a security scholar with a focus on west and central Africa, I have researched security in Mali on broader issues like terrorism and arms trafficking. I believe JNIM’s latest strategy is particularly dangerous because the objective is strategic, economic, psychological and political.

Such blockades are deliberate instruments of coercive governance and asymmetric warfare (a conflict between irregular combatants and the army), designed to weaken the military government, incite the public and possibly consolidate control.

My view is that the Malian military has been unable to dislodge the terrorists because the blockade zones are vast, semi-arid, and crisscrossed by ungoverned routes that defy easy surveillance. Many of these areas lie beyond the reach of effective state presence. There, the army’s movements are predictable and slow, while insurgents blend into local communities and forests with relative ease.

The terrain favours guerrilla tactics: narrow roads, bush paths and seasonal rivers create natural obstacles to mechanised military movement. Terrorist groups with motorbikes can easily get around.

The blockade

The blockade of southern Mali, which began in September 2025, has cut off the region from essential supplies. It’s creating severe humanitarian and economic consequences.

Mali recently suspended schools and universities due to a severe fuel scarcity caused by the blockade. The siege underscores the fact that the Malian army is ill-equipped, overstretched and strategically disadvantaged in countering evolving terrorist tactics.

The blockade is not a conventional military siege involving trenches or fortified positions. Instead, it operates as a networked disruption, blocking roads that link Mali to its coastal neighbours, particularly Senegal and Côte d’Ivoire.

These roads are vital arteries in Mali’s economy, serving as corridors for trade, fuel and humanitarian supplies. Cutting them off not only isolates communities but also undermines public confidence in the state’s ability to govern and secure its peripheries.

The army’s constraints

The inability of the Malian army to lift the blockades is rooted in the fact that it is fighting an irregular, asymmetric conflict against a mobile and deeply entrenched insurgent group. The Malian Armed Forces are structured for conventional warfare but are being drawn into a battle that requires flexibility, intelligence dominance, and rapid response capabilities.

JNIM, on the other hand, thrives on mobility and decentralisation. Its fighters move lightly, using motorcycles and small arms. They can strike swiftly and retreat into difficult terrain before state forces can respond.

The army also has logistical and operational shortcomings. As I’ve written elsewhere, Mali lacks military capabilities and cannot easily acquire them under current sanctions and international isolation.

Although the junta has sought help from military partnerships with Russia’s Wagner Group (now the Africa Corps), such collaborations have yielded little.

When JNIM imposes multiple blockades simultaneously in southern Mali, the army faces an impossible task. Its forces are too dispersed to mount a coordinated and sustained counteroffensive. Reinforcements face ambushes on poorly maintained roads or find themselves in unfamiliar terrain.

Geography, governance and strategic decentralisation

Geography helps explain Mali’s military paralysis. The blockade zones are vast and out of reach. The terrain is full of natural obstacles.

The Malian state has long struggled to extend state presence beyond urban centres like Bamako and Segou. In rural areas, the army’s arrival is often seen not as a return of governance but as an intrusion, with the risk of human rights abuses.

Decades of neglect, corruption and abusive counterinsurgency practices have alienated local populations and eroded intelligence networks.

The blockade operations aim to paralyse Bamako. Once confined to the country’s northern deserts and central plains, JNIM has, over the past few years, steadily advanced southward, carrying out sporadic attacks near the capital.

What explains this growing audacity of a group armed with little more than motorcycles and Kalashnikovs?

The answer lies in organisational logic. Unlike movements that depend on a single command structure, JNIM operates as a highly decentralised network of semi-autonomous cells. This allows it to adapt quickly to local conditions, exploit state weaknesses, and expand its influence without overstretching its resources. Each cell draws upon local grievances to recruit and sustain operations. Adaptability is JNIM’s greatest strength and the Malian state’s most enduring vulnerability.

The paradox of militarisation

Despite increased military spending, new alliances and aggressive rhetoric, JNIM’s territorial reach and tactical sophistication have only deepened.

The more the state militarises, the less secure its citizens appear to become.

This paradox reflects a broader trend in the Sahel. Counterinsurgency efforts are mostly military, without addressing the socioeconomic and governance conditions that sustain insurgencies.

Corruption, inequality and local marginalisation are some of these conditions. Thus, military campaigns become mere exercises in containment rather than resolution. In this context, JNIM’s blockades and incursions are not only military manoeuvres but political statements about who truly controls Mali’s hinterlands.

A war beyond firepower

The blockade in southern Mali reveals the limits of state-centered military power in an asymmetric war. To lift blockades for good requires more than tactical victories; it demands rethinking security.

The military government must cooperate with neighbours such as Senegal and Côte d’Ivoire.

More importantly, reclaiming territory must go hand-in-hand with rebuilding trust, restoring governance and addressing grievances. Until then, the motorcycles and AK-47s of JNIM will outpace the tanks and rhetoric of Mali’s military junta.

Oluwole Ojewale 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. Bamako under siege: why Mali’s army is struggling to break the jihadist blockade of the capital – https://theconversation.com/bamako-under-siege-why-malis-army-is-struggling-to-break-the-jihadist-blockade-of-the-capital-268521