Hype and western values are shaping AI reporting in Africa: what needs to change

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Sisanda Nkoala, Associate professor, University of the Western Cape

News media shape public understanding of artificial intelligence (AI) and influence how society interacts with these technologies. For many people, especially those who have not sought more knowledge about AI elsewhere, media platforms are a primary source of information.

This is particularly significant in Africa, where historical and socioeconomic contexts like colonial legacies and uneven technology transfer shape how AI is understood and adopted.

Consequently, the way African news media represent and frame AI carries weight in shaping broader public discourse.

To explore how African media report on AI, we, as media researchers, analysed 724 news articles about AI from 26 English-speaking African countries. These were published between 1 June 2022 and 31 December 2023. We looked at how these publications contributed to the hype about AI – exaggerated excitement, inflated expectations, and often sensationalised claims about what artificial intelligence can do.

Hype is often contrasted with the notion of something called an AI winter. This is a period of diminished interest and investment in AI technologies. It’s a cyclical trend that has been seen since AI’s inception in the 1950s. It manifests in exaggerated language, overly optimistic or pessimistic views and significant investments in AI.

Our study examined how AI was portrayed in African news media – whether it was exaggerated or overly optimistic. Media portrayal can influence policy, investment and public acceptance of new technologies. For example, in Germany it was found that positive media coverage of different fuels changed public perception in a positive way.

Our findings show a clear pattern in placement and authorship of articles. The most common placement of AI articles (36%) was in the technology section of publications, followed by general news (24%) and then the business section (19%). This shows that these publications mostly talk about AI as a practical tool that can solve problems and create economic opportunities. They highlight its usefulness and potential benefits, rather than exploring its social or ethical implications. Discussion of issues like employment, inequality and cultural values was largely missing.

African journalists, news entities and content creators contributed some 29% of the articles. But western-based news entities (21%) and journalists (5%) had a considerable influence. Global news agencies like AFP (15%) and Reuters (6%), along with tech news providers like Research Snipers (13%), frequently wrote these pieces.

Only a small proportion of articles (4%) were written by researchers. This suggests that the voices of those directly engaged in AI research and development in Africa were muted. But they are crucial for a locally informed understanding.

To sum up the patterns:

  • practical benefits of AI are emphasised at the expense of social and ethical conversations

  • African perspectives on how AI should be developed and used are often overlooked in favour of a western, business-focused viewpoint.

What words are used to describe AI?

We also analysed the words used most frequently. The frequent mention of Google, Microsoft and ChatGPT reflects the dominance of western tech giants in the AI landscape. Words like “he” and “his” appeared disturbingly frequently, while feminine pronouns weren’t among the top words. This indicates a bias towards male perspectives.

The scarcity of terms like Africa, African and African countries suggests that the coverage seldom regards specific African needs and challenges. This overlooks Africa’s growing AI ecosystem.

We found three main themes around AI in African news:

  • AI’s transformative potential, for example for agriculture, administration, healthcare and economic growth

  • concerns about AI’s potential negative effects, the unknown and disruptive nature of AI

  • articles that offered a more balanced view and useful information, aiming to demystify AI tools and explain developments.

What this means for Africa

The dominance of technical and economic framing, often by western voices, might steer policy decisions towards uptake without adequate local consultation or ethical oversight. This might lead to policies that mirror global hype rather than community-specific needs.

The overemphasis on “tools” and “solutions” risks overlooking the broader effects of AI on employment, inequality and cultural values.

The lack of Afrocentric terms in the reporting contributes to a symbolic exclusion, where Africa’s specific needs and opportunities are marginalised.

Towards a more inclusive AI narrative

To encourage a more responsible and locally relevant AI journalism in Africa, African journalists and researchers should be empowered to report on and analyse this technology.

The range of voices should expand to include local researchers, policymakers and communities experiencing AI’s effects firsthand. This means balancing coverage of AI’s economic potential with sustained attention to its social, cultural and ethical implications. African media can resist one-dimensional hype and create a more inclusive and socially responsible conversation around AI.

The Conversation

Sisanda Nkoala receives funding from the National Research Foundation and from the University of the Western Cape. She is a public representative on the South African Press Council and the Western Cape convenor of the South African National Editors Forum.

Musawenkosi Ndlovu receives funding from National Research Foundation of South Africa.

Tanja Bosch receives funding from the National Research Foundation as a SARChI Chair. She is a board member of Media Monitoring Africa.

Trust Matsilele 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. Hype and western values are shaping AI reporting in Africa: what needs to change – https://theconversation.com/hype-and-western-values-are-shaping-ai-reporting-in-africa-what-needs-to-change-262551

Young South Africans don’t bother with elections: would lowering the voting age make a difference?

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Dirk Kotze, Professor in Political Science, University of South Africa

South Africa is due to hold local government elections in 2026. In the last election in 2021, only 15% of the eligible voters aged 18 to 21 registered for the election. In view of this, it’s worth considering whether the minimum voting age of 18 years should be reduced to increase participation.

What are the main driving forces for such a consideration? Based on international comparisons, how advisable would it be? What would be some of the implications of such a change for elections in South Africa?

The South African constitution does not state explicitly that the voting age is 18 years, but it is implied. Section 1(d) entrenches the constitutional principle of universal adult suffrage. Section 19(3) says “every adult citizen has the right (a) to vote in elections of any legislative body and (b) to stand for public office”.

The legal description of an adult is found in South African common law. At the age of 18 years, a person becomes legally an adult or reaches the age of majority.

The South African Electoral Act, as amended in 2003, provides that a person can register as a voter at the age of 16 years but the name can be placed on the voters’ roll only once the applicant becomes 18 years old.

South Africa’s current dispensation is currently the same as those of most countries in the world.

The United Arab Emirates is the state with the oldest minimum voting age: 25 years. In the following states it is 21 years: Singapore, Lebanon, Oman, Kuwait, Samoa and Tonga. Three of them (plus the UAE) are in the Middle East. All seven of these are very small states and the majority of them are not democratic.

By far the majority of state entities (202 in total) use 18 years as the minimum voting age. Indonesia, North Korea and Greece, on the other hand, decided on 17 years as the voting age, while in Brazil, Argentina and Ecuador it is 16 years.

Lowering of the voting age is not an uncontested idea. A number of considerations can be presented as its pros and cons. The general contention is that if a larger proportion of the population elects their public representatives, it would enhance public trust in elections. But, in South Africa at least, that is offset by young people’s lack of enthusiasm in elections.

For the moment, a change in the voting age would most possibly not add major advantages to South Africa’s electoral dynamics, because it would not necessarily increase the number of voters or change the outcome of elections.

Main considerations

Voting for a political candidate is one of the most important decisions a citizen of a state can make. What determines sound decision-making?

A person should understand what the decision is about: what the issues are and what the options and their implications are. The question therefore is: at what age would a person make rational voting decisions?

In the era of populism, fake news and manipulation, a voter should be a person who can think independently, who can distinguish between reliable and misleading information and be strong enough not to be manipulated.

A voter should also have a vested interest in the future of their country and therefore participate in voting to determine what is in the best interest of that country. An illustration of this point is the 26th amendment of the American constitution in 1971 when the voting age was reduced from 21 to 18 years. The decision was influenced by the apparent contradiction that 18-year-old American citizens were drafted to fight in the Vietnam war while they were still excluded from voting.

But how well a person is informed about politics or the issues in a country isn’t determined by age. Especially in the era of easily accessible internet information and the different forms of social media. This implies that knowledge of the issues or politics in general is not a sufficient motivation for lowering the voting age.

The critical factor is how that information is used to take an informed and rational decision.

The rationale of why minors need guardians who must assist them in decision-making is that they do not have yet the life experience and judgement abilities to take the responsibility for a decision on their own. Voting is an individual and independent action and therefore no assistance in the decision-making process can be allowed.

Implications

Do 16- or 17-year-old people have a different attitude towards elections or politics in general than 18-year-olds?

In the absence of survey data, an informed guess is: no.

Adding them would not necessarily change the outcomes of elections. The minority Economic Freedom Fighters party in South Africa is the only one that has a strong appeal to young voters. But it has been losing support.

How many new registered voters could be added by 16- and 17-year-old newcomers? Statistics SA provides figures only for the age bracket 15-19, which is slightly more than 9% of the total population. The age group 16-17 years therefore might be around 3%-4% of the population. Given the trends of low voter registration among the young eligible voters, the percentage it would add to the total might therefore be quite small.

If the 16-17-year bracket were to be added to the electorate, the total number of eligible voters would increase but because the rate of registration as voters is in decline, the total percentage of registered voters would most possibly decrease. Young eligible voters are proportionally less likely to register than their older counterparts.

With a decline in the voting age, voter turnout based on the number of registered voters might not decrease dramatically. The main difference would be seen in the voter turnout as a percentage of the eligible voters, because of the low level of young eligible voters who are willing to register as voters.

Probably an unintended consequence of a 16-year voting age is that school pupils would be eligible voters during the last two or three years of their school studies. This has the potential to politicise schools, especially during election times. Political parties might insist on campaigning at schools.

At the same time, it would be an opportunity for more concentrated civic and voter education of a captured audience. Following this argument, a registered voter who complies with the constitution’s section 47 could stand as a candidate and be elected as a public representative in a legislature.

For now, the chances are slim that the voting age will change at a time when several other electoral reform processes are in the pipeline affecting the electoral system, party funding and even electronic voting.

The Conversation

Dirk Kotze 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. Young South Africans don’t bother with elections: would lowering the voting age make a difference? – https://theconversation.com/young-south-africans-dont-bother-with-elections-would-lowering-the-voting-age-make-a-difference-262818

Cameroon’s conflict is part of a bigger trend: negotiations are losing ground to military solutions

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Jacqui Cho, PhD Fellow, swisspeace Mediation Program, University of Basel

In central Africa, a violent conflict has been unfolding for nearly eight years. What began in 2016 as peaceful protests by lawyers and teachers against the increasing “francophonisation” of the legal and education systems in Cameroon’s anglophone regions quickly escalated into an armed conflict between separatist groups and government forces.

It has come at a devastating human cost. With both sides of the civil war using education as a weapon, over 700,000 children have been forced out of school since 2017. By October 2024, the conflict had resulted in more than 6,500 deaths and displaced over 584,000 people internally. More than 73,000 have been forced to seek refuge in neighbouring Nigeria.

Yet Cameroon’s government has refused meaningful negotiations. Though a key party to a conflict that remains unquestionably unresolved, Yaoundé insists that the situation is under control. In practice, it has pursued a dual strategy of military repression paired with a façade of dialogue. Behind the scenes, it has quietly stalled and derailed authentic efforts for peace.

Why has Yaoundé been able to avoid a peace settlement with so little international backlash? I sought answers as part of my PhD research in mediation, focused on the conflict in Cameroon.

In an era of revived rivalry between great powers, Cameroon has learned to navigate and exploit the interests of competing global actors. Western governments, eager to keep Cameroon within their sphere of influence and fearful of growing Russian and Chinese engagement, have not applied pressure for peace. Pushing hard for negotiations would risk jeopardising relations with Yaoundé – an outcome western capitals are keen to avoid.

Cameroon’s case reveals a broader trend. Across Africa and beyond, the post-cold war norm of resolving political conflicts through negotiation is losing ground. In its place, a militarised approach is becoming increasingly common. Global powers are tolerating, even encouraging, forceful approaches. This is particularly true when the regimes in question serve, or help protect, their respective strategic interests. This shift is quietly reshaping the rules of conflict resolution, with serious implications for peace and democracy.

Calculated defiance of dialogue

Between 2019 and 2022, Switzerland attempted to facilitate peace talks between the Cameroonian state and various separatist groups. The process failed, largely due to the Cameroonian government’s aloofness and lack of commitment. When the Swiss initiative was quietly shelved, there was little international backlash.

Cameroon’s ability to walk away from the facilitation effort, while escalating military operations, was a result of its diplomatic manoeuvring within the Franco-Russian rivalry. By signing a military deal with Russia in April 2022, Cameroon signalled to France and others that it had diplomatic options. This move reportedly shifted France’s stance to one of allowing Yaoundé to do as it pleased, as long as it remained within the French sphere of influence. The French president’s visit to Cameroon just months afterwards reinforced the idea that strategic relationships would take precedence over conflict resolution or democratic norms.

Cameroon has also cultivated a circle of “quiet enablers” over decades. Its strong relations with states as diverse as the US, China, Israel and Japan have similarly provided tacit support as Yaoundé took a more militarised approach and have shielded it diplomatically.

Global drift towards force

The anglophone crisis in Cameroon illustrates a troubling global development. While negotiated settlements were the dominant, or preferred, model for resolving conflicts in the post-cold war era, today that model is under threat.

This challenge to the norm of negotiated settlements stems from various sources. On the one hand, changes within so-called liberal western states, particularly since the “global war on terror”, have led to a renewed emphasis on security, sometimes at the expense of liberal democratic principles. This has generated greater tolerance for authoritarian regimes and tacit acceptance of the use of force.

On the other hand, rising powers like Russia and China are promoting alternative models of conflict management. They favour approaches that empower strong states to maintain peace, even through the use of force. Russia, for example, views its military engagements in Syria as a form of “peacemaking”. It prioritises order over justice. China’s model for peace similarly focuses on building a strong central state.

African states are far from passive observers in this evolving landscape. Drawing on experiences from the eras of empire and the cold war, African states are looking to further their own interests both domestically and internationally.

It’s not just global powers objectifying Africa. It is also about African actors strategically playing the game because they benefit.

Elections and the stakes for democracy and governance

With a presidential election looming in October 2025, the stakes for Cameroon’s democracy, governance and peace could not be clearer. At the age of 92, President Paul Biya has formally announced his candidacy for an eighth term.

Opposition parties describe a system already rigged against them, with reported incidents of harassment and intimidation. The ongoing conflict in the anglophone areas is expected to make voting harder, if not impossible. This is a situation that will likely favour Biya.

The regime’s ability to defy calls for dialogue is emboldened by geopolitical cover and a fragmented opposition. It raises the risk of a militarised status quo being mistaken for stability. Everyday violence, kidnappings, and killings – especially in rural areas – have become normalised, with little international outcry. The regime continues to pursue its strong-arm tactics without concerns about international repercussions.

Dangerous precedent

The case of Cameroon’s anglophone crisis is emblematic of a broader, worldwide struggle between a negotiations-oriented model and a militarised approach to ending violent political conflicts. The erosion of the norm of negotiated settlement, coupled with the increased agency of African states to withstand external pressure, brings an additional challenge to an already difficult process of encouraging conflict parties to come to the table.

Cameroon shows how global silence and strategic use of the geopolitical environment can give rise to and legitimise conflict resolution through brute force. Without a renewed commitment to inclusive dialogue and political settlements, the precedent being set today may shape the conflict management of tomorrow across Africa and beyond.

The Conversation

Jacqui Cho’s research has been funded by the Swiss National Science Foundation under Grant Number 100017_197543 and the Excellent Junior Researchers Grant from the University of Basel.

ref. Cameroon’s conflict is part of a bigger trend: negotiations are losing ground to military solutions – https://theconversation.com/cameroons-conflict-is-part-of-a-bigger-trend-negotiations-are-losing-ground-to-military-solutions-261697

Drought can make farmers feel worried and hopeless: Ghana study finds social networks help

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Seth Asare Okyere, Teaching Assistant Professor, University of Pittsburg and Adjunct Associate Professor, Osaka University, University of Pittsburgh

Droughts are a familiar hardship in Ghana’s semi-arid north, where rainfall is erratic and agriculture is the mainstay of rural economies. The economic and environmental effects of drought have been well documented. But less attention is paid to its psychological toll on farmers and their families.

We conducted a study in the Talensi district of Ghana’s Upper East region to assess the impact of drought on the mental wellbeing of peri-urban farmers in semi-arid Ghana. We are a multidisciplinary team of scholars working in the area of resilience, sustainability and more recently psychological wellbeing.

We also investigated whether social capital (people’s social support networks) affected the impact of drought on three mental health outcomes: depression, anxiety and stress.

Based on a survey of 507 farmers, we found that prolonged periods of drought were strongly linked to increased levels of depression, anxiety and stress.

Our research also offers hope, however: personal social capital reduced the severity of these mental health impacts.

Our findings offer important insights for policymakers, especially in the context of climate change, which is intensifying drought conditions in the region. This study is among the first in Ghana – and the broader west African region – to empirically examine the mental health effects of drought on farmers using validated psychological tools.

It opens a crucial conversation about how vulnerability in the era of climate change is addressed. Our study demonstrates that climate adaptation planning is incomplete without integrating psychological wellbeing.




Read more:
Climate anxiety is real. Why talking about it matters


Vulnerabilities

Droughts are slow-onset disasters. Their effects accumulate gradually. But their impact on livelihoods and psychological resilience is deep.

In northern Ghana, where rain-fed agriculture dominates, even short delays in rainfall can trigger food insecurity, livestock losses and economic instability.

In the Talensi district, where we conducted the study, average annual rainfall is around 950mm. But it’s poorly distributed and increasingly erratic. The land has shallow, gravelly soil that has low moisture retention. These environmental conditions, compounded by the lack of irrigation infrastructure, make farmers highly vulnerable to climatic shocks.

For the study, we randomly selected 507 farmers across two communities – Awaredone and Yameriga. These communities combine crop cultivation with livestock rearing. Farmers cultivated mainly millet, rice, maize, cowpea and soybeans. Livestock were cattle, sheep and goats. We conducted our survey between September 2022 and March 2023. We used a combination of validated psychological scales and structured interviews in local languages to assess the impact of drought on mental health outcomes. We then used structural equation modelling to model our findings.

Our results were striking.

Stress levels

Our statistical modelling showed a significant link between the severity of the effects of drought and elevated levels of depression, anxiety, and stress. Farmers experiencing longer or more intense drought periods were more likely to report psychological distress.

Many farmers spoke about the hopelessness they felt when they watched their crops wither, or their animals die. They also spoke of the weight of not being able to provide food or income for the household.

Farmers reported symptoms such as insomnia, irritability, persistent worry, and even suicidal thoughts.

As one farmer we interviewed put it:

When the rains fail, it is not just the crops that die. Sometimes, our spirits die too. But when a neighbour shares food or even just listens, it brings life back.

Not all farmers were equally affected. Those with strong social support networks – including relationships with family, friends, neighbours and community groups – reported better mental health outcomes, even when they experienced the same drought conditions.

This is where the concept of personal social capital comes in. It refers to the resources – emotional, informational, or material – that individuals can access through their social relationships. In rural and peri-urban Ghana, this might mean receiving food from a neighbour, emotional support from relatives, or shared labour during the farming season.

Social capital acted as a buffer, we found. It moderated the relationship between drought and mental health outcomes. In other words, farmers with strong social ties were better equipped to cope with the psychological impacts of drought.




Read more:
Five questions for African countries that want to build climate-resilient health systems


Why it matters

We conclude from our findings that combining social capital with other forms of capital – human, physical, financial and natural – alongside sustainable livelihood diversification programmes could reduce the underlying issues that make people vulnerable to the mental health impacts of drought.

This points to an urgent need to include mental health in disaster response and climate adaptation planning. As climate change intensifies, droughts are expected to become more frequent and severe in Ghana’s northern regions.

We argue that interventions should not only focus on boosting agricultural productivity or providing technical training. Instead, a more integrated approach is needed – one that combines climate adaptation with mental health support and community mobilisation. This is particularly relevant for the region, where health services are overstretched and mental health is often a taboo subject.

Therefore, enhancing social capital – through savings groups, farmer cooperatives, or traditional mutual aid networks – can improve psychological resilience. In practical terms, this might mean strengthening farmer-based organisations, promoting inclusive governance, and incorporating mental health education into climate adaptation services.

Donors and NGOs can also play a role by supporting psychosocial support programmes that are culturally sensitive and locally grounded.

If left unaddressed, the psychological burdens of drought could erode the social fabric of farming communities, reduce productivity, and trap households in cycles of poverty and distress. But if we recognise the value of social support systems – and invest in them – we can build more resilient, healthier communities.

The Conversation

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. Drought can make farmers feel worried and hopeless: Ghana study finds social networks help – https://theconversation.com/drought-can-make-farmers-feel-worried-and-hopeless-ghana-study-finds-social-networks-help-262627

Ghana’s war on illegal mining has failed – we set out to find out why

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Gordon Crawford, Professor of Global Development, Coventry University

Early in his eight-year tenure, in 2017, then Ghanaian president Nana Akufo-Addo declared a moratorium on all small-scale gold mining. He established an inter-ministerial committee on illegal mining and a joint military-police taskforce – Operation Vanguard – to enforce the ban.

The tough measures aimed to reduce the severe environmental degradation caused by illegal small-scale gold mining, known as “galamsey”. Initially for six months, the ban lasted for 20 months until December 2018, when it was lifted for newly registered miners.

But illegal mining continued unabated. A statement made in Ghana’s parliament by the country’s lands minister outlined the scale and gold production from small-scale mining increased during the period of its ban.

As political scientists, we investigated why the government-declared “war” on illegal small-scale gold mining and associated environmental degradation failed so spectacularly.

We conducted our investigations through field visits to communities in mining areas in the western and central regions of Ghana. We interviewed small-scale miners, community residents and people affected by illegal mining. We followed this up with a review of official reports, published scientific research and media reports.

We concluded from findings that the involvement of government officials and business elites in illegal mining practices was behind the failure of the interventions. We describe this as “democracy capture”. We argue that, despite Ghana’s much-vaunted electoral democracy, the country’s democratic processes and institutions have been captured by political and economic elites for their own personal enrichment.

Scandals

By mid-2023 a series of corruption scandals had emerged around Ghana’s attempt to curb illegal mining. These included the release of an undercover investigation by journalist Anas Aremeyaw Anas. Machinery seized by the military from illegal mining sites went missing under mysterious circumstances. Also, military personnel assigned to protect forest reserves were accused of becoming a protection racket for illegal miners.

In April 2023, the scandals peaked. A report on the work of the inter-ministerial committee by its former chair, Kwabena Frimpong-Boateng, was leaked. It detailed the involvement of high-level government and ruling party officials in illegal and environmentally destructive mining at a time when all mining was banned.

The report was submitted to government in 2021 but didn’t become public until it was leaked. No clear official statement was issued about the report, but some government officials attempted to discredit and challenge its findings.

The scandals brought fresh attention to the fact that the government’s policies to curb illegal mining had failed. This failure is indicated by the official gold production figures from small-scale mining during the moratorium period. In 2017, production held steady at almost 1.5 million ounces and then in 2018 increased to its highest level ever at almost 2 million ounces, precisely when the ban was in place. Small-scale output in 2018 was 41.4% of total gold production, higher than any previous year. These figures question the extent to which the moratorium on mining was enforced. It indicates that mining continued throughout the purported ban.

Democracy capture and elite enrichment

The objective of democracy capture is to appropriate the benefits of state control for purposes of personal enrichment. It goes beyond individual acts of opportunistic corruption. It entails systematic processes of capture by political elites organised in established political parties who act alongside associated business elites. Importantly, the benefits go beyond the appropriation of state resources. It include private financial gains from illicit activities with state protection.

Although we focus on the government under Akufo-Addo (2017-2024), our contention is that “democracy capture” in Ghana extends to the two main political parties.

We analyse how this has come about. We also set out the implications for democracy in Ghana, and what can be done to reverse the trend.

Elements of democracy capture are evident in the various scandals and corrupt practices that were exposed during the government’s ostensible campaign against illegal mining. The scandals expose an organised network at the highest level of government. It includes politicians, officials and senior ruling party members.

How democracy capture works

First, the presidency and its chief of staff appear to have played a role in controlling operations and protecting those exposed. The chief of staff as a political appointee from the ruling party, rather than a career civil servant, is crucial to strengthening the link between the executive and the ruling party. Additionally, senior party members are appointed to key roles within the presidency.

Second, there is tight party control over relevant state agencies. For example, a former general secretary of the governing party was appointed as CEO of the Forestry Commission (a key regulator in the issuance of mining licences).

Third, the loyalty between members of the party elite has been highlighted by the high-level protection from prosecution and conviction when criminal activities are exposed. The case of Charles Bissue is an example. A top official of the inter-ministerial committee on illegal mining and prominent member of the governing party, he was caught on camera in the undercover investigation. He was charged with corruption but six years later the case still hasn’t been concluded.

Fourth, the military and law-enforcement agencies are allowed to benefit from illicit activities. They can sell confiscated equipment and take bribes to protect illegal mining sites. An official investigation found that the police also habitually did this.

What next?

Ghanaians value political stability and civil liberties. However, the capture of democracy has become a path to personal wealth for the political elite and their business associates.

Elites have been able to act outside the law with relative impunity. The consequence of democracy capture is that socio-economic development is sidelined. Wealth cascades upwards and inequalities intensify. Our study clearly identifies these elements.

Combating democracy capture will require a major effort from civil society organisations and the media, to expose government and state involvement in these illegal activities. This must go hand in hand with a stronger legal and judicial regime committed to prosecutions.

The current attorney general has ordered an investigation into Frimpong-Boateng’s report, but we await to see what action, if any, will be taken.

The Conversation

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. Ghana’s war on illegal mining has failed – we set out to find out why – https://theconversation.com/ghanas-war-on-illegal-mining-has-failed-we-set-out-to-find-out-why-262644

South Africa has chosen a risky approach to global politics: 3 steps it must take to succeed

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Adam Habib, Vice-Chancellor, SOAS, University of London

South Africa finds itself in a dangerous historical moment. The world order is under threat from its own primary architect. The US wants to remain the premier global political power without taking on any of its responsibilities.

This dangerous moment also presents opportunities.

South Africa’s response has been one of strategic autonomy. This involves taking independent and non-aligned positions on global affairs, to navigate between competing world powers. But South African policymakers lack the political acumen and bureaucratic ability required to navigate this complex global order and to exploit the new possibilities.

Strategic autonomy is not the norm in global affairs. It is very rare for small countries to succeed at it without at least some costs.

Drawing from our expertise – as a political scientist and an economist working on the international economy – we conclude that if South Africa is to succeed in its strategic autonomy ambitions the country must do three things. First, its economic and foreign policy priority must be the African continent. Second, it must pursue bureaucratic excellence, especially in its diplomatic and security apparatus. Third, it must prepare for reprisals that are likely to follow its choice of an independent path to global affairs.

Strategic autonomy

A handful of countries have been able to pursue strategic autonomy in navigating the international system. They include Brazil, India and the Republic of Ireland.

These countries have four necessary assets: global economic importance; leverage; bureaucratic capability; and political will and agency manifested in foreign policy cohesiveness and agility.

India’s size – over 1.4 billion people and the fourth largest market in the world – makes it a location of both production and consumption. This has become more important given the US and western desire to create a counter balance to China as a low-cost producer and a market for exports.

Brazil’s assets are its geographic size, its mid-size population (three times South Africa’s), its mineral wealth, and its political importance to South America. It is also the tenth largest economy in the world.

Ireland is a small country, but it uses its strategic location in the European Union to influence global affairs.

South Africa is currently lacking on all these fronts. But, with strategic planning and reforms, and in partnership with other African countries, it is possible to enhance the country’s strategic importance to the global economy.

Where to from here?

If South Africa is to succeed as a nation, become globally relevant, and have autonomy in the global economy, it must recognise its challenges, understand their drivers and address them pragmatically.

So what should it do?

First, it’s important to recognise that South Africa is a small country. Its economy is marginal to the rest of the world. The continent of Africa has a population of around 1.5 billion people, which is likely to double by 2070 – the only part of the global economy in which demographic growth will occur.

Purely in terms of population size, Africa will be more important than ever before.

This can only be a strategic lever if countries across the continent integrate their economies more strongly. Thus, South Africa’s economic and foreign policy should focus on Africa and on building the African Continental Free Trade Area. Without this, its long-term economic development is in danger and it can’t develop the political leverage that enables independence in global affairs.

With its African partners, South Africa should be rebalancing its international trade. It should shift from being an exporter of raw materials to being a manufacturing and service economy.

Many countries across Africa have deposits of minerals that are strategically important to the global economy, especially as the climate transition shapes relations. This must be used to build integration across the continent so the region engages with powerful economies as a regional bloc.

Second, professional excellence must be taken seriously. South Africa’s political stewardship of the economy has been poor, and driven by narrow political objectives of the ruling party-linked elite. For example, policy in the important mining sector has been chaotic, at best. It has not served as a developmental stimulant or as a political lever for strategic autonomy.

Specific to international affairs, South Africa has to professionalise the diplomatic corps. It has been significantly weakened and its professional capability eroded through political appointments. These make up the vast majority of ambassadorial deployments.

There should be limits to the political appointments of ambassadors from the cohort of former African National Congress politicians and their family members.

In addition, South Africa should have fewer embassies, located in more strategic countries, with appropriate budgets to their job. It is embarrassing that embassies in places like London don’t have enough budget to market the country, undertake advocacy and advance the country’s national agenda.

But professional excellence needs to be extended far beyond the diplomatic corps.

South Africa cannot continue to be compromised by incompetent municipal and national governance. And this is not solely the result of corruption and cadre deployment. It’s also tied to a transformation agenda that eschews academic and professional excellence.

In addition, South Africa cannot pretend to be leading an independent path in global affairs without having the security apparatus that goes with such leadership. On this score, the country is sadly lacking.

Its security apparatus – the South African National Defence Force, police and intelligence service – needs attention. The defence force is poorly funded and, like the police and intelligence, largely a “social service” for former ANC operatives combatants.

Third, South Africa needs to prepare for the reprisals that are likely to follow if it charts an independent path in global affairs, such as the current response from the Trump administration to discipline South Africa for taking an autonomous position on Gaza.

This requires understanding the form that such reprisals could take and their consequences and being prepared for them. This would require diplomatic agility to proactively seek new markets, alternative sources of investment and additional political allies.

In contrast, South Africa’s responses have largely been reactive.

Dangers, as well as opportunities

While it’s a dangerous and uncertain world, it is also full of new possibilities. A new bipolar or multipolar world could enable South Africa and Africa to play off global powers against each other, to maximise opportunities for national economic development and independence.

This will only happen if South Africans collectively become agents of their own change. It will require developing leverage which others take seriously, and a government and public administration that works for the people of the country.

The Conversation

Imraan Valodia receives funding from foundations that support independent academic research.

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

ref. South Africa has chosen a risky approach to global politics: 3 steps it must take to succeed – https://theconversation.com/south-africa-has-chosen-a-risky-approach-to-global-politics-3-steps-it-must-take-to-succeed-262370

Is Israel committing genocide in Gaza? International court will take years to decide, but states have a duty to act now

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Magnus Killander, Professor, Centre for Human Rights in the Faculty of Law, University of Pretoria

South Africa instituted a case against Israel at the International Court of Justice (ICJ) in the Hague in late December 2023, claiming Israel was violating the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide through its actions in Gaza, and requesting provisional measures. Human rights law scholar Magnus Killander explains the process and why it’s so slow. International law, including the ICJ’s provisional measures, are binding on states. However, international law does not enforce itself and all states have an obligation to attend to the situation.

Why could it take until 2028 to get a final decision?

On 5 April 2024, the ICJ set two deadlines. It wanted to receive memorials, that is the full arguments related to the case, from South Africa by 28 October 2024 and counter-memorials from Israel by 28 July 2025. Following a request by Israel, the court on 14 April 2025 extended the time for submission of Israel’s counter-memorials to 12 January 2026.

It is likely that Israel, in a bid to delay the proceedings, will file preliminary objections, such as dealing with the jurisdiction of the ICJ to hear the case. South Africa would then have a few months to respond. Then an oral hearing on preliminary objections would be held, probably towards the end of 2026 or early 2027.

A few months after the hearing, the ICJ would deliver a judgment on the preliminary objections. Preliminary objections are unlikely to be successful, so the ICJ would then set a new deadline for Israel’s counter-memorial on the merits, which might again be extended. When Israel’s counter-memorial has been submitted, there may be a request from South Africa for a reply and from Israel for a rejoinder.




Read more:
South Africa’s genocide case against Israel: expert sets out what to expect from the International Court of Justice


At some point, the court would consider requests from states to intervene, and set timelines for their submissions.

So far, the following states have filed requests to intervene: Nicaragua, Colombia, Libya, Mexico, Palestine, Spain, Türkiye, Chile, the Maldives, Bolivia, Ireland, Cuba and Belize. Nicaragua subsequently revoked its request.

After the written submissions, the ICJ will schedule an oral hearing. Following this the judges will write the final judgement on the merits of the case. The judgment will be hundreds of pages of detailed factual and legal analysis with separate opinions from many of the 16 judges. The court has 15 permanent judges (including South Africa’s Dire Tladi) and an Israeli ad hoc judge in the South Africa v Israel case.

It is this final judgement that will decide whether Israel breached the Genocide Convention through its actions in Gaza.

Given these lengthy procedures, it is unlikely that the final judgement in the case will be handed down before 2028.

Does it usually take this long?

Yes.

The South Africa v Israel case can be compared to the Gambia v Myanmar case. In November 2019 The Gambia brought the case that Myanmar’s treatment of the Rohingya constituted genocide.

The ICJ handed down a judgment on preliminary objections on 22 July 2022. A hearing on the merits is yet to be scheduled. The case is likely to be concluded in 2026.

The first case brought to the ICJ under the Genocide Convention, Bosnia and Herzegovina v Serbia and Montenegro, was submitted in 1993. The final judgment was delivered in 2007.

The second case, Croatia v Serbia, was submitted in 1999 and the final judgment was delivered in 2015.

The ICJ has so far held a state accountable for genocide in one case.

In its 2007 case, it held Serbia and Montenegro responsible for the 1995 genocide in Srebrenica. The ICJ case had limited impact. However, it should be noted that Ratko Mladić, a Bosnian Serb military leader, was arrested in Serbia in 2011 and transferred to the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia as called for in the ICJ judgment. In 2017 he was convicted by the tribunal for the genocide in Srebrenica, a judgment which was confirmed on appeal in 2021, 26 years after the Srebrenica massacre.

In the two cases against Serbia, the court held that, apart from the Srebrenica massacre, the mens rea, the “specific intent” to destroy a group or part of a group, had not been proven. The main difference with the Myanmar and Israel cases is that the state of Serbia did not participate itself directly in the conflict.

In both the Gambia v Myanmar and the South Africa v Israel final judgments, the main discussion will likely be in relation to whether the mens rea requirement has been met.

In my view most of the ICJ judges will find that both acts of genocide and incitement to genocide have taken place.

What’s the point then?

The orders of the ICJ are binding on states, but are often ignored. This is in line with the general difficulty of enforcing international law, in particular international human rights law and international humanitarian law.

Only political pressure from outside and inside Israel will bring about change, as it is clear that the Israeli government considers only itself as the judge of its actions. In addition, enforcement measures by the UN security council are not possible given the position of the United States. It is a permanent member of the council, with veto power, but does not want to criticise Israel and is its main supplier of weapons.

The issue of Palestine has also been raised in a case before the ICJ that does not directly involve Israel. In March 2024, Nicaragua instituted a case against Germany in relation to its export of weapons to Israel, which it argued facilitated genocide in Gaza. On 30 April 2024, the court decided not to issue provisional measures against Germany since it had shown the measures it had taken to restrict weapons exports to Israel following the invasion of Gaza.

It was only in August 2025, however, that Germany declared it would suspend the export of weapons that could be used in the war in Gaza.

Another international court based in The Hague is also trying to hold violators of international crimes to account. The International Criminal Court (ICC) deals with international criminal responsibility as opposed to state responsibility – the purview of the ICJ. Israel’s prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu and former defence minister Yoav Gallant have been indicted by the ICC. The three Hamas leaders against whom the ICC prosecutor sought indictments have been killed by Israel.

It is unlikely that we will see Netanyahu in the dock in The Hague since he avoids travelling to countries that are parties to the ICC Statute and would thus be obliged to surrender him to the ICC.

Of course, the ICC is not the only possibility in relation to criminal accountability. For example, prosecutors in Sweden are investigating war crimes in Gaza.

The wheels of international justice grind exceedingly slowly and will never be sufficient on their own to bring about lasting change.

And the latest developments?

The provisional measures issued by the ICJ on 26 January 2024, 28 March 2024 and 24 May 2024 remain in force and are binding. These included the provision of

urgently needed basic services and humanitarian assistance.

Clearly this measure and and others have not been complied with.

South Africa has not requested any additional provisional measures since the last ones were issued in May 2024. However, advisory proceedings provide another way to address the situation.

On 23 December 2024, the UN general assembly requested an advisory opinion on the obligations of Israel in relation to the presence and activities of the United Nations, other international organisations and third states in relation to the Occupied Palestinian Territory. Hearings were held from 28 April to 2 May 2025. The advisory opinion is likely to be delivered soon and address the issue of access to humanitarian aid.

This is the third advisory opinion proceedings dealing with Palestine. In December 2003, the UN general assembly requested an advisory opinion on Israel’s construction of a wall separating it from the occupied territories in the West Bank. The advisory opinion of the ICJ was delivered on 9 July 2004, finding that the construction of the wall was in violation of international law. On 19 January 2023, the UN general assembly requested an advisory opinion on the legal consequences arising from the policies and practices of Israel in the Occupied Palestinian Territory, including East Jerusalem. The court delivered its advisory opinion on 19 July 2024, confirming its view that the occupation was illegal and that Israel had an obligation to leave the occupied territory.

The Conversation

Magnus Killander 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 Israel committing genocide in Gaza? International court will take years to decide, but states have a duty to act now – https://theconversation.com/is-israel-committing-genocide-in-gaza-international-court-will-take-years-to-decide-but-states-have-a-duty-to-act-now-263076

Tanzania’s independence leader Julius Nyerere built a new army fit for African liberation: how he did it

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Michelle Moyd, Associate Professor, Department of History, Michigan State University

Tanzania has long enjoyed a reputation as a peaceful country. In contrast to most of its neighbours, this east African nation of 67 million people has largely avoided large-scale violence within its borders.

That didn’t seem likely in the early years after independence from Britain in December 1961. A little over two years into independence – in January 1964 – the founding president, Julius Nyerere, faced two political crises. The first started on 12 January 1964 in the form of the Zanzibar Revolution. Weeks of violence and destruction by Afro-Shirazi Party members followed. As many as 16,000 Zanzibaris were killed or forced into exile.

Then the country’s military, the Tanganyika Rifles, mutinied. Its soldiers were incensed over inadequate pay, loss of privileges, and poor prospects for upward mobility. A rattled Nyerere needed British military support to quell the mutiny. He ordered the arrests of its leaders, and effectively dismantled the entire force.

Nyerere then faced the dilemma of leading a new nation-state with no army and few resources to build one. His socialist agenda (Ujamaa, in Kiswahili) had prioritised other aspects of nation-building, especially education and public health. Nonetheless, with assistance from the Organisation of African Unity (OAU) and the willingness of some of its member states to provide troops, the Tanzania People’s Defence Force was established in September 1964.

In his new book, Ujamaa’s Army: The Creation and Evolution of the Tanzania People’s Defence Force, 1964-1979, Charles G. Thomas, a scholar of post-colonial African military history, skilfully narrates this complex and absorbing history. The book covers the formation and transformations of the defence force through the new nation’s first 15 years as it shed its connections to the colonial past and charted a new path.

Unlike other writing on African armies – particularly the body of work on colonial armies – this one does not centre rank-and-file troops. Instead, Thomas’s analysis is based on rich interviews with high-ranking officers who led and moulded the force in its first two decades. This has enabled him to offer a top-down view of the construction of the army.

A rocky start

Nyerere undertook the work of unifying Tanganyika and Zanzibar in the first few months of 1964 with an eye to the region’s security. The Zanzibar revolution and the Afro-Shirazi Party’s Marxism had called attention to the island as a potential Marxist outpost. Violence against the island’s ruling party and those perceived as wealthy elites seemed to bolster this perception. In the context of the cold war, this fuelled western fears of Zanzibar becoming the “Cuba of east Africa”. An influx of Soviet and Chinese military advisers to Zanzibar made western powers nervous.

Nyerere and foreign minister Oscar Kambona worked with Afro-Shirazi Party leader Abeid Karume to unify Tanganyika and Zanzibar to reassure westerners.

The rollout of the defence force in September 1964 thus included members of the Zanzibari People’s Liberation Army. This signalled that the initial 1,000-man army would serve the larger interests of socialist Tanzania.

A regional role

Throughout the 1960s, Tanzania became, alongside Zambia, Botswana, Lesotho, Angola and Mozambique, a supporter of southern African liberation struggles. The OAU formally recognised this group of nations as the “frontline states” in 1975.

Nyerere convinced the OAU Liberation Committee to set up its headquarters in Dar es Salaam in 1963 because Tanganyika was already hosting many southern African exiles. Also, conflicts in neighbouring states, such as Mozambique, were spilling over into Tanganyika. It became the nerve centre for coordinating African liberation efforts.

Liberation organisations from across southern Africa also established offices in Dar es Salaam. These included the African National Congress and the Pan-Africanist Congress from South Africa; the People’s Movement for the Liberation of Angola (MPLA); Zimbabwe African People’s Union (Zapu) and Zimbabwe African National Union (Zanu); South West Africa People’s Organisation (Swapo) from Namibia; and Mozambique Liberation Front (Frelimo).

The Tanzanian defence force took on a key role in frontline liberation struggles. In 1964 it established the Special Duties Unit, which provided a logistics pipeline to serve liberation armies.

The defence force also established training camps for liberation armies within Tanzania. And it took on a protective and support function in southern Tanzania, where Frelimo’s operations against the Portuguese embroiled communities.

Tanzania’s involvement in struggles against the white settler states of southern Africa intensified in the late 1960s and early 1970s. After Portugal retreated from its colonies, Nyerere sent the defence force to help stabilise the new Frelimo government in Mozambique against the South African- and Rhodesian-backed guerrilla force Renamo.

At the same time, the book explains, Tanzania was contending with the disruptive politics and threatening military actions of its northern neighbour, Uganda.

Uganda gained independence from Britain in 1962. In 1971 Idi Amin seized power in a military coup that ousted Uganda’s first president, Milton Obote.

Amin and Nyerere antagonised each other personally, politically and militarily for the next eight years.

In 1972, Amin bombed Tanzanian border cities in retaliation for Nyerere’s support of the invasion of Uganda by Obote supporters in 1972. In 1978, Uganda annexed the Kagera Salient across its south-western border with Tanzania. In 1979, Tanzania invaded Uganda and ousted Amin from power.

The Tanzanian defence force remained in Uganda for nearly two years, providing security as the new government attempted to re-establish services and governance for post-Amin Uganda.

Catalyst for new inquiries

Thomas’s sustained research is based in large measure on hard-won connections with defence force officers. He also used alternative sources rather than relying heavily on Tanzanian, British and US archives. Canadian military archives, for example, showed how Tanzania’s forces benefited from Canadian training and resources.

OAU archival materials helped with understanding the Tanzania People’s Defence Force as part of African solidarity efforts against apartheid and colonialism.

The book also paints a clear picture of Nyerere’s role in Africa’s postcolonial politics. It shows him as a shrewd negotiator and a “pragmatic pluralist” in a fraught cold war world, where there were many competitors for military aid, but few sources to provide it to a country seeking a non-aligned position. His decision to form the Tanzania People’s Defence Force, and his encouragement of its role in supporting liberation struggles, helped Tanzania stand apart from its neighbours.

The Conversation

Michelle Moyd 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. Tanzania’s independence leader Julius Nyerere built a new army fit for African liberation: how he did it – https://theconversation.com/tanzanias-independence-leader-julius-nyerere-built-a-new-army-fit-for-african-liberation-how-he-did-it-246688

Abdulrazak Gurnah: searching for signs of Zanzibar’s most famous writer, all I found was trinkets and tourists

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

Nobel Prize-winning author Abdulrazak Gurnah in Denmark in 2025. Hreinn Gudlaugsson/Wikimedia Commons

Zanzibar has long been an island of arrivals for traders, sailors, slaves and, more recently, waves of tourists. I arrived as a wedding guest and a reader of the Zanzibar born novelist Abdulrazak Gurnah, in search of the literary and emotional landscapes that shape his fiction. For a week, I was part of the tourist economy of this east African island, passively complicit in its curated pleasures.

For all its beautiful images on social media, Zanzibar is a site of difficult memory. It was once a central node in the Indian Ocean slave trade, so its past is carved into the coral-stone buildings that reflect a complex fusion of Swahili, Indian, Arab and European influences in architecture and town planning.

An island outcrop with buildings.
Zanzibar’s tourist attraction Stone Town from the air.
Wegmann/Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA

A visit to the Old Slave Market was sobering. You cannot look away once you’ve seen it. And yet, Zanzibar is now overlaid with carefully packaged experiences: boutique hotels with infinity pools, beach picnics with imported champagne, stalls of “African” art mass-produced for western eyes. The art has become so generic that it hurts. All the curio markets on the island look the same.

Even the language has been commodified. Everyone is selling something. Everyone is searching. “Jambo,” (Hello) say mostly young men offering one service or another. “Hakuna matata.” (No worries.) “Pole pole.” (No rush.) These cheerful Kiswahili phrases made famous by the likes of the Lion King movie are repeated like slogans and feel soulless.

Most of the cars on the roads operate as taxis with stickers that say: Private Hire. The tuk tuks, three-wheeled tricycles, weave in and out of traffic because movement is an act of constant negotiation, part of a tourist infrastructure that operates as a regulated service.

A black and white photo of a bustling market street lined by old buildings.
The tourist markets of Stone Town.
Rod Waddington/Flickr/Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA

Amid the hum of engines and the ceaseless choreography of traffic, I kept searching not just for respite from the heat or wifi or good coffee, but for something literary. I was looking for the celebrated writer Abdulrazak Gurnah. Not the man (he hasn’t lived in Zanzibar for decades), but the essence of his writing, informed by this place: the ache of exile, the weight of history, the restless question of belonging he grapples with.

Gurnah is not just a writer I’ve read; he examined my doctoral dissertation at the University of Kent, where he taught for many years until his retirement. He is an important part of my intellectual development.

As a scholar of African literature, I engage deeply with the traditions, debates and histories that Gurnah’s novels illuminate, so my attempt to map his legacy in Zanzibar carried both personal and professional significance.

Absence of literary memory

Gurnah was born here, on this island of contradictions. He left following the Zanzibar Revolution of 1964, a violent outbreak of anti-Arab violence in postcolonial Africa. He was a teenager when he moved to England as a refugee, and has lived there ever since.

I expected, perhaps foolishly, to see a plaque with his name. A mural. Something. But there was nothing, even in Stone Town, where the past feels pressed into every narrow alley. This historical capital is an indecipherable tangle of markets, bathhouses, former colonial offices and palaces. I asked about bookshops at every turn. Locals looked puzzled, amused. “Why?” one asked. “You want to read on holiday?” That is because I can’t imagine a beach without a book.




Read more:
Abdulrazak Gurnah: what you need to know about the Nobel prize-winning author


Eventually, I found Gurnah’s famous novels in a souvenir shop that mostly sold skin-care products. They sat beside cookbooks and Swahili language guides. The only other meaningful literary encounter came via the mainland: a newly published Tanzanian literary journal, Semi za Picha, sent by ferry.

That little package was the most precious thing I took away from Zanzibar. It’s described as “a film journal” and edited by Jesse Gerard Mpango and Dismas Sekibaha, who are members of an audio-visual collective, Ajabu Ajabu, based in Dar es Salaam.

It’s not that Zanzibar lacks intellectual life. There is a State University. A global centre for Swahili Studies. Museums and Unesco heritage sites.

But there are no visible monuments to literature. There is no street named after Abdulrazak Gurnah. And yet, his imagination haunts the island. Reading his fiction made me more aware of the surfaces I was treading on, all the stories hiding under sand and souvenirs here, or submerged in the waters of the Indian Ocean.

Gurnah’s novels are known for their moral precision and speak to the legacies of colonialism and displacement along the Swahili coast. His characters often inhabit spaces between languages, continents and allegiances. In many ways, the disjuncture Gurnah explores, especially the fraught layering of history, is what unfolded before us.




Read more:
Why the work of Abdulrazak Gurnah, the champion of heartbreak, stands out for me


We criss-crossed Zanzibar by car, drove through villages with crumbling schools and no paved roads in search of the perfect beach. Then the ocean would appear, in its glimmering glory, and there were always many people taking pictures, as if the world was just a beautiful pose. But there’s something repugnant about turning people’s homes into backgrounds for entertainment. In our swimsuits, we were trespassing through communities, not just beautiful landscapes.

Zanzibar is not local anymore. It is a mesh of immigrants and itinerants: its service industry jobs are all occupied by people from many places. Local Tanzanian hotel staff, Kenyan chefs, French and South African restaurateurs, Belgian and German landlords. Whether you’re walking, or sitting at the beach, you can hear a babel of languages: Arabic, Chinese, Dutch, French, Hebrew, Italian, Shona, Swahili, Zulu.

A row of wood-carved African masks, all similar.
African masks at the island’s many tourist shops.
Djordje Markovic/Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA

Maybe my search for Gurnah and for literature was a search for an ethical place to stand. In Zanzibar, billboards of Tanzanian president Samia Suluhu Hassan are prominently displayed, projecting an image of calm authority. Once welcomed as a reformer, Hassan now faces growing criticism over alleged human rights abuses. But beneath the façade lies a more contested reality.

Zanzibar is a semi-autonomous archipelago with its own president and parliament, yet remains politically tethered to the mainland of Tanzania. This union has long been marked by tension over power, identity and representation as many Zanzibaris continue to assert a distinct cultural and political identity.

At the wedding, we didn’t speak of any of this. There was music, speech-making and laughter. This island, beautiful and bruised, is the backdrop of the absurdity of overtourism. And I still can’t get over the fact that in Zanzibar I could find no bookshops.

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. Abdulrazak Gurnah: searching for signs of Zanzibar’s most famous writer, all I found was trinkets and tourists – https://theconversation.com/abdulrazak-gurnah-searching-for-signs-of-zanzibars-most-famous-writer-all-i-found-was-trinkets-and-tourists-262886

Fela and food: how Lagos restaurants are serving up the music star’s legacy

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Garhe Osiebe, Research Fellow, Rhodes University

In Lagos, Nigeria’s commercial and creative capital, food is doing something unusual. It’s keeping alive the spirit of a musician.

Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, one of Africa’s most influential artists, was the architect of Afrobeat (not to be confused with today’s Afrobeats, which was born from it).

Fela pioneered his politically charged, musically expansive sound in the early 1970s by blending jazz, highlife, funk and Yoruba rhythms. He paired these with lyrics that took aim at corruption, oppression and postcolonial disillusionment. His songs were as much rallying cries as they were works of art.




Read more:
Fela Kuti is more famous today than ever – what’s behind his global power


Today, dishes named after Fela’s protest anthems – and restaurant soundscapes steeped in Afrobeats – are making dining in Lagos a journey through African music history.

As a musicologist involved in African Studies, I research the legacy of Fela Kuti and how it manifests in new forms today, in music, political life and even food. I first raised Fela’s legacy in food in a 2022 article for the book that accompanied a major exhibition in France called Fela Anikulapo-Kuti: Rébellion Afrobeat.

For me the new Lagos trend raises a question: do these culinary tributes preserve the radical edge of Fela’s art – or do they dilute it by commercialising it?

From protest songs to plated specials

In May 2025, The Afrobeat opened at EbonyLife Place, a high-profile entertainment and hospitality complex in Lagos. It markets itself as

The world’s first restaurant dedicated to celebrating Africa’s vibrant music genre.

The Afrobeat offers not just meals but a fully curated cultural experience. Yet it was not the first to blend food and Fela.

That distinction belongs to Kuti’s Bistro, launched in 2019 by the family of Seun Kuti, Fela’s youngest son. It’s currently closed for diners but still delivers meals.

Positioned as a pan-African eatery, the bistro’s dining area was steeped in Afrobeat imagery and sound, with walls adorned in Fela-inspired art. Its dishes draw on regional African culinary traditions, from Nigerian staples to cross-continental flavours.

Like so many restaurants in Lagos today, its playlist was dominated by Afrobeats, the electronically driven pop music now dominant across west Africa and its diasporas. Afrobeats owes much to Fela’s pioneering spirit.

The menu is where the homage becomes striking. Meals at Kuti’s are named after some of Fela’s most famous songs: breakfast plates called Yanga, starters like Shakara, hearty mains such as Feast for Nation, Roforofo Fight, and I No Be Gentleman. Even desserts bear provocative titles like Trouble Sleep Yanga Wake Am and Expensive Shit.

These are not just playful references. They’re a way of transforming Fela’s work into living memory.




Read more:
The daughters and sons of Fela in African Pop


The pairing of food and music creates a layered cultural experience. The textures and spices of the food evoke place and tradition; the music anchors the experience in a living, evolving sound. Diners are invited to consume Fela’s legacy with all their senses: sight, sound, smell, taste, and even memory.

In this way, these restaurants function as more than dining spaces. They are cultural archives. They stage a performance of history and identity every time a plate leaves the kitchen.

Preserving or packaging the radical?

Still, the shift from protest anthem to menu item raises questions.

Can a song like Expensive Shit, originally a razor-sharp satire on state harassment, retain its political bite when it is served as a dessert on a polished ceramic plate? Does turning Roforofo Fight into a main course preserve its cultural meaning? Or does it risk reducing it to a quirky marketing hook? This tension is not unique to Fela’s legacy.

Around the world, radical art often undergoes a process of “heritagisation” and commodification. It becomes a celebrated cultural product, sometimes losing the confrontational edge that defined it.

Yet this transformation does not necessarily strip away its significance. It can create new pathways for engagement. For younger diners, who may know Fela only as a name in music history or a face on a T-shirt, a menu item can become a spark of curiosity. It might prompt a search for the original song, leading to a deeper encounter with his music and the politics behind it.

A legacy that adapts

Fela’s artistic and political vision was always about creating spaces where African identity could be expressed on its own terms.

In the 1970s and 80s, that space was his nightclub, the Afrika Shrine, where music, conversation and resistance flowed freely. In 2025, it might be a restaurant table in Lagos, where I No Be Gentleman arrives as a sizzling platter of suya-spiced beef.

These spaces also speak to the adaptability of Fela’s legacy. His music has inspired entire genres; his persona has been invoked in theatre, literature, political protests, art exhibitions, films, and now dining.

Each iteration, like the opening of the New Afrika Shrine in 2000, reinterprets him for new audiences, keeping his name and ideas in circulation.




Read more:
Detty December started as a Nigerian cultural moment. Now it’s spreading across the continent – and minting money


Today’s blending of food and music illustrates how cultural memory works in Africa. Artistic legacies can be preserved not just through direct performance, but through symbolic transformation into other mediums; mediums that engage the senses, draw on tradition, and thrive in the global marketplace.

The Afrobeat-themed restaurants of Lagos are not just curiosities for tourists or novelties for locals. They are living experiments in how to honour a cultural icon while making him relevant to the present.

Whether these spaces ultimately radicalise or simply entertain, they ensure that Fela Anikulapo-Kuti remains part of the city’s sensory landscape; not only heard, but tasted. And in a rapidly changing Lagos, that may be one of the most enduring tributes possible.

The Conversation

Garhe Osiebe 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. Fela and food: how Lagos restaurants are serving up the music star’s legacy – https://theconversation.com/fela-and-food-how-lagos-restaurants-are-serving-up-the-music-stars-legacy-262994