Category: The Conversation – Africa

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The resentment has never gone away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

What’s driving the present tensions?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This has angered Ethiopia and stoked cross-border animosities.

Is war inevitable?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Multiple paybacks of street lighting

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hurdles of street light provisions

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Overcoming the obstacles

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

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

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

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

• Improve state budget and investment funding for street lighting.

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

• Support low-income neighbourhoods and informal communities.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The AU in people’s lives

1. Climate change

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

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

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

2. Governance

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

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

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

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

3. Public health

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

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

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

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

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

What if the AU didn’t exist?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The façade of action

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

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

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

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

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

Military trained for combat

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

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

Their responses reveal a deep conflict.

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

My research shows four major challenges.

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

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

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

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

These incidents severely damaged the military’s professional reputation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The way forward

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The history

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Guy Lamb is a Commissioner with the National Planning Commission.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

• free, prior and informed consent

• fair and transparent benefit-sharing

• sustained, meaningful engagement with affected communities.

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

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

Why local participation matters

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

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

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

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

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

Way forward

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

• free, prior and informed consent

• fair and transparent benefit-sharing

• sustained, meaningful engagement with affected communities.

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

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

Why local participation matters

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

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

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

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

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

Way forward

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Blocked transitions to adulthood

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why October 2025 became a breaking point

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ecowas without the Sahel alliance states

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Legitimacy and funding challenges

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

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

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

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

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

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

What does the future hold?

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

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

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

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

Leonie Jegen received funding from the Rosa Luxemburg Foundation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The study

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The strategies

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

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

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

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

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

Why the findings matter

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

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

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

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

Danielle Resnick received funding from USAID for this work.

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

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