The Conversation – Africa – Page 3

January 25, 2026

Israel’s recognition of Somaliland: the strategic calculations at play

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Federico Donelli, Associate Professor of International Relations, University of Trieste

Somaliland is not internationally recognised as a sovereign state, though it declared independence from Somalia in 1991. A territory becomes a sovereign state when its independence is recognised by the United Nations. For this reason, it has no seat at the UN and is considered, under international law, part of Somalia.

Nevertheless, Somaliland holds elections and maintains relative internal stability. It is also attracting increasing informal diplomatic engagement – though not formal recognition – from Ethiopia, the United States and, most recently, Israel.

This growing interest highlights a geopolitical paradox. An unrecognised polity has become strategically relevant in the Red Sea region, along the Gulf of Aden at the Horn of Africa. This is a key corridor linking the Mediterranean, the Middle East and the Indian Ocean.

On 26 December 2025, Israeli prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu announced Israel’s recognition of Somaliland as a sovereign state. This made Israel the first UN member to do so. While the concrete effects of the decision remain uncertain, Israel’s move fits into a broader strategy to strengthen its presence in the Horn of Africa and the Red Sea region.

Of all the African states, landlocked Ethiopia has come closest to formally recognising Somaliland, driven by its wish to get direct access to the Red Sea via the port of Berbera. This has become more urgent amid regional competition and instability.

US officials have defended Israel’s right to recognise Somaliland, but the US itself hasn’t done so despite speculation that it might.

I have studied the political dynamics in the Horn of Africa and recently published a book on the competing interests in the Red Sea. For me, this latest development raises two key questions: what is Somaliland’s strategic importance and why the growing interest now?

In short, Somaliland is important because it is located on one of the world’s most critical maritime routes. Current regional instability has increased the importance of partners that can provide security, access and political stability, even without formal recognition.

Israel’s strategic calculation

Israel has framed its recognition of Somaliland primarily in terms of regional security and strategic stability. It has cited the need to safeguard maritime routes in the Red Sea and counter growing threats in the Horn of Africa.

Beyond these stated reasons, however, Israel is motivated by national security considerations. Following the 7 October 2023 attacks and Israel’s military campaign in Gaza, the importance of existing strategic priorities in the Red Sea region has increased.

Somaliland’s location on the Gulf of Aden puts the territory – and any external actors with a presence there – in a position to monitor some of the world’s most important maritime and undersea communication routes.

Of particular concern to Israel is the threat posed by Iran-aligned actors, such as Houthi fighters in nearby Yemen. Engaging with Somaliland provides strategic depth and the potential for an early warning system.

Iran has capacity to exert indirect influence through proxy forces that target maritime routes and regional security.

Attacks on shipping by Houthi missiles and drones launched from Yemen take place just a short distance from Somaliland.

Establishing a presence in Somaliland, or simply relying on it as a partner, would enhance Israel’s ability to monitor Houthi activities and counter threats to maritime traffic.

An increased presence also provides a counterweight to the growing influence of Saudi Arabia and Turkey through diplomatic, economic and – in Turkey’s case – military engagement across the region.

Israel and the UAE both view Somaliland as a relatively non-aligned actor capable of reducing Turkish and Saudi influence in the Horn of Africa.

For Israel, engaging with Somaliland is a calculated risk, based on the belief that the strategic benefits outweigh the diplomatic and political risks.

Ethiopia: the vital need for sea access

Ethiopia is another catalyst of Somaliland’s growing importance. Eritrea’s secession in 1993 made Ethiopia a landlocked country. At present it relies heavily on Djibouti for sea access.

The Red Sea region

The port of Berbera in Somaliland offers Ethiopia politically stable and geographically convenient access. This explains Ethiopia’s interest in signing a memorandum of understanding with the breakaway state in January 2024. Although the agreement has not been widely implemented, it has drawn international attention back to Hargeisa’s claims.

Ethiopia’s cautious approach has aimed at avoiding further regional tensions.

Domestic political factors also influence its tepid response. The country is dealing with several potentially secessionist insurgencies within its borders. There could be consequences for supporting a secessionist movement.

An additional factor is Ethiopia’s close political and economic relations with China and Turkey, which both strongly support Somali territorial integrity.

It is this combination of regional ambition and domestic constraint that explains Addis Ababa’s cautious response to Israel’s announcement.

The United States: balancing realism and norms

Washington officially continues to support Somalia’s territorial integrity, largely due to its counter-terrorism cooperation with the federal government in Mogadishu.

However, Israel’s recognition of Somaliland has reignited debate within US strategic and policy circles. Some favour Somaliland’s recognition. They point to US security interests and global trade.

There is growing openness to engaging with Somaliland incrementally, stopping short of fully breaking diplomatic ties with Mogadishu.

Much of the US debate focuses on recognition itself, but this risks missing the more consequential issue: the precedent Somaliland could set.

Not all that glitters is gold

The typical portrayal of Somalia as a failed state and Somaliland as a democratic oasis is simplistic.

Unlike many secessionist movements, Somaliland is not a newly formed political entity. Consequently, beneath its apparent internal cohesion lie deep and persistent fault lines. Hargeisa does not control all the territory it claims. The eastern regions have never entirely accepted Somaliland’s authority.

This cleavage came to a head in violent clashes in Las Anod between 2022 and 2023. Local militias took control of the area, which now functions as a self-administered entity recognised as a federal state within Somalia.

Somaliland’s growing strategic relevance masks its unresolved internal divisions. It illustrates a broader trend in geopolitics now: stability and utility increasingly matter more than legal status alone.

For external actors, engagement with Somaliland may offer short-term gains in a volatile region. But without addressing its internal fractures and contested sovereignty, recognition risks creating new sources of instability rather than resolving old ones.

Federico Donelli is affiliated with the Italian Institute for International Political Studies (ISPI), the Nordic Africa Institute (NAI), and the Orion Policy Institute (OPI)

– ref. Israel’s recognition of Somaliland: the strategic calculations at play – https://theconversation.com/israels-recognition-of-somaliland-the-strategic-calculations-at-play-273817

January 24, 2026

Edwin Mtei, Tanzania’s first central bank governor, left lessons on leadership

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Aikande Clement Kwayu, Lecturer, Tumaini University Makumira

Edwin Mtei, who passed away on 20 January 2026, was the first governor of Tanzania’s Central Bank after independence from Britain.

He filled the post until 1974.

Mtei was appointed by Julius Nyerere, who served as president from 1964 until his resignation in 1985. Nyerere once said of Mtei: “Once a governor, always a governor”, as quoted in Mtei’s autobiography, From Goatherd to Governor. He meant Mtei would always carry the title of governor, given his contribution to starting the Central Bank. Nyerere continued to call Mtei “Governor” even after he transferred him to other posts.

The life and work of Mtei is of central interest to my research as a political scientist who has studied Tanzania’s political history and development politics.

Mtei didn’t take over an established office. The country had obtained its independence only four years before the establishment of the bank in 1965. The newly independent country was using a common currency under the East African Currency Board. Once Tanzania, Kenya and Uganda each decided to be autonomous in 1965, it fell upon Mtei to set up the bank in Dar es Salaam from scratch. He presided over both on technical and logistical matters, including monetary policies, architectural design of the bank’s building, and a design for the national currency.

His work was remarkable as it contributed to the institutionalisation of the country’s economic and financial structures.

Following his tenure as governor, Mtei assumed a bigger government role. He became the secretary general of the East Africa Community from 1974 to 1977 and minister of finance from 1977 to 1979.

As finance minister he took a stand against many of the policies championed by Nyerere, in particular his customised socialist policies – known as ujamaa. Mtei had a different view on how to address the economic problems facing Tanzania. He expressed these to the president – a bold step, given that most government leaders of the time didn’t dare express different views from those of the president.

Mtei resigned in 1979. After Tanzania amended its constitution in 1992 to allow a multiparty system, Mtei founded an opposition party, Chadema, with a liberal ideology that reflected the economic views he had proposed as finance minister.

Chadema has survived to be the leading opposition party in the country to date, despite the limited civic space for opposition politics in Tanzania.

In each of his various roles, Mtei made a mark on Tanzania’s political history.

He leaves several lessons for leaders. Leadership is about conviction. Losing a position for taking a moral stand will eventually lead to a better position with bigger impact. It is professional to give credit even to your opponents. Different views do not mean enmity.

Differences with Nyerere

Nyerere’s economic policies, as set out under the Arusha Declaration, began to show signs of strain.

Following a number of crises such as the oil crisis in 1979 and the Uganda-Tanzania war in 1978-1979, the policies could not facilitate economic recovery in the country. The late 1970s and 1980s were bad years for Tanzania’s socio-economic welfare. All economic variables were negative: for example, inflation rose to 29% per year from 1978 to 1981; between 1979 and 1984, rural income declined by 13.5% in real terms and non-agricultural wage income fell by 65%.

Frustrations about how he was expected to lead the ministry and rescue the country’s economy led him to take a bold step. He resigned in 1979.

Nevertheless, Mtei continued to respect Nyerere. He expressed admiration for Nyerere’s conviction and his determination to build the nation, albeit with an “ineffective” approach.

The farmer

Following his resignation, Mtei became a coffee farmer. He was also active in policy advocacy in the coffee sector as chair of the Tanganyika Coffee Growers Association and a member of Tanzania Coffee Board and Tanzania Coffee Curing Company.

His coffee farm was an estate that he bought after selling his house in a prestigious neighbourhood in Dar-es-Salaam. He actively maintained his coffee estate up to his old age and died in his farm house.

His mastery of finance and economics as well as international knowledge and contacts must have played a big part in his success in the coffee business.

Early life

Mtei came from the Chaggaland on the slopes of Mount Kilimanjaro. He was brought up by a single (widowed) mother with limited resources. In his autobiography he narrated how, at a very young age, he would count banana and coffee trees and identify different species.

Mtei had an entrepreneurial spirit, like two other figures from the same era and region: Erasto N. Kweka and Reginald Mengi.

Kweka was bishop of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Tanzania’s Northern Diocese. He served from 1976 to 2004. During his tenure, the diocese was involved with development projects including a bank, hotels, hospitals, schools and universities. He came to be known as “Bishop of Projects”.

Mengi owned media and manufacturing industries in Tanzania. Kweka, Mengi and Mtei were all born in the 1930s and grew up in Chagga land. Reading from their biographies, they shared similar childhood experiences and upbringing.

The three peers became prominent national figures in different capacities. All three were raised in the context where coffee had been introduced and they saw and experienced the economic impact of coffee through the establishment and development of a cooperative society, in particular the Kilimanjaro National Coffee Union (KNCU). The union provided education scholarships and other financial services to the farmers and their families. It contributed directly and indirectly to the education and interactions of Kweka, Mengi and Mtei.

Mtei was appointed executive director for African affairs at the International Monetary Fund in 1983. To his credit, Nyerere didn’t hold grudges and recommended him for the post.

Mtei saw his main job as proposing reforms in fiscal policies to solve Tanzania’s economic problems. In his autobiography he said Nyerere started to understand the imperative of the reforms and allowed negotiations to begin with the Bretton Woods institutions.

But events intervened. Nyerere was stepping down, though Mtei tried to convince him to stay.

Mtei noted in the autobiography that he thought Nyerere would be the most effective person to lead the reform. In contrast, President Ali Hassan Mwinyi’s autobiography
gives all credit for reforms to Mwinyi, who ran Tanzania between 1985 and 1995.

Given the level of political polarisation seen in Tanzania and the personalisation of politics, the life of Mtei offers many lessons.

Aikande Clement Kwayu 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. Edwin Mtei, Tanzania’s first central bank governor, left lessons on leadership – https://theconversation.com/edwin-mtei-tanzanias-first-central-bank-governor-left-lessons-on-leadership-274160

January 22, 2026

Colonial tax records hold 3 lessons for South Africa today – economic historian

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Johan Fourie, Professor, Department of Economics, Stellenbosch University

In 1825, a tax collector compiling a census in South Africa’s Cape Colony paused to write a poem in the margin of his work. In it, he complained about the idle chatter of townsmen in Stellenbosch and uncooperative taxpayers. It is a tiny window on the regular frustrations of a 19th-century taxman. But the poem survives only because the bureaucracy did.

Year after year, from the 1660s to the 1840s, local officials appointed by the Dutch East India Company and, after 1806, the British colonial government, recorded settler households, their harvests and their labour obligations in ledgers known as opgaafrolle (tax censuses). Read closely, these records provide fleeting glimpses of lived experience; taken together, they allow us to trace long-term social and economic dynamics.

We often treat the past as distant. But the 18th-century Cape Colony also serves as an experiment for current-day economic historians in state capacity, market trust and inequality. Those themes remain central to South Africa today, and to the experience of many African economies shaped by colonial institutions.

Over the past year, my team and I at the Laboratory for the Economics of Africa’s Past at Stellenbosch University have published three studies that return to the Cape’s archival record with new data and new methods. Together, they suggest three lessons that still resonate: the non-neutrality of administrative data; how markets are social as well as economic institutions; and how inequality endures.

1. Data is never neutral

The opgaafrolle were fiscal instruments, introduced under Dutch East India Company rule in the second half of the 17th century and maintained under Batavian and British administrations in the early 19th century. Their purpose was straightforward: to record who lived where, what they owned, what they produced and what could be taxed.

In a paper co-authored with colleagues and students, we analyse the complete series of tax censuses for Stellenbosch and Drakenstein, two of the earliest and wealthiest districts of the Colony, close to Cape Town, between 1685 and 1844. These records allow us to trace kinship networks, marriage patterns, changes in agricultural output and the evolution of slave ownership over nearly 160 years.

The Cape was a slave economy. Enslaved people, brought from territories across the Indian Ocean, were recorded as assets in settler households. Indigenous Khoesan people are not included in these records, although there is little doubt that they, too, worked on settler farms. They are traced in later records.

For this study, we simply wanted to know what these detailed records, unique for their time, revealed about life at the Cape. We found they could be used to understand not only the economy, but also social life. For example, surnames showed marriage patterns that preserved wealth within the family.

The broader lesson is that data – in this case, administrative data – is never neutral. Some things are never recorded, like the Khoesan workers on farms. And when things are recorded, they can easily be biased, for a variety of reasons. Cape farmers underreported production to reduce their tax burden, for example. Enslaved people, by contrast, were recorded with far greater consistency in the censuses, partly because “owners” were not required to pay a slave tax.

Any serious engagement with administrative data, past or present, therefore requires attention to incentives and institutions. This is particularly important as South Africa today debates policy using census and administrative data whose limitations are often poorly understood. There are real consequences for planning and accountability.

2. Markets are social institutions before they are economic ones

Tax records tell us what households declared about their productive activities. To understand more about their consumption, we need different sources.

In another paper, we turn to the Cape Orphan Chamber’s auction records. These auctions were held when estates were liquidated, often after a death, and they recorded who bought what, at what price, and from whom. The dataset covers the period from 1701 to 1825 and has recently been fully transcribed.

What emerges is a picture of markets embedded in social relationships. Auctions were public events. Family members often bid on household goods to keep them within the family or to support widows and children. Credit – borrowing to invest in new tools or to acquire enslaved people – flowed along kinship lines. Consumption – buying an ox, or a wagon, or a Bible – was a public signal of status, belonging and obligation.

This matters for contemporary Africa. Economic policy often treats markets as anonymous spaces where prices alone coordinate behaviour. Yet across much of the continent, markets still operate through trust and reputation. For example, one recent study shows African firms in historically pastoral regions remain smaller, partly because pastoralists are less likely to trust those outside the immediate family.

Even today, credit access, business partnerships and labour arrangements remain deeply relational. The Cape’s auctions remind us that markets have always been social institutions and that ignoring this leads to poor policy design.

3. Inequality is not a modern deviation but a historical constant

South Africa’s extreme inequality is often attributed to 20th-century industrialisation, apartheid policy and post-apartheid failures. While all of these matter, they do not tell the full story.

In another paper, I measured inequality in the Cape Colony between 1685 and 1844. The study used an expanded set of tax censuses, as well as probate inventories – lists of assets that people owned when they died – and slave valuation rolls – the lists created to compensate slave owners during the period of emancipation.

Wealth was highly unevenly distributed from the earliest periods of settlement. Today the situation would be described as severe inequality.

Even if we only consider settlers (and exclude enslaved and Khoesan inhabitants), wealth was very skewed. A small elite owned most productive resources.

Even more surprising, similar patterns appear in the limited records we have for Khoesan settlements.

In other words, wealth was severely unequally distributed not only between groups but also within.

This perspective forces us to rethink how we talk about inequality today. If inequality has deep historical roots, then it cannot be understood simply as a recent malfunction of modern capitalism, nor fixed by narrow technical adjustments to tax rates or social transfers.

Inequality, in other words, is not an anomaly to be corrected back to some imagined baseline of equality, but a recurring outcome of how societies organise power and production. That does not make severe inequality morally acceptable, but it does shift the policy question. The relevant issue is not whether inequality exists, but whether those at the bottom are becoming less poor and are more able to move up.

Looking back to think forward

The 18th-century Cape Colony does not offer ready-made policy solutions. What it offers is perspective. It shows how states govern through what they can observe and record, how markets operate through social ties as much as prices, and how inequality can persist across centuries.

The frustrated tax collector in Stellenbosch could not have imagined that his tax records would one day inform debates about governance, markets and inequality. Yet they can. They remind us that the past continues to shape the constraints within which policy is made, and the possibilities for change.

Johan Fourie receives funding from Riksbankens Jubileumsfond.

– ref. Colonial tax records hold 3 lessons for South Africa today – economic historian – https://theconversation.com/colonial-tax-records-hold-3-lessons-for-south-africa-today-economic-historian-273407

January 21, 2026

Tanzania’s president raised hopes for women’s political representation – the 2025 elections show much remains to be done

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Victoria Melkisedeck Lihiru, Lecturer, Faculty of Law, The Open University of Tanzania

President Samia Suluhu Hassan’s historic rise as Tanzania’s first woman head of state broke a decades-old tradition of male dominance. In keeping with political precedent, she also became chairperson of the ruling Chama cha Mapinduzi (CCM) party. That made Hassan the first woman to hold this position.

For decades, women’s representation in Tanzania’s parliament has relied heavily on reserved quota seats rather than direct electoral success. With a woman as president, women’s rights organisations held high expectations for reforms that would dismantle systemic barriers to women’s political participation.

The reform priorities they championed included defined gender representation in party leadership. They also sought measures to address weaknesses associated with reserved seats. The quota system could be improved by introducing uniform nomination procedures, geographical accountability and term limits. Lobbyists also sought robust laws to end violence against women in elections.

Nine months into her tenure, Hassan established a taskforce to review Tanzania’s multiparty democratic framework. Among other things, its report made two important proposals to promote gender inclusion in political participation:

a requirement that no gender should constitute less than 40% of leadership positions within political parties
a mandate for all political parties to entrench equality and strengthen internal democracy.

The taskforce report crystallised in three key laws:

These new laws contained several positive developments. All political parties were required to implement gender and social inclusion policies. Gender-based violence was recognised as an electoral offence.

I am a legal scholar with a research interest in women’s political participation on the continent, both at the national level and within political parties. I was keen to assess how the reforms undertaken in 2024 would pan out in the 2025 elections.

My analysis of the 2025 election results shows that there were some minor gains. Women constituted 32.2% (558 out of 1,735) of parliamentary candidates in 2025, up from 23.3% in 2020. This suggests a modest expansion of women’s participation at the candidacy stage. But it also underscores the persistence of structural barriers to equal political competition, with men comprising 68% of parliamentary candidates.

However, the limited progress observed at the parliamentary level collapses sharply at the local level. Only 9.6% (700 out of 7,289) of candidates for local councils were women. This is an alarmingly low figure, given the importance of these positions for developing future leadership pipelines.

It’s my argument that the 2025 elections demonstrate that the presence of a woman at the helm, while symbolically powerful, does not necessarily translate into a gender-equitable electoral environment.

Reform gaps

Public participation was made a central part of the legislative process. This was a welcome shift from the previous administration’s approach in which most laws were passed under certificate of urgency. But the reforms glaringly failed to advance tangible progress.

Conspicuously missing were mandatory quotas for women’s representation across crucial spheres: party leadership, nomination lists, and electoral-management bodies.

Furthermore, there are no political-party financing mechanisms or public subsidies to women, youth, or persons with disabilities that would improve equity. The lack of exemptions from election deposits for marginalised groups further reinforced existing structural barriers to political participation.

The appointment procedures outlined in the Independent Electoral Commission Act offered no assurance of gender balance within the electoral management body’s composition.

What can be said for the reforms is that they strengthened accessibility measures for persons with disabilities and illiterate voters. Also significant was the expansion of the Independent Electoral Commission’s mandate to include local-government elections. This addressed long-standing demands to detach the local elections from ministerial influence.

A particularly significant change was the abolition of unopposed victories. All candidates, even in uncontested races, would now face a mandatory “Yes” or “No” vote. The abolition of unopposed victories removed a key mechanism through which electoral outcomes were previously engineered at the nomination stage.

Under the old system, party elites could secure automatic wins by blocking or pressuring rivals – often women aspirants – out of the race. This often left more influential candidates to be declared elected without voter input. Requiring a mandatory “Yes” or “No” vote reintroduced voter scrutiny, reduced the incentive to manipulate nominations, and limited the use of procedural exclusion to sideline women candidates.

Political parties as gendered gatekeepers

My analysis of party practices towards the 2025 general elections shows that these limitations in national law found parallels in political-party practices. In January 2025, Chama Cha Demokrasia na Maendeleo (Chadema)’s internal elections resulted in all top positions being retained by men. This continued a trend dating back to 1992.

Chadema’s “No Reform, No Elections” stance led to its controversial exclusion from the 2025 polls. Its absence carried gendered implications, given the party’s consistent record of fielding a higher number of female candidates than other parties.

In 2020, Chadema fielded 58 women candidates, compared to CCM’s 24. While all CCM women candidates reportedly won their seats, only one Chadema woman did so. Chadema’s absence in the 2025 elections therefore reduced the overall pool of female aspirants.

At ACT-Wazalendo, the party’s Dorothy Semu was sidelined in favour of Luhaga Mpina for the presidential race. Mpina, a CCM defector, was then barred from contesting due to legal and procedural battles.

Against this backdrop, CCM appointed Asha Rose Migiro as its first female party general secretary, a milestone in a wider context of political manoeuvring.

Women as candidates

Women were represented as presidential candidates (18%) and as running mates (53%). The United Movement for Democracy became the first party in Tanzanian history to field women for both executive positions. For the first time, Zanzibar featured women, Laila Rajab Khamis, Isha Salim Hamad and Naima Salum Hamad, on the presidential ballot.

There were 272 elective parliamentary seats in 2025. This translates to 115 reserved seats for women. The 155 are joined by 36 women elected from constituencies. The representation of 39.5% is an improvement over the 2020 election outcome of 37.5%.

The 2025 national elections unfolded amid nationwide demonstrations which prompted a curfew in the capital and a nationwide internet shutdown. President Hassan was announced to have received 97.6% of the votes and was sworn in. However, both the Southern African Development Community and African Union missions reported that the elections fell short of regional standards for democratic and inclusive processes.

Opposition sources and later the government reported widespread electoral violence that led to death and destruction of properties.

Symbolism without structural change

The results of this election show that Tanzania is yet to address the structural challenges associated with women’s reserved seats.

For real change to occur, high-level representation must be accompanied by deep structural reforms. These include:

mandatory party quotas within political party leadership structures and candidate lists
gender quotas in the composition of Independent National Electoral Commission
a proportional representation electoral system
equitable resourcing for women aspirants and candidates
allowing independent candidacy
a mindset shift that challenges societal biases and affirms women’s leadership among citizens and electoral stakeholders.

The political commitment for substantive gender equality must go above merely numerical representation.

Victoria Melkisedeck Lihiru 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 president raised hopes for women’s political representation – the 2025 elections show much remains to be done – https://theconversation.com/tanzanias-president-raised-hopes-for-womens-political-representation-the-2025-elections-show-much-remains-to-be-done-271863

January 21, 2026

What should education look like today? 6 essential reads on learning together

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Lyrr Thurston, Copy Editor, The Conversation

The United Nations made 24 January the International Day of Education to highlight the role of education in peace and development. In 2026 the theme is “the power of youth in co-creating education”. This refers to “involving young people and students in global decision making in education” and to young people’s initiatives to safeguard everyone’s right to education.

To mark the occasion, we’re sharing some of the articles our authors have contributed in the past year.

Learning to flip

School children don’t always seem too enthusiastic about their role in learning. An official education policy might encourage active learning and critical thinking, but all too often the reality in schools is “chalk and talk”, or rote learning, where only the teacher’s input counts.

What stops educators from using more effective methods? Lizélle Pretorius tells the story of what happened when she asked teachers to “flip the classroom” – getting learners to contribute more.

Nigeria’s private school closures

Simply getting into school and staying there is a challenge for many children in Nigeria, where authorities have been shutting down private schools on safety and quality grounds. Thelma Obiakor studied the reasons that children are enrolled in these schools in the first place, and what the consequences of closing them could be.

Violence at school

It’s hard to imagine young people being able to co-create their education if they are exposed to violence at school. This is a problem in southern African countries like South Africa, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, Namibia, Eswatini, Zambia, Malawi and Angola, according to researchers. Gift Khumalo, Bokang Lipholo and Nosipho Faith Makhakhe reviewed the studies to learn more about what’s creating this problem and how it can be solved.

The dangers of AI

What does co-creating education mean in a world where artificial intelligence (AI) can do so much? Well, human expertise and critical thinking matter more than ever, argue Sioux McKenna and Nompilo Tshuma. They outline four dangers facing students, and three steps universities can take to prepare them.

AI as an opportunity

AI is actually an opportunity to learn critical thinking, writes Anitia Lubbe. Let AI take some pressure off educators by doing certain kinds of tasks, freeing up more time for self-directed learning. And test the uniquely human skills and attributes of students.

Measuring what matters

In the academic world, you get what you test for. Researchers are judged and rewarded on the basis of indicators like citation counts and journal impact factors – and these are biased against African scholarship, according to Eutychus Ngotho Gichuru and Archangel Byaruhanga Rukooko. They propose a new, complementary metric which puts a value on the local relevance and community impact of academic output. This would also measure co-creation of knowledge with communities, interdisciplinary teamwork and other cooperative efforts.

– ref. What should education look like today? 6 essential reads on learning together – https://theconversation.com/what-should-education-look-like-today-6-essential-reads-on-learning-together-273941

January 20, 2026

Fighting climate change in the Sahel is worsening conflicts – new research shows how

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Folahanmi Aina, Lecturer in Political Economy of Violence, Conflict and Development, SOAS, University of London

The Sahel, the semi-arid African region stretching from the Atlantic Ocean in the west to the Red Sea in the east, has become the epicentre of global terrorism, given the high number of attacks by armed groups and the resulting fatalities, including those suffered by civilians. This development is rooted in a complex interplay of factors. They include state fragility, illicit economies, limited presence of government in rural areas, and conflicts driven by resource scarcity due to climate shocks.

I am a political scientist with regional expertise in conflict, security and development in west Africa. In a recent policy brief for a research programme, I set out how climate change mitigation efforts in Sahelian communities have intensified pre-existing tensions.

The research involved extensive fieldwork and interviews in July and August 2025 with community members in Burkina Faso, Mali, Niger and Nigeria. The aim was to understand the interaction between various pressure points and crises playing out in their lives.

Livelihoods are under pressure as a result of climate change. Resources are scarce and unevenly allocated. Governance structures are weak and armed groups compete for control.

The findings were clear: climate action can either exacerbate or alleviate crises.

Many climate mitigation efforts are large-scale projects, like building solar farms, extensive reforestation initiatives, or bio-fuel plantations. The Great Green Wall initiative and the Agriculture Climate Resilient Value Chain Development Project in Niger are examples.

These projects are deemed vital for reducing carbon footprints. But carrying them out in fragile states poses a risk. In the Sahel, misconceived environmental security policymaking can have adverse impacts and even fuel the very insecurity it aims to prevent. Top-down approach objectives can be at odds with local social and ecological realities.

I conclude from my findings that the United Nations’ approach to climate change mitigation in the Sahel requires a re-evaluation. What’s needed are adaptation interventions that are:

conflict-sensitive
community-led and context-specific
designed using a transboundary process. This is because interventions are capable of shaping political economies, security arrangements and community relations across borders, not just within them.

A fragile environment

My research confirms that climate change in Sahelian communities has intensified pre-existing tensions. These include:

Insecurity: Local populations are exposed to conflicts that are made worse by climate-induced pressures. This includes farmer-herder disputes over diminishing grazing land, intercommunal clashes for access to scarce water resources, and ethno-religious tensions aggravated by competition over livelihood opportunities.

Interviews conducted with farmers, pastoralists and community heads, among others, highlighted how shifts in rainfall patterns, long droughts and unpredictable harvests are directly undermining livelihoods. People are being forced into daily coping strategies that sometimes heighten local conflicts.

State fragility: Interviews with key informants, including local vigilantes, paint a picture of governments’ inability to provide security, deliver basic services or mediate rising disputes.

As a result communities have been forced to find alternative forms of governance and protection. These include local vigilante groups, traditional community elders and informal resource management committees.

Criminal networks: Climate vulnerability and state fragility have created an environment that allows violent extremist organisations to operate and expand their influence. These groups range from armed bandits to violent extremist organisations such as Boko Haram and Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin (JNIM). They are not merely a result of ideology. They are consequences of a system in distress. They strategically exploit the insecurities and grievances that climate change and state fragility have created.

A Malian community leader put it perfectly. He warned that if a community

becomes a dry land … the armed group can use this opportunity to install themselves.

Towards a conflict-sensitive approach

Statements from people interviewed reflect simple, yet profound, solutions.

The central message is the need for local ownership and community involvement.

A traditional ruler from Burkina Faso, for instance, insisted that:

if projects come, they must include the community from the beginning, to ensure people feel respected, build trust, and ensure that solutions respond to real needs.

A respondent in Nigeria, too, said that “when the locals engage with government many solutions come aboard”. In Niger, a local actor stressed the need to “involve the population more in the decision-making process concerning them”.

These comments point to policy directives. They argue for a departure from the top-down, expert-driven model of development.

For climate change mitigation to be a force for peace, it must be integrated with peacebuilding and state-building efforts. Involving local authorities and community-level institutions in making decisions can lead to interventions that are context-sensitive, legitimate and responsive to local realities.

This translates to linking climate finance to projects that provide not only renewable energy infrastructure but also schools, health centres and sustainable livelihoods. It means transparent, community-led dialogue to resolve conflicts before they escalate across the Sahel region.

Next steps

The Sahel’s plight is a powerful lesson for the global community. The interconnectedness of climate change, state fragility and conflict is a complex adaptive system. It cannot be solved with single-sector interventions. The challenges are too intertwined, and the stakes are too high.

International development and climate policy must shift. Climate change mitigation is not a technical exercise, but an opportunity to rebuild broken social contracts, foster community resilience and promote equitable development.

Addressing root causes instead of symptoms can turn a vicious cycle of fragility into one of peace and development.

Folahanmi Aina 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. Fighting climate change in the Sahel is worsening conflicts – new research shows how – https://theconversation.com/fighting-climate-change-in-the-sahel-is-worsening-conflicts-new-research-shows-how-273673

January 19, 2026

Nigeria’s former election umpire has been appointed an ambassador: why this is a red flag

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Onyedikachi Madueke, Teaching Assistant, University of Aberdeen

The Nigerian Senate confirmed the appointment of the immediate past chairman of the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) as an ambassador in December 2025. This has resurfaced concerns about electoral integrity in the country.

Mahmood Yakubu stepped down as head of the electoral commission just three months prior to the ambassadorial appointment.

As a political scientist with published research on the electoral commission and electoral integrity in Nigeria, I argue that even though the president has a right to make the appointment under Section 171 of the constitution, it is still troubling. There are a number of reasons.

Firstly, it raises questions about institutional neutrality and public trust. It looks like a reward for the way elections were administered.

Yakubu’s tenure as chairman included the controversial 2023 general elections. Questions were raised about the commission’s credibility following logistical failures, technological breakdowns and delayed transmission of results. Though the courts ultimately upheld the declared outcomes, the election’s legitimacy remains hotly debated among citizens, civil society and scholars.

The same electoral umpire has been appointed to a prestigious diplomatic role less than three years after conducting an election that returned the appointing authority to power.

Secondly, it undermines public confidence at a time of rising political disengagement. Nigeria’s democracy is facing a legitimacy challenge driven by civic disillusionment, youth disengagement, and declining trust in institutions. Voter turnout in the 2023 presidential election, roughly 26% of registered voters, was one of the lowest in the country’s democratic history.

Thirdly, it reflects a weakening of institutional checks and legislative oversight. Despite widespread objections, the Senate approved the nomination with minimal dissent. A weak or compliant legislature reduces the institutional safeguards that protect elections from political capture.

Nigeria must strengthen electoral governance. This should include cooling off periods for electoral commission officials, stronger Senate oversight, protected institutional autonomy, and sustained civic re-engagement.

Impartiality and the perception of political reward

Electoral commissions thrive on perceived impartiality as much as on legal independence.

In a region where democratic norms are weakening as seen in Mali, Niger, Burkina Faso, Guinea and others, the perception that electoral officials may receive political rewards, especially if they manipulate the electoral institution to favour a candidate, can further erode trust. It sends a signal, intended or not, that electoral umpires can swiftly take on political roles.

This may influence future behaviour within the electoral commission. It becomes harder to preserve the principle of neutrality.

Ebbing trust in elections

Many Nigerians already believe that the electoral umpire is compromised. A 2023 report revealed that some senior electoral officials were politically affiliated with the ruling party.

A 2023 Afrobarometer report showed that 76% of Nigerians expressed a lack of trust in the commission.

In a recent paper, my colleague and I identified constraints on the commission. These included corruption, lack of adherence to its rules, and lack of independence.

Yakubu’s appointment risks deepening cynicism and feeding narratives of elite collusion.

For a democracy already struggling with fractured trust, where young people question whether voting makes a difference, this symbolic gesture may accelerate disengagement. When citizens lose faith in elections, they may turn to protest or apathy. Worse, they might support anti-democratic alternatives such as military intervention. It’s a trend already visible in Mali, Burkina Faso, Guinea and Niger.

Weakening checks and balances

The Senate’s role in the affair raises equally troubling concerns.

Rather than exercising its constitutional role as a check on executive appointments, the Senate appeared to align seamlessly with the president’s preferences. Most of the nominees were only asked by the Senate to bow and go.

This pattern of legislative passivity, common in Nigeria across all tiers of government, mirrors broader regional trends. Parliaments, whether in Togo, Benin or Senegal, have gradually ceded oversight functions to executives.

When political institutions become less independent, electoral oversight becomes more fragile.

A weak or compliant legislature reduces the institutional safeguards that protect elections from political capture.

The confirmation thus symbolises a gradual erosion of institutional balance. It’s a worrying sign in a region where democratic backsliding is accelerating.

What should be done

Reforms are essential.

In the US and Australia, revolving door laws exist to prevent former senior officials who occupied critical positions of trust from using their positions for political gains. They typically observe a cooling-off period before moving into a role that may risk a conflict of interest.

This norm exists to insulate institutional decisions from the prospect of political favour.

Nigeria currently lacks such a safeguard. Introducing a four- to six-year interval before former electoral commission chairs and commissioners could accept political or diplomatic appointments would bring Nigeria in line with international best practice.

Secondly, politically affiliated individuals must not be appointed to any position in the commission. This reform would protect both the individuals and the institution from allegations of political alignment.

Third, the Senate must reassert its constitutional role. It must subject sensitive appointments to genuine debate, ethical screening, and public interest review.

A credible, independent review, focusing on election logistics, technological failures, communication lapses and institutional pressures, would demonstrate a commitment to learning from past shortcomings. Transparency is the antidote to suspicion.

Preserving electoral integrity requires not only laws but also norms, perceptions and trust.

Across west African states, contested electoral processes and the fear that election administrators may align with political incumbents are increasingly widespread.

Nigeria, often viewed as a democratic anchor, cannot afford to reinforce this troubling pattern.

Onyedikachi Madueke 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. Nigeria’s former election umpire has been appointed an ambassador: why this is a red flag – https://theconversation.com/nigerias-former-election-umpire-has-been-appointed-an-ambassador-why-this-is-a-red-flag-273529

January 19, 2026

Ethiopian women and safety: why some switch their ethnic identity when they start working

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Monica Beeder, Lecturer, University of Southampton

For women entering the formal labour market in Ethiopia, taking a job can expose them to new public spaces and risks. Wikimedia Commons, CC BY

For many women in Ethiopia, getting their first formal job doesn’t just change their income; it can change how they describe who they are in everyday public interactions.

In a country where ethnicity shapes access to opportunities, safety and political rights, this shift is far from small.

That is the provocative finding of our recent study: formal employment can cause women to switch their self-reported ethnicity. We are a team of political scientists and development economists who study labour markets, gender and ethnic identity in Ethiopia. We studied this issue in a recent research project.

We used data from a unique field experiment with 27 firms across five Ethiopian regions, where job offers were randomised among qualified female applicants. This means the firms had more qualified applicants than positions, so eligible women were selected through a lottery system for job offers. We then tracked both women who received a job offer and those who didn’t over multiple survey rounds spanning roughly three years, collecting information on their employment status, earnings, working conditions, daily mobility and commuting patterns, household characteristics, and how they reported their ethnic identity.

What we found was striking. In our full sample of 891 women, around 8% changed their stated ethnicity at some point over the time we followed them. While this may sound like a small share, switching ethnic identity is rare and socially consequential, making this level of change substantial in context.

Women who received a job offer were 4.3 percentage points more likely to switch their stated ethnicity than those who did not. In the comparison group – women who were not offered a job – about 6% changed their stated ethnicity over time. Among women offered a job, this figure rose to around 10%. When we account for who actually took up the job, the effect is even larger.

To some readers, this may sound like a technical result. But in a country where ethnicity shapes politics, social opportunity and daily survival, it is explosive.

Changing one’s ethnic label is not a trivial act. It carries implications for family, community and belonging.

So, why would a job make someone change something so fundamental?

For women entering the formal labour market in Ethiopia, even at low wages, taking a job can reshape their daily routines and expose them to new public spaces and risks. These shifts in mobility and visibility create pressures that women who stay at home may never face.

As they navigate these new environments, some find themselves adjusting not just their schedules, but also how they present and even report their ethnic identity.

By showing that formal employment can lead to ethnic reidentification, our study reveals identity as a living, shifting facet of social life rather than a fixed badge.

As Ethiopia and other African countries pursue industrialisation, labour-market expansion and social mobility, we must pay attention: economic transformation may come with unexpected, and deeply personal, consequences.

Being vulnerable

Our in-depth interviews with women in the two cities with the highest switching in our sample – Dire Dawa in east-central Ethiopia and Hawassa in the southern region – reveal a striking mechanism.

Employment meant commuting through areas where ethnic and, in some cases, ethno-religious tensions were high.

Women told us they felt far more vulnerable on the road than at home, especially if their own ethnicity placed them on the “wrong” side of a local conflict.

As one respondent explained, the decision to switch was driven by practical concerns about personal safety rather than a deeper change in how they saw themselves.

Some women did not adopt the local majority’s identity but switched to a third, more neutral group, one not involved in conflict.

Whether this was possible depended on their appearance, religion and language skills. As several women explained, speaking the correct language allowed them to “pass”, meaning they were perceived as belonging to a safer group while out in public. We cannot say how common this strategy was across all women in our study, but the interviews confirm patterns we also observe in our quantitative data of women switching to a third, neutral ethnicity to navigate local conflicts.

This makes sense in a country experiencing repeated waves of violence. In 2022, more than 40% of all conflict-related deaths worldwide occurred in Ethiopia.

In this kind of context, identity is not static; it becomes a resource.

Our findings challenge common assumptions across economics, the social sciences, and policy. While scholars have long recognised that ethnic identity can be fluid, it is often still treated as something relatively stable in practice, rooted in ancestry or birth.

What our evidence shows is the strategic side of this fluidity. Ethnicity can be consciously adjusted in response to economic conditions, mobility and the risks women face in public spaces.

In other words, identity is not only socially constructed. It can also shift in response to the pressures and incentives created by the work environment.

The protections needed

This raises uncomfortable questions about the global garment industry, which has progressively shifted production from Europe to Asia and is now beginning to extend manufacturing activities to parts of Africa as global value chains are reconfigured in search of lower production costs. Ethiopia has encouraged this growth by developing large industrial parks.

But unlike in long-established manufacturing hubs, there are few safety nets, transport protections or policies designed around local ethnic dynamics.

When women must alter their identity to feel safe on the commute to a low-wage job, something is clearly missing.

Our findings show that when these global industries arrive without adapting to local realities, the burden falls disproportionately on women.

It is not a sign of progress when a woman has to change her identity, even temporarily, to commute safely to a low-paid job. If anything, it calls for a more honest debate about what industrialisation should look like, and what protections are needed for the workers it relies on.

This also raises more profound questions about belonging and dignity. Is changing your ethnic identity an act of personal agency – or a sign of social pressure and insecurity? What does it say about everyday life when your safety depends on how you present yourself while travelling to work?

Imagine having to change the language you speak on the bus – or even the surname you give when introducing yourself – just to avoid trouble on your way to work.

While not all women faced situations this extreme, the very possibility of needing such strategies illustrates the pressures created by moving through tense public spaces.

The research team received funding from the Norwegian Research Council to collect data for this study.

– ref. Ethiopian women and safety: why some switch their ethnic identity when they start working – https://theconversation.com/ethiopian-women-and-safety-why-some-switch-their-ethnic-identity-when-they-start-working-271325

January 19, 2026

Getting into university is only the first hurdle for students from rural South Africa. Here’s what comes next

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Hellen Agumba, Senior lecturer, University of Johannesburg

As universities in South Africa prepare to admit a new group of students, thousands of young people from rural parts of the country hope for a life-changing opportunity.

In 2023, public universities enrolled 258,778 first-time students. Demand is intense; for example, the University of Johannesburg received 358,992 applications for just 10,500 first-year spaces in 2025.

A substantial proportion of these new students come from economically disadvantaged backgrounds. The National Student Financial Aid Scheme (NSFAS) is often the only key to unlocking post-school education. The scheme supports students from families earning less than R350,000 a year (about US$21,000) and has a target of 850,000 students. It is supposed to cover fees, accommodation, a living allowance, transport and learning materials.

Yet for many rural students, this key fails to turn the lock.

The number of students from rural areas who secure university placements cannot be determined. Neither the Council on Higher Education nor the Department of Higher Education systematically tracks students’ geographic origins. But what research does show is that students from rural areas face challenges beyond financial constraints.

My research on higher education access and learning experiences, particularly among marginalised students, has explored the reasons and consequences.

The conversation around financial aid rightly focuses on administrative crises: devastating payment delays and operational failures that erode trust. These are human catastrophes. But I’ve found that for rural students, these problems are only the tip of the iceberg. Beneath lies a deeper web of challenges.

Financial aid is crucial but it cannot compensate for systemic disadvantages that begin long before students reach campus and persist throughout their studies.

My research, involving in-depth interviews with rural students, shows the “hidden costs” they bear. Their struggle begins with limited access to information. This constrains their educational choices. Then they may not feel really comfortable to participate in the classroom and make social connections. And their financial situation influences both academic performance and social belonging.

Even when rural students graduate, many describe feeling they have survived higher education rather than thrived in it.

The experiences they shared with me reveal how these challenges interconnect throughout their university journey. Their stories also point to ways of improving rural students’ participation in higher education.

Listening to rural students

My qualitative study consisted of in-depth interviews and focus group discussions with 18 rural students (10 of them female), aged 19-25 at a university in Johannesburg. All participants came from former homeland areas across four provinces – the Eastern Cape, KwaZulu-Natal, Limpopo and Mpumalanga – a pattern reflecting apartheid’s enduring geographic legacy. They were studying fields ranging from education to engineering; 13 of the 18 were first-generation university students, and all were Black African. Their demographic profile was typical of deeply rural students accessing higher education through programmes like NSFAS.

The deliberate selection criteria and consistency of their experiences reveals systemic patterns.

One of the participants, Philip (all names have been changed) from Limpopo, described the sheer physical distance of his home from university:

I pass Polokwane (a city 320km from Johannesburg) and go deep to the rural villages until Giyani (a small town over 150km further on) … then from Giyani I have to catch a taxi to my village … you are far away from universities.

While urban students attend open days to learn about the courses on offer and careers, those in remote villages are left in the dark. As one participant, Terry, observed:

During open day for UJ (University of Johannesburg) … it’s mostly model C schools.“ (These are better resourced high schools which were reserved for white learners during apartheid.) I have never seen someone (there) from rural background.

This isolation limits career awareness to visible rural professions like teaching and nursing.

Sef’s story is telling:

I didn’t know anything about the courses offered … I only know teaching and these professions that you see in the village.

After a costly false start, she found her path to engineering only through a chance family conversation.

In South Africa, many students scrape together a registration fee, gambling that full funding will materialise. And without guidance on accommodation deadlines, they might arrive in the city to find university residences full and be forced into expensive or unsafe private housing.

Jane explained:

We will come and look for accommodation in February … When we get there, we find that the residence is already full.

While universities technically provide accommodation information, it is often buried in lengthy online registration documents that assume students have reliable internet access and familiarity with university processes.

The result is a financial strain from day one. For students like Kate, who was mugged commuting from distant, off-campus housing, the consequences are academic and psychological:

At the end of the year, I didn’t pass that well and as a result I lost my sponsor.

Upon arrival, they face a second battle: cultural and geographic alienation. They enter a space privileging urban, middle-class norms. Participants spoke of being teased for their accents and dress.

As Ann from the Eastern Cape put it:

Nobody cares … you get to know people from other tribes, people from other races … some of things they do you don’t understand.

Language becomes a profound barrier to participation. Philip shared:

I would want to participate … but eish! English … I’m not confident enough.

The curriculum itself can feel alienating, with examples drawn from unfamiliar urban contexts. Terry, an engineering student, noted:

Sometimes they teach about some events you have never heard of … that’s where they kill us.

It takes more than cash

This brings us back to NSFAS. Its administrative failures hit rural students hardest.

For a student who barely registered, a delayed allowance is a crisis. It means missing lectures, relying on food parcels, and impossible choices between education and supporting families.

Ann described the strain:

Since January we’re still waiting … Sometimes I don’t have money to come to school. I have to miss lectures.

The funding, when it comes, doesn’t cover the true cost. It ignores higher travel costs, expensive data to compensate for remoteness, and the burden of unexpected private accommodation.

The higher education system has focused too long on the narrow goal of access: getting students through the gate. True equity is about ensuring they can thrive as peers inside. The current student financing model is a blunt remedy: it provides cash but leaves the underlying structures of exclusion untouched.

How to change it

My research suggests some steps that could help rural students.

Fix the fundamentals with rural students in mind: Students need a competent, reliable financial aid scheme. Payment timelines must be guaranteed, with emergency support for rural students during delays.

Early outreach: Universities and government must take information to deep rural areas through mobile career services and application support long before final high school exams that determine university entrance.

Fund the full experience: Bursary calculations must be nuanced to cover the real, higher costs borne by rural students, including travel, data and safe accommodation.

Create culturally inclusive campuses: Universities must actively combat assumptions that rural students are “underprepared” or “lacking” essential skills. They can do this through staff training, peer mentorship, and curricula that value different kinds of knowledge.

The dreams of rural students are stifled by a system blind to their reality. Ensuring timely funding is the bare minimum. They need a system that doesn’t just let them in but truly welcomes them and sets them up for success.

Hellen Agumba received funding from the National Research Fund (NRF). The grant was awarded for her PhD Studies.

– ref. Getting into university is only the first hurdle for students from rural South Africa. Here’s what comes next – https://theconversation.com/getting-into-university-is-only-the-first-hurdle-for-students-from-rural-south-africa-heres-what-comes-next-271532

January 18, 2026

Africa’s human rights institutions are electing leaders. Why this matters

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Chidi Anselm Odinkalu, Professor of Practice, International Human Rights Law, Tufts University

Member states of the African Union (AU) will hold their most consequential election of the year in February 2026, to fill ten vacancies in continental human rights institutions.

They will elect three experts to the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights and seven to the African Committee of Experts on the Rights and Welfare of the Child.

These individuals will serve on the committee for five years and on the commission for six, alongside 23 peers with unexpired terms.

The elections are important because these institutions exist primarily to ensure that the continent’s governments take African lives seriously. They are entrusted with ensuring that Africans live in dignity and equality. This is a difficult task in a continent where human rights often sound hollow or precarious.

As a scholar who studies Africa’s regional institutions, I find that they are deeply underestimated. Yet, these institutions have considerable powers to undertake investigations and issue decisions against African governments. Their decisions can attract serious sanctions if disregarded.

Recent events show why these institutions continue to matter. Several AU treaties, particularly the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights and the African Charter on Democracy, Elections and Governance, protect the right to vote and mandate independent and impartial courts as arbiters of election disputes.

However, most of Africa’s elections are now more poorly managed than ever before. In 2025 alone – in Cameroon, Côte d‘Ivoire and Tanzania, among others – thousands of Africans were killed in state-sponsored election violence.

In many African countries, the judiciary and other independent institutions face attacks or are captured by politicians, depriving people of legal recourse.

This has contributed to deepening civic apathy, a creeping return of military and authoritarian rule, and further erosion of democratic governance.

Of course, treaty institutions do not organise or supervise national elections. But they can counter authoritarianism by mobilising responses to the underlying causes of rigged elections.

This is why Africans everywhere should show an interest in the process and outcome of the African Union’s February 2026 elections for continental human rights institutions. They protect the continent’s citizens and communities.

Good intentions, poor outcomes

When the Organisation of African Unity (OAU) elected the pioneer experts to the African Commission in 1987, most were senior ministers from dictatorships.

Today, the AU no longer elects obvious politicians to these bodies. Still, the candidates are mostly aligned with ruling African governments.

This was not the intention. The continental institutions were created to respond when, for instance, governments attacked protesters, shut down the internet, displaced communities without compensation, or hijacked elections.

The institutions are Africa’s official human rights enforcers. They should ensure that governments uphold the principles and values they have undertaken under continental treaties. Those include “respect for democratic principles, human rights, the rule of law and good governance” and “respect for the sanctity of human life”.

For this reason, the treaties only allow to be elected to these roles “African personalities of the highest reputation, known for their high morality, integrity, impartiality, and competence in matters of human and peoples’ rights.” Such individuals work in their personal capacities and not as stooges of any government.

In practice, these criteria are not always met.

Regrettably, most Africans are unaware that these mechanisms exist. That affects the credibility of the selection process.

The AU doesn’t give the selection much publicity. Although it nominally encourages member states to adopt transparent nomination processes, most states prefer to keep their nominations ad hoc and opaque.

A 2020 report by Amnesty International described the selection as characterised by “secrecy and largely merit-less national nomination processes”. Three years earlier, the Open Society Justice Initiative and the International Commission of Jurists similarly criticised it as “largely unknown and shrouded in secrecy”.

In 2023, African citizens and civil society instituted the Arusha Initiative to improve citizen awareness, the quality of nominations and the outcomes.

What should happen

These institutions, especially the African Commission and the African Court on Human and Peoples’ Rights, exist to foster shared values. They are committed to the rule of law and due process. And they are supposed to create an enabling environment for entrepreneurs and investors, who in turn can help develop the continent.

By protecting labour and land rights, these mechanisms guide states in implementing socio-economic rights in Africa and support innovation. By addressing all forms of discrimination, including xenophobia, they can also encourage mobility across the continent.

By advancing jurisprudence on free movement as a human right and promoting associated treaties that complement regional integration, these mechanisms could help achieve free movement across Africa.

The institutions could also address environmental degradation, livelihoods and forced displacement. In doing so they would centre the interests of Africa’s indigenous peoples.

Africa’s citizens and communities fund these institutions through their taxes. That alone is reason enough to care about them.

Human rights bodies should not be disembodied entities ministering from distant lands to unrepresented people. Instead, citizens should choose capable, independent experts to protect their livelihoods and futures.

Ikechukwu Uzoma, human rights lawyer and researcher at the Robert & Ethel Kennedy Human Rights Center in the US, is co-author of this article.

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

– ref. Africa’s human rights institutions are electing leaders. Why this matters – https://theconversation.com/africas-human-rights-institutions-are-electing-leaders-why-this-matters-273495