Category: The Conversation – Africa

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Caroline Southey, Founding Editor, Africa, The Conversation

It’s become a common refrain in South Africa: there’s no drought, dams and reservoirs are full, but the taps are dry.

The ongoing crisis has been decades in the making. South Africa is a water-scarce country, yet it has failed to take even basic measures to preserve water supplies. These include:

• poor financial management which has led to collapsing infrastructure. The result is dysfunctional water treatment plants and leaking pipes. For every four litres provided to Gauteng by Rand Water, which oversees the country’s industrial heartland, one litre is wasted through leakage.

• South Africans use a lot of water: in Gauteng, for example, the average consumption is 279 litres per person per day. This is 60% greater than the global average.

The chronic crisis is underscored by the fact that the challenges – and what needs to be done about them – have been known for some time, as these articles from our archives show.

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Johannesburg’s water crisis is getting worse – expert explains why the taps keep running dry in South Africa’s biggest city

Cape Town’s sewage treatment isn’t coping: scientists are worried about what the city is telling the public

The right to water is out of reach for many South Africans: case study offers solutions

South Africans flush toilets with drinkable water: study in Cape Town looked at using seawater instead

South Africa’s sewage crisis: official reports don’t include millions of litres of leaking wastewater

Is my water safe to drink? Expert advice for residents of South African cities

How to make sure water is safe to drink: four practical tips

– ref. Water in the dams, but South Africa’s taps are dry: essential reads on a history of bad management – https://theconversation.com/water-in-the-dams-but-south-africas-taps-are-dry-essential-reads-on-a-history-of-bad-management-275832

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

The Tigray region in Ethiopia’s north has endured one of the world’s deadliest armed conflicts of the 21st century. Between 2020 and 2022, as many as 800,000 people were killed (out of a regional population of about 7 million). This rivals estimates from recent major conflicts, including those in Ukraine, Yemen, Sudan and Syria.

The war was fought between Tigray’s security forces and the allied forces of Ethiopia and Eritrea, along with ethnic militias from different regions of Ethiopia.

This period was marked by organised massacres. There was also systematic sexual violence and mass displacement. Ethnic cleansing and prolonged siege conditions devastated civilians.

Despite its unparalleled scale, the Tigray crisis remained largely invisible to the world. Factors such as race and the peripherality of the region made the Tigray conflict a blind spot in global geopolitics. But these explanations are not sufficient.

I have studied Ethiopia’s politics, and closely followed developments in Tigray since the outbreak of the war. In a recent article, I examined the steps taken by the Ethiopian government and its allies to conceal atrocities from global scrutiny.

I analysed government statements, media coverage and reports from local and international human rights organisations shortly before and during the war. I found that the war and its associated human rights and humanitarian crises were not hidden by accident. They were actively rendered invisible.

The Ethiopian government and its allies employed four major tactics to create a “zone of invisibility” – a deliberate effort to obscure what was happening:

• communication shutdowns

• restrictions on journalists and humanitarian agencies

• physical blockades that limited access to information and evidence

• and narratives that reframed the Tigrayan population as legitimate targets of violence.

These measures allowed atrocities to unfold with limited external scrutiny.

The tactics could easily be replicated by Ethiopia – or by other authoritarian regimes elsewhere – which makes understanding the Tigray case crucial.

The Tigray war demonstrates how modern authoritarian states can combine military force, information control and narrative framing to obscure mass atrocities.

When mass violence is rendered invisible, it is rarely resolved. Instead, it is reproduced. And when accountability is deferred, the conditions that enabled atrocities remain intact.

Manufactured invisibility

The production of a “zone of invisibility” in Tigray was the result of deliberate political and military strategies. The Ethiopian government and its allies systematically limited what could be seen, documented and understood about the war.

1. Communication shutdowns: Immediately after the war began, the Ethiopian government imposed a near-total communications blackout. This lasted over two years. It happened alongside widespread disruptions of telecom, media and power infrastructure. These measures isolated Tigray and prevented information about violence from circulating.

2. Restrictions on journalists and humanitarian organisations: Access to the region was tightly controlled. Journalists and humanitarian organisations were denied entry or restricted in their movements. This removed independent witnesses who could document events and convey civilian suffering to global audiences.

3. Physical blockades: Road closures, territorial occupation and blocked aid routes physically isolated the region. Tigray became a space where violence was difficult to observe or escape, allowing atrocities to unfold largely beyond international scrutiny.

4. Narrative framing: The federal state promoted narratives that made the violence in Tigray appear legitimate and necessary. Official discourse and allied media portrayed Tigrayans as “rebels”, “weeds” and a “cancer in the body politic”. This language dehumanised the population and normalised collective punishment. Such framing dampened calls for intervention and accountability. Additionally, the Tigray war was presented as a “law enforcement operation”. It was often addressed as a domestic conflict. This is despite the full-scale involvement of the Eritrean army. Foreign states also supplied weapons, including the United Arab Emirates, Israel, Turkey and China.

Taken together, these patterns suggest that the violence was structured, targeted and sustained.

Large-scale fighting in Tigray formally ended with the Pretoria Cessation of Hostilities Agreement in November 2022. However, the aftermath has not brought justice or security.

Instead, violence has persisted in Tigray – and spread across Ethiopia.

Accountability mechanisms have been weakened or dismantled. Survivors of the 2020–2022 war continue to live under conditions of profound insecurity, humanitarian deprivation and ongoing human rights violations.

Evading justice and accountability

Following the ceasefire deal in 2022, the Ethiopian regime effectively undermined and ultimately dismantled international investigative mechanisms into crimes committed during the Tigray war.

In 2023, both the UN-mandated International Commission of Human Rights Experts on Ethiopia and an African Union commission of inquiry were terminated. This left no independent international body to pursue accountability.

The dismantling of these mechanisms partly resulted from a sustained campaign by the regime and its allies. However, international actors also allowed themselves to be persuaded by promises made by Ethiopian authorities to establish domestic transitional justice processes.

These commitments amounted to what the UN Commission of Human Rights Experts on Ethiopia has described as “quasi-compliance”: symbolic gestures rather than genuine efforts to ensure accountability.

This is evident in the absence of meaningful attempts to prosecute perpetrators, protect survivors or halt ongoing violence in the post-ceasefire period.

Instead, the Ethiopian state has used the ceasefire agreement to rehabilitate its international image. It has re-established diplomatic and trade relations with regional blocs such as the European Union. These ties had been strained by human rights violations in Tigray.

What happens when atrocities go unnoticed, unpunished, or even tacitly accepted? Impunity does not end violence; it perpetuates it.

After a relative pause over the past three years, active war has flared up again in Tigray in 2026.

This has raised the prospect of a renewed full-scale siege. This is evidenced by recent drone attacks and the suspension of flights to the region.

Further, since late 2025, the federal government has seemed to be moving toward a potential war with Eritrea. This would severely impact Tigray once again. Any confrontation is likely to be fought over Tigrayan territory.

Ethiopia is invoking Eritrea’s occupation of Tigrayan territories – as grounds for confrontation.

In an address to the federal parliament in February 2026, Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed further acknowledged that the Eritrean army killed civilians on a large scale in Tigray, and dismantled and looted civilian infrastructure.

With rhetoric hardening on both sides, war appears increasingly likely.

Diffusion of violence beyond Tigray

The enduring consequences of invisibility and impunity are evident across Ethiopia.

Since the signing of the ceasefire in 2022, the Ethiopian regime and its former allies have fractured and turned their weapons against one another.

In the Amhara region, south of Tigray, is the Fano. This is an ethnic militia accused of ethnic cleansing in western Tigray and other grave crimes alongside the federal army. It’s now been engaged in armed conflict with that same army for nearly three years.

Meanwhile, violence in the Oromia region, which began long before the Tigray war, has continued unabated.

Tactics that were tested and refined during the Tigray war are now being redeployed against civilians in both Amhara and Oromia.

Rather than marking a transition to peace, the post-ceasefire period in Tigray has led to the diffusion and normalisation of violence across Ethiopia’s political and geographic landscape.

Teklehaymanot G. Weldemichel 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. How to get away with mass murder: 4 tactics Ethiopia used to hide Tigray atrocities from the world – https://theconversation.com/how-to-get-away-with-mass-murder-4-tactics-ethiopia-used-to-hide-tigray-atrocities-from-the-world-275298

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Stephanie Jenkins, Post-doctoral researcher, University of Pretoria

The facts of history are important, but try telling that to a classroom full of bored youngsters. One way to liven up the subject is to show that real people lived through historical events. Drama academic Stephanie Jenkins argues that learning becomes fun when learners care about what they are asked to remember. And one way to encourage caring is to perform the stories of the past, using museums as theatre spaces. Here she explains the idea, using an example from her work in South Africa – where the past is painful but shapes current social issues and future citizens.

What is museum theatre and how does it bring history to life?

Museum theatre is a form of performance that uses acting and other theatrical techniques within a museum, gallery or historical space (such as a historical building) to bring the exhibitions “to life”.

Performers act out historical people and narratives that have been researched. It’s a way for people to encounter the past through experience rather than just facts.

Bringing the past into the museum space through performance offers an opportunity to gain attention and foster potential for further engagement with the historical topic.

How have you used museum theatre to teach South African history?

One example was a play I developed called Beer Halls, Pass Laws and Just Cause, which was performed at the KwaMuhle Museum in Durban, South Africa, during March 2020. It was connected to the Grade 11 history syllabus with the aim of connecting what was learnt in class to the historical site of the museum.

The building this museum is housed in used to be the Native Administration Department. Under the apartheid system of racial segregation, black people had to carry a passbook (also referred to as a dompas) which gave them permission to be present in certain areas of a city for work. They had to apply for it and get it approved at this building, which would often mean waiting in long lines in the Durban heat.

The performance dramatised some of those people’s experiences, in the place where they’d had them. The actor guides spoke the recorded words of actual historical people, many of whom had stood in the spaces where the audience was standing. Their words had been recorded in various texts, newspaper articles and interviews conducted by officials at the museum in the early 1990s. (The pass system was abolished in 1986.)

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Read more:
Alcohol and colonialism: the curious story of the Bulawayo beer gardens

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Part of the experience for learners was to interact with objects, using all their senses, to spark creative thought processes and dialogue.

For example, they had to hold a replica passbook during the performance. Some reported that it felt “demeaning”, “stressful”, “oppressive”, or “scary”. The passbook “prop” helped them to experience how surveillance and fear can be used to control people.

In museum theatre like this, learners interact with the characters and learn about the past by observing, and often participating in, the performed action. By encouraging the learners to be part of the action, and surrounded by the exhibitions to which the performance is speaking, the learners are encouraged to be more active in their learning.

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Read more:
Fun with fossils: South African kids learn a whole lot more about human evolution from museum workshops

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The use of actors provides the opportunity for the learners to personally connect to the history and to care about the characters. Historical people are given a “face”, a three-dimensional body and a voice, making history look human and less removed from the present. Empathy, putting yourself in someone else’s shoes, is an important skill to learn. And it connects what is taught with the learner’s own life, making it relevant and easier to remember.

What did you learn from this performance?

The performance was used to challenge both notions around what learning about history is like (in terms of classroom and book learning) and what a run-of-the-mill museum visit is “supposed” to evoke. The performance attempted to encourage learners to be part of the historical experience rather than just “absorb facts”.

From the feedback collected from the learners, it is clear that using performance to re-enact narratives from the past works well in gaining their attention and personal connection to the histories, and to the actual site as well. Many did not know much about this place (in their city) before the performance.

One learner noted that reading about history should feel personal but noted that “this (the performance) felt more personal … I didn’t expect it to”.

Why does it matter?

Performance in museums can be one way that an interest in history, and in turn wider societal issues, is cultivated from a young age.

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Read more:
History teaching in South Africa could be vastly improved – if language skills were added to the mix

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While the present is vital to our wellbeing, ignoring the past creates citizens who do not have a proper grasp of various historical contexts, which is necessary to better understand where and who we are now. We cannot attempt to change current social issues if we do not understand how the past has influenced these problems.

Stephanie Jenkins 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. History with a human face and voice: how museum theatre gets kids to care about the past – https://theconversation.com/history-with-a-human-face-and-voice-how-museum-theatre-gets-kids-to-care-about-the-past-274664

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Zoheb Khan, Researcher, Centro Brasileiro de Análise e Planejamento (CEBRAP); University of Johannesburg

Universal health coverage – ensuring everyone can get quality, affordable healthcare when they need it – is one of the targets of the Sustainable Development Goals.

But progress towards meeting this target has been elusive, especially in developing countries. In recent years, existing weaknesses in public health systems have been magnified by the COVID pandemic, strained public budgets, rising public debt and climate change-related risks.

An increasingly common governmental strategy for universal health coverage is to contract private companies or non-profit organisations to provide healthcare services on its behalf. Known as “contracting out”, it is often seen as a way to bypass perceived public sector inefficiencies and rigidities, and to use existing private sector infrastructure and resources to expand public service provision.

Some proponents of contracting out also believe that introducing competition and innovation would improve the quality of healthcare services. Those are principles often associated with markets.

But how does it work in practice? And does contracting affect opportunities for community participation, a cornerstone of primary healthcare and of democratic governance?

Our team of researchers in South Africa, Brazil and India conducted a global review of the evidence, analysing over 80 peer reviewed studies from around the world. We wanted to understand, firstly, whether contracting improved access, quality and equity in primary care. Health systems grounded in strong primary care typically perform better.

Secondly, we wanted to find out whether involving local communities in the governance (design and monitoring) of these contracts made a difference.

Our review painted a complex picture. On the positive side, the evidence was clear that contracting out often improved access to primary care. This was particularly true in peripheral or remote areas where the state’s reach and resources were limited.

However, the impact on service quality was far less clear.

On the community question, our research found that when communities had a real say in designing and monitoring contracts, the results were better. It helped to improve access and make services more responsive to local needs.

This global evidence has implications for South Africa as it grapples with extreme inequalities in health and the proposed introduction of the National Health Insurance (NHI) scheme. This envisages a healthcare system in which healthcare would be bought from a mix of public and private providers. Our research points to what the government would need to put in place for this to work.

Defining and measuring quality – and what we found

The complexity of the results in relation to quality is partly due to differences in how various studies and programmes measure it.

Ideally, quality should be measured by the effectiveness and relevance of services. In other words, whether they solve the healthcare problems they intend to and tackle actual needs. But often, service quality is assessed on the basis of whether contractors meet a set of narrowly defined targets, like numbers of patients seen and services delivered, rather than what the services achieve.

Quality can also be defined from the perspective of cost effectiveness, rather than public health objectives. This can produce incentives for contractors to cut costs and avoiding treating sicker patients.

In some cases in our review, as in parts of Brazil and India, contracting was associated with impressive improvements in health outcomes, such as reduced infant mortality. In others, quality stagnated or even declined from this perspective.

We also found that profiteering can take root when for-profit companies assume control of service provision and success is defined primarily in terms of shareholder value. In Brazil, contractors have to be non-profits for this reason.

An important influence on service quality is the state’s capacities in contract management. Is it able to design good contracts, quality indicators, payment systems and incentives? How well does it manage relationships and enforce terms?

The benefits of community participation

The most compelling evidence came from Brazil. It has set up legally mandated health councils composed of community members and health workers. They have powers to veto health plans and budgets.

Councils have often helped non-profit health providers to understand local needs, remove access barriers, and anticipate service delivery challenges.

Similar successes were noted in Iran. The country has set up “people’s boards of trustees” at health centres. These contribute to planning and outreach.

In Bolivia and India, initiatives involving community participation in the governance of services delivered by non-profit organisations were linked to improved maternal and child health outcomes.

However, effective participation requires resourcing, and the political will to ensure participation enables real influence.

States need to provide transparent, high-quality data on contractors’ performance, and invest in upskilling community partners to interpret complex contractual terms.

Community actors may also lack the confidence to engage with government and corporate officials, who are usually more powerful. Too often, participation is frustrated by technical glitches in fragmented reporting systems, a lack of cooperation from officials, and a focus on auditing finances rather than health outcomes as well.

What this means for South Africa’s NHI

The NHI Bill envisions the state as the single purchaser of healthcare services, buying care from a mix of public and private providers. This is, in essence, a massive nationwide contracting exercise.

Our research suggests that for it to succeed, two things are essential: state capacity needs to be built; and public participation must be embedded in the system.

For the NHI scheme to work the following is therefore needed:

1. Building state capacity: The success of the NHI hinges on the state’s ability to contract effectively. This requires skilled officials who can design watertight contracts, manage complex supplier relationships, and monitor performance based on health outcomes, not just expenditure. Throughout our review, the dangers of weak or inexperienced purchasers of healthcare services are clear: spiralling costs, poor quality, and weak accountability.

2. Embedding public participation: The NHI should adopt a rights-based, democratic approach to contracting rather than solely a technical one. Meaningfully involving the people that use contracted services improves those services. South Africa has a rich history of community governance structures and civil society advocacy in health. The NHI should give communities a formal role in setting priorities and holding service providers and organisations to account.

This is the best safeguard against the corruption and inefficiency that has plagued other state ventures and which has been frequently voiced as a concern in relation to the NHI in South Africa.

Jith JR, Surekha Garimella, Vinodkumar Rao and Parvathy Breeze were co-authors of the original research underlying this article.

This research was funded by the NIHR project NIHR150146 – Community Voices in Health Governance – Translating Public Participation Into Practice in a World of Pluralistic Health Systems (COMPLUS) using UK aid from the UK Government to support global health research. The views expressed in this publication are those of the author(s) and not necessarily those of the NIHR or the UK government.

This research was funded by the NIHR project NIHR150146 – Community Voices in Health Governance – Translating Public Participation Into Practice in a World of Pluralistic Health Systems (COMPLUS) using UK aid from the UK Government to support global health research. The views expressed in this publication are those of the author(s) and not necessarily those of the NIHR or the UK government

Leslie London receives funding from the UK National Institute for Health Research, the Science Foundation for Africa and has previously been funded by the South Africa Netherlands Programme for Alternative Development, International Development Research Centre, South African National Research Foundation and South African Medical Research Council for research related to the focus of this article.

– ref. Public healthcare and contracting out: can it work? Global review presents some answers – https://theconversation.com/public-healthcare-and-contracting-out-can-it-work-global-review-presents-some-answers-274464

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Obasesam Okoi, Associate professor, University of St. Thomas

US military airstrikes on Islamic State-linked militants in north-western Nigeria on Christmas Day 2025 attracted global attention. The focus was on the international legal implications and whether the Nigerian government had consented to the strikes.

I’m a scholar of peace and security and have carried out research on Boko Haram’s protracted campaign of violence. The research shows that the group’s activities have produced extensive loss of life and material destruction, as well as large-scale internal displacement. This calls for integrated security, humanitarian and governance responses.

In my view, focusing on the airstrikes risks obscuring the real question: why does terrorism continue in Nigeria?

My argument is that it’s not the absence of military force. My research shows that the problem of continuing violence is rooted in the failure of governance at every level of society. Airstrikes don’t address the political, economic and social conditions that allow armed groups to survive, adapt and recruit.

Armed violence has expanded where state authority is exercised in predatory, selective or unaccountable ways. Terrorism in Nigeria has thrived because the state has too often failed to govern justly, consistently and credibly.

In north-east Nigeria, for example, counterterrorism efforts have been undermined where displaced civilians remain unable to return safely, and land disputes go unresolved. What’s needed is investment in civilian protection, and local reconciliation processes that rebuild trust between communities and the state.

Similar lessons can be seen in parts of the Lake Chad Basin, where humanitarian support and local governance reforms have proven more effective at stabilising communities than military operations alone.

Military force can play a role in containing armed groups. But it must be embedded in a broader project of political reconstruction, institutional accountability and social trust building. This means restoring the state’s presence not only through soldiers, but through reliable public services in communities most affected by violence and displacement.

Narratives, legitimacy and insecurity

Following the strike, President Donald Trump announced the operation in a social media post in moral and religious terms. He described the attack as retaliation against militants who had been killing Christians. He portrayed the strike as both morally necessary and strategically decisive.

That framing, reported widely by Reuters, and amplified through US media and social platforms, resonated strongly in Washington political discourse. Major US outlets, including CNN, noted that the reality of violence in Nigeria was more complex than a simple religious binary.

For their part, Nigerian officials emphasised sovereignty, coordination and the non-sectarian nature of insecurity in the country. In a statement reported by Reuters, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs emphasised that terrorism in Nigeria affected citizens regardless of religion or ethnicity. It warned against narratives that could inflame sectarian divisions. According to the Nigerian Ministry of Foreign Affairs

terrorist violence in any form, whether directed at Christians, Muslims or other communities, remains an affront to Nigeria’s values and to international peace and security.

Where governance is fragile, externally imposed moral framing can deepen mistrust, sharpen social divisions and offer armed groups new narratives to exploit.

Framing insecurity as a religious war is analytically inaccurate. It is also strategically dangerous. Armed groups frequently rely on ideas like that to recruit, radicalise and justify violence.

External validation of these ideas, even unintentionally, can become a propaganda asset for militants operating in contexts of weak state legitimacy like Nigeria.

Military success is not security success

US military statements described the strike as having destroyed militant infrastructure and disrupted operations. Reports by Premium Times and Reuters indicated that camps and facilities had been hit. Yet public information about leadership casualties, command and control disruption, or financial networks remains limited.

Without clarity about what happened, claims of success offer little to Nigerians who continue to live with insecurity.

Tactical disruption can interrupt planning and movement, but it does not dismantle networks embedded in local economies of coercion, taxation and protection.

Getting to the heart of the problem

Militant violence in Nigeria is embedded in a wider landscape of state retreat, informal authority and survival economies. Large areas of rural territory in the north-east remain effectively ungoverned.

Security and justice are provided by armed actors and criminal networks, not the state. In such environments, terrorism is less an external invasion than a symptom of systemic institutional collapse.

Military interventions can disrupt these systems temporarily. But without restoring governance, they leave intact the structures that reproduce violence.

Government can restore governance by doing the following.

Political reconstruction: Rebuilding local institutions in ways that involve displaced populations, traditional leaders, women and youth, rather than relying solely on centralised state authority. Unemployment, land disputes and political exclusion have created conditions in which violence thrives. What’s needed is to reinvest in livelihoods, education and fair land governance.

Institutional accountability: This means restoring trust in the Nigerian state, particularly in conflict-affected communities where security forces are perceived as abusive or corrupt. Accountability mechanisms for investigating abuses and compensating victims are necessary. This requires transparent systems for managing humanitarian activities and reconstruction funds. Citizens can be more confident in state authority when they see corruption confronted and justice applied.

Social trust building: Community-based peacebuilding and inclusive reconstruction processes are essential for repairing social fractures. When people experience safety and dignity in their everyday lives, confidence in security institutions can return.

Counterterrorism success in Nigeria should not be measured solely by the number of insurgents neutralised, but by whether state authority emerges more legitimate than before. Durable peace will depend less on tactical military gains than on the restoration of public trust. That will happen through accountable governance, civilian protection and inclusive economic recovery.

Obasesam Okoi 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. Why the US can destroy terrorist camps in Nigeria, but not terrorism – security scholar – https://theconversation.com/why-the-us-can-destroy-terrorist-camps-in-nigeria-but-not-terrorism-security-scholar-274799

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Samir Ramzy, Researcher, Helwan University

US president Donald Trump’s advisor on Arab and African Affairs, Massad Boulos, announced in February 2026 that Washington and three Middle East states – Saudi Arabia, Egypt and the United Arab Emirates (collectively known as the Quad) – were close to finalising a detailed initiative aimed at ending Sudan’s war. The plan resembled the roadmap shared by the Quad in September 2025.

According to Boulos, the proposal had received preliminary approval from the two warring parties in the civil war: Sudan’s Armed Forces and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF).

Civil war erupted in the country in mid-April 2023 over disputes surrounding military reform and the future configuration of Sudan’s political system. Since then, more than 14 million Sudanese have been displaced inside and outside the country. Tens of thousands have been killed and more than half of the population – around 21 million people – are facing acute hunger.

Meanwhile, the battlefield has produced a de facto territorial split. The army and its allies remain entrenched in eastern, northern and central Sudan, including the capital, Khartoum. The RSF controls much of western Sudan, including all Darfur states.

Active fighting is now largely concentrated in Kordofan, which lies between the two zones of control. The region represents 20% of Sudan’s territory, extends over roughly 390,000 square kilometres and has a population of around 8 million.

Based on my research on Sudan’s political and conflict dynamics, I argue that the prospects for the Quad-led initiative remain limited in the short term, even if it could, over time, help pave the way for a ceasefire.

Continued military escalation, deep mistrust between the Sudanese army and the paramilitary forces, and the army’s refusal to legitimise the RSF undermine prospects for de-escalation.

Additionally, regional and international actors have yet to generate sufficient pressure for peace. Competing regional interests and continued external support for the warring parties reduce incentives for compromise. As a result, the most realistic outcome for now is a temporary humanitarian pause rather than a lasting political settlement.

The obstacles

The latest Quad framework has five main parts:

• an immediate ceasefire

• unhindered humanitarian access

• civilian protection

• the launch of a political process leading to civilian governance

• a reconstruction pathway supported by a pledged US$1.5 billion.

Media leaks suggest the proposal includes coordinated withdrawals by Sudanese warring parties from major cities.

Under the proposal, the RSF would pull back from key positions in South Kordofan and around El-Obeid, the closest RSF-controlled area to Khartoum. Army units in the capital would, meanwhile, be replaced by local police as part of efforts to prepare urban centres for civilian governance.

A UN-led mechanism would monitor the ceasefire and secure humanitarian corridors.

Despite the seriousness of this proposal, developments on the ground indicate that neither side is ready to de-escalate. The biggest obstacles continue to be:

1. The army’s refusal to legitimise the RSF

Within hours of the initiative’s announcement, army commander Abdel Fattah al-Burhan publicly reiterated that he would not accept any political or military role for the RSF.

This stance aligns with reports that senior army figures objected to key provisions of the Quad proposal, particularly those allowing the RSF to retain local governance structures in areas under its control to facilitate aid delivery.

For the army, recognising such arrangements would amount to legitimising the RSF as a political actor.

2. The army’s broader insistence that it alone should oversee any reform of Sudan’s military institutions

This is the very issue that triggered the war in 2023.

3. Escalation on the battlefield

Neither side appears to be preparing for withdrawals. On the contrary, recent weeks have seen escalating clashes and the opening of new fronts.

For instance, the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement–North, an RSF ally, has launched new attacks against army forces in Blue Nile state.

At the same time, the army has succeeded in lifting sieges on key towns in South Kordofan that had been encircled by the RSF for nearly two years. This increasingly complex military map makes agreement on withdrawal zones exceptionally difficult.

4. Deep mistrust between the warring parties

This mistrust derailed previous efforts. In May 2023, the US-Saudi mediated Jeddah agreement collapsed after both sides reneged on commitments to withdraw from civilian areas.

5. External actors are not yet incentivising peace

Regional and international dynamics remain a major obstacle. This includes some of the Quad’s members, who publicly endorse a ceasefire even as battlefield realities suggest otherwise. These actors have repeatedly denied accusations of providing military support to one side or the other.

As long as both Sudanese warring parties retain access to regional backing, there is little incentive to halt the fighting. Continued war allows them to compete over territory and extract resources while sidelining any meaningful civilian political alternative.

Chances of breakthrough

A breakthrough is possible. But it won’t happen quickly. A meaningful shift would require stronger international pressure.

Washington appears to be moving gradually in this direction as part of a broader effort to consolidate western influence in Sudan while curbing rival regional and global actors. This is happening most notably amid concerns over Russia’s reported interest in establishing a naval facility in Port Sudan.

A pillar of this approach is drying up the drivers of war, especially arms flows. In December 2025, the US Congress passed legislation expanding American intelligence engagement in Sudan to monitor and expose external actors fuelling the conflict. The language of the bill suggests that all suppliers are potential targets.

In this context, media leaks about external involvement in Sudan can be seen as a form of political pressure on arms suppliers. This places current providers in a difficult position: either align with Washington’s framework or risk confrontation with it.

Regional actors may gradually follow suit if Washington demonstrates sustained resolve. Egypt, in particular, could pivot towards a ceasefire as the conflict edges closer to Blue Nile state near Ethiopia’s Grand Renaissance Dam, a core national security concern for Cairo.

These dynamics could eventually restrict external military support to both Sudanese parties, narrowing their options and increasing the geopolitical cost of continued war. In this context, maintaining current suppliers of Russian, Chinese and Iranian weapons could provoke countermeasures by Washington and its allies, a costly gamble for both sides.

Over time, this may push the army and the RSF towards negotiations, at least to secure a humanitarian ceasefire.

Samir Ramzy 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. Sudan’s latest peace plan: what’s in it and does it stand a chance? – https://theconversation.com/sudans-latest-peace-plan-whats-in-it-and-does-it-stand-a-chance-275456

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Cynthia Kwakyewah, Course Director in Social Science, York University, Canada

Ghana has a long history of resource extraction that has caused socioeconomic and ecological harm. The mining of gold, stones, sand and salt has displaced people, polluted the environment and destroyed livelihoods. It’s commonly believed that this continues to happen, with impunity.

But recent developments reveal a more complex reality.

As a global sociologist who specialises in human rights, corporate social responsibility and sustainable development, I mapped out the patterns of corporate abuse in Ghana’s mining, oil and gas sectors. I also looked at the strategies that local actors are using to push the state to act against firms violating their rights.

My findings show that a subtle shift is taking place in Ghana. Civil society organisations, administrative bodies and courts are changing the accountability landscape. Between 2000 and 2020, 27 human rights-related lawsuits and complaints were filed against extractive sector companies in Ghana.

The Ghanaian experience offers insights for other African countries:

• there are remedies even in environments that have weak regulations

• social activism that combines accountability with moral persuasion and legal enforcement can yield results

• African actors are producers of innovative accountability practices.

Ways to address corporate impunity and give victims access to remedies don’t have to come from the global north alone.

Violations

The study involved creating a new database of recorded allegations of corporate abuses, where the victims were in mining, oil and gas communities. The material came from the Business and Human Rights Resource Centre digital archive, a repository of complaints reported by NGOs and government institutions globally, primarily through media coverage. I then added material drawn from reputable local organisations that process complaints, petitions or lawsuits about corporate violations. I also interviewed representatives of civil society organisations and public officials.

I found that 83% of the allegations of corporate abuses were the result of the (in)actions of extractive sector firms. This contradicts the perception that most corporate human rights violations, in terms of numbers and severity, involve multinationals enabling a host government to carry out abuses.

Global reports often emphasise corruption, lack of transparency, intimidation and labour abuse. But the Ghanaian data point to a different corporate abuse pattern. Many allegations (50%) in Ghana’s natural resource sectors pertain to economic, social, cultural and solidarity rights violations. Many involve inadequate compensation to subsistence farmers for the loss of land or crops. These losses tend to mean erosion of livelihoods. Members of mining-affected communities have also reported experiences of forceful displacement.

Physical abuse allegations made up 28% of the cases; environment-related allegations comprised 15%. Health (5%) and labour (3%) related allegations were the smallest share.

Social activism

My analysis showed that Ghanaian civil society organisations have taken on roles almost like regulators. Examples include the Centre for Public Interest Law (Cepil), a human rights and environmental mining advocacy NGO called Wacam, the Centre for Environmental Impact Analysis and Third World Network-Africa.

In the absence of robust state regulations, these organisations have stepped in to fill a governance void. They document corporate misbehaviour, mobilise communities, and pursue redress through administrative and judicial channels.

Through “naming and shaming”, coalition-building, and selective litigation, they push corporations and regulatory institutions to act. For instance, following cyanide spill incidents, Wacam and Cepil combined community mobilisations with legal petitions that prompted sanctions.

Tangible outcomes

The strategic combination of activism and institutional engagement has produced tangible outcomes. Community petitions have led to company-funded remediation and fines for environmental damage. Successful court cases have compelled companies to compensate households for pollution. These outcomes illustrate how local actors are carrying out the state duty to protect and the corporate responsibility to respect human rights in pragmatic, context-driven ways.

Administrative mechanisms

Courts remain crucial in settling disputes. But administrative bodies are becoming more important. The Commission on Human Rights and Administrative Justice, which has the power to investigate human-rights violations and recommend remedies, has emerged as a trusted intermediary between communities and corporations. Its inquiries into mining-related abuses have resulted in negotiated settlements. Companies have also agreed to restore contaminated lands or water sources. These mechanisms provide redress without long legal battles.

The Environmental Protection Agency enforcement role has also expanded. In several cases, it imposed monetary penalties and temporary suspensions on companies that breached environmental permits. Such administrative measures show what can be done without going through the courts.

Judicial recognition of rights

When administrative engagement fails, civil society organisations escalate cases to the judiciary. Ghanaian courts have begun to recognise socioeconomic and environmental rights claims. These are grounded in the constitution and the Environmental Protection Agency Act.

In a notable case, a citizen urged Cepil to take legal action against a state-owned refinery for its oil spillage in a lake called Chemu Lagoon. Because environmental damage affects the public, Cepil had enough legal grounds to file a lawsuit. The ruling was in the organisation’s favour, preventing the company from legally causing further environmental pollution. Cases like this help victims and strengthen the foundations for future claims.

Strategic alliances

Grassroots activism, civil society alliances and state responsiveness can together achieve “accountability from below”. Even less powerful people can create and sustain accountability by engaging with both formal and informal institutions.

In Ghana, alliances across sectors force corporations and regulators to act, even where there isn’t strong top-down enforcement. These alliances demonstrate that local agency, not merely external pressure, can influence corporate behaviour.

Dr Cynthia Kwakyewah received funding from the Social Science and Humanities Research Council of Canada, the German Foundation for Business, and the Ryoichi Sasakawa Young Leaders Fellowship Fund (Sylff) Program to conduct the study.

– ref. Activists in Ghana are forcing extractive firms to account for the harm they cause – corporate abuse study – https://theconversation.com/activists-in-ghana-are-forcing-extractive-firms-to-account-for-the-harm-they-cause-corporate-abuse-study-274648

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Abel Gwaindepi, Senior Researcher, Danish Institute for International Studies

Changes in the development finance world – especially the sharp drop in foreign aid and fewer cheap loans for low-income countries – have pushed taxation back into the spotlight.

Africa has entered a new “tax era of development”. As external funding dries up, many African countries are now relying more on their own ability to raise money through taxes. But large parts of African economies are informal, and that’s widely seen as an obstacle to collecting tax revenue.

My recent work, too, shows that countries with high levels of informality tend to collect less tax revenue and face other related challenges.

Governments struggling to pay wages and deliver public services have two main choices:

• raise more taxes from the formal sector by increasing rates, introducing new taxes, or reducing tax incentives (not popular among businesses that already pay)

• extend taxation into the informal sector, where most people work and most businesses operate, though they are already partly burdened by tax-like fees and other informal payments.

Achieving the second faces many obstacles.

Roughly 85% of working age people in sub-Saharan Africa are informally employed. That makes it extremely difficult for tax authorities to track economic activity or enforce compliance. Informality makes it harder for governments to build the three capacities needed for effective taxation: identification, detection and collection.

Technology provides an answer to all three challenges. But, as my research shows, it isn’t a complete solution. Poorly designed tools can amplify existing challenges or create new unfairness, weaken trust and drive people back to cash.

Technology as a double-edged tool

Identification capacity is the ability to know who should be paying tax – whether individuals, businesses, or properties – through reliable registries and databases. Detection capacity involves verifying whether people and firms are reporting the right amounts. This is often done by using information from third parties such as electronic receipts and mobile-money records. Collection capacity is the ability to ensure that taxes are paid smoothly and securely.

Technology can strengthen all three:

• digital ID systems make it easier to match taxpayers to their obligations

• electronic transaction data help uncover under-reported income

• online filing or automated withholding systems make payments easier for taxpayers while reducing face-to-face interaction, which is inefficient and can lead to fraud.

Emerging technologies like artificial intelligence and machine learning are now used to score taxpayer risk, flag suspicious filing patterns, detect possible fraud, and prioritise audit cases far more accurately and efficiently than manual selection. Basic hardware, digital infrastructure, and reliable data systems need to be in place before meaningful progress can be achieved in this area for low‑income countries.

One way that governments try to tax the informal sector is through “simplified tax regimes”. Technology is playing an important role.

For example, Rwanda’s experience shows how powerful digital invoicing can be. When big companies need valid electronic invoices to claim expenses, they push this requirement down to the smaller suppliers they buy from, increasing tax compliance. Rwanda’s electronic billing machines have also shown that voluntary VAT compliance is possible when technology simplifies the process, cuts down paperwork and closes the information gap.

In Kenya, the government has introduced eTIMS, a paperless digital system that stores receipts electronically. It works through electronic tax registers that validate, sign, encrypt and then send sales data directly to the Kenya Revenue Authority.

Digital financial services taxation

Digital financial services are now part of everyday life across the continent, especially mobile money and digital wallets. In recent years, governments have also started using the services as a tax base. The idea is that even if informal traders don’t pay formal taxes, many still make electronic payments through systems like mobile money or e-wallets.

In Ghana, the government introduced an e-levy on electronic transactions at 1.75%, with a 100-cedi (US$10) exemption. After public pushback and a big shift back to cash, the rate was first reduced and then removed completely in 2025. It was deemed to be reducing formalisation efforts and reversing financial inclusion.

The art of the possible

Taxation in low-income countries is often the “art of the possible”. Evidence shows mobile-money taxes can sharply reduce the use of digital financial services – up to 39% in some settings. The burden is especially heavy where bank penetration is low. Rural and unbanked users have no real alternatives to mobile money. They must either pay the levy or resort to inefficient and often costlier options.

Governments are balancing competing priorities. They want to promote digitalisation and support digital financial services markets, while also expanding financial inclusion by keeping formal financial services affordable and accessible. At the same time, they need to raise sustainable revenue.

Technology has to be part of the answer, but it requires strong foundations.

There is a more fundamental issue beyond tech helping digitise paperwork or enabling instant filing. As wealth moves onto digital rails – apps, platforms, e-wallets, blockchain and even crypto – tax systems must evolve with it. Countries cannot keep up unless they invest in 21st-century tax skills and the digital infrastructure to move beyond the analogue tax systems.

In countries with high informality, technology can support tax modernisation, but it also faces major limitations. These are linked to weak infrastructure, human behaviour, and institutional or legal constraints.

Digital tools simply cannot function where electricity or internet access is unreliable.

The human factor matters too: even when systems work, many taxpayers lack the skills, awareness or financial capacity to use them. And tax officials may resist or misuse new tools if incentives are not aligned. The legal framework matters too since digital audits can be done at speed only for the process to slow down if courts are inefficient.

What’s needed

The basic challenge in taxation remains: no tax system can maximise revenue, fairness and simplicity at the same time. Good policy means choosing the right balance, rather than falling into trade-offs that place the biggest burden on the poorest. And people are more willing to pay when they see government giving something back in terms of essential services.

In the end, tax is political. It involves decisions about who pays, and how, which reflect a country’s priorities as much as its technical capacity.

As income and business activity shift to digital platforms, governments need modern systems that can keep up, understand how informal businesses are shifting to digital rails fully or partially and apply tax rules effectively.

Abel Gwaindepi 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. Taxing Africa’s informal economies: technology’s promise and pitfalls – https://theconversation.com/taxing-africas-informal-economies-technologys-promise-and-pitfalls-275324

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

Speculation continues about why John Steenhuisen announced that he would not be available for re-election as the federal leader of South Africa’s Democratic Alliance (DA) at the party’s April federal congress.

The DA is the country’s main opposition party and, since elections in 2024 in which the African National Congress lost its majority, part of a government of national unity. Opinion polls show that the DA’s support has increased since the election – it’s now closer to 30% – while support for the ANC continues to fall.

The DA promotes a federal view of government, a “social market” economy and private-public cooperation.

Steenhuisen’s announcement only suggested that he wants to focus on his role as minister of agriculture.

He became the DA leader in 2019, a turbulent time in the party’s history. The party’s first black leader, Mmusi Maimane, had left. The party had suffered a decline in support in the 2019 elections, and was accused of being more concerned about losing white support to the conservative, white-focused Freedom Front Plus than about a non-racial national profile.

Steenhuisen’s decision is important for the DA, because two of the three most senior leadership positions will become vacant – the federal leader, and chair of the federal council, which Helen Zille currently occupies and which she is leaving. It is even more important in view of the national local government elections that will be held at the end of the year.

The DA is now the second biggest party in South Africa and therefore an important member of the Government of National Unity. A new DA leader will have implications for the party’s relationship with the president and other unity government members.

How he got here

Steenhuisen built his political career in KwaZulu-Natal. The province is not one of the powerhouses in the DA, but it has always been regarded as one of the potential growth points. Its advantage is that, within the DA, the province isn’t caught up in the internal power play between the Western Cape and Gauteng. That’s presumably made Steenhuisen attractive as the national leader.

His track record as a very assertive DA parliamentary chief whip also counted in his favour. But as leader of the opposition, he had to become a statesman. He inherited a failed attempt to transform the DA’s public profile into a party also attractive for black supporters. His task was therefore to lead a new strategy for the party.

The results of the 2024 elections are an indication that his leadership arrested the party’s electoral decline and introduced a period of growth among the broader South African population. Its support increased from 20.8% to 21.8%.

The DA became part of the Government of National Unity as a result of the ANC losing its majority for the first time since South Africa’s first democratic elections in 1994. It also became part of the KwaZulu-Natal provincial government of unity. In addition, it consolidated the party’s majority in the Western Cape.

But these successes also tested Steenhuisen’s leadership.

In her book on the coalition negotiations after the 2024 elections, the journalist Mandy Wiener explains that Steenhuisen played the role of the DA’s principal and therefore was not directly involved in the face-to-face negotiations. As principal he was often upstaged by two of the negotiation team members and former DA leaders – Helen Zille and Tony Leon.

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Read more:
Helen Zille: will competence, courage and a dose of arrogance be enough to get her elected as Johannesburg’s mayor?

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More recently Steenhuisen has been accused of being too close to President Cyril Ramaphosa and of being “captured” by the ANC.

Behind Steenhuisen’s decision?

Neither Steenhuisen nor the DA has given an clear indication of why he decided not to stand again as candidate for the DA’s leadership, except that he wants to focus on his work as agriculture minister.

The reasons for his decision are therefore a matter of analysis or interpretation.

A party leader should never be uncertain about support from the main centres of power in the party. Factionalism or regionalism associated with a party leader will inevitably erode a party and its leader.

A DA leader cannot function without the unqualified support of the Western Cape and of Gauteng, because they are the two provinces that constitute the core of the DA’s support base.

Political analysts have pointed out that Steenhuisen does not enjoy the unqualified support of the Western Cape. The province is important to the party, because it controls the provincial government and Cape Town metro. Both are seen as prime examples of its success stories.

Steenhuisen’s KwaZulu-Natal did not built a powerbase for him within the party. Nor did the DA grow sufficiently in the province.

Steenhuisen’s authority as party leader was undermined last year over Ramaphosa’s dismissal of DA member Dion George as the minister of forestry, fisheries and the environment.

Steenhuisen had requested that Ramaphosa remove George for his “lack of performance” in his portfolio.

In the fallout that followed, George alleged that Steenhuisen had abused his party credit card. George also referred the matter to the Public Protector.

The events called into question Steenhuisen’s moral authority and ethics.

Lastly, as agriculture minister, Steenhuisen is struggling to bring a dramatic rise in foot and mouth disease under control in the country. Though he is one of the ministers who has done most in trying to get the disease under control, he is under severe pressure from the organised agricultural sector for the private sector to play a bigger role in managing the outbreak.

There’s a deeper policy principle for the DA at play here too, namely the private-public roles in public issues. As minister, Steenhuisen represents the role of the government department in managing the disease. But many farmers want more scope for their private initiatives regarding vaccinations and related matters.

The impact on the Democratic Alliance

Steenhuisen’s announcement affects the DA in a wider context. It means that two of the three top positions in the party will become vacant at the congress.

Only the federal chair, Ivan Meyer (member of the executive council in the Western Cape) will remain. With Zille involved in the Johannesburg metro, it will be the end of her role as the chair of the federal council. It implies a total revamp of the DA’s top structure very close to the local government elections.

The potential implications of these changes one can only speculate about. It might see the younger generation move into key positions. It might see a comeback for the Western Cape if Meyer is re-elected and Cape Town mayor Geordin Hill-Lewis comes in as party leader. It has the potential for more black people in key positions, such as Ashor Sarupen, Solly Malatsi or Siviwe Gwarube.

Finally, it has the potential to create two centres of power in the top structure if Hill-Lewis is elected as party leader but continues as Cape Town mayor. Then a parliamentary leader will have to be identified.

Irrespective of who is elected in which position, the DA’s April congress might become a major milestone in its history.

Steenhuisen’s legacy

As far as Steenhuisen is concerned, he clearly sees his future as a minister and not as a DA leader anymore. If he can gain control over the foot and mouth epidemic, it will be a major achievement for him. And his lasting legacy.

In history, he will most possibly be regarded as a transitional leader of the DA, who stabilised the situation after 2019, exploited the decline in ANC support, saw the need for alliance-building between parties at an early stage and led the DA into national coalition politics.

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

– ref. South Africa’s biggest opposition party will head to municipal elections with new leaders: what does it all mean? – https://theconversation.com/south-africas-biggest-opposition-party-will-head-to-municipal-elections-with-new-leaders-what-does-it-all-mean-275404

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Deborah Levison, Distinguished University Teaching Professor, Hubert H. Humphrey School of Public Affairs, University of Minnesota

Adults think we know what is best for children. We have responsibility for them – feeding them, clothing them, educating them, protecting them, loving them – but we also assume rights over them, and on their behalf. Adults make rules (including laws and policies) about what children can and cannot do. We expect children to behave according to our rules.

It’s also the case that when researchers are trying to better understand children’s needs and well-being, we usually do not ask the children themselves. Instead, we ask their parents or adult relatives, or their teachers, for evaluations.

There are good reasons why survey teams do not talk to children, even older children who have a strong understanding of questions, starting about age 10-12. Children are considered vulnerable because they are dependent on the adults in their lives. If an adult heard a child talking to a researcher, perhaps saying something the adult did not like, the child could be punished.

Alternatively, the child might not be honest if others were listening. Survey interviews tend to be conducted in places where there are other adults who are interested and listening. Privacy may be impossible. And even if it were possible, who would let their young daughter talk alone to a stranger?

Our recent research has sought to overcome these barriers to better understanding of children’s authentic perspectives. We have studied the work and schooling of children in low-income countries – such as Tanzania – and looked to develop research methodologies appropriate for children and youth around the world, testing the approach in Tanzania, Nepal and Brazil.

Two findings stand out. First, there is much to learn from children and the choices they make. Second, innovative survey methods – such as our use of cartoon stories – have potential to survey child-respondents in large household surveys. Researchers and policy makers could learn directly from children and rely less on adult proxy respondents, resulting in more effective policies and programmes.

Children’s views about chores

While using proxy respondents is appropriate for very young children or for questions likely beyond children’s knowledge, it is less clear that it is better for older children (ages 10-17) and topics within their experience.

Several arguments can be made that children could provide better or equally valid information on their activities than proxy respondents, as Levison and collaborators – economist Deborah S. DeGraff and demographer Esther Dungumaro – explored in Tanzania.

Parallel questions were asked of children aged 10-17 and proxy respondents about those children. We were interested in environmental chores: fetching water and collecting firewood for the family’s use.

We asked the mothers survey questions about their children, then we asked the children and adolescents some of the same questions. Of course, ethics rules required that we get permission (“consent”) from mothers before talking to children, and we also asked permission from children (“assent”) to engage with them. When a field researcher interviewed a child, the pair sat nearby, often under a tree, where adults could see them but not hear them.

The aim was to find out whether older children could provide better or equally valid information about some of the chores they did, as compared to information from their mothers.

When mothers and children were asked about the time that children spent fetching water and collecting firewood, some differences emerged. The biggest differences were seen when water or wood were scarce, when mothers had many young children, and when mothers had little education.

Some large differences may indicate that the amount of work done by children is highly underestimated by the adults it benefits. An important earlier study in Zimbabwe that used different ways of studying children’s work, including following children around, showed this pattern. We argued a case for collecting data directly from children who are developmentally able to understand survey questions, starting from about ages 10-12.

Given these differences in the time spent on chores as reported by mothers and children in the study above, researchers must be thoughtful about who is reporting information if they want to collect and report on accurate data.

Cartoon stories

Policy makers sometimes pay more attention to information from big surveys that ask questions of thousands of households and adults.

In our joint research, we wondered if there were ways to include children as survey respondents, rather than relying only on what adults said about them. Older children and adolescents do have opinions, and sometimes they are not what adults might expect. Why not learn directly from them?

Based on previous studies, we identified topics that could be difficult and upsetting for young people in Tanzania, where learning from kids could give researchers a different perspective than asking adults. In order to understand the perspectives of children, we developed short cartoon stories that children watched on tablet computers. Vignettes have been growing in popularity as a research tool in qualitative and quantitative methods, and research has validated the method when respondents are children and adolescents.

We sought to overcome the barriers in these ways:

• The cartoons included still images and animated video clips that were designed to avoid cultural, ethnic or wealth indicators such as hairstyles, clothing, or facial features.

• To be sensitive to privacy, children listened to the story being narrated in Swahili through headsets.

• Because the stories were watched over tablets with headphones, nearby listeners would not have the context for the story even if they overheard anything.

One story was about a student who is running late to school because of morning domestic chores.

Upon arriving, the boy or girl (matched to the sex of the interviewed child) is punished by the teacher. The video shows several possible but imperfect things the cartoon child could do, such as getting up earlier or skipping school.

Child respondents were then asked to give their opinion on different options, pointing to smiley or sad/angry faces, then answering other questions about how the challenge could be resolved. This allowed us to capture child perspectives quantitatively without directly speaking about the topic out loud or asking if children had similar experiences. We aimed to reduce their vulnerability to punishment or embarrassment, especially on taboo or sensitive subjects.

Many social scientists have demonstrated that children, even young children, are people who make choices within whatever limits they cannot change – they “have agency”.

Our findings from the cartoon stories show a wide range of perspectives about how children think about improving their wellbeing and the wellbeing of other children in their communities. If this cartoon vignette methodology were scaled up to include child-respondents in large household surveys, researchers and policy makers could learn directly from children and rely less on adult proxy-respondents, which might result in more effective policies and programmes.

Deborah Levison receives funding from the National Institutes of Health (NIH) and the National Science Foundation (NSF) in the United States, for the IPUMS-International project (www.ipums.org).

Anna Bolgrien receives funding from the Eunice Kennedy Shriver National Institute of Child Health and Human Development in the United States as part of her work on IPUMS MICS (mics.ipums.org).

– ref. Children’s views are rarely sought by researchers: we found a way to do it – https://theconversation.com/childrens-views-are-rarely-sought-by-researchers-we-found-a-way-to-do-it-268496