Category: The Conversation – Africa

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The protests

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

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

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

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

The triggers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unprecedented protests

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

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

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

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

It is not for want of trying.

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

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

What’s different

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

The 2025 protests have thrown all of this into doubt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dan is a member of the British Labour Party.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The blockade

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

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

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

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

The army’s constraints

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

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

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

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

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

Geography, governance and strategic decentralisation

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

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

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

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

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

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

The paradox of militarisation

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

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

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

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

A war beyond firepower

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

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

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

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

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

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Olivier Walther, Associate Professor in Geography, University of Florida

A coalition of jihadist groups affiliated with al-Qaida have laid siege to landlocked Mali’s capital. For over a month, they have attacked convoys supplying Bamako with fuel, putting considerable pressure on the military junta that has been ruling the country for five years.

The security situation has deteriorated to such an extent that the United States has asked all its citizens to leave the country immediately. After more than 10 years of civil war, will the jihadist blockade lead to the fall of the capital? The Conversation Africa spoke to researchers from the Sahel Research Group at the University of Florida.

What is the current situation in Bamako?

Attacks on transport infrastructure and convoys travelling between urban centres in the Sahel region have increased dramatically since the late 2010s. Our research shows that certain transport routes in Mali are particularly targeted by jihadist groups. One is the route connecting Bamako to Gao, a strategic economic centre with a large military base. These attacks are combined with the blockade of other urban centres like Farabougou, Timbuktu, Kayes and, more recently, Bamako.

Bamako, which is in the south-western part of the country, has experienced jihadist attacks before, notably in 2015 and in 2024. But those were limited terrorist strikes. The current blockade reflects much greater ambition and capacity by the jihadists. In July, coordinated attacks in south-western Mali marked a new stage of Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin’s southward expansion.

For weeks now, Bamako has been isolated from its external sources of supply, particularly fuel, which must be imported from its coastal neighbours. The government was recently forced to declare the closure of schools and universities due to lack of transport.

Why Bamako?

Bamako is by far Mali’s most important city in terms of population, economy and politics. Its fall would have catastrophic consequences and determine the country’s future trajectory.

With a population of 4.24 million in 2025, according to Africapolis, the Bamako urban agglomeration is more than 10 times greater than the second-largest city, Sikasso. Bamako’s importance is not only demographic. All executive functions are concentrated there, including ministries, the national television broadcaster and the international airport.

Bamako also accounts for a large share of the national economy. Our studies suggest that more than 90% of formal businesses are located in the Bamako metropolitan area.

Capturing Bamako would obviate the need to capture larger territories and could decide the fate of the Malian conflict. Control of a capital often serves as the de facto criterion for political recognition. For instance, despite commanding little beyond Kinshasa in his final years, Mobutu Sese Seko remained recognised as Zaire’s leader until Laurent-Désiré Kabila took the capital in May 1997.

Capturing the capital city has also been the central step in the resolution of many African civil wars. In 2011, the capture of Abidjan by the forces of Alassane Ouattara, France and the United Nations brought an end to the second Ivorian civil war.

Would the capture of an African capital by jihadists, rather than by conventional rebels, trigger an external intervention by western or African powers? This is unlikely. With the exception of its partners in the Alliance of Sahel States, Mali’s government is very isolated diplomatically.

France was forced to depart just a few years ago, and was stung by its deep unpopularity in the region. A new French intervention seems unimaginable. The US is currently more interested in transactions than in new interventions, especially in Africa.

Mali’s break with the Economic Community of West African States (Ecowas) would also seem to prevent a coordinated regional response. Even Burkina Faso and Niger, Mali’s neighbours and its partners in the Sahel alliance, are bogged down with their own jihadist insurgency.

What then for Bamako and Mali?

Three broad scenarios seem imaginable:

• a military surge in which the Malian junta manages to break the blockade

• a negotiated settlement that would presumably lead to a new form of government

• political chaos following the fall of Bamako.

The first scenario would require a successful mass mobilisation by the military regime in power. With the help of the Alliance of Sahel States and most likely Russian mercenaries, Malian forces would need to concentrate in the Bamako metropolitan area and also regain control of key routes.

This strategy seems to us the least likely. Not just because of the limitations of the Malian military, but considering that very little fighting has taken place in urban areas in the Malian conflict. Timbuktu, Gao and Kidal have been variously conquered or “liberated” without fighting. Government forces, rebels and jihadists preferred to withdraw when their opponents advanced.

A second, perhaps more likely, scenario is some sort of a negotiated political settlement between Mali’s military authorities and jihadist actors. We have suggested for many years that a political agreement is the only way to end a conflict that cannot be won militarily by any of the parties.

Calls for dialogue have recently resurfaced and gained traction among religious, political and business leaders in Mali. However, the issue remains divisive. Prominent advocates for this option include Alioune Nouhoum Diallo, former president of the National Assembly, and Mossadeck Bally, president of the National Employers’ Council.

Proponents often cite experiences of settlements reached via dialogue between Islamists and state actors elsewhere in the region, particularly in parts of the Maghreb. Those cases, however, were shaped by very different traditions of state-Islam relations.

A negotiated political settlement in Mali would require substantial revisions to, or even abandonment of, the country’s constitutional principle of laïcité (secularism). Successive elites, including the current military, have refused to consider this. And given the jihadists’ upper hand, government would have to make concessions that would undercut its legitimacy.

That said, a mediated dialogue might be more likely should Bamako fall into the hands of the jihadists. Governing a city of that scale, and securing cross-border flows of fuel and trade, would almost certainly need negotiated arrangements with neighbouring states which are hostile to the jihadists. In such a scenario, jihadist groups might accept a less hostile governing authority as part of a pragmatic settlement. Potential figures to lead or broker such a process include the exiled Imam Mahmoud Dicko. Even in exile, he wields influence over Malian politics.

A final scenario is one in which the jihadist coalition conquers Bamako and displaces the current regime. While an entry into the city is now imaginable, it would be much less likely that the jihadists could form a cohesive government. The groups that form the coalition have a long and convoluted history of splits, mergers and rivalries. They also have a conflictual relationship with the Islamic State – Sahel Province, the Sahelian branch of the Islamic State, which is active in eastern Mali.

If the jihadist coalition were to gain control of the capital, it is more than likely that the Islamic State would demand to be involved in the exercise of national power. This could fuel rivalries between the two groups. Somalia and Afghanistan have both experienced versions of this scenario.

The highly fluid and confused situation makes predictions about the likelihood of any of these scenarios highly speculative. What does seem clearer is that the crisis at the heart of the Sahel is not likely to be resolved in the near future.

Olivier Walther receives funding from the OECD.

Leonardo A. Villalón has previously received funding for academic research on the Sahel from the US Governments’s Minerva Initiative.

Alexander John Thurston, Baba Adou, and Cory Dakota Satter do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Jihadists have blockaded Mali’s capital. What’s at stake – https://theconversation.com/jihadists-have-blockaded-malis-capital-whats-at-stake-268692

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

Sudan has been embroiled in a civil war between the army and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces since April 2023, sparked by a power struggle between the two parties. The war has displaced more than 14 million people. Over half the population of about 50 million is facing acute levels of hunger.

Several mediation initiatives have been launched since the start of the war, with limited success. The African Union has also been unable to get the main warring parties to agree to a permanent ceasefire.

The four countries leading the main peace mediation effort (known as the Quad) are the US, Egypt, Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates. They issued a joint statement in September 2025, calling for a ceasefire in Sudan and offering a roadmap to end the internal conflict.

I’ve been researching Sudan for over a decade, and in my view, these countries’ capacity to deliver a final political settlement for Sudan is severely constrained.

The prospects for peace rest on the resolution of three factors:

• the sharp differences between the Sudanese army and the Quad over who should participate in post-war politics

• a widening rift between the main protagonists in the war on the terms of ending it

• internal divisions within the Quad – particularly between Egypt, the UAE and Saudi Arabia – over how to balance support for the army, curb Islamist influence and manage competing regional interests.

The Quad’s plan called for an immediate ceasefire, a three-month humanitarian truce and an inclusive political process to resolve disputes within nine months.

The statement was initially welcomed by the Rapid Support Forces and Sudan’s army leaders.

However, follow-up meetings between the Quad and representatives of the warring parties have failed to translate any of these proposals into action.

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Meanwhile, the paramilitary troops and their allies captured the city of El-Fasher in North Darfur after a bloody 500-day siege. This was the army’s last major stronghold in Darfur.

Darfur encompasses nearly 20% of Sudan’s territory. It borders Libya, Chad and the Central African Republic. The capture has fuelled concerns of a de facto partition of the country in the western region.

Against this backdrop, the Quad’s latest initiative seems unlikely to achieve more than a fragile ceasefire.

The obstacles

Efforts to broker peace in Sudan are hindered by three key challenges.

1. Diverging agendas between the Quad and the Sudanese army

Despite broad similarities between the Quad’s roadmap and a proposal the army submitted in March 2025 to the United Nations, key differences remain.

The core disagreement lies in the design of the political process to follow the ceasefire. The Quad insists that Islamist factions should be excluded from consultations over fears that these factions have close ties to terrorist groups and Iran. The army’s proposal, by contrast, opposes the exclusion of any party.

The military leadership has alliances with elements of the former Islamic Movement. Its fighters still help stabilise the army’s frontlines.

2. A widening gap between the army and Rapid Support Forces on the terms of ending the war

The army’s roadmap implicitly allows the paramilitary troops to remain in parts of Darfur for up to nine months, provided that local authorities consent. However, it also requires the withdrawal of the group from El-Fasher and North Kordofan.

The Rapid Support Forces’ behaviour on the ground reveals a very different mindset. Rather than preparing to withdraw, the group has expanded militarily in North Kordofan and intensified its drone attacks on Khartoum and other regions.

At its core, the dispute reflects conflicting end goals. The paramilitary group seeks to enter negotiations as an equal to the army. It wants a comprehensive restructuring of the armed forces. The army insists that it should be the only unit that supervises any reform of Sudan’s military institutions – the very issue that triggered the outbreak of war in 2023.

3. Internal divisions within the Quad

The Quad’s own cohesion has been undermined by internal rifts that have derailed several meetings. The most visible divide lies between Egypt and the UAE.

Cairo leans towards the army, seeing it as the guarantor of Sudan’s state institutions against collapse. Abu Dhabi prioritises dismantling the influence of Islamist leaders as the main precondition for peace.

Saudi Arabia is wary of Emirati involvement, especially since the Sudanese army has repeatedly rejected UAE mediation and the Rapid Support Forces has attacked Egyptian policy towards Sudan.

Washington has tried to manage these tensions by limiting direct mediation roles for Egypt, Saudi Arabia and the UAE while keeping them within the broader negotiation framework. These nations have significant leverage over the warring factions.

How Sudan got here

Sudan’s fragile transition began after the ousting of long-time ruler Omar al-Bashir in 2019.

An uneasy power-sharing arrangement between the army and civilian leaders collapsed in 2021 when army chief Abdel Fattah al-Burhan and Rapid Support Forces leader Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, known as Hemedti, jointly seized control in a coup. Their alliance fractured two years later and sparked the 2023 civil war.

Despite international pressure, neither side has given in or gained a decisive advantage since.

The conflict has been devastating for Sudan’s population of 50 million. Death toll reports since the start of the war have varied between 20,000 and 150,000 people. The country is facing the world’s worst displacement crisis, and health and education systems have collapsed. Further, more than 12 million girls and women, and an increasing number of men, are at risk of sexual violence.

Is breakthrough still possible?

Despite existing divisions, shifting dynamics on the ground could still produce a limited breakthrough.

The worst scenario for the military would be the paramilitary group’s renewed advance into territories it had been pushed out of.

That prospect might push army leaders to accept a preliminary ceasefire. This would allow the army to regroup and consolidate existing positions without conceding ground politically.

For the Rapid Support Forces, the calculation is different. After spending more than 18 months battling to capture El-Fasher, the group recognises that advancing further towards the capital would come at a high human and political cost. A temporary truce, therefore, could allow it to entrench its governance structures in Darfur and strengthen its military presence there.

In this sense, a short-term ceasefire remains the most practical outcome for both sides. Washington’s eagerness to secure conflict-ending deals is likely to push the Quad towards this scenario.

But a final political settlement in Sudan remains distant.

For now, the most any diplomatic initiative can achieve is to pause the fighting, not to end the war, as it remains difficult to bridge the political gaps between Sudanese powers.

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. Peace in Sudan? 3 reasons why mediation hasn’t worked so far – https://theconversation.com/peace-in-sudan-3-reasons-why-mediation-hasnt-worked-so-far-268541

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Laura Tensen, Assistant Professor, University of Greifswald

Biologists often form deep bonds with the species they study. For some, that relationship begins early in their careers and shapes decades of research. The connection can be personal, even affectionate, but it can also create tensions when others set their sights on the same species.

In biology, certain plants and animals are considered “charismatic species” by the general public. They capture the public imagination through beauty, uniqueness, or cultural significance. Think giant pandas, tigers, or orchids.

Many scientists are drawn to these charismatic species, but that does not always mean they have the opportunity to study them. Competition can be fierce in some academic fields.

We conducted research on these charismatic species, to understand how this field may exclude some academics and give the monopoly on research to others.

Research monopolisation can have several negative effects. For instance, samples may be less commonly shared between scientists. It may even impede an academic’s progress. This can be in the form of sabotaging a competitor’s work, stealing creative ideas and performing biased peer review of funding proposals and publications.

This behaviour doesn’t just harm individual researchers. It can weaken scientific integrity, stifle creativity and drive talented people out of academia. And while our study focused on biology, the patterns are likely echoed across competitive academic fields where prestige and resources are limited.

Charismatic species are easy to love and they’re also good for science. Research on these species attracts more funding, more media coverage, and more space in prestigious journals. But popularity comes with a cost. Our new study reveals that working on these species often fuels competition and, in some cases, fosters exclusionary behaviour.

Over 18 months, we examined academic exclusion in the biological sciences: where established researchers try to prevent potential competitors from studying their preferred animal or plant. We surveyed 826 academics across 90 countries and analysed 800 scientific papers.

The results were striking. We found a positive correlation between a species’ charisma and the impact and volume of scientific outputs. That highlights the benefits of studying such species for a researcher’s prestige and career prospects. But studying charismatic species also tended to increase the likelihood of negative workplace experiences. Younger colleagues, women and researchers based in the regions where the species actually live were the ones who suffered.

Competition and monopolies

Nearly half (46%) of survey participants said they had encountered some form of research monopolisation. Respondents linked charismatic species to greater difficulty obtaining permits or samples, strained relationships with colleagues, and cliquey work environments.

We also found a striking imbalance in participation. Researchers from universities in North America and Europe frequently studied species in Africa, South America and Asia – but the reverse was rarely true. For instance, the eastern barred bandicoot (Perameles gunnii) occurs and was only studied in Australia. The striped skunk (Mephitis mephitis) occurs in the US, where it was studied. But the Malayan culogo (Galeopterus variegatus) was commonly studied by institutions outside Malaysia, as was the aye aye (Paradoxurus hermaphroditus) from Madagascar. This pattern was less pronounced for non-charismatic species.

The result is a skewed scientific landscape. Non-charismatic species, despite their ecological importance, are often underfunded and overlooked.

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Career advantages and disadvantages

For those who secure access to charismatic species, the career payoffs can be enormous. Working on them tends to result in more publications, higher citation rates and more opportunities for international collaboration.

The largest collaborative effort we found was for the charismatic cheetah (Acinonyx jubatus), with a total of 50 authors, 37 institutions and 21 countries on one paper. This effort was rewarded with a journal impact factor of 11.1 and 193 citations, showing the benefit to be gained from collaborating. These advantages feed into the academic reward system, where prestige and productivity often dictate career progression.

A journal with an impact factor of 2-3 is considered solid in most fields, 5-10 is highly regarded, and 15+ is exceptional, usually limited to big multidisciplinary journals like Nature or Science. Only a small fraction of academics (perhaps the top 5%-10%) regularly publish in those very high impact journals. Citations vary hugely by discipline and career stage. A typical early-career researcher might have 20-100 citations total, whereas established mid-career academics often have a few hundred to a few thousand.

Our study also highlights the darker side of this system. Early-career scientists and women reported higher rates of exclusion, including refusals to collaborate, appropriation of research ideas and even harassment.

Gender inequities are particularly stark, despite the biological sciences having a much more even gender balance than most other science fields. Women were less likely to participate in international collaborations, which are strongly linked to career advancement. And when women did lead studies, their papers received fewer citations than those with male first or last authors.

The first author is usually the person who did most of the hands-on work – designing the study, collecting and analysing data, and writing the first draft. The last author is typically the senior researcher or group leader who supervised the project, secured funding and guided the work conceptually. In total, of all first authors, 69% were men, and of all last authors, 81% were men. Male dominance differed depending on the study species, where charismatic mammal species scored relatively high.

Productivity in academia manifests itself in publication rates, publication visibility and citation patterns. These can have a cumulative advantage and lead to substantial inequality among researchers. In our survey, 51% of female respondents reported gender-based discrimination.

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Editorial boards also play a role. Many biodiversity conservation journals have male-dominated boards and a bias towards publishing studies on charismatic species. Species preference intertwines with gender inequity. For instance, studies on large carnivores are known to be historically male-dominated, and this association may give men a head start in their careers.

Rethinking incentives

What can be done? One solution is to broaden how scientific success is measured. Instead of focusing so heavily on academic output – publications, citations and journal impact factors – institutions and funders could also value contributions such as community engagement, public communication and policy impact.

This may reduce cumulative advantage in science and increase a sense of fairness, hopefully reversing the subtle ways in which organisational logistics serve to perpetuate disparities in academic institutions.

Such measures are becoming increasingly important in biodiversity conservation, where connecting science with society is essential. By shifting incentives, we may reduce the negative side-effects that arise from competition.

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University ranking systems are being rejected. African institutions should take note

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Scientists themselves also have a role to play. Instead of racing to publish first, research groups could coordinate their work, share data and agree on joint publication strategies. Collaboration over competition could benefit everyone, not least the species that need protecting.

Charisma may help a species capture attention, but it shouldn’t determine who gets to study it, or who gets to succeed in science.

Laura Tensen 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. Some animals are more equal than others: the dark side of researching popular species – https://theconversation.com/some-animals-are-more-equal-than-others-the-dark-side-of-researching-popular-species-266306

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Alan Whitfield, Emeritus Chief Scientist, NRF-SAIAB, National Research Foundation

The origins and migrations of modern humans around the world are a hot topic of debate. Genetic analyses have pointed to Africa as the continent from which our ancestors dispersed in the Late Pleistocene epoch, which began about 126,000 years ago. Various dispersal routes have been suggested.

As a group of scientists who have been studying human evolution, we propose in a recently published review paper that the coast of southern Africa was likely where Homo sapiens began this worldwide journey. We suggest that some people started leaving this area about 70,000 years ago, took a route along the east coast and left the continent about 50,000 to 40,000 years ago.

We base this hypothesis on various kinds of evidence, including geography, climate and environment, marine food resources, genetics, trace fossils, and the technical and cultural abilities of people in that region at that time. The reasons for migration and the advantages of a coastal route out of Africa, compared to an inland route, are outlined in our review.

This proposed route is counter to the current belief among most scientists that the Out-of-Africa migration began in eastern Africa and not southern Africa.

A southern Cape origin?

In our review we accepted that modern humans arose in Africa during the Middle Stone Age about 200,000 years ago and then replaced populations of hominins outside the continent between 60,000 and 40,000 years ago.

We suggested that their African origin was in the southern Cape region of what’s now South Africa, and that their migration along the eastern African coastline and onto the Arabian Peninsula may have happened over a period of less than 20,000 years.

In reviewing available evidence, we focused on the possibility that our ancestors in coastal South Africa were ideally placed to colonise the world. They had an enabling culture that allowed them to survive almost anywhere.

The Pinnacle Point cave complex and other sites in this area are a UNESCO World Heritage Site because they provide the most varied and best-preserved record known of the development of modern human behaviour, reaching back as far as 162,000 years.

Food from the sea, like shellfish, set southern Cape Homo sapiens on their evolutionary path to becoming advanced modern humans. They had an advantage over those who relied solely on hunting and food gathering inland, especially during cold and dry periods on the African subcontinent. The harnessing of bow and arrow technology was also key for their success when compared to other hominins during the same period.

Climate and culture

Episodes of global cooling, also known as ice ages, resulted in a global lowering of sea levels, and had two main effects in Africa. One was that the width of the Red Sea between the Horn of Africa and the Arabian Peninsula narrowed. The other was that in the southern Cape, a vast coastal plain was exposed, providing extra habitat and plenty of food.

Increased cognitive capacity to interpret lunar cycles would have allowed ancestral humans to undertake timed excursions to the shore over spring tidal periods. The predictable coastal food sources might also, however, have led to inter-group conflict and territoriality, which could have played a role in the exodus of groups of people from the southern Cape.

In other parts of the world, there was a cold, dry period from 190,000 years to 130,000 years ago. And the dark, long “winter” after the Mount Toba (Indonesia) super-eruption 74,000 years ago would have reduced food resources in tropical regions. Hominins in the southern Cape appear to have survived these major global climate change events and continued to advance both culturally and technologically. We know something about these advances from research at cave sites such as Klasies River, Blombos and Pinnacle Point. Forms of ancient art have been found in these caves, indicating cognitively advanced humans.

Technical advances meant that the tools carried by these people on their journey were “state of the art” for 70,000 years ago – more advanced than those possessed by other humans encountered on their migration northwards.

Evidence mounts

In summary, the idea of a coastal migration out of Africa is based on:

• the earliest evidence for humans consuming seafood and developing adaptations for living close to the sea shore about 162,000 years ago

• the first evidence of dedicated coastal foraging for seafood, which may have enhanced our ancestors’ cognitive capacity

• the first “recipes” in early human food preparation around 82,000 years ago

• among the earliest reports of bone tool technology from around 100,000 years ago, which may have been used to make complex clothing and shoes

• the regular use of pigments such as red ochre as early as 162,000 years ago

• palaeoart in the form of engravings in ochre dated 100,000 to 85,000 years ago, and a drawing using an ochre crayon dated to 73,000 years ago

• the earliest evidence for making small stone blades around 71,000 years ago

• the earliest evidence for heat treatment of stone to produce advanced tools and weapons

• use of jewellery for adornment

• survival during a period of climate change following the Mount Toba eruption

• complementary evidence from the trace fossil (ichnology) record from the same region and time period. This includes the oldest reported use of sticks by humans, and the oldest reported evidence of humans jogging or running.

When the era of global cooling ended about 18,000 years ago and sea levels rose again, almost all of this Pleistocene landscape would have been covered by water. So it’s remarkable that so much evidence still exists.

There is no equivalent evidence of an advanced modern human presence from eastern Africa or anywhere else in the world.

Why migrate?

Why would some people choose to move and migrate? It is likely that increasing pressure from successful, growing, competing bands of humans, combined with climatic and environmental changes and a limited number of suitable cave occupation sites, provided a trigger for an initial eastward and then north-eastward migration.

At the same time, advanced cognition skills would have permitted increasing intra-group co-operation, enabling these humans to make their remarkable journey.

We think a coastal migration up and out of Africa was more likely to succeed than an overland migration. The reasons include the availability of seafood, fresh water, level ground, warm temperatures and fewer big, dangerous animals along the intertidal coastline. It seems there weren’t other people in the way either: for example, there is no evidence of an equivalent culture associated with the sea on the eastern coast of Africa.

The lack of suitable coastal caves to live in north of South Africa may have encouraged human clans to keep moving up the coast.

Out of Africa

The exit from the Horn of Africa into the Arabian Peninsula was distinctly feasible from 60,000 years ago onwards. Records from the Red Sea indicate that sea levels in the region were about 100 metres below present levels 65,000 years ago.

Our examination of the available evidence points to the southern Cape coast as a cradle of modern human development. The people of this region were ideally placed 70,000 years ago to undertake a quick and effective migration out of Africa, and then around the world.

Francis Thackeray has received funding from the National Research Foundation.

Nothing to disclose.

Alan Whitfield, Charles Helm, and Renee Rust do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Where did the first people come from? The case for a coastal migration from southern Africa – https://theconversation.com/where-did-the-first-people-come-from-the-case-for-a-coastal-migration-from-southern-africa-267299

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By David E Kiwuwa, Associate Professor of International Studies, University of Nottingham

For the first time ever, the opposition parties in Cameroon have come “close” to unseating 92-year-old Paul Biya, who has run the country since 1982.

The stiffest competition for Biya in the 2025 election came from 76-year-old Tchiroma Bakary, a former ally and government spokesperson, who contested on the platform of Cameroon National Salvation Front. He won more than 35% of the vote – the second highest ever scored by an opposition candidate since Biya has been contesting. Though it was one of the best performances by opposition parties in Cameroon since 1992, the opposition suffered from its failure to present a united front and field a single candidate.

Biya once again triumphed, albeit with a reduced majority of 53.66%. Other candidates scored a combined 11%. His previous win in 2018 was at 71.28% against Maurice Kamto’s 14.23%.

This result is at variance with Bakary claiming overwhelming victory at the polls with 60%. His claims have been dismissed by the constitutional court and the electoral commission.

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Read more:
Paul Biya at 92: will defections weaken his grip on absolute power in Cameroon?

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Biya’s controversial win has resulted in countrywide protests and a crackdown resulting in causalties.

I am a long time scholar of and political commentator on African politics, regime types and democratic governance with a keen interest in Cameroon.

I argue that Cameroon is at an inflection point, where Biya’s triumph might herald a “quiet” resignation to see through one of the world’s longest presidencies. For Biya, the to-do list couldn’t have got any longer. For Cameroon and the continent, democracy is yet again being asked hard questions with no obvious answers.

Divided opposition

Determined by a simple majority, the election meant that Biya – sometimes described as the absent landlord due to his prolonged stay outside Cameroon – only needed a sliver of support to triumph for a life term presidency. His new seven-year term of office ends in 2032, by which time he would be close to 100 years old.

Though his share of the vote fell by about 20 percentage points, he triumphed again because of the perennial challenges faced by the opposition.

Failure to coalesce around a single unifying candidate meant that the opposition with 11 candidates was still seen as divided.

With all state apparatus, especially the constitutional court, stacked against the opposition, it was not surprising that they were fighting a losing battle from the start.

The challenges ahead are monumental.

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Read more:
Cameroon’s election risks instability, no matter who wins

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The road ahead

Biya has a full in-tray.

With dissatisfaction running high, one of the core priorities is to ensure the political stability of his regime. Recent forced regime changes in west Africa, and very recently in Madagascar, would perhaps give pause for thought about the vulnerability of the regime.

It is possible that sustained political upheaval could provoke a palace coup, as Gabon attests. That said, Biya’s effort to coup proof his regime with loyalist military co-ethnics, the Betis, appears to have bought him some comfort. Many of the senior officers’ fate would be intertwined with Biya’s.

The reality that his reported triumph comes with a much reduced mandate would mean re-asserting legitimacy will be another priority. Biya will have to work to establish or “enforce” his legitimacy both domestically and internationally.

The South West continues to be a place of concern. With the Anglophone crisis – caused by perceived marginalisation of the Anglophone south-west – still festering, the election result may galvanise the rebellion in the hope that renewed active hostilities may create conditions for willingness to settle the conflict before Biya bows out.

There is no question that Biya has entered into the last mile of his life presidency. It is inevitable that the political elite jostling for post Biya relevance will become more pronounced.

This infighting could destabilise the regime and make it a challenge to hold course. Ambitious elites may abandon Biya’s ship, as Bakary did.

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Read more:
Cameroon after Paul Biya: poverty, uncertainty and a precarious succession battle

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On the campaign trail, Biya promised especially the young Cameroonians and women that their “best is yet to come”. He was acutely aware of the high level of dissatisfaction and his regime will be pressed to address their plight.

According to the World Bank, about 40% of Cameroonians live below the poverty line. Urban unemployment is running at 35% and many educated youths face challenges in obtaining formal employment.

A 2024 Afrobarometer survey says 51% of young Cameroonians have considered emigrating.

The perennial challenges of systemic corruption, service delivery, poverty and slow growth persist. Today, the average Cameroonian is no more wealthy than in 1986. How Biya’s new term attends to this will be crucial to temporarily assuaging pent up frustration.

As the 92-year-old Biya begins another term of office along with the president of the constitutional court, Clement Atangana (84), chief of staff Claude Meka (86), president of the senate Marcel Niat (90) and national assembly speaker Cavaye Yegue (85), Cameroon should confidently be looking at a generational shift after the Biya era.

David E Kiwuwa 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. Paul Biya’s life presidency in Cameroon enters a fragile final phase – https://theconversation.com/paul-biyas-life-presidency-in-cameroon-enters-a-fragile-final-phase-268429

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Solaja Mayowa Oludele, Lecturing, Olabisi Onabanjo University

Every year humanity produces nearly 300 million tonnes of plastic. Only a fraction ever gets recycled. Most ends up in rivers, oceans and soil, slowly breaking down into tiny, invisible microplastics that get into what we eat and drink.

Decades of recycling drives and policy bans have not altered the deep-rooted behaviours behind this crisis.
But what if the next big environmental solution isn’t a new law or technology – but a game?

I am an environmental sociologist and behaviour change researcher from Nigeria. I developed a game called EcoBall in 2023 as a social innovation that makes sport a tool for sustainability.

The concept is discussed in my peer-reviewed paper.

EcoBall reimagines football as a discipline of training for environmental stewardship. Instead of chasing goals alone, teams compete to collect, sort and creatively reuse plastic waste. Each match becomes a live demonstration of the circular economy – the idea that materials should be reused, not discarded.

Here I describe how the game works, why it influences people’s behaviour, and what we found when we tested it in Nigerian schools and youth clubs.

Three zones, one planet

An EcoBall match uses a real ball made from tightly woven recycled plastic bags – the “EcoBall” itself. Two or more teams compete across three timed “learning zones”, combining physical play with environmental tasks.

• Collection zone (10-15 minutes): To start play, the ball is placed at the centre of the field. Players pass and dribble it like they would in football or handball. The pitch or play area is scattered with lightweight, clean plastic litter. Teams race to gather the litter from the designated area and place it in a team bag or collection net along the sidelines before rejoining the game. Points are awarded for the amount and diversity of plastics collected.

• Sorting zone: Back on the pitch, players classify the plastics correctly (PET bottles, sachets, nylon wrappers and so on). Accurate sorting earns additional points and practical recycling knowledge. Teams earn points for goals and for the quantity or weight of litter collected.

• Creative zone: After each game, the collected plastics are sorted and delivered to recycling or upcycling partners. Using selected materials, teams craft new items – from art pieces to flower planters or even another EcoBall. Judges score on creativity, teamwork and utility.

Participants also engage in short reflective or educational sessions to discuss plastic pollution, sustainability habits, and collective responsibility.

The champion is not only the fastest but also the team with the most environmental impact.

What seems to be a game is really learning through doing. Participants learn sustainability not by being preached at but by doing it, competing and relishing their achievements together.

The psychology behind the game

EcoBall draws on two social-science ideas: the theory of planned behaviour and social capital theory. The first explains why people adopt sustainable habits. By making recycling fun, social and rewarding, EcoBall reshapes attitudes and perceived norms – the key drivers of behaviour.

The second highlights the power of trust and networks. EcoBall builds these bonds as teams collaborate and share victories, creating social momentum that keeps environmental action alive long after the game ends.

In designing and evaluating EcoBall, I combined these theories with research on sport-for-development and environmental education. Where I was both participant-observer and referee, the assessment compared data from questionnaires, focus groups and observation diaries. The design allowed for transparency, credibility, and contextual validity in interpretation of EcoBall’s impact on environmental attitudes and behaviours.

Tested on the field

Pilot sessions were conducted at several schools and youth clubs across Ogun State to ascertain the level to which EcoBall enhances environmental awareness, cooperation and pro-active participation in plastic litter removal.

The pilots were community-led and research-motivated and were supported by small donations from local NGOs and schools, and recycling businesses which provided gloves, collection bags and bins.

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Read more:
Plastic pollution in Nigeria: whose job is it to clean up the mess?

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Instructors reported increased cooperation and leadership. Players described being more responsible for their surroundings, and some of them formed neighbourhood clean-up clubs which extended weeks beyond the games. While the long-term effect is yet to be studied, these early findings show that EcoBall is likely to induce actual behavioural change.

From waste to wealth

EcoBall also shows that environmental action can create livelihoods.
In one pilot, students built benches and flower planters from bottles gathered during matches. Others began selling up-cycled crafts, while the organisation of events – coaching, logistics and recycling partnerships – generated new work opportunities.

Such experiences echo the circular-economy principle of turning waste into worth.

Uniting generations and communities

Because EcoBall requires little equipment – just gloves, bags and open space – it thrives in low-resource communities.

The design was intentionally simple, ensuring accessibility and inclusion where conventional sports infrastructure is absent.

Although EcoBall is inexpensive to initiate, its long-term delivery as a structured sport-for-development and environmental education programme requires sustained funding. Investment is needed for facilitator training, community engagement, and monitoring activities. This is typical of community interventions: low-cost to launch but funding-dependent to sustain and scale.

Children, parents, and grandparents can play together, bridging generations and backgrounds. This shared passion generates a feeling of ownership of public spaces and renewed pride in keeping them clean.

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Read more:
Not sure how to keep your kids busy and happy these holidays? Here are five tips.

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Schools are able to incorporate EcoBall into extracurricular activities, municipalities can organise tournaments tied in with cleanup initiatives, and corporations can make it part of their corporate social responsibility initiatives.

Following early successes, two NGOs that work with youth development have begun using EcoBall in their environmental clubs, and discussions are underway with the National Youth Service Corps to introduce it into community services.

Challenges and opportunities

No innovation is challenge-free. EcoBall needs consistent funding, materials and cultural adaptation. Keeping players engaged may require creative incentives – such as mobile apps to track points or online leaderboards connecting communities globally.

Yet these hurdles create opportunities. A “World EcoBall Cup” could one day unite cities or nations, rewarding those who divert the most plastic from the environment.

Instead of medals, winners would boast cleaner beaches and thriving circular economies.

Play for the planet

The global plastic crisis demands solutions that move people, not just policies.

EcoBall does exactly that – bringing sport together with green purpose and demonstrating that climate action has the power to be human, inclusive and fun.

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Read more:
Informal waste collection shouldn’t let plastic polluters off the hook: here’s why

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It is not the sole responsibility of scientists or policymakers to fight pollution. It belongs to everyone willing to pick up a ball – or a bottle – and make a difference.

Solaja Mayowa Oludele 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. Ecoball: how to turn picking up litter into a game for kids – https://theconversation.com/ecoball-how-to-turn-picking-up-litter-into-a-game-for-kids-267888

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Pritish Behuria, Reader in Politics, Governance and Development, Global Development Institute, University of Manchester

How successful is luxury tourism in Africa? What happens if it fails to produce higher tourism revenues: can it be reversed? And does it depend on what kind of government is in place?

Pritish Behuria is a scholar of the political economy of development who has conducted a study in Botswana, Mauritius and Rwanda to find answers to questions like this. We asked him about his findings.

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What is luxury tourism and how prevalent is it in Africa?

Luxury tourism aims to attract high-spending tourists to stay at premium resorts and lodges or visit exclusive attractions. It’s a strategy that’s being adopted widely by governments around the world and also in African countries.

It’s been promoted by multilateral agencies like the World Bank and the United Nations, as well as environmental and conservation organisations.

The logic underlying luxury tourism is that if fewer, high-spending tourists visit, this will result in less environmental impact. It’s often labelled as a “high-value, low-impact” approach.

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Read more:
Why your holiday flight is still not being powered by sustainable aviation fuel

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However, studies have shown that luxury tourism does not lead to reduced environmental impact. Luxury tourists are more likely to use private jets. Private jets are more carbon intense than economy class travel. Supporters of luxury tourism also ignore that it reinforces economic inequalities, commercialises nature and restricts land access for indigenous populations.

In some ways, of course, the motives of African countries seem understandable. They remain starved of much-needed foreign exchange in the face of rising trade deficits. The allure of luxury tourism seems almost impossible to resist.

How did you go about your study?

I have been studying the political economy of Rwanda for nearly 15 years. The government there made tourism a central part of its national vision.

Over the years, many government officials and tourism stakeholders highlighted the challenges of luxury tourism strategies. Even so, there remains a single-mindedness to prioritise luxury tourism.

I found that, in Rwanda, luxury tourism resulted in a reliance on foreign-owned hotels and foreign travel agents, exposing potential leakages in tourism revenues. Crucially, tourism was not creating enough employment. There was also a skills lag in the sector. Employees were not being trained quickly enough to meet the surge of investments in hotels.

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Read more:
What cost-of-living crisis? Luxury travel is booming – and set to grow further

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So I decided to investigate the effects of luxury tourism in other African countries. I wanted to know who benefits and how it is being reversed in countries that are turning away from it.

I interviewed government officials, hotel owners and other private sector representatives, aviation officials, consultants and journalists in all three countries. Added to this was a thorough review of economic data, industry reports and grey literature (including newspaper articles).

What are your take-aways from Mauritius?

Mauritius was the first of the three countries to explicitly adopt a luxury tourism strategy. In the late 1970s and early 1980s the government began to encourage European visitors to the island’s “sun-sand-sea” attractions. Large domestic business houses became lead investors, building luxury hotels and buying coastal land.

Over the years, tourism has provided significant revenues for the Mauritian economy. By 2019, the economy was earning over US$2 billion from the sector (before dropping during the COVID pandemic).

However, tourism has also been symbolic of the inequality that has characterised Mauritius’ growth. The all-inclusive resort model – where luxury hotels take care of all of a visitor’s food and travel needs themselves – has meant that the money being spent by tourists doesn’t always enter the local economy. A large share of profits remains outside the country or with large hotels.

After the pandemic, the Mauritian government took steps to loosen its focus on luxury tourism. It opened its air space to attract a broader range of tourists and re-started direct flights to Asia. There’s growing agreement within government that the opening up of tourism will go some way towards sustaining revenues and employment in the sector. Especially as some other key sectors (like offshore finance) may face an uncertain future.

And from Botswana?

Botswana followed Mauritius by formally adopting a luxury tourism strategy in 1990. Its focus was on its wilderness areas (the Okavango Delta) and wildlife safari lodges. For decades, there were criticisms from scholars about the inequalities in the sector.

Most lodges and hotels were foreign owned. Most travel agencies that booked all-inclusive trips operated outside Botswana. There were very few domestic linkages. Very little domestic agricultural or industrial production was used within the sector.

However, I found that the direction of tourism policies had also become increasingly political. Certain politicians were aligned with conservation organisations and foreign investors in prioritising luxury tourism. Former president Ian Khama, for example, banned trophy hunting on ethical grounds in 2014. He pushed photographic tourism, where travellers visit destinations mainly to take photos. But critics allege he and his allies benefited from the push for photographic tourism.

Photographic tourism is closely linked with the problematic promotion of “unspoilt” wilderness areas that conform to foreign ideas about the “myth of wild Africa”.

President Mokgweetsi Masisi reversed the hunting ban once he took power. He argued it had adverse effects on rural communities and increased human-wildlife conflict. He believed that regulated hunting could be a tool for better wildlife management and could produce more benefits for communities.

Since the latter 2010s, Botswana’s government has loosened the emphasis on luxury tourism and tried to diversify tourism offerings. It has relaxed visa regulations for Asian countries, for example, to allow a wider range of tourists to visit more easily.

What about Rwanda?

Of the three cases, Rwanda was the most recent to adopt a luxury tourism strategy. However, it has remained the most committed to this strategy. Rwanda’s model is centred on mountain gorilla trekking and premium wildlife experiences. It’s augmented by Rwanda’s attempt to become a hub for business and sports tourism through high-profile conferences and events.

Rwanda invited global hotel brands (like the Hyatt and Marriott) to build hotels and invested heavily in the country’s “nation brand” through sponsoring sports teams. The “luxury” element is managed through maintaining a high price to visit the country’s main tourist attraction: mountain gorillas. Rwanda is one of the few countries where mountain gorillas live.

After the pandemic, the government lowered prices to visit mountain gorillas but has also regularly stated its commitment to luxury tourism.

What did you learn by comparing the three?

I wanted to know why some countries reverse luxury tourism strategies once they fail while others don’t.

It is quite clear that luxury tourism strategies will always have disadvantages. As this study shows, luxury tourism repeatedly benefits only very few actors (often foreign investors or foreign-owned entities) and does not create sufficient employment or provide wider benefits for domestic populations. My research shows that the political pressure faced by democratic governments (like Botswana and Mauritius) forced them to loosen their luxury tourism strategies. This was not the case in more authoritarian Rwanda.

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Read more:
Travelling in 2025? Here’s how to become a ‘regenerative’ tourist

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Rwanda’s position goes against a lot of recent literature on African political economy, which argues that parties with a stronger hold on power would be able to deliver better development outcomes.

While that may be case in some sectors, the findings of this study suggest that weaker political parties may actually be more responsive to changing policies that are creating inequality than countries with stronger political parties in power.

Pritish Behuria is a recipient of the British Academy Mid-Career Fellowship 2024-2025 (MFSS24/240043).

– ref. Luxury tourism is a risky strategy for African economies – new study of Botswana, Mauritius, Rwanda – https://theconversation.com/luxury-tourism-is-a-risky-strategy-for-african-economies-new-study-of-botswana-mauritius-rwanda-267877

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Chibuzo Achinivu, Visiting Assistant Professor of Political Science, Vassar College

Digital authoritarianism is a new way governments are trying to control citizens using digital and information technology. It is a growing concern for advocacy groups and those interested in freedom and democracy. It is especially worrying for those who initially heralded digital and information technologies as liberating tools that would spread information more easily for citizens.

I have studied the rise of digital authoritarianism in Africa over the last two decades. My most recent study focused on Nigeria, and its turn to digital tools for control after the 2020 #EndSARS Movement protests.

I found that local conflict and development needs drive the Nigerian government’s demand for digital authoritarianism technologies. Foreign suppliers of these technologies are motivated by both economic gain and influence in the region.

The findings are important. Firstly, it signals that the trend of using digital spaces to control populations has reached the African continent. It also shows that the trend is facilitated by foreign actors that provide governments with the technology and expertise.

What is digital authoritarianism?

One way to understand the concept of digital authoritarianism is as a form of governance or set of actions aimed at undermining accountability. It is the use of digital technologies for this goal.

Technology is used to repress voices, keep people under surveillance, and manipulate populations for regime goals and survival.

It includes but is not limited to internet and social media shutdowns. It prioritises the use of spyware to hack and monitor people through their devices. There is mass surveillance using artificial intelligence for facial recognition, and misinformation and disinformation propaganda campaigns.

What drives it in Africa

In Africa these actions are popping up in democracies like Nigeria and in autocracies alike. Perhaps the noticeable difference between these two types of governments is the subtlety of their form of digital authoritarianism and the legal recourse when such actions are unearthed.

Both governance types make claims of national security and public safety to justify these tactics. For instance, former Nigerian information minister Lai Mohammed claimed the 2020 Twitter ban was due to “the persistent use of the platform for activities that are capable of undermining Nigeria’s corporate existence”.

Autocracies are often cruder with their use of blatant tactics. They employ internet and social media shutdowns. This is often due to their unsophisticated digital authoritarianism apparatuses. Democracies often rely on more subtle surveillance and misinformation campaigns to reach their goals.

This all begs the question: what are the drivers of this trend? There are four clear ones:

• regime survival/political control

• security and counterterrorism

• electoral competition and information manipulation

• modernisation agendas (development).

On the rise

In the African context digital authoritarianism is on the rise. There’s a cohesive relationship between the foreign suppliers of the hardware, expertise and domestic demand. This demand stems from authoritarian regimes as well as regimes accessing digital systems to consolidate and modernise. There are also hybrid regimes, which are countries with a mixture democratic and authoritarian institutions.

States like China, Russia, Israel, France and the US supply both the technology and instruction or best practices to African regimes. Reasons for supply include economic gain and regional influence.

On the demand side, African regimes seek out digital authoritarianism tools mainly for development needs and for conflict resolution. Some of the largest consumers are Kenya, Rwanda, Uganda, Nigeria and Ghana.

The study

I found there was evidence that Nigeria’s development goals and efforts to quell conflicts drive the use of technology to repress its people. Using the example of the #EndSARS movement, social media platform shutdowns and efforts to build a firewall akin to China’s great firewall serve as evidence for this.

In the days following Twitter’s removal of a post by President Muhammadu Buhari, Twitter was banned in Nigeria. The administration cited its use to further unrest, instability, and secessionist movements. There were claims that this step was taken to maintain internet sovereignty.

However, the ban also undermined social movements that were successfully holding the government accountable. Following domestic and international outcry over the ban, there were reports that the Nigerian government had approached China. The purpose of the contact was to replicate their “Great Firewall” in Nigeria’s internet control apparatus. (The focus of China’s project is to monitor and censor what can and cannot be seen through an online network in China.) This would allow the state to manage access to certain cites and block unwanted content from reaching Nigerians.

On the supply side, China’s economic commitments to the country and concerted efforts to cultivate certain norms in the country and region offer insights into the motivations for supply in this case and the broader continent.

Again, regime type dictates just how these technologies will be used. Interviews conducted with permanent secretaries and ministers of Nigerian ministries were particularly revealing. They confirmed that repressive government practices in the real world are informing their activity in digital spaces.

For instance, they intimated that the repression that occurs during protests in the streets in order to manage “lawlessness” is being replicated online. Its purpose is to ensure peace and stability.

For development needs, countries like Nigeria initially seek out foreign suppliers to furnish them with state of the art technology systems. The objective is to establish or refurbish their information and communications technology apparatuses.

These include but are not limited to national broadband networks) such as fiber optic networks, mobile telecommunications networks and smart city governance systems. Though these are often not repressive in nature, they are capable of dual use. Thus, these development needs provide technologies that are then utilized in an authoritarian fashion for state building goals.

There is also evidence that some suppliers provide instruction on how to use these technologies for repression. In some instances, under the guise of development needs, regimes seek out more repressive tools such as spyware alongside these infrastructural development programs. At this stage, the boundary between development and security blurs, as modernization becomes a vehicle for national security, cyber defense, regime protection, and information control.

What can be done?

I propose a three-pronged approach to address the three drivers. First of all, more has to be done on the international front to curb the sale of repressive tools to states. There must be a conversation about the norms of these technologies and their use for repression in both democracies and autocracies.

On the demand side, it appears those practices that have plagued the hopes of freedom and democracy in the real world have to be addressed. Naturally, no movement on the digital front is complete without a real world manifestation. It seems logical that eradicating digital repression necessitates addressing repression in general.

Finally, regulatory legal and institutional oversight alongside human rights benchmarks must be achieved. These will accompany digital and privacy rights in cyberspace.

Chibuzo Achinivu 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 government is using digital technology to repress citizens. A researcher explains how – https://theconversation.com/nigerias-government-is-using-digital-technology-to-repress-citizens-a-researcher-explains-how-267032