Category: The Conversation – Africa

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Malyn Newitt, Emeritus Professor in History, King’s College London

The Zambezi is Africa’s fourth longest river, flowing through six countries: Angola, Zambia, Namibia, Botswana, Zimbabwe and Mozambique, where it becomes the largest river to flow into the Indian Ocean.

The entire length of the river is referred to as the Zambezi Valley region and it carries with it a rich history of movement, conquest and commerce.

Great Britain colonised Zambia, Botswana and Zimbabwe; Germany colonised Namibia. The beginning and the end of the Zambezi, in Angola and Mozambique, were Portuguese colonies.

Malyn Newitt is a historian of Portuguese colonialism in Africa and has written numerous books on the subject, and one on the Zambezi in particular. We asked him about this history.

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When and how did the Portuguese encounter the Zambezi?

The Portuguese were the first Europeans to establish permanent relations with the peoples of sub-Saharan Africa. After the explorer Vasco da Gama’s successful return voyage from Europe to India (1497-1499) the Portuguese heard about the gold trade being carried on in the ports of the Zambezi River. By the middle of the 1500s they were trading there, from their bases on the coast of modern Mozambique. From Sofala and Mozambique Island, they sent agents to the gold trading fairs inland.

Between 1569 and 1575 a Portuguese military expedition tried to conquer the gold producing regions of what became known as Mashonaland (today part of Zimbabwe). This failed, but permanent settlements were made in the Zambezi valley from which Portuguese control was gradually extended over the river up to the Cahora Bassa gorge in modern Mozambique.

Portuguese adventurers, with their locally recruited private armies, began to control large semi-feudal land holdings known as prazos. These reached their greatest extent in the mid-1600s.

During the 1700s and early 1800s the area of Portuguese control was limited to the Zambezi valley. Here the elite of Afro-Portuguese prazo holders traded gold and slaves.

The first half of the 1800s saw drought, the migrations of the Nguni (spurred by Zulu-led wars in southern Africa) and the continuing slave trade. During these disturbed conditions, Afro-Portuguese warlords raised private armies and extended their control up the river. They went as far as Kariba (on the border between modern Zambia and Zimbabwe) and through much of the escarpment country north and south of the river.

This eventually brought them into conflict with Britain, whose agents were expanding their activities from South Africa. It resulted in an 1891 agreement which drew the frontiers in and around the Zambezi valley which still exist today.

Who are the people who live along the river?

The people who have inhabited the length of the Zambezi valley have often been generically referred to as Tonga. For the most part they’ve organised their lives in small, lineage-based settlements. Their economy is based on crop growing and occupations relating to trade and navigation on the river.

Because of the lack of any centralised political organisation, the valley communities were often dominated by the powerful kingdoms on the north and south of the river. This might involve raiding and enslavement or simply paying tribute to the kings. On the upper reaches of the river in Zambia, populations became subject to the large Barotse kingdom in the 1800s.

On the lower river many of the people came under the overlordship of prazos. They worked as carriers, artisans, boatmen and soldiers. Because of the extensive gold and ivory trade, a fine tradition of goldsmith work developed and men became skilled elephant hunters.

Throughout history, valley communities have often been loosely organised around spirit shrines with mediums. These are very influential in providing stability and direction for people’s lives.

How did the Portuguese understand these cultures?

For 400 years the Portuguese controlled the lower reaches of the Zambezi, in Mozambique. They wrote many accounts of the people of the region which show a complex interaction. Portugal’s administration and system of land law controlled matters at the apex of society, but could not control African culture.

The Portuguese were few in number and intermarried to some extent with the local population. This produced a hybrid Afro-Portuguese society in which everyday life was carried on according to African traditional practice. Agriculture, transport, artisan crafts, mining and warfare reflected local traditions.

Although the Portuguese tried to introduce Christianity, it failed to attract many people away from the spirit cults. It became diluted with local religious ideas.

The Portuguese built square, European-style houses in the river ports and on the estates along the river. But most of the population retained the traditional African hut design. Afro-Portuguese were often literate but literacy did not penetrate far and the Portuguese language never replaced the local languages.

How did silver play a role in all this?

Late in the 1500s the Portuguese became obsessed with the idea that there were silver mines in Africa comparable to those discovered by the Spanish in the New World. Considerable effort was made to locate these mines in Angola and in the Zambezi valley.

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The incredible journey of two princes from Mozambique whose lives were upended by the slave trade

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Military expeditions were dispatched and skilled miners were sent from Europe to test the ores that had allegedly been discovered. Attempts to find the mines throughout the 1600s helped to sustain Portuguese interest in the Zambezi settlements. No silver was ever discovered – not surprisingly, as there is no silver in southern Africa.

Can you bring us up to today? What impact has development had on the river?

Until the 1900s the Zambezi defied most attempts at development. The river was difficult to navigate – too shallow in the dry season, too dangerous during the floods. These fluctuations determine the pattern of migrations and agricultural production.

Moreover, as the river passed through a series of gorges which blocked navigation it was only on its upper reaches, beyond the Victoria Falls, on the borders of Zimbabwe and Zambia, that it was able to act as a major highway.

And the river constituted a major obstacle to any contact between people north and south of it. The first bridge was only built in 1905, to carry the railway from South Africa to the copper belt. In the 1930s, British engineers built a second rail bridge across the lower Zambezi. But the first road bridge was only built in 1934, at Chirundu at the border between Zambia and Zimbabwe. This at last linked the areas north and south of the river.

Meanwhile the floods of the Zambezi came to be contained by the building of the Kariba Dam (opened in 1959) and the Cahora Bassa Dam (1974). As a result much of the Zambezi below the Victoria Falls has altered drastically and been turned into a succession of large inland seas.

Large sectors of the population have been forcibly removed and the floods no longer keep sea water from invading the delta. Meanwhile water extraction for irrigation, and increasingly frequent droughts, have endangered the river’s very existence.

The Zambezi has become an example of what happens when the natural resources of a great river have been thoughtlessly over-exploited.

Malyn Newitt 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. The history of the Zambezi River is a tale of culture, conquest and commerce – https://theconversation.com/the-history-of-the-zambezi-river-is-a-tale-of-culture-conquest-and-commerce-269217

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Alessandro De Cola, Univertsity Assistant (Postdoc), Universität Wien; Università di Bologna

A dynamic new “consumer class” emerging from Africa is attracting international attention. With the prospect of rising incomes and a young population, international consulting firms see the continent as the next frontier for consumer goods. Global entrepreneurs even warn of the increasing savviness of African buyers.

But the influence of African consumers on global markets is far from a new thing. In the 1800s, the continent’s consumer demand called the tune for European factories.

We’re a team of economic and social historians, anthropologists, and African studies specialists. Our research project investigates the roots of these dynamics.

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Africa is the world’s largest market for Guinness beer – how its ad campaigns exploit men

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Focusing on the African demand for goods like arms, beads and cloth, our research calls into question the Eurocentric idea that Africa was just a supplier of cheap labour and raw materials before the “Scramble for Africa” by colonial powers.

Instead, in the 1800s, the continent was a key driver of industrial production, compelling manufacturers to tailor their goods to African preferences.

This challenges the conventional view of globalisation as a flow of goods and ideas from dominant economies to so-called peripheral regions. In fact globalisation has always been a connected process – one in which African consumers, though often overlooked, played a decisive role in shaping global markets.

Arms

Analysis of the arms trade takes us to the Congo River estuary in the late precolonial era. Before the late 1800s and colonialism, this region was free of direct European political control.

The illegal slave trade lasted at least until the mid-1850s, when the export of legitimate goods finally began to gather momentum. From roughly the 1850s, one of the products most consistently favoured by consumers in the Congo estuary was the so-called “trade gun”.

These rugged, muzzle-loading muskets were deemed outdated by European manufacturers and traders. In the Congo estuary these firearms remained in high demand.

Trade guns could be flintlocks (using a flint to ignite gunpowder) or percussion guns (using a small, explosive cap to ignite it). Flintlocks were more popular because flintstones were more readily available in Africa.

Moreover, smoothbore muzzle-loaders, commonly made from “soft” wrought iron rather than “hard” steel, were not only cheaper but also a more accessible technology than rifles for African consumers. Although flintlocks were sometimes not effective for big-game hunting, they had substantial military value.

Understanding the role of these weapons in African history, however, requires looking beyond just their function. Imported firearms were also commonly given symbolic meanings shaped by local norms and power structures.

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Read more:
The incredible journey of two princes from Mozambique whose lives were upended by the slave trade

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For example, among Kikongo speakers in the lower Congo, gunfire was used as a sign of rejoicing during celebrations and funerals. Noise was believed to drive away bad spirits and aid passage into the spirit world.

Although the gun trade in the lower Congo is not always easy to quantify, it is documented, for example, that the Nieuwe Afrikaansche Handels Vennootschap imported an annual average of about 24,000 guns between 1884 and 1888. The majority of these were discarded French percussion guns that had been modified into flintlocks in Liège.

The development of the arms trade in the lower Congo also mirrors broader changes within the European firearms industry. African consumer demand was not just driven by European industrial output, but was rather an active force that shaped and sustained global economic integration throughout the 1800s.

Beads

Venetian glass bead producers were well aware that their specialised industry depended on demand from Africa and Asia. It is almost impossible to find out exactly how many glass beads were poured into the African continent in the 19th century. Glass beads went through many different hands (in many different ports) before they reached the shores of Africa, and the available information on Venetian production is not consistent.

Historians have shown that, during the 1800s, beads produced in Venice were a key commodity exchanged for ivory along the east African caravan routes connecting the Swahili coast to the Great Lakes. These routes were established by Arab traders and Nyamwezi traders (from today’s Tanzania) on expeditions financed by Gujarati merchants from India.

As demand for ivory grew in European and American markets, these traders began penetrating deeper into the continent to discover new sources of elephant tusks and rhino horns. They established new market centres in the process.

Glass beads were portable and relatively cheap. This made them especially suitable as a form of money in everyday transactions. Beads had a major importance in securing food for caravan porters. Bringing the wrong type of beads could spell disaster for an expedition. This required an updated knowledge of the kinds of beads that were more in demand along specific routes.

Through the caravan leaders, information was gathered by European agents in major commercial hubs such as Zanzibar. This was mailed or telegraphed to their companies’ headquarters, allowing producers to respond to demand as promptly as possible.

Today, sample cards displaying the most requested kinds of glass beads, preserved in European and American museums, are the most tangible product of this information chain.

Cloth

African demand also influenced technological innovation. On the coast of east Africa and in Sudan, people eagerly imported millions of yards of American unbleached cotton cloth. This helped build the fortunes of US industries – so much so that “merikani” (from “American”) became a general term for this product – and, later, of Indian manufacturers.

Its spread, however, was limited by transport costs. Ethiopian markets were supplied mainly by local production, with a robust tradition of cotton spinning and weaving. The cloth was distinctively white and soft – praised by travellers as comparable to the finest European textiles. In Ethiopia, the only clear technological advantage enjoyed by western producers was dyes, especially after the introduction of synthetic colours in the 1870s.

Ethiopian weavers eagerly sought coloured yarn from Europe and India to pair with their own white cloth. This demand stimulated the spread of new dying technology abroad. The situation changed significantly after the unification of Ethiopia under Menelik II, whose reign brought stability and infrastructure development.

Coarse, unbleached cotton became widely available even in the interior, offering a cheap and easily washable option for ordinary people: 12 million square yards from the US were imported in 1905-1906 alone. Meanwhile, Ethiopian elites continued to favour local cotton but complemented it with imported accessories like felt hats and umbrellas. Coloured cloth, once a luxury, became a popular consumer good.

The big picture

The story of how arms, glass beads and cloth were commercialised in Africa and how production and distribution had to adapt to the continent’s needs provides a more nuanced picture of how global trade as we know it took shape.

Our research emphasises that globalisation was not ignited in the global north, but depended on consumers located far from the centres of production.

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We discussed these topics in an online seminar series now available on YouTube.

The research on which this article is based was financed by the European Union – Next Generation EU, Missione 4 Componente 1 CUP J53D23000530006

– ref. Early shoppers: how African consumers set global trade trends in the 1800s – https://theconversation.com/early-shoppers-how-african-consumers-set-global-trade-trends-in-the-1800s-266794

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Anne Fitchett, Retired Honorary Associate Professor in the School of Civil and Environmental Engineering, University of the Witwatersrand

Every year, millions of tonnes of food end up in South Africa’s landfills. This is a wasted resource that deepens environmental damage, worsens food insecurity and costs the economy billions. But there are opportunities to turn what we throw away into value for people, the planet and local economies.

A new study investigates the true cost of current waste practices and the potential of alternative approaches. We spoke with one of the researchers, Anne Fitchett, about organic waste management and how the country can move towards a more sustainable, circular approach.

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What are the challenges facing waste management, particularly food waste?

Globally, waste management is a serious challenge as waste increases and systems of production and consumption become more complicated. In South Africa, the most common approach to the disposal of waste is simply to dump it on landfill sites. This currently amounts to a staggering ten million metric tons annually. The country is rapidly running out of space for landfill. Adding to the problem are inadequate planning, weak implementation of recycling policy (such as separation at source), and high transport costs that encourage illegal dumping.

In particular, food waste carries additional ethical and environmental concerns. Hunger and food insecurity is widespread in South Africa, affecting an estimated 15 million people. Organic waste, which includes garden waste, farming waste and food waste, is a major contributor of greenhouse gas emissions through decomposition. Food waste on a landfill also creates odours and pest infestations. Vulnerable people are affected most: waste pickers and low-income households who have no choice but to live near waste dump sites.

What interested us was the opportunities that food waste offers. Instead of being a costly problem, from the viewpoint of economic, social and ecological effects, how can this waste be managed differently, to provide benefits instead?

How is it currently done in South Africa and how did you work out the cost?

In South Africa, organic waste forms the largest single fraction of general waste going to landfill, making up around 27% of all disposed waste. Food waste contributes about one-third of this category.

We explored different ways of calculating the costs of managing food waste, so that we could compare landfill dumping with other approaches. We decided on a social cost-benefit analysis, as this includes economic, social and environmental costs into a single calculation. This makes it much easier for policy makers and municipalities to make informed choices.

We determined the direct costs from municipal and national data sets. The social and environmental costs had to be monetised to integrate into the calculation. To do this, we used what are called hedonic pricing models. This is the price people are willing to pay to avoid a negative environmental impact, which we derived from the local and international research. We also used life-cycle cost analysis for some of the values. Here, we factor in all the different costs that a particular method needs, such as capital cost, operating cost, maintenance, and final residual or salvage value at the end of its useful life.

Through this analysis method, we calculated that landfill practices impose an estimated R8.7 billion (US$0.5 billion) annual burden on the economy, environment and communities across South Africa. Because much of this is a hidden cost, the real “dis-amenity” (the combination of negative values) is often undervalued and these costs materialise in other ways, to the detriment of the economy, society and the environment.

What alternative methods did you test and what were the outcomes?

We explored various means:

• aerobic composting (decomposition with air circulation)

• anaerobic digestion (decomposition in a sealed container)

• processing through vermicomposting (harnessing the services of earthworms that eat the food waste and produce nutrient-rich deposits)

• black soldier flies (the larvae of which feed on the waste and produce animal feed and organic fertiliser).

We calculated that windrow composting, where organic waste is placed in long rows and turned periodically to maintain oxygen levels, generates some benefits through the sale of the compost. It also saves in greenhouse gas emissions by replacing more costly fertilisers for farming.

In-vessel composting was the one method we analysed that had higher costs than benefits, even though it produces better quality compost and almost no air pollutants. (But this was still a marked improvement over landfilling.) In this method, the waste is in a closed environment, where air-flow, moisture and temperature can be controlled to speed up the composting process.

We also evaluated anaerobic digestion with bio-gas capture, which takes place in an enclosed environment, but with air excluded. The biogas percolates to the top of the tank where it is extracted for cooking and other uses. This has a much higher capital and operational cost, but generates saleable methane and carbon dioxide gases, as well as a digestate that can be sold for soil enhancement.

Vermicomposting is a process where organic waste is broken down by earthworms and microbes into material that can add nutrients to soil. It also produces worm biomass as a high-protein animal feed. This produces a higher net benefit than any of the other methods described so far.

The best performer from the social cost-benefit analysis was black soldier fly processing. The flies’ eggs are hatched and the larvae are transferred to the food waste, which the larvae feed on. When the larvae reach maturity, they are harvested for protein-rich animal feed and their deposits (called frass) are collected for use as fertiliser.

Studies agree that anaerobic digestion offers the best performance from a purely environmental appraisal.

Our study suggests that a combination of anaerobic digestion and black soldier fly processing could be the optimal solution, taking into account social and economic aspects.

How can these findings be used to shape policy?

Our study offers a number of pointers. It is essential to look at gate fees to landfill sites. Some of the sites are not charging at all, and the closest to charging an economic rate is the Western Cape province. This should be weighed against the possible avoidance of formal waste disposal altogether, inadvertently promoting illegal dumping. Linked to this is the lack of compliance with waste legislation that was identified at many of the sites across the country.

Municipalities should be encouraged, through government policies, to invest in alternative technologies, like vermicomposting and black soldier fly processing. A strategic combination of economic incentives, regulatory compliance and sustainable practices is essential to achieve long-term national waste management objectives.

The results of our study highlight the urgent need for an integrated strategy that incorporates economic, ecological, social and governance dimensions to transform food waste into a resource. The current default to landfill is simply not a sustainable option. With targeted policies and investments, food waste could shift from being a costly liability to serving as a cornerstone of South Africa’s circular economy and sustainable development agenda.

Gabriel Pereira, a master’s student, was a co-author on the research and article.

Anne Fitchett 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. Food waste in South Africa is dumped in landfills – study weighs up healthier and more sustainable options – https://theconversation.com/food-waste-in-south-africa-is-dumped-in-landfills-study-weighs-up-healthier-and-more-sustainable-options-268715

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Ernest Harsch, Researcher, Institute of African Studies, Columbia University

Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger, Guinea and Gabon have all suffered regime change in the last five years, led by men in military uniform.

Madagascar and Guinea-Bissau experienced the same fate in 2025. Benin looked to join the list in early December, but the civilian government held onto power – just.

The academic literature on coups in Africa has highlighted a wide range of influences and triggers. These include:

• personal and institutional rifts within the armed forces

• susceptibility to both elite manipulation and popular pressure

• instigation by foreign powers against governments deemed hostile to their interests.

In a recent paper I added a further question: to what extent were democratic failings an element in the coups of the past six years?

I am a journalist and academic who has focused on African political and development issues since the 1970s. Among my most recently published books is Burkina Faso: A History of Power, Protest and Revolution.

In the paper I explored underlying shortcomings of Africa’s democracies as one major factor leading to military seizures. I focused on the recent coups in Mali, Guinea, Burkina Faso, Niger and Gabon.

I selected those cases because each of their takeovers was mounted against an elected civilian government. In some instances, I found, factors other than poor elections were also at play. The juntas in both Burkina Faso and Niger cited political defects of their elected, if somewhat ineffective, governments. But they mainly blamed their predecessors’ failure to put down growing jihadist insurgencies.

Insecurity was also a factor in Mali. But Mali, Guinea and Gabon all had elections commonly perceived to have been rigged or in violation of constitutional term limits. They provoked popular opposition which prompted officers to step in.

My main finding was thus that popular disappointment in elected governments was a prominent element. It established a more favourable context enabling officers to seize power with a measure of popular support.

That finding suggests that in order to better protect democracy in Africa, it is not sufficient to simply condemn military coups (as Africa’s regional institutions, such as the African Union and Economic Community of West African States, are quick to do). African activists, and some policymakers, have urged a step further: denouncing elected leaders who violate democratic rights or rig their systems to hang onto power.

If elected leaders were better held to account, then potential coup makers would lose one of their central justifications.

Problems are bigger than rigged polls

The problems, however, go beyond rigged polls, errant elected leaders, and violated constitutions. Many African governments, whether they are democratic or not, have great difficulty meeting citizens’ expectations, especially for improvements in their daily lives.

The deeper structural weaknesses of African states further contribute to hampering effective governance. As Ugandan anthropologist Mahmood Mamdani, Kenyan political scholar Ken Ochieng’ Opalo, and other African scholars have pointed out, those shortcomings include the externally oriented and fragmentary nature of the states inherited from colonial rule. These exclude many citizens from active political engagement and ensure government by unaccountable elites.

In particular, a neoliberal model of democracy has been widely adopted in Africa since the 1990s. That model insists that democracy be tethered to pro-market economic policies and greatly limit the size and activities of African states. That in turn hinders the ability of even well-elected governments to provide their citizens with security and services.

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South African protesters echo a global cry: democracy isn’t making people’s lives better

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Conducting elections while continuing to subject African economies to the economic policy direction of the International Monetary Fund and World Bank has left them with a “choiceless democracy,” as Malawian economist Thandika Mkandawire termed it. That is, while voters may sometimes be able to change top leaders, they cannot alter basic economic policies. Such policies generally favour austerity and cutbacks over delivering jobs, education and healthcare.

So in addition to improving the quality of democratic systems on the continent, “coup proofing” African states will also require giving greater scope to popular input into real decision making, in both the political and economic spheres.

That will depend primarily on Africans themselves fighting for the democracies they want. Clearing the way for them means ending the all-too-common repression of street mobilisations and alternative views that displease the ruling elites.

Support for democracy

There may be general unhappiness with the flaws of Africa’s electoral systems. Surveys nevertheless demonstrate continued strong support for the ideals of democracy. Many ordinary Africans, moreover, are mobilising in various ways to advance their own conceptions of democratic practice.

For example, when the Macky Sall government in Senegal used repression and unconstitutional manoeuvres to try to prolong his tenure, tens of thousands mobilised in the streets in 2023-24 to block him and force an election that brought radical young oppositionists to power.

In Sudan, the community resistance committees that mobilised massively against the country’s military elites outlined an alternative vision of a people’s democracy encompassing national elections, decentralised local assemblies, and participatory citizen engagement.

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Read more:
Africans want consensual democracy – why is that reality so hard to accept?

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Findings by the Afrobarometer research network, which has repeatedly polled tens of thousands of African citizens, provide solid grounds for hope. Surveys in 39 countries between 2021 and 2023 show that 66% of respondents still strongly preferred democracy to any alternative form of government.

For anyone committed to a democratic future for Africa, that is something to build on.

Ernest Harsch 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. Coups in Africa: how democratic failings help shape military takeovers – study – https://theconversation.com/coups-in-africa-how-democratic-failings-help-shape-military-takeovers-study-271565

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Kerstin Bree Carlson, Associate Professor International Law, Roskilde University

The Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) has been called “the worst place on earth to be a woman” and “the rape capital of the world”. A 2014 survey estimated that 22% of women and 10% of men had experienced sexual violence during the conflict in the country’s east. After years of impunity, Roger Lumbala, a 67-year-old former member of parliament who once led a rebel group in eastern DRC, is facing trial for these crimes. He is charged in a French court with complicity in crimes against humanity, including summary executions, torture, rape, pillage and enslavement. Kerstin Bree Carlson, a scholar of international criminal law and transitional justice, explains the significance of this trial and the controversies it has sparked.

What is the special war crimes chamber in Paris? And what is ‘universal jurisdiction’?

Lumbala is being tried before a special war crimes tribunal in Paris because France exercises “universal jurisdiction” over international atrocity crimes like genocide, crimes against humanity and war crimes. These are the crimes that are the remit of the International Criminal Court (ICC). Because the ICC is designed to be a court of last resort, hearing international atrocity crimes only when states cannot or will not, all ICC member states must criminalise international atrocity crimes in their domestic criminal codes.

Although courts usually only try cases against their own citizens or which occur on their own territory, France’s “universal jurisdiction” law allows it to hear cases regarding atrocity crimes committed outside France by non-French nationals. The law restricts the application of universal jurisdiction to individuals residing in France who are citizens of countries that are ICC members. Prosecutors in France’s special war crimes unit (“OCLCH”) furthermore enjoy discretion over which cases they pursue.

Prosecutions unfold as they do for any criminal case in France: a claim made by the prosecutor is sent to an investigative judge. The judge examines the claim neutrally, weighing evidence of guilt and innocence, to determine whether to issue an indictment. These findings can be appealed. When the appeals are finalised, if the indictment stands, the indicted individuals are put on trial before a panel of judges and a jury who will determine guilt (and an eventual sentence).

In addition to prosecution and defence, victims can participate in the proceedings as “civil parties”. Civil parties are full participants; they may call witnesses, address the court through argumentation, and question witnesses brought by prosecution and defence.

Lumbala’s path to the Paris court

Lumbala’s trial opened on 12 November 2025. The indictment alleges that Lumbala conspired to and was complicit in the commission of crimes against humanity in relation to Operation “Effacer le tableau” (Wipe the Slate Clean). This was a military campaign that terrorised eastern Congo in 2002-3.

The civil parties in Lumbala’s case played a central role in bringing Lumbala before the court. These include international NGOs such as TRIAL International, the Clooney Foundation for Justice, the Minority Rights Group, Amnesty International, We are not Weapons of War and others. These groups have recorded atrocity crimes in the DRC for decades, and some assisted in the 2010 Mapping report by the UN, a seminal document which detailed the extent of the violence between 1993 and 2003.

Lumbala has resided in France on and off since 2013. It was his application for asylum that put him on French authorities’ radar, and they opened an investigation into his alleged crimes in connection with his role as leader of a rebel group turned political party, Rally of Congolese Democrats and Nationalists (RCD-N). In late 2020, French authorities arrested him. Investigative judges issued an indictment against him in November 2023; that indictment was upheld by the appeals court in March 2024, leading to the opening of the trial. If convicted, Lumbala could face life imprisonment.

What is at stake in this trial?

Although a few low-level soldiers in the DRC have been tried, no high-ranking leader has been convicted for the pervasive practice of using rape as a weapon of war. A decade ago, one of Lumbala’s allies, Jean-Pierre Bemba, was prosecuted by the ICC for war crimes, including sexual violence committed in Central African Republic. Bemba’s 2016 conviction was widely celebrated as a victory for victims. His 2018 acquittal on appeal for procedural reasons was a bitter pill.

Victims wanting to address Lumbala directly have been served their own bitter pill. At the end of the first day of the trial, Lumbala announced that he did not recognise the court’s jurisdiction and would not participate in the trial. He told the court:

This is reminiscent of past centuries. The jury is French; the prosecutor is French. This court does not even know where DRC is.

Lumbala left the court and has not attended the trial since then. Every morning he is brought from jail, and sits in the basement of the court house instead of in the courtroom. He also fired his lawyers, who in turn refused to assist the court in providing a defence in absentia.

Technically, there is no problem; the trial may continue.

Symbolically, Lumbala’s absence deprives civil parties of the chance to address the defendant personally. For a victim, being able to face the alleged perpetrator as a rebalance of power is one of the purposes of trial, and contributes to justice; Lumbala’s absence may make the trial less fair for victims.

Without the participation of the defence, will the trial seem fair to others? For Lumbala and his team, who have been fighting France’s jurisdiction over this case for years, the move is in keeping with their general defence strategy of sowing doubt.

What this means for the court, and for the prosecution of universal jurisdiction cases more generally, is the larger question. If defendants can endanger judicial legitimacy by refusing to participate, it will not be the last time we see this strategy. Universal jurisdiction has been challenged in other countries: Belgium’s wide-reaching 1993 universal jurisdiction law was repealed in 2003 after a decade of practice. France’s more limited practice, akin to extraterritorial jurisdiction, is a test case for how individual countries can help support the work of the ICC. Although the ICC can investigate any case in or involving its member states, the unfulfilled arrest warrants against Russia’s Vladimir Putin and Israel’s Benjamin Netanyahu are a reminder of how difficult it can be for the ICC to take custody over defendants.

The greater significance of the Lumbala case is therefore what it may mean for France, or any country or institution, to prosecute atrocity crimes outside its borders, which will in turn have an impact on impunity for international atrocity crimes.

Kerstin Bree Carlson receives funding from Independent Research Fund Denmark (DFF)

– ref. Roger Lumbala is accused of horrific war crimes in DRC: can his trial in France bring justice? – https://theconversation.com/roger-lumbala-is-accused-of-horrific-war-crimes-in-drc-can-his-trial-in-france-bring-justice-270482

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Martin Mourre, Historien et anthropologue spécialisé dans les armées coloniales et postcoloniales en Afrique de l’Ouest, École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales (EHESS)

The Thiaroye camp near Dakar was a Senegalese army barracks housing African soldiers called “tirailleurs sénégalais” (Senegalese riflemen). It welcomed men returning from the European front of the second world war, where the riflemen had been held as German prisoners of war while serving on the side of France. They were waiting for their long-overdue back pay and bonuses.

But at dawn on 1 December 1944, they were shot by their own French officers. What should have been a time of celebration became a bloodbath. France sought to downplay or deny the massacre for many years.

In 2024, ahead of the 80th anniversary commemorations of the massacre, Senegal’s Prime Minister Ousmane Sonko appointed a commission to establish the truth of what happened, to ensure proper recognition and reparations for the victims, and to assert Senegal’s sovereignty to write its own history.

Chaired by Professor Mamadou Diouf of Columbia University, one of its tasks was to draft a new report (a white paper) on Thiaroye. This was presented to President Bassirou Diomaye Faye on 17 October 2025.

Martin Mourre, a historian and anthropologist specialising in colonial armies, has studied this issue and explains what the new report brings to light and why Thiaroye remains so sensitive.

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What happened at Thiaroye?

On 21 November 1944, the first group of former prisoners of war arrived at the Thiaroye camp to be demobilised. They were owed substantial sums, mainly the back pay accumulated during their captivity.

The French army refused to give them what they were owed, even though the funds were reportedly available in Dakar.

On 27 November, tensions escalated, prompting the intervention of a senior officer. He planned a repression operation that, on 1 December, turned into a massacre.

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Read more:
The time has come for France to own up to the massacre of its own troops in Senegal

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Even though a number of questions remain unanswered, the event is fairly well documented. The main debate revived by the new report and echoed in the media focuses on two issues: the death toll and the burial site of the victims.

Regarding the death toll, one may rely on a literal reading of the archives, which consistently report 35 deaths (or 70 in one officer’s report, phrased in a particularly obscure way).

On this point, the white paper does not appear to go further than previous research, which supports a higher estimate of 300 to 400 deaths.

How has France responded to the Thiaroye issue over the years?

France actively sought to erase the events at Thiaroye. In the weeks following the tragedy, French officials declared, according to archival records, that adequate measures must be taken to hide these hours of madness. The language reveals a deliberate effort to downplay and conceal the atrocity.

This continued long after independence in 1960. One of the most infamous examples is the censorship of the acclaimed film The Camp at Thiaroye by Senegalese filmmakers Ousmane Sembène and Thierno Faty Sow, which failed to find distributors in France when it was released.

However, things began to change in the 2000s, particularly when President Abdoulaye Wade organised official commemorations of the massacre. For the first time, a special French ambassador attending the commemoration acknowledged the colonial army’s responsibility for the tragedy.

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Read more:
Ousmane Sembène at 100: a tribute to Senegal’s ‘father of African cinema’

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A more prominent gesture came in 2014 when President François Hollande visited the military cemetery. He delivered a speech and handed over a batch of archives to Senegalese President Macky Sall. He claimed – falsely, as it later turned out – that these represented all the documents France possessed on the massacre.

These archives were not available for analysis in Senegal until an executive order was issued by President Bassirou Diomaye Faye in 2024. The reason for the decade-long blockade was never adequately explained.

In 2024, President Emmanuel Macron went further than his predecessor by officially recognising events at Thiaroye as “a massacre”. A word his predecessor had avoided. Macron made this statement in a letter to Faye.

What new information does the report provide?

The main new element presented in the white paper is the initial outcome of archaeological excavations of the burial site, carried out by a team from Dakar’s Cheikh Anta Diop University. They have so far uncovered the remains of seven individuals.

All indications are that these men were victims of the massacre. Investigators highlighted the rushed and irregular nature of the graves and the burials, with bodies still dressed in military uniforms.

French administrative records had offered no answers about where or how the victims were laid to rest. This left the question of potential mass graves unresolved and shrouded in uncertainty.

These new findings from the report verify that victims were buried at this site. They also challenge official French narratives. The investigation continues. The archaeological team plans to expand their search, believing that more remains may lie hidden across the site.

What momentum led to the search at the grave site?

The issue of excavations of this site has a longer history. In 2017, several pan-African organisations urged Senegalese authorities to carry out such searches at Thiaroye. Among them was the party of Ousmane Sonko, today prime minister of Senegal but then a member of parliament.

Ten years earlier, during the construction of a highway crossing part of the military camp, historian Cheikh Faty Faye had already raised the issue publicly. Faye, who died in 2021, had worked on Thiaroye since the 1970s. He was part of a tradition of activist-scholars connected to pan-Africanist movements.

Through decades of commemoration and organising, these groups transformed the cemetery into a site of collective memory.

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Read more:
David Diop: his haunting account of a Senegalese soldier that won the Booker prize

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The cemetery holds 202 graves, roughly 30 of which stand apart from the others. To my knowledge, no scientific work has traced its origins, but it likely dates back to the first world war, when the Thiaroye camp was built.

It’s located about 1km from the camp’s main entrance. It served as the burial ground for west African riflemen from Senegal and numerous other French colonial territories who died during training. Their remains were never repatriated.

If future research confirms that the recently discovered bodies belong to the men killed on 1 December, it would be an important step towards clarifying the death toll.

What else is important in this report?

While the white paper dedicates considerable attention to the death toll, it also signals an interest in recovering the individual life stories of the Thiaroye riflemen.

Yet in my view, a crucial question remains unaddressed: the distinctly colonial character of the violence itself.

This is a form of violence inherent to the colonial context, marked by racialisation, a sense of impunity, and the distance between the colony and mainland France.

The challenge today is no longer just to document what happened at Thiaroye. It is ensure that this history is passed on to future generations. Integrating it into school curricula – anchored in rigorous scholarly work – shows how understanding the past illuminates the present and helps build a collective memory on solid foundations.

Martin Mourre 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. Thiaroye massacre: report on the French killing of Senegalese troops in 1944 exposes a painful history – https://theconversation.com/thiaroye-massacre-report-on-the-french-killing-of-senegalese-troops-in-1944-exposes-a-painful-history-271035

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Julien Benoit, Associate professor in Vertebrate Palaeontology, University of the Witwatersrand

For over a century, the scientific literature has credited western missionaries with “discovering” fossils in Lesotho, the small, mountainous country surrounded by South Africa.

The narrative typically begins with figures like the French missionary Hermann Dieterlen, who, in 1885, reported unusual “petrified bird tracks” near the settlement of Morija. This account implies that earth sciences like the study of rocks and fossils arrived in Lesotho from Europe.

In contrast, our research supports the notion that the local people recognised, interpreted and explained these fossils before missionaries arrived. Our research focus is on the dinosaur bones and tracks of Lesotho, its geomythology (cultural explanations of geological phenomena), and indigenous palaeontology.

Our recent study revisits the private archives of French missionary and self-taught palaeontologist Paul Ellenberger (1919–2016). He lived in Lesotho from 1953 to 1970 as part of a three-generation missionary family. During this period, he documented various fossils and published his findings in scientific literature. After returning to France, he earned a PhD in palaeontology in the mid-1970s. His contributions laid the foundation for the study of animal fossil tracks and traces in southern Africa.

His notes reveal that the Basotho and San people in Lesotho not only noticed fossils but also integrated them into their culture as geomyths.

This matters beyond Lesotho. Scientific history has often portrayed African indigenous communities as passive background figures. Fossils were deemed “discovered” only when Europeans documented them, despite what local people already knew.

Revisiting Ellenberger’s archives corrects this imbalance. His notes support that indigenous knowledge informed scientific discovery. As some sciences grapple with their colonial legacies, narratives like this offer a path forward.

Fossils in Lesotho

Lesotho is part of the southern African main Karoo Basin, one of the world’s richest continental fossil archives. It is a record of several major evolutionary and environmental transitions. This includes the rise of dinosaurs after the end-Permian mass extinction some 252 million years ago.

Both body fossils and trace fossils have been found in Lesotho and its surroundings. Erosion of fossil-rich rocks exposes numerous dinosaur, amphibian and reptile trackways, fish trails and burrows, alongside full or partial skeletons and plant remains. Thus, fossils are part of Lesotho’s rugged landscape.

For the Basotho, giant bones eroding from the hills are not mere curiosities; they are referred to the Kholumolumo. This was an enormous, all-devouring mythical creature whose thunderous footsteps echoed across the landscape, leaving footprints behind.

This folktale aligns closely with the fossil record: skeletons and trackways, mostly of dinosaurs, which are prevalent in the sky-high exposures of the Maloti (or the Drakensberg, as the mountain range is known in South Africa).

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Read more:
Dinosaur tracksite in Lesotho: how a wrong turn led to an exciting find

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The Kholumolumo myth serves as a cultural framework that preserves real observations of Lesotho’s fossil heritage over time. It’s an example of early citizen science – local people identifying recurring patterns in their environment and explaining them within their own cultural framework.

Ellenberger’s original archival materials reveal that this local knowledge was highly practical. When French palaeontologists arrived in 1955, they were guided to Maphutseng – now known for one of southern Africa’s richest dinosaur bone beds – by Samuel Motsoane. He was a local schoolteacher who had known the “stone bones” since childhood, in the 1930s.

The San and the fossil footprints

The Basotho and San were among the first in southern Africa to examine giant footprints preserved in stone and ponder: what walked here?

The indigenous San people, who followed a hunter-gatherer way of life before their culture disappeared from Lesotho, were masters in the interpretation of tracks. They could identify the size, behaviour and movement of living animals from a single footprint. Ellenberger believed they applied these skills to fossil tracks as well.

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Read more:
Mysterious South African cave painting may have been inspired by fossils

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His manuscripts describe rock art at Mokhali Cave that appears to depict a dinosaur footprint alongside bipedal creatures reminiscent of the three-toed dinosaur fossils preserved in nearby outcrops.

Ellenberger also noted that some San myths seemed to differentiate between the tracks of four-legged animals in the lowlands and those of two-legged animals higher in the mountains.

In southern Africa, fossil tracks of bipedal dinosaurs are found in higher rock layers only, where the rocks are younger. Lower rocks contain only quadrupedal trackways made by more primitive animals.

So the myths appear to demonstrate some level of understanding of the evolution of species.

Although this seems more speculative, his core observation remains valid: the San recognised patterns in the fossil record and integrated them into their worldview. They observed their land with precision long before formal palaeontology developed in the area.

Rethinking the narrative of ‘discoveries’

The diaries show that locals guided researchers to fossil sites. They recognised fossil bones and tracks as evidence of ancient animals, and preserved this understanding through stories that served as explanations.

Ellenberger himself valued this intellectual tradition: he spoke Sesotho fluently, collaborated with locals, and documented their insights respectfully. His notes credit half a dozen Basotho who discovered fossils of important scientific value.

His notes show that the roots of awareness and interpretation of fossils in southern Africa predate European expeditions and reach into the deep sense of place held by the people living among these fossils since generations. Their interpretations were not “quaint myths” but sophisticated observations shaped by centuries of engagement with the land.

Acknowledging this enriches the scientific record, broadens our understanding of early palaeontology, and honours the contributions of communities whose insights led to important discoveries. Ellenberger has left us an empowering and inspiring legacy for the new generation of southern African palaeontologists.

Julien Benoit receives funding from DSTI-NRF GENUS (Centre of Excellence in Palaeosciences) and African Origins Platform.

Emese M Bordy receives funding from DSTI-NRF GENUS (Centre of Excellence in Palaeosciences). www.genus.africa

Charles Helm 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. Fossil science owes a debt to indigenous knowledge: Lesotho missionary’s notes tell the story – https://theconversation.com/fossil-science-owes-a-debt-to-indigenous-knowledge-lesotho-missionarys-notes-tell-the-story-270431

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Salah Ben Hammou, Postdoctoral Research Associate, Rice University

Guinea-Bissau has had nine attempted coups and five successful ones since its independence in September 1973. Salah Ben Hammou, a researcher with a focus on the politics of military coups, explains that the coup on 26 November 2025 appears to have followed earlier patterns of military intervention. It undermines Guinea-Bissau’s already fragile efforts to stabilise democratic governance.

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How does the latest coup fit into Guinea-Bissau’s history of military takeovers?

This latest episode fits into a pattern of electoral coups that the country has experienced in the last two decades. In 2003 and 2012 the armed forces intervened at moments of electoral uncertainty.

The 26 November coup followed the same logic. It came just one day before the electoral commission was due to release the results of the 23 November presidential election, a contest already mired in controversy. Major opposition parties had been barred from running and President Umaro Sissoco Embaló faced accusations of overstaying his mandate. Both candidates claimed victory before any official results were announced.

Given this backdrop, the coup’s timing strongly suggests that the intervention was intended to preempt or nullify one potential outcome: the victory of opposition candidate Fernando Dias da Costa.

Many observers suspect that Embaló may have helped instigate or tacitly approved the military’s move to prevent an opposition victory.

There is still no definitive evidence of Embaló’s role. But incumbents have, in some cases, instigated coups against their own governments to void unfavourable election outcomes or preempt mass unrest. Sudan’s 1958 coup and Bolivia’s 1951 episode are classic examples.

What are the implications of the coup?

The coup undermines Guinea-Bissau’s already fragile efforts to stabilise democratic governance in two key ways.

First, it entrenches the military as the ultimate arbiter of political power, privileging the barracks over the ballot box. Once the armed forces are viewed – by incumbents, opposition forces, or the public – as a legitimate referee in political disputes, incentives shift. Instead of resolving conflicts through elections or courts, political competitors are more likely to seek military intervention when outcomes appear uncertain or unfavourable. This dynamic has long plagued Guinea-Bissau, and the latest coup reinforces it.

Second, and closely related, by effectively vetoing a core democratic process, the coup deepens the institutional backsliding already underway. In the months leading up to the vote, Guinea-Bissau had seen the exclusion of major opposition parties, disputes over term limits, and allegations of presidential overreach. The military’s intervention now entrenches these anti-democratic practices.

Whether or not Embaló played a direct role, the signal is clear: electoral rules and constitutional procedures can be overridden by force when they are inconvenient. The new junta’s reliance on Embaló’s allies to staff the new government further suggests continuity, not rupture, from the previous administration.

Economically, the coup is unlikely to benefit the general population. Nearly 70% live below the poverty line, making it one of the poorest countries in the world. Instability deters foreign investment, disrupts trade and stalls development projects. Even recent gains in the cashew industry, around 5.1% this year, risk being undermined.

What are the regional implications of the coup?

For anyone following developments in west Africa, and the continent more broadly, over the last five years, Guinea-Bissau’s latest coup will come as no great surprise. It joins a growing roster of countries under military rule. Each successful takeover in this so-called coup wave sends a clear signal: such interventions are possible and, in some contexts, tolerated.

Yet the broader impact will hinge on the junta’s next moves. It is not just the initial seizure of power that matters. Jonathan Powell and I have highlighted a pattern in which military rulers now remain in power for long periods compared with coups in the early 2000s. Transitional timelines, like the one-year promise announced by Guinea-Bissau’s junta, are increasingly symbolic rather than binding.

As I noted earlier this year in Foreign Policy, efforts to consolidate power, from delaying elections to manipulating them, also embolden other junta leaders across the region.

Guinea-Bissau’s military leaders are likely to study the strategies of their counterparts in west Africa and adopt them. In turn, the tactics they employ will provide a template for others. This type of learning is what will continue to solidify the return to military rule.

What should Ecowas and the African Union do?

Coups are rarely isolated events; they are usually symptoms of deeper political challenges. In Guinea-Bissau, the environment leading up to the coup, marked by Embaló’s efforts to undermine the electoral process, largely went unchecked. That created conditions that made military intervention more likely.

Regional organisations like Ecowas also face real constraints in addressing these challenges. Embaló threatened to expel Ecowas mediators attempting to negotiate a resolution to the electoral timeline. The same constraints are usually present after coups take hold.

That said, Ecowas and the African Union cannot afford to look away from post-coup developments. Every step the junta takes, whether shaping electoral timelines or managing opposition activity, must be scrutinised.

Both organisations should coordinate a unified diplomatic approach alongside other regional actors to secure clear, credible commitments to free and fair elections. Any attempts to delay the transition, manipulate political competition, or suppress dissent must be met with swift and meaningful consequences.

A key component of this strategy should be a ban on electoral participation for anyone involved in the coup. Existing mechanisms already allow for such measures, but their effectiveness depends on consistent application. Regional organisations have yet to do that.

Without such consistency, coups carry minimal consequences. And those who orchestrate them continue to profit from their actions.

Salah Ben Hammou 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. Guinea-Bissau coup: election uncertainty has triggered military takeovers before – https://theconversation.com/guinea-bissau-coup-election-uncertainty-has-triggered-military-takeovers-before-271368

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By John Joseph Chin, Assistant Teaching Professor of Strategy and Technology, Carnegie Mellon University

Military elements attempted to topple Benin’s government in early December 2025. However, unlike other coups across the Sahel and west Africa since 2020, this bid triggered a military response from Benin’s neighbours.

Benin is a west African state of 14.8 million people bordered by Togo, Burkina Faso, Niger and Nigeria.

Responding to two requests for assistance from the government of President Patrice Talon, Nigeria deployed fighter jets and the Economic Community of West African States (Ecowas) deployed elements of its standby force to target and dislodge the pro-coup forces.

Ecowas intervention likely played an important role in undermining the coup’s momentum and restoring order. The dozen or so putschists scored early tactical successes. They captured and broadcast from the national television station, occupied a military camp, and even took the two senior-most army officers hostage. But once Ecowas intervened militarily, any fence-sitters concluded that loyalists would prevail. Rather than a broad-based uprising, only 14 were arrested with a few plotters still at large.

I’m a scholar who maintains the Colpus dataset of coups and I have documented the history of post-second world war coups. As part of this work, I have sought to document the complex causes and effects of Africa’s post-2020 “epidemic of coups”, now entering its fifth year.

Though details remain scant on the motives of the coup plotters led by Lt. Col. Pascal Tigri, three structural factors likely contributed to the latest coup attempt:

• growing autocracy under Talon since 2016

• rising jihadist violence in Benin’s north that is spilling over from Sahel neighbours

• deepening coup contagion as Africa’s coup belt now threatens the west African region.

From democratic backsliding to democratic u-turn?

Benin does not have a history of recent coups. It had not suffered a bona fide coup attempt since January 1975.

In the first 15 years after independence from France in 1960, Dahomey (as the country was then called) experienced nine coup attempts, making it one of the most coup-prone countries in sub-Saharan Africa during the early Cold War period.

However, political instability through the early 1970s gave way to the stable and durable personalist regime of Mathieu Kérékou (1972-1990). This was followed by electoral democracy after the Cold War.

Until recently, Benin had been heralded as one of Africa’s “democratic outliers” and success cases of democratic survival despite challenging conditions. Though poor, Benin has seen decades of improving average living standards. Economic growth in 2025 was 7.5%; the latest unrest cannot be blamed on poverty or an economic crisis.

However, data on three key dimensions of democracy shows that although electoral contestation and participation have endured, constraints on the executive (and thus liberal democracy overall) have declined in Benin since Talon’s election as president in 2016.

According to autocratic regime data from US political scientists Barbara Geddes, Joe Wright and Erica Frantz as well as the Varieties of Democracy (V-Dem) project (which surveys experts about democracy worldwide), Benin slipped back into an electoral autocracy in 2019. That is when opposition candidates were prevented from competing in parliamentary elections. The polls were marred by repression of mass protests and an internet shutdown.

In 2021, an electoral boycott led to Talon’s easy re-election.

V-Dem data show a very partial and incomplete democratic rebound since 2022. The opposition was allowed to compete in the January 2023 parliamentary elections. And earlier this year Talon confirmed that he would not seek an unconstitutional third term.

The potential for a coup, however, was foreshadowed last fall when the regime alleged that it had uncovered a coup plot involving a presidential hopeful in 2026. Last month, parliament’s vote to create a Senate was condemned by the opposition as allowing Talon a means to influence affairs after he steps down.

With the main opposition party barred from running in next year’s presidential election, Talon is expected to hand off power to his ally and finance minister, Romuald Wadagni.

Though the political leanings of Tigri and coup plotters remain unclear, Tigri claimed to seek to “free the people from dictatorship”.

The coupmakers also presumably sought to block the upcoming 2026 parliamentary and presidential elections.

A growing jihadist threat

Among the coup leaders’ key complaints was Talon’s mismanagement of the country. In particular, they cited “continuing deterioration of the security situation in northern Benin and “the ignorance and neglect of the situation of our brothers in arms who have fallen at the front” due to worsening jihadist violence.

A number of coups in nearby countries since 2020 have been preceded by rising levels of political violence and deepening insecurity born of jihadist insurgencies. That was certainly the case in Mali, Burkina Faso and to a lesser extent Niger.

Since last year, it has been clear that the jihadist violence was spilling over from Sahel neighbours such as Burkina Faso and Niger into the borderlands of west Africa. This included Benin’s north. ACLED data show a major increase in political violence events since 2022. And a spike in political fatalities in 2024:

Much of this increased violence is attributable to the advance of operations by the al-Qaida affiliated group Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin (JNIM). The group also managed to launch its first fatal attack in Nigeria at the end of October.

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Read more:
Nigeria’s new terror threat: JNIM is spreading but it’s not too late to act

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Russia has become the primary security partner for the Sahel Alliance. The defence pact was signed in 2023 by post-coup juntas of Burkina Faso, Mali and Niger to defeat jihadists and maintain power.

Nevertheless, Benin has continued to rely on western security partners to aid its counter-insurgency efforts and bolster border security. Notably, Benin continues to welcome military cooperation with France. Since 2022 Paris has pledged greater military aid to combat terrorism.

In September, US Africa Command commander General Dagvin Anderson visited Benin to underscore cooperation to oppose terrorism.

During the coup attempt, Tigri reportedly warned against French intervention and railed against “imperialism”. The speech reportedly ended with the phrase “The Republic or Death”, which echoes the new motto of Burkina Faso’s junta.

This suggests that the coup makers may have been inspired by others in the Sahel.

Risk of the coup belt expanding

The Benin events mark the third coup attempt and first failed coup this year in the Sahel region. There have been 17 coup attempts in Africa since 2020, including 11 successful coups. This makes the African coup belt stretching across the Sahel and west Africa the global epicentre of coups.

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Read more:
Africa’s power grabs are rising – the AU’s mixed response is making things worse

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West Africa’s latest “copycat” coup attempt was condemned by the African Union, European Union and Ecowas. Yet it was praised by pro-Russian social media accounts, reflecting a growing cleavage between the Russia-aligned juntas of the Sahel Alliance and the remaining Ecowas-aligned civilian regimes of west Africa.

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Read more:
Coups in west Africa have five things in common: knowing what they are is key to defending democracy

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Although Nigeria-led Ecowas threatened military intervention after the coup in Niger in July 2023, the regional body only actually militarily intervened to defeat the coup attempt in Benin. Nigeria, it appears, has drawn a line in the sand to retain a buffer from further instability – including JNIM operations. On the same day of the coup attempt in Benin, it was reported that Nigeria was seeking greater aid from France to combat insecurity.

John Joseph Chin 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. Benin’s failed coup: three factors behind the takeover attempt – https://theconversation.com/benins-failed-coup-three-factors-behind-the-takeover-attempt-271540

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Busani Ngcaweni, Director: Center for Public Policy and African Studies & Visiting Professor, China Foreign Affairs University, University of Johannesburg

In the ongoing quest to understand South Africa’s political and economic stagnation, it may be helpful to look at other postcolonial states that have travelled further along the path of independence. This may help clarify the stagnation question that citizens, politicians and economists are grappling with.

Much of the analysis of postcolonial Africa and Asia has identified poor leadership, authoritarianism and misguided economic policies as determinants of stagnation. These factors do matter. But they do not fully explain why some new independent states collapsed into dysfunction while others achieved growth. The deeper question is how institutions are built, sustained or destroyed.

South Africa’s stagnation is not the complete absence of growth or democracy, but the inability to convert political freedom and economic potential into sustainable and inclusive growth manifesting in quality of life for the majority.

The World Bank calls this an incomplete transition. In its 30 years of democracy review report, the South African Presidency concluded that the economy was performing below its full potential, unemployment was high, poverty levels were persistent in pockets of broader society and inequality levels were stubbornly high and racially biased.

As we read in the World Bank’s Africa’s Pulse report, these challenges continue to trouble most of the countries on the continent.

I have encountered this in my economic governance capacity building work in government and through my affiliations with local and Asian universities. There is common concern about deteriorating statecraft and the weakening of institutions.

In that connection, this essay is framed as a comparative reflection. It situates Pakistan alongside Ghana, Malaysia and Singapore, then turns to former Pakistani civil servant and now academic Ishrat Husain’s book, Governing the Ungovernable. It is a detailed case study of institutional decline.

A former governor of the central bank of Pakistan and long-time government advisor on public sector reform, Husain offers an authoritative framework against which we can understand the performance of other post-colonial states. I use this framework to mirror South Africa, showing how elite capture, institutional weakness and cycles of reversal explain its present stagnation.

I chose Pakistan because its story of “ungovernable” institutions is similar to that of South Africa, compared to Singapore, whose success story is determined by the performance of its institutions.

Ungovernabilty in Pakistan

Husain identified ungovernability as a key determinant of Pakistan’s stagnation. By ungovernability he does not mean complete disorder (although there is too much political instability in Pakistan). He uses the term to describe a state where institutions exist but fail.

Pakistan, he writes, developed

a well entrenched system in which political, bureaucratic, business and professional elites collaborate in extracting rents at the expense of the larger society (p. 41).

Every major crisis could be traced back to this governance deficit (p. 43). Need we add, in many post-colonial states in Africa and Asia, institutions are either still being formed or they do not exist.

Institutions that should deliver services instead serve rent-seeking. Tax authorities, utilities and the police used their discretion for private gain (pp. 70–72). Elites blocked reforms because they benefited from dysfunction. Even when reforms began, they were quickly undone.

Ungovernable thus means institutions exist in name but not in substance.

Husain identifies coalitions that benefit from weakness and resist reform.

• Political dynasties dominate parties without internal democracy, using legislatures as platforms for patronage (p. 134).

• The military intervened in 1958, 1977 and 1999, stunting civilian institutions (pp. 140–144).

• Bureaucrats exploited their powers for rent extraction (p. 155).

• Business and landed elites resisted taxation and defended subsidies (pp. 160–165).

• Law enforcement was crippled by bribery and political appointments:

Law and order is bound to suffer when police officials are appointed… rather than professional competence. (p. 172).

Together, these groups made Pakistan ungovernable in practice.

Husain points to several interlocking causes: the vacuum after the death of Mohammed Ali Jinnah, Pakistan’s first governor-general (1947–48) (pp. 22–24), repeated military dominance (pp. 140–144), weak dynastic parties (p. 134), corruption across key sectors (pp. 70–80), cycles of reform and reversal (pp. 112–115), entrenched patronage networks (pp. 180–182), and a systemic governance deficit undermining taxation, energy, law and service delivery (pp. 200–210).

South Africa reflects these same patterns

South Africa’s political and economic stagnation can be defined as a prolonged period in which the state struggles to generate growth, reduce inequality and renew governance capacity, despite the presence of democratic institutions and economic potential. This challenges the theory of South African exceptionalism, as we witness the same trend of political and economic elites whose decisions result in the capture of institutions and the destruction of public value.

In South Africa, the role of economic and political elites is central to understanding institutional fragility. The Zondo Commission of Inquiry into State Capture (2018–2022) revealed how networks of political leaders, senior bureaucrats and business elites colluded to systematically weaken public institutions for private gain.

State-owned enterprises such as Eskom, Transnet and South African Airways were targeted through corrupt procurement, inflated contracts and political patronage, undermining their ability to deliver services and support economic development. The commission showed that elite capture distorted the functioning of key accountability institutions including the National Prosecuting Authority and law enforcement agencies, which were compromised to shield powerful individuals from scrutiny.

These practices eroded public trust, drained fiscal resources and entrenched political stagnation. Testimonies from the ongoing commission led by retired judge Mbuyiseli Madlanga are echoing stories told at the Zondo Commission, and now, like in Pakistan, showing the “ungovernability” of the criminal justice system.

Like in Pakistan, the police and the National Prosecuting Authority are politicised and weakened. The army, once a regional force, has declined under shrinking budgets and skills shortages. Immigration is compromised by incoherent policy, corruption at the Home Affairs department and porous borders. Local government is the weakest link, condemned by poor leadership, incompetence and failing services.

Therefore, in the South African case, ungovernability or institutional weakness cannot be explained solely by colonial legacies or structural constraints, although they do matter because the apartheid regime was corrupt. Ungovernability has been actively produced and perpetuated by elites who hollowed out institutions designed to safeguard democracy and development. They became machines of rent-seeking instead of agents of national development. They subverted the will of the people for the will of the elites who undermine accountability.

As in Pakistan, the institutions exist but fail. They are captured by elites. Reforms begin but rarely last. Why?

The comparison is instructive. Ghana fell into coups. Malaysia survived but with uneven governance. Pakistan allowed patronage to corrode its foundations. South Africa shows the same symptoms: revenue shortfalls, energy collapse, transport paralysis, policing failures, weakened defence, porous borders and failing municipalities.

Singapore deliberately built strong institutions and prospered.

Some answers

Husain warns against “sweeping reforms that collapse at each election cycle” (p. 245). Instead, he calls for “selective, sequenced and incremental reforms that enjoy broad consensus” (p. 246). The implication for South Africa is clear.

Political settlements must be reset so that institutions serve citizens rather than factions. Core institutions must be restored: courts, revenue authorities, utilities, police and prosecutors. Coalitions must be built around national goals of security, growth and fairness (p. 252).

Comparative lessons are instructive. Singapore shows the rewards of disciplined governance, while Malaysia illustrates the limits of partial reform. Above all, renewal will take decades, as decay did (p. 260).

From Pakistan’s partition in 1947 to Ghana’s independence in 1957, from the separation of Malaysia and Singapore in 1965 to South Africa’s democratic transition in 1994, post-colonial states have combined early promise with the test of institution-building. Some passed, others faltered.

Husain’s book shows that ungovernability is not chaos but the hollowing out of institutions until they exist only on paper. South Africa mirrors this reality.

The case of Pakistan also defies the idea that cultural or religious homogeneity guarantees cohesion and growth. Despite greater uniformity than many of its neighbours, Pakistan has struggled to sustain unity and development. Cohesion and growth, as Husain’s analysis confirms, are not products of identity but of politics. They depend on the presence of a developmental elite able to mobilise all productive forces in society, on effective institutions that secure delivery and accountability, and on coalitions that bring legitimacy to the national project while managing contradictions. Without these, even homogeneous nations fragment.

For South Africa, the lesson is clear. The future will not be saved by appeals to “organisational renewal” that leading political parties speak about, cultural unity or new slogans about reforms. It will be built through the deliberate reconstruction of institutions, the cultivation of developmental leadership and the forging of coalitions that sustain legitimacy across political cycles. And it requires stronger instruments of accountability and consequence management.

Only through such long and patient work can the country move from being ungovernable in practice to governable in fact.

Ngcaweni is affiliated with the South African Association of Public Administration and Management (SAAPAM), Faculty Expert at Singapore’s Chandler Governance Institute. He is Distinguished Fellow of the National School of Government of SA and Research Associate at the University of the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences where he reads and writes about the National and Regional Economic Development/Governance Models.

– ref. South Africa and Pakistan: countries brought to their knees by elite capture and economic paralysis – https://theconversation.com/south-africa-and-pakistan-countries-brought-to-their-knees-by-elite-capture-and-economic-paralysis-265427