Category: The Conversation

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Children’s views about chores

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cartoon stories

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

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

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

We sought to overcome the barriers in these ways:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Wycliffe W. Njororai Simiyu, Professor and Chair of Allied Health Studies, Stephen F. Austin State University

East Africa loves football. From the streets of Nairobi and the markets of Kampala to the beaches of Dar es Salaam, the passion for soccer is an undeniable current running through the region. Yet, despite fan support, Kenya, Uganda and Tanzania haven’t translated this enthusiasm into sustained international success.

A new book that draws on the career-long research of Wycliffe W. Njororai Simiyu explores the deep roots of the game in the region. It also examines the structural and gender challenges and the immense opportunities that lie ahead. We asked him about it.

How was the modern game introduced?

The sport is linked to the region’s colonial past. Britain established the East Africa Protectorate (which became Kenya) in 1895 and formally declared it a colony in 1920. Germany colonised mainland Tanzania (as German East Africa) in the 1880s, and control shifted to Britain after the first world war. Uganda became a protectorate in 1894 when Britain consolidated its control after a treaty with the Kingdom of Buganda.

So the game took root in the early 1900s, introduced by British settlers. Missionaries apparently introduced football to Uganda in 1897. At first it was a leisure activity for colonials and a tool for social control of the local population. It took up spare time and instilled British values and ideals.

The game was already popular in Britain. Institutionalised through the education system, sport was deemed to instil a sense of discipline and work ethic in young people. The competitiveness of sport in the British culture was exported to the colonised territories.

How did it change over time?

In east Africa, the game quickly took on a life of its own. Most east African societies valued physical activities like dance or wrestling. They found it easy to embrace sports. Football became a favourite.

The game transcended its colonial purpose to become a medium for regional interaction. Later it would also be a vehicle for nationalist expression as teams were formed along ethnic lines (something the British had used to divide and rule).

Fanatical support for local clubs and regional teams was replicated for national teams as they started playing in international matches. The inaugural international match between Kenya and Uganda was played in 1924. This was named the Gossage Cup in 1926 after a British soap manufacturer donated a trophy for the occasion.

Later Tanzania and Zanzibar joined to make it an east African tournament. The Gossage Cup not only fostered a sense of rivalry among the countries, it created a unique regional sporting identity that lives on today through its successor, the Cecafa Cup.

As east Africa gained independence in the early 1960s, football became fully integrated into the political and social fabric of the new nations. Football matches were even part of independence celebrations.

East African countries were quick to affiliate with the Confederation of African Football (Caf) and global football body Fifa. Before independence, clubs were already active and engaged in invitational tournaments. But after independence, national leagues were launched. These set out to identify the best players to represent each country.

Today, the sport’s deep connection to collective belonging is evident in rivalries between clubs like Kenya’s AFC Leopards and Gor Mahia, which often symbolise shared political underdog status and profound communal identity.

The football pitch is, in essence, an extension of the political landscape.

What have the challenges been in the sport’s development?

The most striking feature of football structures in Kenya, Tanzania and Uganda is not their difference. It’s their shared organisational shortcomings. While each country maintains its own league and administrative body, their mediocre international performance stems from common, deep-seated issues.

The recent qualification of Kenya, Uganda and Tanzania’s youth teams for the Fifa Under-17 World Cup marks a turning point for east African soccer. This is a direct result of strategic, targeted investment – mainly from Fifa’s development programmes – that’s finally bearing fruit. But the senior teams continue to struggle, even on the continental stage.

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Read more: East African footballers are a rarity on the global stage: we analysed why

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To date only Uganda has managed to reach the finals of the Afcon tournament (in 1978). No east African country has come even close to qualifying for the Fifa World Cup.

What’s gone wrong?

The challenges are a direct result of the three nations’ shared colonial and post-colonial experiences.

The main organisational issues plaguing football include:

• Poor governance and leadership. Political intrigue and corruption within football federations undermine long-term development.

• Weak financial management. Inefficient and opaque handling of funds leads to underfunding of development programmes.

• Lack of resources. These include infrastructure, facilities, equipment and trained technical personnel.

These challenges create a cycle of short-sighted planning and administrative chaos. This hinders the development of elite talent and explains the region’s perpetual failure to consistently qualify for major tournaments. Kenya, for example, had to play most of its 2026 World Cup qualifying matches away in other countries with better facilities.

Where does the women’s game find itself?

The women’s game faces the same headwinds, often magnified by gender disparities. Although women have shown the capacity to perform and compete, chronic underfunding and weak governance are typically more pronounced than in the men’s game.

However, the recent successes of teams like the Harambee Starlets (Kenya) and the Crested Cranes (Uganda) in qualifying for continental tournaments signal immense untapped potential.

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Read more: Women football players in Africa have overcome enormous barriers – new book tells the story

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The growth of women’s football is an opportunity for the region to avoid the historical baggage that weighs down the men’s leagues – if there’s dedicated investment and governance reform.

The continued support for the women’s game from Fifa is already paying dividends. East African teams have qualified for age group competitions at the global level.

How can passion be turned into future success?

The greatest opportunity lies in the very thing that makes the sport strong in the region: its passionate and popular foundation.

It requires a focus on two areas:

• Reform and professionalisation. Managing finances transparently and rooting out political interference. Focusing on long-term, merit-based leadership within federations. Professionalising the domestic leagues to keep and develop local talent.

• Investment in youth and infrastructure. Dedicated funding is needed for grassroots and youth development programmes. Building and maintaining quality training facilities must be a priority.

East Africa’s football destiny does not have to be perpetual failure. By calling on the region’s shared identity and addressing the deep-seated organisational flaws, east Africans can finally begin to translate their profound love for the game into the international success their fans deserve.

– East Africa’s dismal football record doesn’t match its passion – what needs to happen
– https://theconversation.com/east-africas-dismal-football-record-doesnt-match-its-passion-what-needs-to-happen-270479

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Ricardo Jorge Moreira Goulão Santos, Research Fellow, World Institute for Development Economics Research (UNU-WIDER), United Nations University

When floods submerged parts of Mozambique after heavy rains in 2000, a baby girl was born in a tree, where her mother clung as the Limpopo river waters rose. The baby was nicknamed Rosita in the press. Her survival became a symbol of the country’s grit.

But her story, once a symbol of hope, now frames a harder truth.

Sadly, Rosita’s life was cut short on 12 January 2026. She reportedly died of anaemia in a provincial health centre. This condition might have been treatable in a stronger, better-resourced health system.

Her death coincided with a new wave of severe flooding. Southern Mozambique was under water again in late January 2026. Weeks of heavy rain affected more than 600,000 people. Residual flooding persists in low-lying areas because of upstream inflows and high dam discharges. Towns such as Xai-Xai and Chókwè have faced repeated inundation as the Limpopo swells.

We work for Inclusive Growth, a longstanding research and capacity development initiative in Mozambique. Our work is designed to support evidence-based policymaking to foster inclusive and sustainable economic growth in the country.

Rosita’s story mirrors what our research on Mozambique’s socio-economic development shows at scale: vulnerability persists where poverty, weak public services and deep-rooted inequalities intersect.

The same communities that experience the highest levels of multidimensional poverty, stagnant progress and widening inequalities are also the ones repeatedly exposed to shocks, with limited access to the health, education and infrastructure needed to recover. When floods strike, these disadvantages compound: incomes collapse, assets are lost. Already poor households fall even further behind, making each shock harder to escape and reinforcing long-term deprivation.

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Read more: The three big reasons why Mozambique is not adapting to climate change and what needs to be done

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As Mozambique faces more frequent and more severe disasters, cycles of vulnerability will be exacerbated. To break this vicious cycle – and prevent future stories like Rosita’s – Mozambique must invest in rapid, well targeted post-shock support, swift livelihood restoration, and sustained, equitable public investment that builds long term resilience.

The fault lines beneath the floodwaters

Research produced under the Inclusive Growth in Mozambique programme shows clearly that the geography of deprivation matters.

Our paper, Evolution of multidimensional poverty in crisis-ridden Mozambique, shows that progress in addressing multidimensional poverty stalled after 2015. Since then the absolute number of poor people has increased, especially in rural areas and in the country’s central provinces.

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Read more: Extreme weather is disrupting lives in southern Africa: new policies are needed to keep the peace

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Inequality trends tell a similar story. Real consumption rose for all groups until 2014/15. But it rose much faster for richer households. Relative gaps widened further from 2015 onwards.

There has also been an increase in between‑group, or “horizontal”, inequalities. These include:

• a widening of the wealth gaps tied to province, ethnolinguistic identity, and the urban-rural divide between 1997 and 2017

• an increasing disconnect between how cities and rural areas develop: average living conditions in urban areas have improved much faster, while, relatively, improvements have stalled in rural areas

• limited internal migration, preventing convergence.

These widening spatial and socioeconomic divides mean that floods don’t strike evenly. They fall hardest on the communities already facing the steepest disadvantages, shaping who is exposed, who loses the most, and who struggles longest to rebuild.

At the household level, Baez, Caruso and Niu (2020) show how quickly welfare collapses when flooding strikes. Cyclones, floods and droughts reduced per capita food consumption by 25%-30%. Consequently, the percentage of people in poverty increased.

Our study on Mozambique’s vulnerability to natural shocks found that affected households saw short-term consumption losses between 11% and 17%. Rural poor households were hit hardest.

This corresponded, at the time, to a 6 percentage points increase in the poverty rate, as a result of the flooding.

These findings show that once incomes fall and assets are depleted, households slip further from access to adequate health, education, or nutrition – the very gaps that contributed to Rosita’s death.

Acting on the evidence

First, protecting consumption in the aftermath of a shock is essential to prevent structural poverty traps. Once emergency support has been provided, temporary, well-targeted, timely and predictable cash support for flood-affected households must be delivered. Recent evidence uncovered that extended delays in transfer payments have materially weakened households’ resilience.

Second, livelihood recovery depends on restoring earning capacity quickly. Evidence from Cyclone Idai in 2019 in Mozambique shows that small enterprises recover more rapidly when the most affected receive immediate liquidity tied loosely to damage severity and sector.

In flood-prone districts, the same logic applies. Families dependent on informal production or trade cannot wait for long bureaucratic procedures. Their resilience depends on rapid access to the means of restoring work.

Third, building resilience before the next flood requires confronting structural inequalities. Patterns of poverty and inequality show that the areas repeatedly suffering the most damage are also those where public investment in health, education, water and local infrastructure lags behind.

Rosita’s life began in a moment of national tragedy and solidarity. Her death reminds us that resilience cannot rely on courage alone. It must be built through sustained, inclusive development and public investment, so that when the Limpopo rises again, more Mozambicans stand ready – with secure livelihoods, functioning clinics, and the possibility of a different outcome.

The views expressed in this piece are those of the author(s), and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Institute or the United Nations University, nor the programme/project donors.

– Mozambique floods: why the most vulnerable keep paying the highest price
– https://theconversation.com/mozambique-floods-why-the-most-vulnerable-keep-paying-the-highest-price-274759

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By David Richard Walwyn, Professor of Technology Management, University of Pretoria

South Africa has committed to reaching phasing out human-caused carbon pollution by 2050. To get there, it needs to push as much renewable energy as possible into the national grid.

The country is the world’s 15th largest carbon polluter. It’s one of only a handful of countries still heavily dependent on burning coal to generate electricity. The country’s transport system is totally reliant on crude oil and its derivatives.

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Read more: What’s stopping sunny South Africa’s solar industry? Court case sheds light on the wider problem

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One of the keys to the transition to net zero is decarbonising household energy consumption. This means finding ways for homes to reduce the greenhouse gases that cause global warming. At the moment, household energy use contributes up to 40% of total emissions.

I am an engineer and technology management specialist who recently researched how South Africa could use excess clean power from rooftop solar systems on homes if it was fed into the grid. I also studied how battery electric vehicles could be used to store solar energy at home, and feed this into the grid too.

The following analogy explains the idea: think of South Africa’s current solar energy potential like a leaking rainwater tank. It has plenty of “rain” (sunlight). But because it lacks the “pipes” (bidirectional meters) and “extra buckets” (electric vehicle batteries), half of that “water” (clean energy) spills onto the ground unused.

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Read more: How South Africa can spread renewable energy to low income areas

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Instead, a system could be built that captures every drop of sunlight. This solar energy could be shared between the house, the car, and the neighbours to ensure the whole community has enough. Commercial projects based on this approach are already operational in China, Japan and Germany.

The biggest obstacle to this idea in South Africa is that both small-scale solar and electric vehicles are too expensive for most households, as we showed in two recently published studies on solar electricity for homes and electric vehicles.

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Read more: Electric vehicles in South Africa: how to avoid making them the privilege of the few

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Fortunately, there is a solution: the aggressive use of two technologies. The first would be giving every home with solar power a bidirectional (two-way) meter. This is a meter that allows homeowners to sell their excess solar power back to the grid. The second would be giving electric vehicle owners a vehicle-to-grid device so that they could store excess solar power in their electric vehicle batteries and sell it back to the national grid.

We believe that a synchronised effort between two novel technology adoptions – infrastructure modernisation (installing bidirectional smart grids and vehicle-to-grid devices in homes) – could dramatically increase the country’s clean energy production.

Energy from small-scale embedded solar systems

Rooftop solar systems installed on residential buildings are estimated to generate about 40% more energy than the residences need. This is because most rooftop solar systems are set up to generate enough energy to power a house during winter when the demand is greatest – people run heaters and tumble driers – and sunlight is at its weakest.

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Read more: Home solar systems in South Africa: more will be installed if households are given loans, free maintenance and security

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If these homes were fitted with bidirectional meters, which are already widely available, they could sell their unused solar power back to the grid.

Municipalities could also benefit by buying the excess renewable energy generated by homes and reselling it. In Cape Town alone, the city would generate an estimated R144 million (US$8.8 million) per year from doing this, equivalent to an additional 3% in profit, if the bidirectional meters were in place. At the same time, it would be supporting a more inclusive energy transition and reducing the amount of greenhouse gas produced by burning coal to generate power.

Vehicle-to-grid devices

My research also found that home solar systems could be integrated with battery electric vehicles using vehicle-to-grid devices. These are systems that allow batteries from electric vehicles to be integrated with electrical devices in a home (fridges, geysers and heaters) and with the national grid. In other words, electric vehicle owners would use their vehicle-to-grid device to sell power to the national grid.

This would benefit the grid and the vehicle owners, but most importantly would reduce the yearly costs of running an electric vehicle (the combined cost of the electricity the vehicle needs to run, the cost of the vehicle itself and the annual operating costs).

In practice, this would need electric car owners to charge their cars between 10am and 4pm every day when solar power generation is at its peak. This would mean that the car owners could subsidise their travel costs using “free” excess solar energy.

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Read more: Electric vehicles in Africa: what’s needed to grow the sector

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This would be ideal for people who worked from home or used their vehicles for transport to and from work or school in the early morning and late afternoon. Charging stations at workplaces would also achieve this.

The vehicle battery (typically 40–100 kWh) could then be used by people to power their homes during peak night periods or sell energy back to the grid, while leaving sufficient energy in the battery for the morning travel. Again, this would offset the yearly costs of owning an electric vehicle and boost the national grid by peak shaving.

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Read more: Battery swapping stations powered by solar and wind: we show how this could work for electric vehicles in South Africa

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If homeowners managed this well, by generating enough green energy and avoiding the use of energy from the grid, home and vehicle owners should be able to pay no more than they would if they were driving internal combustion engine vehicles that run on petrol, and using electricity from the national power utility, Eskom. In other words, switching to a renewable energy option would be possible without additional cost.

What needs to happen next

Net Zero by 2050 is not an aspiration of a small group of environmental activists; it is a legal obligation under South Africa’s Climate Change Act. Despite what climate change denialists may claim, it is not a preferred option – it is the only option.

Bidirectional meters and vehicle-to-grid charging stations would help the country reach this goal.

However, the question of who pays for home bidirectional meters, their installation and having them certified has become highly contested. I argue that the state-owned electricity provider, Eskom, and the municipalities should cover the cost of both registration and metering. It shouldn’t be paid by the homeowners.

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Read more: Satellite images reveal the dark side of household solar power – South Africa’s green transition is only for a few

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This is because the benefit for electricity distributors is at least five times the cost of the meter itself. Distributors get cheap energy and sell it to other customers. The grid also benefits from having more renewable energy being fed into it.

Without technology like this, the cost of transitioning to a green energy future remains too high for individual households. But with the technology, the transition becomes economically competitive.

– Connecting home solar and electric vehicle batteries to the grid could boost South Africa’s clean energy and strengthen the electricity system
– https://theconversation.com/connecting-home-solar-and-electric-vehicle-batteries-to-the-grid-could-boost-south-africas-clean-energy-and-strengthen-the-electricity-system-274990

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Savo Heleta, Researcher, Nelson Mandela University

Higher education institutions are frequent casualties in violent conflicts. In Palestine, Ukraine and Sudan, to mention only a few recent examples, university campuses have been bombed. Academics, staff and students have been killed, injured or displaced. Teaching, learning and research have been undermined or come to a halt.

Higher education plays a critical role in knowledge production, research, education and skills development in any society. In conflict-affected countries, the sector is also expected to support broader societal recovery, development and peacebuilding in the post-conflict period.

In the aftermath of violent conflicts, higher education systems require support to recover and rebuild. But that has not been a priority for foreign donors and development organisations. Over the past decade, scholars and policy documents have highlighted that conflict settings have been neglected in providing foreign aid to higher education.

As researchers we’re involved in a project supported by the Education Above All Foundation from Qatar. The project studies educational systems, processes and initiatives in fragile and conflict settings around the globe. It aims to provide scientific evidence for improved decision-making by governments, educational institutions and organisations.

In a recent paper, published in the journal Globalisation, Societies and Education as part of a special issue on universities in times of conflict, we analyse aid flows to higher education in conflict-affected countries during the 2013-2022 period.

Our analysis shows that most aid to higher education never reaches countries and institutions in need, but is spent on international scholarships to study in donor countries. It’s also skewed towards certain recipient countries. These aid patterns don’t help countries and higher education institutions to rebuild after conflict.

The evidence of neglect

In our research, we relied on the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development’s (OECD) aid flows data. We explored where the aid to higher education went, and what types of aid were provided by donors. Our focus was on 23 countries that were either in the midst of violent conflict or in a fragile post-conflict phase during 2013-2022.

Our findings indicate that most donors prefer to give international scholarship aid. They neglect local higher education in conflict settings. Overall, scholarship aid made up more than 80% of aid to higher education provided to the countries in our sample. From 2013 to 2022, scholarship aid saw strong growth, while the aid to local systems and institutions stagnated.

The main problem with scholarship aid is that it does not reach recipient countries. It is spent in donor countries on individual recipients’ tuition, living expenses and other costs. This type of aid supports only a small number of recipients, and is often used by donors as a soft power tool.

Our research further highlights that a few countries have received most of the aid, while other countries with similar needs have been neglected. Despite what donors say about the importance of supporting the countries with greatest needs, our analysis shows that this does not happen with higher education in conflict settings. Many countries in need of assistance have been neglected by donors over the past decade.

Decisions about the recipients of either type of aid to higher education are often political. The provision of funding does not necessarily align with the recipients’ needs but largely follows donors’ strategic interests and priorities.

Rethinking higher education aid

Conflict analysis scholars Sansom Milton and Sultan Barakat wrote in 2016 that the neglect of higher education represents a “major missed opportunity to invest in critical national capacities that are capable of catalysing an effective reconstruction and recovery process” in the aftermath of violent conflict.

This neglect should not come as a surprise. In most developed countries, which are some of the top aid donors, higher education has been organised around neoliberal principles. This had led to underfunding and neglect of the sector by governments. Their provision of aid to higher education in conflict settings is based on the same principles, with the same results.

Our findings present a bleak picture of neglect of higher education in countries affected by violent conflict. The indications for the future are even bleaker due to ongoing aid cuts by many donor countries.

Importantly, our research also provides a starting point for critical engagement with donors and organisations working on education in conflict settings. More critical research, advocacy, activism, engagement and practical work is needed to challenge and reverse the neglect.

Rethinking and reforming foreign aid practices requires moving beyond donors’ strategic interests and dismantling the neoliberal agenda which has shaped much of the thinking about aid, higher education and development in general for decades. This, however, will be a challenge as the politicisation of foreign aid is unlikely to go away in the foreseeable future.

Still, changes are possible. For example:

• Donors can redirect some scholarship funds to education systems, institutions and locally driven initiatives in conflict settings.

• Donors can shift some international scholarship aid to domestic scholarships. This would make funding available for more students and would support local institutions.

Supporting and rebuilding higher education after violent conflict is crucial to enable systems and institutions to conduct research, develop relevant knowledge, provide quality education and contribute to societal recovery and peacebuilding.

– Countries need higher education to rebuild after conflict – study finds foreign aid isn’t going where it’s needed
– https://theconversation.com/countries-need-higher-education-to-rebuild-after-conflict-study-finds-foreign-aid-isnt-going-where-its-needed-274995

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Keiichi Ohnaka, Associate professor, Universidad Andrés Bello (Chile)

For decades, astronomers have been watching WOH G64, an enormous heavyweight star in the Large Magellanic Cloud, a galaxy visible with the naked eye from the Southern Hemisphere. This star is more than 1,500 times larger than the Sun and emitting over 100,000 times more energy. For a long time, red supergiant WOH G64 looked like a star steadily reaching the end of its life, shedding material and swelling in size as it began to run out of fuel.

Astronomers didn’t think its final demise would happen anytime soon, because no-one has ever seen a known red supergiant die. But in recent years astronomers – including our team working with the Southern African Large Telescope (SALT) – discovered that this star has started to change, growing dimmer than before and seemingly warmer. This has surprised scientists and suggests the star’s final stages of life may be more complicated, and perhaps unfold faster, than once thought.

Massive stars, more than about eight times the mass of the Sun, produce so much energy, which we see as light, that they run out of fuel within millions of years, instead of the billions of years of the Sun’s lifespan.

Most massive stars become gigantic, cool stars in the final million years or so of their life – so-called red supergiants. All red supergiants blow gaseous winds, losing weight as they do so. Some do this so strongly that the star becomes enveloped in a shroud of the ejected material containing gas and solid particles like tiny sand grains – called dust in astronomy. This makes them look dim in visual light, but very bright in the infrared where the dust shines.

In the 1960s Swedish astronomers Westerlund, Olander and Hedin discovered number 64 in their catalogue of red stars. They thought nothing of it, as it looked like an unremarkable red giant star, something the Sun and most other stars will become later in life. But when in the 1980s Nasa, the UK and The Netherlands launched the InfraRed Astronomical Satellite into space, astronomers Elias, Frogel and Schwering discovered that WOH G64 is the most luminous, coolest and dustiest red supergiant in the entire Large Magellanic Cloud, which harbours over a thousand red supergiants. More observations over the following decades showed the strong, steady modulations of the brightness expected of a pulsating star of that kind.

Then, in 2024, our team (both authors of this article and our collaborators in Germany and the US) succeeded in taking a close-up image of WOH G64 using the European Southern Observatory’s telescopes and revealed a fresh cloud of dust close to the star. It was the sharpest picture of a star in another galaxy ever taken (comparable to being able to spot an astronaut walk on the Moon from Earth). We discovered that in the last decade, unexpectedly, the star had started to eject much more dust than before. At that time, we did not have an idea about why and how.

It turns out, WOH G64 had also become dimmer, possibly because of the dust cloud it had ejected, and started to pulsate less and a little more quickly, suggesting it had shrunk. At the same time, the star seemed to look a lot warmer, leading some to believe it might have entered a new stage of its life – a so-called yellow hypergiant on its final path to doom.

All these phenomena are happening on a human time scale, which is usually not the case when we observe stars. This makes WOH G64 even more special. Is this star offering us an opportunity not to be missed to witness the final death throes of massive stars?

Now, as we start 2026, we have announced that observations we have obtained using the Southern African Large Telescope give us some clues about what is going on with WOH G64. The SALT observations show the overwhelming presence of ions in the vicinity of the star, which means that the gas is heated up to high temperatures by what must be a much hotter star. This should not have surprised anyone as the hot gas had been spotted in the 1980s and ever since. But we also found the imprint of molecules, implying cool gas (because molecules break up at high temperatures) likely in the atmosphere of the red supergiant. It did not appear to have changed into a yellow hypergiant, at least not yet.

For a long time, astronomers have suspected that the red supergiant has a smaller, hotter twin living alongside it, but they have somehow been reluctant to claim this in publications. And now it looks to be the elephant in the room. One way of making sense of our observations is that this hotter star, looking blue in contrast to its bigger, cooler, red sibling, heats gas it might have captured from the red supergiant’s wind. Now that the red supergiant has faded, the presence of the heated gas has just become more conspicuous.

If the orbit of the blue star is not a circle but quite elongated (Earth’s orbit around the Sun only slightly deviates from a circle), the distance between the blue star and the red supergiant varies. It may have got closer in recent years, and its gravity might have caused the atmosphere of the red supergiant to stretch out. This would make it more transparent overall, allowing us to see the warmer interior, but with cool, dark molecular patches left in places. That would also have made it easier for dust to form further out in its wind.

If that is true, then once the blue star starts to recede again on its orbit, WOH G64 might regain its former red supergiant glory. On the other hand, if it did throw off its coat entirely, then the molecules would disappear, and with it, the dust, and we would gain a clean view of the star. Then again, WOH G64 might do something else unexpected. It certainly teaches astronomers to be humble.

– A giant star is changing before our eyes and astronomers are watching in real time
– https://theconversation.com/a-giant-star-is-changing-before-our-eyes-and-astronomers-are-watching-in-real-time-274562

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Sharief Hendricks, Senior Lecturer Department of Human Biology, Faculty of Health Sciences , University of Cape Town

Children in South Africa are back at school after their summer holidays. My son, aged five, has just started school at Wynberg Boys Junior, a school based in Cape Town’s southern suburbs with a strong record of playing rugby.

Like most rugby-loving families in South Africa, we hope our child discovers the pleasures of the game. We would like him to enjoy the sport, but we want him to do it in the safest way possible.

As a contact sport, rugby has the potential to result in some serious injuries if players aren’t properly prepared and supervised. Full contact tackle rugby involves repeated dynamic physical-technical contests for the ball and territory, which expose players to injury.

In South Africa, the governing body, SA Rugby, has a new policy that children under the age of nine can only play non-contact rugby. Non-contact rugby incorporates all the core elements of rugby like running, catching, passing and decision-making, but it is done without the repeated physical-technical contests of the tackle. Age categories Under 8 and younger are not allowed to engage in the full contact tackle rugby and should play tag rugby and SA T1 Rugby, a version of World Rugby’s globally endorsed non-contact game.

The non-contact game is designed for all ages, sizes and abilities, including children and first-time players. The new standards apply to all schools, clubs and associated members working in youth rugby. Before playing full-contact tackle rugby though, players will have to build the necessary skills and confidence to contest the tackle.

I am an injury prevention and player welfare researcher at the Health through Physical Activity, Lifestyle and Sport Research Centre at the University of Cape Town and a visiting professor at Leeds Beckett University. I am also a research consultant for sport governing bodies, including SA Rugby and World Rugby. Recently, with my co-author Stephen West from the University of Calgary, I published a paper outlining the current policies in different countries for introducing contact in youth sports.

The article weighed up the potential risks and benefits of an earlier versus later introduction to contact and described what needs to be considered when designing policies for this. We concluded that the introduction to contact should be a gradual, clearly defined process. It should build physiological, psychological and technical competencies to perform contact safely and optimally.

We think the new SA Rugby policies are an evidence-based investment in our children’s long-term rugby participation. The rules are catching up with those of other rugby-playing nations. By giving young players the cognitive, physical and technical foundations they need, we are making the game more sustainable, more enjoyable and safer for the next generation.

What the research says

In the research, we highlight that exposure to a range of movement experiences early on may develop skill capacities that will facilitate the learning of more advanced skills. Research has shown that significant developmental improvements in cognitive processes, such as processing speed (reaction time) and executive function, occur between the ages of five and seven years, and children become more interested in structured, rule-bound play.

We argue that contact skills can be introduced between the ages of 7 and 11 years. We also highlight that before any sport-specific techniques are introduced, players need to condition themselves for contact through skills such as falling, grappling and wrestling. These fundamental movements serve to prepare players for contact, for example, how to break a fall or physically engage (push, pull, drive, let go of) another player.

Players also need to learn how to carry the ball into contact and tackle.

Training environments should be designed to provide adequate skill development which prepares players for the demands of tackle contact rugby sport.

Coaches should understand the game demands for their age group to manipulate training to achieve specific learning objectives. For instance, in junior rugby, children tend to cluster around the ball – what we call the “beehive effect”. Our research shows this creates tackle patterns that are different from those in the adult game, with junior rugby involving more jersey pulls and arm tackles than direct front tackles.

Coaches can use this insight to adjust field size to control contact speed, and introduce rules that encourage evasion over direct confrontation.

Guidance and preparation

With input from leading researchers, practitioners and coaches in rugby, our research group developed a tackle training framework to help coaches and trainers.

For example, it provides a guide for how coaches can progress players from environments that are low-speed, controlled and structured to environments that are more representative of the game situations.

Families can also help prepare children for the joys of tackle rugby:

• give them the opportunity to participate in a range of sports

• expose them to forms of physical contact such as wrestling and grappling in the form of play, and activities that develop their landing, falling and rolling skills

• encourage collision play with padded or cushioned equipment

• explore sports that specifically promote body control and awareness in controlled contact situations, such as karate.

Of course, children develop at different rates, and many factors influence when a child is ready for contact. This is why a standardised, progressive approach benefits everyone.

– New rugby rules for South African kids aim to keep them safe: what does the research say?
– https://theconversation.com/new-rugby-rules-for-south-african-kids-aim-to-keep-them-safe-what-does-the-research-say-274458

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Tinashe Mushakavanhu, Assistant Professor, Harvard University

Lauretta Ngcobo, who passed away in 2015, left a singular and impactful literary legacy in South Africa. Even in a life of exile and resistance to apartheid and white minority rule in the country. As a novelist, feminist thinker and freedom fighter, her intellectual contributions were foundational.

Ngcobo’s work often deals with the realities of black women facing both political and social oppression. While And They Didn’t Die (1990) is considered to be her masterpiece, her first novel Cross of Gold was published in 1981. Awards and recognition came relatively late in her career.

In a new documentary film And She Didn’t Die, producer and director Kethiwe Ngcobo creates a cinematic tribute that is at once an intimate and politically urgent portrait of her mother Lauretta. But what does it mean for a daughter to film her mother, not as a private act of remembrance but as a contribution to public history?

Structured as a conversation between them, the film moves between personal memory and historical reckoning, asking how lives shaped by political struggle are remembered and who gets to do the remembering.

As a scholar of African literature, I am aware of how few historical films exist about African women writers, and how often their voices are absent from audio and visual archives. And She Didn’t Die matters as a rare and powerful act of preservation.

It is a kind of preservation that is necessary. It points to a broader history in which African women writers, often working under conditions of exile, censorship, or displacement, have been made vulnerable to cultural disappearance.

Returning home

The opening scene allows the viewer to witness the historical return of Lauretta Ngcobo to her birthright. Against looming terrain, she reflects from a moving car, asking in her language, isiZulu: iphi inkaba yakho? – where is your umbilical cord?

The question gestures not only to physical return but to longing, for a place that exists both before her and within her. “I always find myself coming here,” she says. Land is a metaphor for what exile takes away and what memory insists on preserving. Ngcobo’s reflections feel insistently present.

Throughout the film, she speaks directly about exile as the most painful condition of her life:

There was no home. I had no home. That was the highest point of my painful exile, my painful experience as a politician.

Exile, as the film makes clear, is not only geographic displacement but a loss of self. Forced underground by the apartheid regime, Ngcobo lived an itinerant life, but always oriented towards return. Survival became a form of suspension, living for a future that was constantly deferred.

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Read more: Travel as activism: 6 stories of Black women who refused to ‘stay put’ in apartheid South Africa

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Besides Ngcobo as the main character, the film’s cast also includes her husband, sister, children, grandchildren, a scholar, and close friends, each offering fragments of her and how she moved through the world. In doing so, it participates in a broader reassessment of South Africa’s literary canon that has long privileged male voices.

The film also pays attention to the costs of political commitment, particularly within family life. Ngcobo’s elder daughter Khosi Mabena reflects:

I missed the mum of small things.

The remark captures the emotional complexity of growing up alongside a mother whose responsibilities as a writer and activist often took precedence. The film does not sentimentalise this absence, nor does it frame it as moral failure. Instead, it allows the ambivalence to stand, acknowledging the real losses produced by lives lived in struggle.

At the same time, And She Didn’t Die insists that Ngcobo’s politics were never separable from care. She wrote from an understanding that resistance does not take place only in prisons, parliaments or at public rallies, but also in homes, spaces historically dismissed as domestic or minor, yet central to women’s survival.

Ngcobo practised a form of political motherhood in which care was expanded beyond the private sphere, even as that expansion came at an intimate cost.

Writing as freedom

And She Didn’t Die also responds to cultural loss. Many writers of Ngcobo’s generation, particularly women, remain absent from public memory, despite the promise of accessibility in the digital age. Their voices and images are missing. This film functions as a corrective. We hear Ngcobo speak. We see her age, laugh, remember. The documentary insists on her presence.

South African scholar and writer Barbara Boswell, author of Lauretta Ngcobo: Writing as the Practice of Freedom, situates Ngcobo in the film within a longer genealogy:

Her story didn’t start with herself. It started with her mother, her grandmother and her great-grandmother.

That lineage continues through her daughter Kethiwe, who uses the camera as a storytelling tool, extending a long line of work.

Ngcobo reflects on discovering feminism in exile:

Feminism is what I found in England. I collided with these forces with great joy.

Yet she is also clear-eyed about the limits placed on women within liberation movements:

In the main struggle mine was a cheering role, in support of the men. I had no voice. I could only assent, never contradict, nor offer alternatives. All decision-making positions were and are still in the hands of men.

Writing, then, becomes a form of freedom. As Ngcobo puts it:

My writing arises from the depths I cannot reach.

In literature, she sets the terms: she creates worlds where women speak, decide, and act. As South African scholar Zinhle ka’Nobuhlaluse notes, Ngcobo was not merely a “struggle wife”. Her marriage to A.B. Ngcobo, a stalwart of the anti-apartheid struggle, did not define her life or limit her agency.

Through her writing, she claims autonomy, forging intellectual and emotional spaces that neither exile, political struggle, nor domestic expectation could fully contain.

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Read more: How a film is fighting the erasure of South African activist Dulcie September

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And She Didn’t Die is ultimately a film about survival of memory, of voice, of lineage. It is a tender and necessary portrait of a woman whose work was never marginal and whose return to public view feels inseparable from the present moment in which South Africa is once again asking what freedom means, and who gets to define it.

The film is not yet available for streaming. It is screening on film festivals around the world

– South African novelist Lauretta Ngcobo is the subject of a tender and urgent new film
– https://theconversation.com/south-african-novelist-lauretta-ngcobo-is-the-subject-of-a-tender-and-urgent-new-film-274432

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Katrina Kosec, Lecturer, Johns Hopkins University

When floodwaters washed away Woudou Oumar’s home in northern Cameroon, he and his family lost not only shelter but hope. Then a government-supported cash transfer arrived. “The money transfer was a real boost for me and my family,” he says, explaining how he rebuilt his house, bought seeds for farming, paid for his daughters’ schooling, covered his son’s medical care after the disaster, and became more hopeful.

Stories like Woudou’s highlight how social transfers can shape more than incomes: they anchor people in their communities and influence how they experience and judge governmental support.

Governments and development partners around the world are now pouring unprecedented resources into social protection. From rural Bangladesh to urban Brazil, more than 120 low- and middle-income countries now provide some form of cash transfer to their poorest citizens. These programmes have succeeded in reducing poverty in both the short term and long term, improving education outcomes and promoting better health.

But what else are they doing and at what cost, or benefit, to social and political life?

Our new study reveals that social transfers are systematically reshaping how citizens relate to their governments and to one another. We reviewed nearly 90 empirical studies across six continents in a bid to establish causal effects of social transfers on outcomes beyond welfare and livelihoods. We found that these programmes influenced how people voted, how much they trusted institutions, whether they participated in civic life, and even how they felt about their neighbours.

The studies spanned Africa, Asia, Australia, Europe, North America and South America. The review included studies in 11 African countries – some in fragile and conflict-affected settings. Our findings identified consistent patterns alongside important contextual variation.

The effects weren’t always what policymakers expected, and they depended heavily on programme design, recipient characteristics, and political context.

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Read more: Over 26 million South Africans get a social grant. Fear of losing the payment used to be a reason to vote for the ANC, but no longer – study

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As governments and donors expand safety nets, one reality deserves more attention: social transfers don’t operate in a vacuum. They shape how citizens perceive authority, belonging, and the fairness of their political institutions. They can strengthen political and social trust or erode it, build cohesion or fuel resentment.

Our review shows that design, delivery, and local context shape whether transfers unify or divide societies. While many effects are positive, they are neither automatic nor uniform. Getting this right means seeing social protection not only as a tool to fight poverty, but as a force that can help – or hinder – the building of political trust and community life.

Across settings, three things stood out: how transfers reshape state legitimacy, how they affect trust and political behaviour, and how they alter relationships within communities.

Reshaping relationships with the state

Social transfer programmes, such as cash transfers or food aid, are designed to reduce poverty and cushion households against income shocks. But they also shape how people understand the social contract between citizens and the state.

In fragile settings especially, even small benefits can become symbols of state presence and capacity. Good delivery looks boring – but it is powerful. Programmes that pay on time and apply clear eligibility rules tend to build political trust. In these settings, recipients understand not only that help is coming, but why – and from whom.

Bad delivery, by contrast, often involves delays, opaque targeting, or inconsistent payments. When citizens cannot predict whether benefits will arrive, or suspect that selection is arbitrary or politicised, transfers lose their legitimising effect and may even undermine confidence in public institutions.

When citizens perceive these programmes as fairly targeted and effectively delivered, they often respond with higher satisfaction with public services and their political leaders, and increased political participation. Many begin to see their governments as more legitimate and responsive.

In fact, the most consistent empirical finding across nearly 90 studies was that social transfers boosted support for political incumbents, particularly when programmes were seen as credible, well targeted, and appropriately delivered.

Still, not all effects were positive.

We identified conditions under which social transfers had little effect – or even negative consequences – for state-citizen relations. In some cases, this reflected poor implementation capacity. In others, citizens credited NGOs or donors rather than their government for programme delivery. Where attribution was unclear, benefits didn’t necessarily translate into political support.

A mixed picture at community level

We also examined how transfers shaped relationships between citizens themselves. Here, the evidence was more mixed.

In some settings, transfers increased community engagement, strengthened informal support networks, and built trust between groups.

But in other cases, transfers fuelled jealousy or worsened inter-group tensions. The evidence suggests, for instance, that transfers can increase crime or conflict when benefits leak to better-off households or are perceived to help outsiders.

Equity and deservingness concerns emerged as especially important. When programmes excluded those who perceived themselves as equally needy, or when non-beneficiaries perceived recipients as undeserving, political resentment built. These dynamics were especially salient in contexts of high displacement, high inequality, or deep social cleavages.

Design details matter

One of the clearest takeaways from our review is that the design and delivery of anti-poverty programmes makes a real difference for political and social outcomes.

Inclusive programmes that reached broader populations were less likely to generate resentment than narrowly targeted ones. Programmes that come with conditions that promote the acquisition of civic skills (through job training, for example) and increase engagement with state and community organisations (through the receipt of a national identification card, for example) serve to more effectively boost political participation.

Attribution is also crucial. When citizens clearly associated benefits with their government, transfers were more likely to build trust in institutions. And having mechanisms for grievance redress, feedback and community dialogue amplified the positive effects.

We also found that trust and social cohesion impacts were greater among marginalised groups such as women, unskilled workers and the very poor. Citizens like these often have the most to gain from the material support and the recognition that programmes represent.

Policy lessons for expansion

As social protection becomes more central to development strategies, understanding these effects is critical. Cash transfers are not just economic tools. They shape political attitudes, community cohesion, and perceptions of fairness.

The core message is simple but consequential: social protection is never politically or socially neutral. Its effects depend not only on how much is transferred, but on who receives it, how programmes are explained, and whether citizens experience them as fair, corruption-free, and delivered by a state that is accountable to them.

To maximise the benefits of social transfer programmes and minimise unintended harms, governments and donors should consider five key principles:

Target transparently and fairly. Programmes should strive for clear eligibility rules that are well communicated. Programmes must also actually deliver what is promised in a timely way that is visibly free from graft.

Design for dignity and civic engagement. Programmes that provide opportunities for feedback, or positive interactions with those providing public services, can promote social inclusion.

Ensure state visibility and attribution. When recipients understand the government’s role in delivering benefits, they are more likely to see the state as responsive and capable, reinforcing positive relations and encouraging more political participation.

Promote social cohesion through complementary efforts. Transfers may strengthen community ties when paired with initiatives like local meetings or community-based trainings. These features can be just as important as the cash itself for ensuring broad programme acceptance.

Measure relational impacts, not just economic ones. Evaluation should go beyond income and consumption to assess how transfers affect trust, cohesion, political efficacy and perceptions of fairness – among both beneficiaries and non-beneficiaries.

As social protection scales globally, the question is no longer whether transfers reduce poverty – they do. The harder question is whether they help build the kinds of states and societies that can sustain development over time. Getting the design right is not just good policy. It can meaningfully strengthen bonds among citizens and between citizens and the state.

– Anti-poverty programmes can change how people see the state and each other
– https://theconversation.com/anti-poverty-programmes-can-change-how-people-see-the-state-and-each-other-274303

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Peet van Aardt, Coordinator: Initiative for Creative African Narratives (iCAN) & Lecturer: Academic Literacy, University of the Free State

Much is being said about the wonders of artificial intelligence (AI) and how it is the new frontier. And while it provides amazing possibilities in fields like medicine, academics are debating its advantages for university students. Peet van Aardt researches student writing and presents academic writing workshops at the University of the Free State Writing Centre, helping students to build clear arguments, summarise essay structure and express their opinions in their own voice. He also spearheads the Initiative for Creative African Narratives (iCAN), a project that assists students in getting their original stories published. Here he shares his experiences and thoughts on the use of generative AI at university.

What are your biggest concerns about the growth of AI-generated material from students?

The use of generative AI to compose assignments and write essays is widely reported, and its potentially detrimental effects on critical thinking and research are clear.

My biggest concern is that it takes away academic agency from students. By that I mean it takes the proverbial pen out of our students’ hands. If they over-rely on it (which we see they tend to do), they no longer think critically and no longer express their own voices.

This is particularly important in African universities, where student voice and the intellectual contribution of students to society are drivers of social change and decolonisation.

How can you tell if a text is written by a student or is AI generated?

Flawless grammar and clichés are the first two signs. Generic, shallow reasoning is another. Finally, the generative AI answer does not tend to relate well to topics set in a local context.

If I take student short stories that have been submitted to our iCAN project as an example, I see more and more tales set in some unnamed place (previously, students’ stories often took place in their own towns) or adventures experienced by characters named Stacey, Rick, Damian or other American-sounding people.

Another example: third year students studying Geography were asked to write a ten page essay on the history and future of sustainability and how it applied to Africa. To guide them, the students were referred to a report that addresses challenges in sustainability. What we saw during our consultations in the writing centre were texts that discussed this report, as well as relevant topics such as “global inequality and environmental justice” and “linking human rights, sustainability and peace” – but nowhere was South Africa even mentioned. The students clearly prompted their generative AI tool to produce an essay on the first part of the assignment instructions.

Also, it’s quite easy to determine whether somebody did their own research and created their own arguments when they have to reflect on it.

When students don’t understand the text of their essay, it’s a sign that they didn’t produce it. As academics and writing coaches we increasingly encounter students who, instead of requiring help with their own essay or assignment, need assistance with their AI-produced text. Students ask questions about the meaning and relevance of the text.

Writing centre consultations have always relied on asking the students questions about their writing in an attempt to guide them on their academic exploration. But recently more time needs to be spent on reading what the students present as their writing, and then asking them what it means. Therefore, instead of specifics, we now need to take a step back and look at the bigger picture.

Not all students use generative AI poorly. That is why I still believe in using AI detection tools as a first “flag” in the process: it provides a place to start.

What interventions do you propose?

Students should be asked questions about text, like:

• Does what it is saying make sense?

• Does this statement sound true?

• Does it answer the lecturer’s question?

In some instances teaching and learning is moving back to paper-based assignments, which I support. If possible, we should let students write with pens in controlled environments.

It’s also becoming more important to reignite the skill of academic reading so that students can understand what their AI assistant is producing. This points to the importance of reading for understanding, being able to question what was read, and being able to remember what one has read.

Generative AI is quite western and northern-centric. I believe we in academia have an opportunity to focus, where possible, on indigenous knowledge. Students should be encouraged to reflect on indigenous knowledge more often.

Lastly, academics should not over-rely on generative AI themselves if they don’t want their students to do so. As student enrolment numbers rise, time is becoming a rare luxury for academics, but we cannot expect students to take responsibility for their learning when we want to take shortcuts in our facilitation.

Have you changed your approach given these insights?

We have been revisiting our workshop materials to include more theory and practice on reading. Well-known strategies like the SQ3R method (to survey, question, read, recite and review a text) and the PIE approach (understanding that paragraphs Point to a main idea, support this by Illustration and Explain how and why the writer supports the main idea) are infused, along with various activities to ensure students apply some of these.

Our one-on-one consultations between students and trained, qualified academic writing experts continue to be integral.

If we as academics want to continue facilitating the learning process in students – and truly put them at the centre of education – we have to empower them to think critically and express themselves in their own voices.

– We run writing workshops at a South African university: what we’ve learnt about how students are using AI, and how to help them
– https://theconversation.com/we-run-writing-workshops-at-a-south-african-university-what-weve-learnt-about-how-students-are-using-ai-and-how-to-help-them-273286