Category: The Conversation

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Ivor Chipkin, Associate lecturer, University of Pretoria

The city of Johannesburg – South Africa’s largest – is increasingly unable to perform even its most basic functions, such as providing clean water and electricity and maintaining its roads and the safety of its citizens. It has the symptoms of a broken city: deteriorating financial controls, a swelling wage bill, unstable coalitions and rapid mayoral turnover.

Describing these problems, however, does not amount to a diagnosis. And no project of renewal can begin without a diagnosis.

My research over the last three decades has focused on the challenges of government in post-apartheid South Africa. I also spent years working on local government, both as an activist opposed to apartheid and as part of the team that developed the White Paper on local government in 1998.

In a recently published paper, The Crisis of Johannesburg: An Agenda for Institutional Reform, commissioned by an independent think tank, the Centre for Development and Enterprise, I explored the governance of the city, why it has deteriorated so seriously over the last ten years and what might be done about it.

I argue that the conventional diagnosis – that Johannesburg’s crisis is simply one of poor governance and weak leadership – is insufficient.

The deeper problem is institutional and legal. I argue that the problem with the city, like other municipalities in the country, is that the administration only exists in name. All power lies with the council. The city manager has no inherent authority to hire staff or to make operational decisions.

In devising solutions I draw on the experience of Medellín, Colombia’s second largest city. For a long time it was officially the deadliest place in the world. Its recovery depended on a city government that could combine security, investment and capable utilities.

Johannesburg’s recovery will depend on applying a similar approach. Its utilities – City Power, Johannesburg Water and the waste management service provider Pikitup – must get real operational autonomy. Johannesburg now has to decide whether its utilities will be used for rebuilding the city, and whether it is prepared to confront the political and criminal networks that will resist this.

The emergence of a mega-city

Over the past 30 years Johannesburg has developed into a large metropolitan entity absorbing other towns and municipalities. The idea was to create a new city as a metropolitan authority that could pool resources across historically unequal areas.

The city was also restructured through the iGoli 2002 plan. Major service functions were reorganised into corporatised entities.

• The electricity department became City Power, a company wholly owned by the City.

• The water department became Johannesburg Water. In its early years it was managed by the French water company Suez-Lyonnaise des Eaux.

• Pikitup was established as the municipal company responsible for waste collection and cleaning.

The idea was that these functions were large technical businesses and needed to be run as such. They required dedicated management, clear responsibilities and accountabilities, technically competent employees and financial discipline.

These reforms were controversial from the beginning. The South African Municipal Workers Union and the not-for-profit campaign group the Anti-Privatisation Forum opposed them as concessions to neoliberalism.

Johannesburg never settled how the utilities should relate to the city administration in terms of governance and decision making over finances. The result has been a hybrid arrangement. The utilities are expected to operate like businesses. But many of the key functions on which a business depends are centralised and politically contested. Billing, treasury, cash allocation, staff appointments, procurement and capital expenditure were never insulated from wider municipal instability.

The utilities were autonomous enough to fragment responsibility, but not autonomous enough to protect their own operations.

The problem is political.

The Municipal Systems Act, passed in 2000, created the position of municipal manager, appointed by the council. But the act did not provide a clean separation between political direction and administrative authority. Councils remain deeply involved in appointments and senior administrative arrangements. Executive mayors, mayoral committees, boards and entity executives all have roles, but accountability is dispersed.

In the coalition period, which began in 2016 when the African National Congress lost its majority in the city council, the administrative space has weakened further.

Over the past decade the city has too often been divided between coalition partners. Each has treated departments or entities as personal areas of influence. This has affected appointments, boards, procurement and operational decisions.

The result is the conversion of municipal institutions into political assets. Utilities that should be technical service institutions have become sites of patronage, rent extraction and factional control.

This is where Medellín offers a useful point of reference.

What fixing problems took in Medellín

In the 1980s and 1990s the city became known as the most violent in the world. By 2013, however, it had come to be recognised as the most innovative.

Medellín’s recovery required the restoration of public authority in areas where powerful criminal and armed cartels had displaced the state. The state had to become visible and useful where it had been absent or predatory.

The municipal utility, Empresas Públicas de Medellín, was central to this process. It supplied electricity, water, sanitation and telecommunications. It generated revenue, maintained infrastructure and helped finance the city’s broader investment programme. It showed that a public utility can be commercially disciplined and socially useful at the same time. It can provide services effectively, generate resources for the city, and support investment in poorer areas.

This is the main lesson for Johannesburg. Utilities are a problem if they are poorly governed and politicised, and if they don’t have protected cash flows, competent management or clear authority.

Medellín’s experience shows that utilities can be part of the renewal of a city if they have:

• shareholder compacts with the city

• billing and treasury rules that specify how revenue is collected and how cash is allocated

• performance targets that are public and measurable

• protection from political interference in appointments, operations and procurement.

Vested interests will resist change

This will not be a purely administrative exercise. Renewal in Johannesburg will confront interests that benefit from the current disorder. Some of these interests are inside formal politics. Some sit on boards, or in entities, departments and supply chains. Some operate through contractors, local brokers or criminal networks.

A reform programme that threatens these arrangements should expect resistance. That resistance may take the form of litigation, obstruction, leaks, disinformation, labour disruption, sabotage of infrastructure, intimidation of officials, and violence around worksites and depots.

Johannesburg’s recovery will require both professionalisation and enforcement. It will need a professional and relatively autonomous administration, but also a policing strategy capable of protecting infrastructure, officials, contractors and communities from organised disruption.

This does not mean militarising municipal government. It means recognising that service delivery depends on public authority.

– Johannesburg and Medellín: what South Africa can learn from Colombia about fixing a broken city
– https://theconversation.com/johannesburg-and-medellin-what-south-africa-can-learn-from-colombia-about-fixing-a-broken-city-292092

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Gabriel Kanuti Ndimbo, Lecturer in Development Studies, University of Dar es Salaam

Malnutrition among children under five remains one of sub-Saharan Africa’s most persistent public health challenges. Countries and development partners have introduced numerous nutrition programmes. Yet millions of young children continue to suffer from poor nutrition.

Drawing on our expertise in public health, nutrition and health systems research, we conducted a review of recent evidence about child malnutrition from across the sub-Saharan Africa region. The review examined 50 studies published between 2015 and 2025 that covered the forms of malnutrition and intervention strategies for children under the age of five.

The research shows that malnutrition is a complex problem. It isn’t caused solely by a lack of food. Other influences are disease, poor sanitation, climate pressures, limited access to healthcare, gaps in caregiver knowledge, and socio-cultural and behavioural factors.

Our review found that undernutrition – particularly stunting, wasting and underweight – is the main form of child malnutrition in the region. Malnutrition is a broad term that refers to deficiencies, excesses or imbalances in a person’s intake of nutrients. Undernutrition is a specific form of malnutrition that occurs when children do not receive enough essential nutrients to support healthy growth and development.

This finding highlights the need to strengthen existing efforts. At the same time, the wider social, economic and environmental factors that contribute to poor nutrition must also be addressed. Understanding which forms of malnutrition remain most common can help policymakers and practitioners decide how to intervene and what resources they will need. Lasting solutions must combine nutrition support with action on poverty, food systems, health and community needs.

Undernutrition remains a major concern

Stunting was the most frequently reported form of malnutrition in the studies we reviewed. The condition occurs when children are too short for their age, owing to long-term nutritional deprivation.

More than 25% of children under five were reported to be stunted in many African countries. Tanzania, Uganda, Ethiopia, Liberia and the Central African Republic were some of them.

The first two years of life are particularly important. Many children experience nutritional setbacks when exclusive breastfeeding ends and the new foods introduced are insufficient in quantity or quality.

Across the reviewed studies, about 20% of children under five in 12 sub-Saharan African countries were underweight. Nutrition programmes reduced underweight rates. But illness, poor diet, unsafe water, poverty and limited maternal education increased the risk.

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Read more: South Africa’s food system is failing children – what must change

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Wasting was also widely reported. This form of acute malnutrition comes with rapid weight loss and increased risk of illness. It is strongly linked to food insecurity, poverty, poor sanitation and limited access to healthcare services.

At the same time, the region is beginning to face another challenge: children who are overweight. It is reported less frequently in the reviewed studies. But childhood overweight is increasing in some countries, especially where urbanisation and changing food systems have increased access to highly processed foods.

Undernutrition and overweight can exist together, creating a double burden.

What interventions work?

Our review grouped responses to child malnutrition into three broad categories: nutrition-specific, nutrition-sensitive and integrated approaches.

Nutrition-specific interventions directly address nutritional deficiencies. They make sure children get more nutritious food (including breast milk). Programmes like this have shown positive results, particularly in treating acute malnutrition and improving child growth outcomes. Screening and treating children in their communities has become an important way to reach families.

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Read more: Child malnutrition in Kenya: AI model can forecast rates six months before they become critical

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But that doesn’t solve the underlying causes of malnutrition.

Nutrition-sensitive interventions address wider factors that influence children’s health. Agricultural programmes, water and sanitation improvements, disease prevention, cash transfers and maternal education are examples.

Home gardens can help households to get enough food and a variety of food in their diets. Their effects on children’s physical growth have been mixed, however. Having food does not always mean better nutrition. Care practices such as exclusive breastfeeding and appropriate complementary feeding must improve. In addition, families also need access to nutrition counselling, immunisation and safe water.

Integrated solutions are best

We found that combining approaches may provide the most sustainable results. Integrated programmes bring together direct nutrition support and interventions addressing poverty, food security, health services and environmental conditions.

Examples include programmes that combine breastfeeding promotion, nutrient supplementation, agricultural support and caregiver education. These approaches recognise that children’s nutrition depends on the wider conditions in which families live.

Strong community involvement is also essential. Local knowledge, cultural practices and community participation can determine whether programmes are accepted and sustained over time.

A broader response is needed

Reducing child malnutrition in sub-Saharan Africa will require coordinated action. Governments, communities, health systems, the agricultural sector and development organisations must all get involved.

Policies must address immediate nutritional needs, and also drivers such as poverty, climate change, food insecurity and unequal access to services.

The evidence shows that no single intervention can end child malnutrition. Sustainable progress will depend on combining nutrition programmes with investments in resilient food systems, education, sanitation and healthcare.

Improving child nutrition is an investment in Africa’s future human development.

– Child malnutrition is one of Africa’s biggest health challenges: food aid is only part of the solution
– https://theconversation.com/child-malnutrition-is-one-of-africas-biggest-health-challenges-food-aid-is-only-part-of-the-solution-291163

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Neo Mathinya, Lecturer, University of the Free State

South Africa’s rural development debate often starts with a familiar idea: if rural households have more land, they can produce more food, earn more money and become “emerging farmers” who eventually develop into commercial farmers.

This idea appears in several government policy documents, such as the National Development Plan 2030, the Comprehensive Rural Development Programme, the Strategic Plan for Smallholder Support and the Agriculture and Agro-processing Master Plan.

Within these documents and political rhetoric, farming is expected to act as the main engine for economic development in the deprived former homelands of South Africa. This ambition is rooted in South Africa’s history.

Under colonialism and apartheid, laws such as the 1913 Natives Land Act restricted Black land ownership and concentrated much of the Black population in the former “homelands”. These areas became characterised by overcrowding, poverty and inadequate infrastructure, which continue to shape rural livelihoods today.

Current agricultural and rural development policy therefore combines several objectives: redressing unequal access to land, improving agricultural production and food security, creating employment, expanding market participation and developing an inclusive rural economy. This has often meant providing small-scale farmers with land alongside agricultural inputs, infrastructure, finance, training and other forms of support intended to increase production and participation in agricultural value chains.

But research findings from two rural communities suggest that this picture is too simple. Our farming systems research team at the University of the Free State investigated the role farming actually plays in rural households’ livelihoods, the constraints on agricultural production and the alternative farming futures that might be possible.

We engaged with 132 small-scale farming households in two provinces. We used household surveys, life history interviews, farm mapping and focus group discussions. The study locations were Emmaus, near Bergville and the Drakensberg mountains of northern KwaZulu-Natal, and Thaba Nchu, about 60km from Bloemfontein, the capital of the Free State. These communities were selected as they are both in former homeland areas, but differ in their environmental and socioeconomic circumstances.

Our study found that farming remained important to food security and the income of rural households, but it was rarely the main source of income. Instead, households combined farming with wage employment, small businesses, social grants and other activities to make a living.

This matters because rural development policies that focus mainly on increasing agricultural production or expanding access to land (as South Africa’s do) miss the interconnected factors that actually determine whether households can improve their livelihoods. These factors, including labour dynamics, infrastructure, markets, institutions and household aspirations, determine whether people can – and want to – expand farming.

Farming is part of a broader livelihood system rather than a standalone route out of poverty.

Farming is only one part of rural livelihoods

First we conducted a survey of households. This collected a broad range of information about land, production, incomes and so on.

In both survey locations, rural households differed hugely from one another.

Some households had very limited incomes and depended heavily on off-farm sources of income such as social grants, wage employment and small businesses. They often invested these resources back into farming. For most households, farming contributed to food security and provided some income, but it was rarely enough to support the household on its own. Only 16% of households in Emmaus and 19% in Thaba Nchu were able to surpass the South African Food Poverty Line (currently R868 or US$54 per person per month), and off-farm sources contributed the most to their income.

The differences between households matter. A household with a stable income from employment may be able to buy livestock, hire labour, or invest in farming inputs. A poorer household may have land but lack the money or labour needed to cultivate it. The two households may therefore have access to similar agricultural resources but very different opportunities to benefit from them.

The same applies to aspirations. Some households see farming mainly as a way to secure food. Others see it as an income earner. Only 12% of household heads in Emmaus and 36% in Thaba Nchu aspired to farming as a business. Household dependants (aged between 18 and 32) on the other hand (64% in Emmaus and 80% in Thaba Nchu), aspired to education, wage employment or migration.

This means that there is no single pathway from small-scale farming to improved livelihoods. Rural households start from different positions, face different constraints, and aspire to different futures. Treating them as a single category of “small-scale farmers” can lead to policies that work for some households while doing little for others.

The biggest constraint to expansion is labour

Another striking finding was that land was not necessarily the biggest obstacle to increasing production. Many households had access to land but could not use all of it.

Our research identified four obstacles.

Firstly, labour. A household might have land available, but insufficient labour to cultivate it.

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Read more: African farmers are younger than you think. Here is why

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Secondly, infrastructure. In Emmaus, for example, poor roads and inadequate water infrastructure limited the potential to expand or diversify production.

Thirdly, in Thaba Nchu, communal grazing land was important to livestock farmers, but conflicts over its use and management undermined productivity.

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Read more: 17 million South Africans live on communal land – new study of a rural valley offers insights on how to manage it

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Fourthly, farmers couldn’t necessarily develop alternative farming enterprises. In Emmaus, for example, people like to grow maize and beans to eat themselves, leaving less land for more market-oriented crops and other farm activities.

A farming system can appear productive and profitable on paper and still fail in practice if it does not fit the community’s social and institutional realities.

Rural households also have aspirations beyond farming

One of the most important lessons is that many rural households are not simply waiting for an agricultural intervention. They have their own ideas about what a better future looks like.

Many households in our study viewed farming as a means of survival and social security rather than a long-term commercial career. Younger household members were not all interested in taking over the farm.

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Read more: Ghana needs more young farmers, but does climate change put them off? Study shows surprising results

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This does not mean that agriculture has no future in the former homelands of South Africa. Rather, the future of rural livelihoods is likely to involve a combination of activities. Rural development programmes should be designed accordingly.

We need to look at the whole system

This is where a farming systems approach can make a difference. Instead of asking only whether farmers have enough land, fertiliser, water or technology, it asks how these factors interact with the household, labour availability, markets, institutions, natural resources and people’s aspirations.

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Read more: How young Kenyans feel about farming goes against conventional wisdom

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Rather than asking only how to turn small-scale farmers into commercial farmers, we should also ask: what combination of opportunities can help rural households build the futures they want?

For younger generations in particular, better opportunities may lie partly outside agriculture.

– More land, better life? South African farming study asks if that’s the road to rural development
– https://theconversation.com/more-land-better-life-south-african-farming-study-asks-if-thats-the-road-to-rural-development-290459

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Djibril Diouf, enseignant-chercheur, Université Cheikh Anta Diop de Dakar

Senegal has made major investments to build, renovate and modernise its sports facilities to host the Youth Olympic Games, set for 31 October to 13 November 2026. New or upgraded venues now stand in Dakar, Diamniadio and Saly. These three cities will host the competitions. But the facilities raise bigger questions than just organising the Games. How should the government finance, manage and maintain them in the long term after the competition?

We put these questions to two researchers, Djibril Diouf, a specialist in public-private partnerships, and Amadou Moctar Ndiouck, an expert in the law and management of sports infrastructure. They argue that the Youth Olympic Games could help reshape Senegal’s model. They also discuss the respective roles of the government, local authorities and the private sector in funding sports facilities.

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Can the Youth Olympic Games investment bring about lasting change to the way sports infrastructure is funded in Senegal?

For the Youth Olympic Games, the government chose a model of direct, large-scale investment backed by partners such as the West African Economic and Monetary Union and the French Development Agency.

Given the size of their contributions, these partnerships have significantly shaped the Games’ funding model. Yet the model still relies on public money or public-private partnerships. It now includes the long term management of sports facilities. As part of the Games’ legacy, this could open the way for greater involvement by private actors.

What role should the government assign to the private sector in the financing and management of sports infrastructure after the Youth Olympic Games?

From the 1984 Sports Charter to Articles 36 through 51 of the New Sports Code, adopted on 11 May 2026 by the National Assembly of Senegal, the law stresses the duty of the government and local authorities. They must build sports facilities for people involved in sport.

In practice, however, ambitious public policies for infrastructure are rare outside major sporting events. Private sector involvement therefore remains necessary.

The 2021 law on public-private partnership provides an opportunity to develop new approaches to sports infrastructure. This financing model was used for the toll highway and Dakar’s Blaise Diagne International Airport. It could be used to boost private-sector participation in building and managing public sports. It could also ensure both their financial and social profitability.

Private-sector involvement brings extra money when public financing falls short, and supplies technical expertise. This helps keep facilities up to international standards while ensuring they remain accessible to the wider population.

How can Senegal ensure that infrastructure renovated for the Youth Olympic Games is not too expensive to maintain after the Games?

The renovated sports facilities are located mainly in Dakar, Diamniadio and Saly. A single, uniform maintenance model will not work for all three sites. Local realities differ.

Take the Iba Mar Diop Stadium in Dakar, for example. Cheikh Anta Diop University of Dakar must be involved through the National Higher Institute of Popular Education and Sports, which has been headquartered on the site since 1982. Putting both the Iba Mar Diop Stadium and the Olympic swimming pool under the institute’s care would help. That would make maintenance easier and improve financial profitability.

For the Diamniadio site, the Office for the Management of Sports Infrastructure, attached to the Ministry of Sports, is well-suited to manage facilities located far from urban centres. These facilities mainly draw crowds for major sporting events.

The Office for the Management of Sports Infrastructure is a public industrial and commercial entity. It can therefore help sports facilities deliver both financial and social benefits.

In Saly, the facilities sit in a tourist and beach resort area. Private-sector involvement is likely to work best. Private sector operators can bring a professional approach to managing sports facilities. This can improve the quality of services and support long-term sustainability.

Beyond major sporting events, what funding model would allow Senegal to develop infrastructure accessible to all?

Clearly, the funding model based on direct public investment and public-private partnerships focuses on large-scale sports facilities that can host major sporting events. However, since 2025, the Ministry of Sports has launched an experimental local infrastructure programme. It includes building 25 multi-purpose facilities in 25 municipalities across Senegal. This initiative should be welcomed.

Large-scale sports facilities are necessary for major events. Local facilities are equally vital and must be supported. In all communities, physical and sports activities take many forms, including competition, recreation and health. The government and local authorities must fund these everyday needs through their own budgets.

Finally, bilateral international cooperation offers another route. Some countries, such as China and Russia, have often supported the construction and renovation of sports facilities in the global south, including in Senegal.

– Senegal’s Youth Olympics legacy: who pays after the Games?
– https://theconversation.com/senegals-youth-olympics-legacy-who-pays-after-the-games-292703

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Kevin Mudavadi, Assistant Professor, Georgia State University

Online harassment targeting journalists has escalated into a global crisis. Across digital public spheres, it threatens press freedom and individual safety.

In Kenya, this hostility often unfolds on social media platforms like X and Facebook, where journalists covering politically sensitive events face coordinated attacks. For instance, following critical coverage of state policies or public protests, journalists are regularly branded as “political mercenaries” or “traitors” in comment threads, prompting audiences to swarm their personal accounts with threats.

Digital attacks like these actively erode public trust in news institutions. They create a hostile environment that pressures journalists towards self-censorship. Yet, these attacks also unfold before audiences whose reactions can strengthen or weaken their effects.

Insults, smear campaigns, sexual harassment and death threats may begin with a few accounts. They gain wider power when other users repeat them, defend them or remain silent. The public, therefore, does more than witness journalists being harassed. They help determine whether an attack is rejected as intimidation or accepted as a legitimate response to journalism.

We are a team of media researchers, and our recent study examined how Kenyan audiences understand and respond to online harassment against journalists.

Understanding this audience response is vital for restoring trust in news outlets and journalists, and protecting democratic environments.

What we found

The study interviewed 19 Kenyan adults from different demographic, economic, urban and rural backgrounds to understand how they interpreted attacks appearing on their social media feeds.

The interviews showed that audiences rarely judged online attacks in isolation. Their interpretations were shaped by political loyalties, trust in the media and assessments of the journalist involved. These judgments influenced whether they defended the reporter, supported the criticism or withdrew from the conversation.

At least three themes emerged from the responses drawn from the interviews. Harassment was understood as:

• a threat to press freedom

• a form of public accountability

• a political strategy for silencing critical journalism.

For instance, one interviewee shared a proactive approach:

What I always do is to put my comment there and just correct someone who’s harassing a female journalist … I always counter what they say. I think this should be seen as a moral or civic obligation … to protect the welfare of journalists.

Another chose to discuss the matter with colleagues:

I vent more physically compared to online … when I see something which is not right being done to a journalist or anyone … I show my colleagues comments, discuss, and vent, and to hear their point of view.

Another explained a conditional engagement:

It depends on the nature of the harassment … if the journalist is being harassed because of something wrong, especially if they side with the government … if I come across such harassment, I will not feel bad because I will feel the journalist is not part of us.

These responses sometimes overlapped. Participants could condemn an attack in one situation and defend similar conduct in another.

Participants who trusted a journalist generally viewed threats and personal insults as attempts to obstruct legitimate reporting. They understood journalists as public watchdogs whose work could expose wrongdoing and information about powerful institutions. Attacking a reporter for performing this role, therefore, threatened both the journalist and the public’s access to information.

Other participants interpreted harsh online reactions as a form of accountability when they believed a journalist had acted unfairly, supported a political group or produced sensational coverage. Their concern began with the reporter’s conduct, especially during politically divisive moments. In such cases, aggressive responses were sometimes understood as citizens challenging media power.

Another interpretation focused on the organised political forces behind some attacks. Participants described coordinated campaigns involving political operatives and paid social media users, commonly called “keyboard warriors” in Kenya. These groups can flood comment sections. They repeat accusations and create the appearance of widespread anger against a journalist. Under these conditions, harassment becomes a political strategy. It damages the journalist’s credibility while discouraging further scrutiny of those in power.

These responses reveal a difficult problem for press freedom. Public protection can depend on whether audiences believe that a particular journalist deserves it. The same threat may be condemned as intimidation when directed at a trusted reporter, or accepted as accountability when directed at a distrusted one.

The reach of abuse

The structure of social media gives online attacks room to spread. Messages built around anger, accusation and personal conflict can attract rapid attention. Repeated comments can make a coordinated campaign appear to represent broad public opinion.

As the attack circulates, the original news report may disappear. The journalist’s character, motives or identity may become the main subject of discussion.

Women journalists carry a particularly heavy burden within this environment. Participants described attacks involving sexual comments, body shaming and threats of physical or sexual violence. Such abuse moves beyond disagreement with a report. It targets a woman’s dignity, safety and place in public life. Its effects can extend beyond one journalist. Other women watching the attack may understand political reporting as a source of personal danger.

The silence of witnesses

Study participants described two distinct responses when they encountered harassment.

Some engaged in counter-speech – correcting false claims, challenging abusive comments or reporting harmful accounts. They viewed these actions as part of protecting journalism and preserving open public discussion.

Others remained silent because they feared becoming targets.

Participants mentioned doxxing (sharing private or identifying information of someone online without their consent), personal insults and attacks from coordinated groups as possible consequences of defending a journalist. Some also believed that one person could achieve little against a large or organised campaign.

This silence shows how online harassment can control more than the journalist’s behaviour. It can also narrow public discussion by teaching witnesses that participation carries personal risks.

When concerned users withdraw, aggressive groups gain greater influence over which voices are heard and which claims appear widely accepted.

Press freedom requires public support

These findings show that journalists’ safety cannot rest entirely on blocking tools, security training or platform reporting systems. It also depends on whether audiences can distinguish criticism of journalism from efforts to intimidate journalists.

Criticism examines a reporter’s evidence, methods and professional decisions. Harassment targets the person. It creates fear and raises the cost of continuing to report.

News organisations can strengthen this distinction by explaining how stories are produced. They can correct errors openly and respond seriously to public concerns. Media literacy programmes can also help citizens recognise coordinated attacks, gendered abuse and threats presented as political criticism.

– Online attacks on Kenyan journalists: what makes audiences join in, push back or stay silent
– https://theconversation.com/online-attacks-on-kenyan-journalists-what-makes-audiences-join-in-push-back-or-stay-silent-291471

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Mathias Alubafi Fubah, Senior Research Specialist, Human Sciences Research Council

South Africa has made strides in integrating immigrants into local communities. The country is home to an estimated 2.4 million to 3.1 million foreign-born residents. This represents roughly 4% to 5.1% of the total population.

Acceptance of immigrants as neighbours in the neighbourhoods where they live and work is, however, not a given. Suspicion and tensions between locals and immigrants remain common. Evidence of this was the sharp surge in xenophobic violence and anti-immigrant protests in mid-2026.

I am an African art historian. My research focuses on issues of representation and re-representation of history in museums and public spaces. It also extends to issues of migration and social integration in South Africa.

In a recent study, I assessed residents’ levels of satisfaction with their neighbours and neighbourhoods. My research involved collecting data through dialogues conducted in three areas with a high concentration of South Africans and immigrants living and working together.

My research has been published as a chapter in a book which covers subjects like social integration and the political economy of xenophobia.

I conducted my research in two established urban areas: Arcadia in Pretoria and Yeoville in Johannesburg. The third was an informal area called Plastic City, in Pretoria East. The focus was on people’s attitudes towards one another as well as safety, trust, social problems, and access to local government basic services.

Each dialogue consisted of 30 participants, including community leaders, local South Africans, immigrants and representatives of community organisations.

The study found that mutual suspicion and prejudice continue to undermine neighbourhood relations between South Africans and African immigrants.

Based on our findings we made four recommendations to ease tensions within communities:

• ensuring that immigrants are documented

• campaigns to raise awareness about the benefits of living and working together

• know-your-neighbour campaigns

• efforts to improve people’s social security.

Attitudes

In each of the study sites, participants sat in a group and shared their thoughts about the issues raised during the dialogues.

Participants were asked to reflect on:

• their relationship with local South Africans and immigrants as neighbours

• the factors facilitating social integration in host communities

• the role of the government in facilitating social integration and social cohesion in communities.

Most of the local South African participants said their relationships with immigrants who were legally in the country and neighbourhood were good. However, their relationships with immigrants who were “illegal” was either bad or non-existent.

We did not ask participants how they knew people’s status as a migrant or non-migrant.

Participants noted that, regardless of the nature of the relationship between South Africans and their immigrant neighbours, the two groups lived in suspicion of each other because of prejudices they held about one another. As one participant put it:

Not all immigrants are bad … But it becomes difficult to determine if an immigrant is good or bad when he or she is undocumented. Such immigrants are automatically considered as criminals no matter what effort they put to prove their innocence.

Most immigrant participants felt that local South Africans targeted them because they saw them as criminals. They said this was why there was no trust between the two groups. As one of the participants noted:

I don’t trust my South African neighbours because of the impression most of them have about us. My two neighbours are South Africans, but we don’t know each other as Africans would normally do towards a fellow African. They speak their local language to me whenever we meet – even though they know that I am a foreigner and don’t understand … Once they realise that you are a foreigner, you become an easy target.

Other works, similarly, found that in the Delft South area in Cape Town, only those immigrant shopkeepers with strong linkages or community support avoided crime.

Some participants said their status was questioned. For example, in the dialogue in Yeoville one noted that he was unexpectedly visited by three South African men who wanted to know if he had documents and if he owned the property he was living in. When he presented his documents, they left, promising to return to check that everyone living in the house was documented.

Suggested ways forward

The study highlighted the need to ensure effective social integration that allows South Africans and African immigrants to live comfortably as neighbours, without suspecting each other. This was echoed in the dialogues.

In Yeoville and Plastic City, the elected local government officials and some of the participants requested that dialogues should be organised frequently because they might contribute to social integration. Other works, however, note that some local government candidates run for office on an anti-immigrant ticket.

Based on our findings we made the following recommendations:

• legal documentation of immigrants to ensure they can be traced and accounted for when the need arises

• awareness creation by ward councillors through municipal and district gatherings about the benefits of living and working together, to address prejudices and suspicion

• establishment of “know-your-neighbour” campaigns by ward councillors to promote living together as neighbours

• promotion of social security and justice for South Africans and immigrants by law enforcement officials and other relevant stakeholders.

– South Africans and migrants: study tracks the barriers to being good neighbours
– https://theconversation.com/south-africans-and-migrants-study-tracks-the-barriers-to-being-good-neighbours-292191

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Garhe Osiebe, Research Fellow, Rhodes University

If there was any doubt that “billing” has become central to Nigerian conversations about dating, money and gender, eLDee the Don has supplied a new soundtrack with the song I Wish You Well.

I study the intersection of popular music and politics in Nigeria. eLDee’s 2011 youth mobilisation campaign The Politics of Our Time was central to my analysis of electoral consciousness in the music of democratic Nigeria.

The rapper, singer, producer and label boss hasn’t released much music in the past decade. This time his subject is not electoral politics or poor governance, but the hot topic of billing: the expectation that a man who expresses romantic interest should also finance a woman’s needs and lifestyle.

eLDee has gravitas. He occupies an important place in the history of popular music in democratic Nigeria. Through the Trybesmen and the broader Da Trybe movement, he helped shape Nigerian hip-hop in the late 1990s and 2000s.

Songs like Plenty Nonsense, I Go Yarn, Bosi Gbangba, Big Boy and One Day combined entertainment with sharp observations about social aspiration, politics and everyday life. eLDee’s musical and political legacies formed the core of my chapter’s argument in The Politics of Laughter in the Social Media Age.

I Wish You Well continues that tradition through humour. Assisted by comedian Lasisi Elenu, eLDee narrates an encounter with a woman he has barely met. She first asks for a loan, saying her car has been towed and that rent is due. The requests soon expand to travel, designer goods and other markers of luxury consumption.

eLDee recognises the script and wittily declines the role assigned to him:

I ain’t the one. I wish you well.

The song has further popularised the discussion about the relationship between romance, consumption and gender in Nigeria. Its use online is also extending to a wider conversation about having to financially support others, including relatives.

Afrobeats (Nigerian pop music) has long celebrated male wealth, generosity and conspicuous spending. The ideal successful man is often imagined as someone who can spend freely; at clubs, in restaurants, on fashion, travel, cars and romantic partners. Women, in turn, are frequently positioned as validators or beneficiaries of this prosperity.

So, in the billing culture debate, eLDee’s new track emerges as a bold and unusual outlier. It’s a crisp and witty takedown of a world and a popular culture where men are measured in money and women in beauty; where romance is a marketplace, intimacy is measured through transactions, and consumption becomes evidence of affection.

For better, for OPay

These shifting social expectations around romance are made even more visible through music videos and on social media, where public debates about what a woman may reasonably expect from a man play out. “For better, for OPay”, for example, is a playful catchphrase and internet meme that revises the marriage vows “for better, for worse” to describe Nigeria’s digital-payment culture.

There’s no doubt that the country’s difficult economy has also shaped the stakes of the dating game.

Intimate relationships may become part of the informal systems through which people manage everyday life. Rent, transport, food, education, healthcare and family obligations all enter the emotional economy of dating.

This is why eLDee’s new song matters. I Wish You Well is not most productively read as a simple complaint about “gold diggers”. It questions a gendered romantic economy in which men are expected to provide and women are expected to consume.

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Read more: Sex for money: South African study reveals the harm that ‘blessers’ can do to young women

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The phone, restaurant meal, holiday, designer bag or apartment is no longer merely a possession or experience. In Nigeria’s social media economy, it may also function as evidence of social value. To be seen receiving such things can generate cultural capital. To provide them can become a performance of masculine success.

Both men and women can be constrained by this script. Billing is a gender bargain that both sexes have inherited, performed and reinforced.

By centering a loan request as the catalyst for the story and ending with a noncommittal, even sarcastic blessing, the song critiques a system that monetises intimacy but refuses to share surplus. It asks whether romance must begin with an invoice.

Afrobeats does more than reflect social life. It gives listeners a language through which to engage on it. The most important question raised by eLDee’s song is not whether billing is right or wrong, but what kinds of relationships become possible when people refuse the script that makes money the main measure of women’s compliance.

– Billing culture: Nigerian rapper eLDee takes on modern dating in I Wish You Well
– https://theconversation.com/billing-culture-nigerian-rapper-eldee-takes-on-modern-dating-in-i-wish-you-well-291914

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Joana Castro Pereira, Professor of Politics and International Relations, Universidade do Porto

Western Sahara has been carved in two since the 1980s by a wall that Morocco built to hold on to territory it occupied in 1975. Fifty years on, the conflict remains unresolved and the wall – known as the Berm – remains one of the world’s most militarised borders. The region is the focus of a project at the University of Porto exploring prospects for biodiversity restoration. Joana Castro Pereira, a professor of politics and international relations, and postgraduate researcher Simón Pardo de Donlebún Versaci explain the history of the wall and its political and ecological risks.

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What is the history of the Berm?

Built between 1980 and 1987, the Berm separates the part of Western Sahara controlled by Morocco from the strip held by the Polisario Front. The Polisario Front is a movement supported by Algeria that represents the Sahrawi people and has fought for Western Sahara’s independence since the early 1970s. It currently controls about 20% of the territory.

The Western Sahara-Morocco dispute

The Berm runs for about 2,700 kilometres. It’s the longest continuous barrier after the Great Wall of China. Alongside it runs a belt of landmines – more than 10 million – often called the world’s longest continuous minefield.

The wall was built in stages, pushing south as Morocco fought the Polisario Front for control of Western Sahara. The disputed territory is a former Spanish colony that Madrid handed over in the 1970s without ever holding the independence referendum international law required.

The Berm let Morocco do what battlefield victories hadn’t: keep the most valuable parts of the territory – coastline, phosphate mines and towns – while pushing Polisario fighters and hundreds of thousands of Sahrawi civilians into refugee camps in Algeria. The UN calls this the world’s second-longest-running refugee crisis.

Morocco did not build the Berm alone. French and Israeli military strategists advised on its construction.

What major risks does the Berm pose?

Three kinds of harm are often overlooked amid the diplomatic dispute over the territory.

The most direct is the minefield itself. The Landmine and Cluster Munition Monitor, a civil society research initiative that tracks landmines and other remnants of war, reports 1,427 recorded casualties through 2017, while noting that the total number is unknown. Many mine-related accidents go unreported, and mines can be shifted by wind or flash floods into ground already cleared.

Secondly, the wall disrupts a whole desert ecosystem, not just a human community. Sahrawi pastoral life has always followed the wadis – the temporary rivers that flood briefly after rain and sustain wells, trees and grazing along their banks. This moves people, herds and land together across the seasons in one relational system. On one side, the wall cuts through the seasonal watercourses on which the Sahrawi depend. On the other, the embankment acts like a dam. Rainwater accumulates against it, and shrubs and grasses grow along its base. This vegetation offers food and shelter, drawing animals towards the mines laid along the wall. The very conditions that should sustain life can instead direct it towards danger.

The mines’ victims aren’t only human: camels are also killed near the wall, while deaths among wild animals may go unrecorded. These deaths are harm in themselves, not simply damage to an empty landscape.

This dynamic resembles what ecologists term an ecological trap, in which a habitat conveys misleading signals about its own safety. The situation at the Berm differs in a crucial respect: here the trap is produced by military infrastructure. The wall, the desert’s hydrological cycle and the minefields combine into a single lethal system.

Thirdly, the wall cuts across the traditional grazing routes connecting wadis, with mines and unexploded ordnance restricting Sahrawi herders’ access to water sources that become available at different times of the year. This disrupts an ancestral balance between Sahrawi communities and the desert, sustained through shared seasonal rhythms, grazing practices and inherited knowledge of routes. It is an interconnected way of life that forced settlement in the refugee camps is eroding. Even dead branches are put to use rather than wasted, reflecting a careful stewardship of scarce desert resources that displacement is making increasingly difficult to maintain.

Almost nobody can study any of this independently since the Berm is a closed military zone. Human Rights Watch has documented how tightly access is controlled, so there’s no reliable count of animals killed, no complete contamination map, and no independent record of the damage, making accountability far harder.

What does the Berm mean today in the ongoing conflict between Morocco and Western Sahara?

The wall still marks the practical frontline of a conflict most of the world stopped watching.

A UN-brokered ceasefire held for nearly 30 years until November 2020. Moroccan troops entered a UN-monitored buffer strip to clear a road blockade by Sahrawi protesters and reopen traffic to Mauritania. This prompted the Polisario Front to declare the ceasefire over and resume hostilities. Low-intensity fighting, mostly drone strikes and skirmishes along the wall, has continued since.

Diplomatically, the ground has shifted decisively in favour of Morocco, which has been on the rise economically and politically on the continent.

The US recognised Moroccan sovereignty over Western Sahara in 2020. Spain backed Morocco’s autonomy plan – which would offer Western Sahara autonomy but under its sovereignty – in 2022. France backed this plan in 2024 and the UK followed in 2025.

In October 2025, the UN security council passed Resolution 2797, inviting both sides to negotiate on the basis of Morocco’s autonomy plan without calling for the referendum on independence that’s sought by the Polisario Front.

That resolution also requested a review of the future of the UN’s peacekeeping mission there, Minurso, while extending its mandate to October 2026. The UN mission began in 1991 and was mandated to uphold the ceasefire agreed between Morocco and the Polisario Front. The review could lead to a reduced UN presence, or even its withdrawal, affecting work that includes supporting demining and recording landmine incidents.

Whatever happens to the wall politically, questions remain about who is responsible for managing its lasting consequences for the people, animals and land around it.

– Morocco’s deadly wall across Western Sahara: why the 2,700km Berm was built and the damage it does
– https://theconversation.com/moroccos-deadly-wall-across-western-sahara-why-the-2-700km-berm-was-built-and-the-damage-it-does-292148

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Charles Shey Wiysonge, Extraordinary Professor, Global Health, Stellenbosch University; South African Medical Research Council

Africa has reached an important moment in its immunisation journey. Coverage is not rising fast enough to keep pace with population growth, persistent inequities and a growing number of vaccines. At the same time, outbreaks and financing pressures are intensifying.

Vaccination has transformed child survival. A landmark analysis found that global immunisation efforts have saved at least 154 million lives over the past 50 years, 52 million in Africa. Vaccines have virtually eliminated meningitis A epidemics and eradicated wild poliovirus from Africa.

But progress has slowed. In 2025, about 7.1 million African children (15.6% of those under a year old) did not receive even a single routine vaccine dose. Measles and other vaccine-preventable disease outbreaks are increasing, driven by immunity gaps, conflict, displacement and vaccine hesitancy. Meanwhile, donor budgets are under pressure from competing global crises. And rising debt-service costs are squeezing government spending on health.

Against this backdrop, the Africa Centres for Disease Control and Prevention (Africa CDC) has launched the Continental Immunisation Strategy 2026-2030. It covers six areas:

• financing and political commitment

• data and digital systems

• life-course vaccination integrated with primary healthcare

• community engagement

• vaccine manufacturing and supply

• emergency preparedness and epidemic-ready immunisation systems.

We are immunisation practitioners, researchers and advisers who contributed to the strategy’s development and now support its implementation. We identify five priorities that apply to all these six areas. They are:

• sustainable domestic financing

• fit-for-purpose digital systems

• integration with primary healthcare

• genuine community partnership

• vaccine sovereignty linked to epidemic preparedness.

1. Put sustainable domestic financing at the centre

The greatest threat to immunisation in Africa is not whether effective vaccines exist, but whether countries can finance and deliver them reliably. International partners such as Gavi, the Vaccine Alliance, Unicef, and the World Health Organization have helped countries introduce vaccines, procure doses and strengthen delivery systems. That support remains invaluable, but it cannot substitute for predictable national budgets.

The fiscal squeeze is real. Governments must service debt while also responding to food insecurity, climate shocks and conflict, and financing education, infrastructure and other essential health services. Growing populations increase the number of children who need routine vaccines. Every interest payment reduces the funding available for vaccines, cold-chain equipment, transport and health workers.

We argue for using scarce resources better. Immunisation is a best buy that returns about US$54 for every dollar invested. Predictable domestic financing gives countries more control over priorities, makes programmes less vulnerable to donor cycles and strengthens accountability to citizens.

2. Use digital technology to reach every person who needs vaccines

Many programmes still rely on paper registers kept by health workers. These records are increasingly ill-suited to highly mobile populations, expanding vaccine schedules and the need to identify missed individuals quickly. Digital systems can help solve these practical problems.

Electronic immunisation registries linked, with privacy safeguards, to birth registration and national health-information platforms can show who received which vaccine (or missed a dose) and improve stock management. Rwanda, for example, integrated its vaccine registry with electronic birth systems in 2022.

Better data can improve efficiency and accountability.

3. Make immunisation part of resilient primary healthcare

The original Expanded Programme on Immunisation was designed primarily to protect infants against a few childhood diseases, often through fixed health facilities and periodic outreach. Today’s realities are different. Africa has a rapidly growing and urbanising population; vaccine schedules now include adolescents, pregnant women and adults.

Vaccination should therefore become a routine part of primary healthcare throughout life. The Immunisation Agenda 2030 supports expanding vaccination across the life course and linking it with other essential services.

Community health workers are especially important to connect families with services. Nigeria’s community health influencer programme, for example, identifies zero-dose children and links them to healthcare services.

4. Build trust through genuine community engagement

Immunisation programmes succeed when people trust the vaccines, the health workers who provide them and the institutions running the programme.

People are more likely to accept vaccines when they feel respected, listened to and involved. Religious leaders, traditional authorities, teachers, civil-society organisations, youth groups and community health workers can all help.

In Sierra Leone’s Kailahun District, rumours that HPV vaccination caused infertility led parents to refuse consent and girls to avoid school. Health teams listened to concerns and worked through trusted local voices to rebuild confidence. In northern Nigeria, traditional and religious leaders have similarly helped vaccination teams address rumours and identify missed children.

Trust is built through consistent service quality and partnership; it cannot be manufactured during an emergency.

5. Strengthen Africa’s vaccine sovereignty and epidemic preparedness

COVID exposed Africa’s dependence on imported products and the vulnerability of global supply chains. The continent still imports about 99% of the vaccines it uses. The Continental Immunisation Strategy therefore supports the African Union’s ambition to produce 60% of Africa’s vaccine needs locally by 2040.

Africa is not starting from zero. Existing or expanding capabilities include the Institut Pasteur de Dakar in Senegal, Biovac and Aspen Pharmacare in South Africa, and manufacturers in Egypt and Tunisia. But sustainable manufacturing requires predictable demand, pooled procurement, technology transfer, skilled workforces, strong regulators and access to regional markets.

Reliable continental supply is most valuable when countries can quickly identify a threat, decide how vaccines should be used and deliver them equitably across borders.

Looking ahead

The Continental Immunisation Strategy already recognises these priorities. The task now is to come up with costed national plans, clear responsibilities, measurable milestones and transparent annual reporting. Governments must lead, while development partners align their support behind country priorities.

Success will be measured by whether a child in a remote village, an adolescent in an informal settlement, a pregnant woman in a fragile setting and an older person at risk can receive the vaccines they need, when they need them.

The continent will have stronger health systems, greater resilience to outbreaks and healthier populations able to contribute fully to Africa’s development.

This article was co-authored by Dr Folake Olayinka and Dr Chris Ngwa Akonwi.

– Vaccination rates are falling in Africa, but a new strategy aims to turn things around. Five things it needs to get right
– https://theconversation.com/vaccination-rates-are-falling-in-africa-but-a-new-strategy-aims-to-turn-things-around-five-things-it-needs-to-get-right-289181

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Yolandi Burger, Postdoctoral Research Fellow, Gauteng City-Region Observatory

As a design researcher working in urban graphic heritage, I explore how everyday graphic objects communicate in public spaces. I have started to think of the city as a kind of living, dispersed archive. It is not an archive that replaces formal institutions, but one that exists alongside them.

In a recent mapping project that I led for the Gauteng City-Region Observatory in South Africa, almost 44,000 street names were analysed across Gauteng, the country’s economic heartland.

The aim was to explore how street names tell stories about the region, its people, associated places and cultural heritages made visible through them. It found that 57% streets were classified as names of people. This means that Gauteng’s everyday street network also functions as a vast, dispersed memorial landscape.

The mapping project used data from OpenStreetMap and grouped the street names into four broad categories: people, geographical places, plants and animals, and other names.

Grouping them revealed patterns that would be difficult to notice from individual street signs. This connects to my wider research on how ordinary graphic objects communicate heritage in the urban environment. A street name may seem like a simple tool for navigation, but each one can connect the past to the present and influence how we understand a place.

This is important when we think about belonging. The Gauteng City-Region Observatory’s most recent Quality of Life Survey shows that 21% of residents feel they do not belong where they live, while 31% feel that nobody cares about people like them.

This matters because street names do more than help us to find our way in our daily travels. They make histories and identities visible in the places we share. Through paying attention to these names we can start to ask ourselves whether our own histories and those of our communities are reflected in the places we call home, and how that may contribute to our sense of belonging.

Patterns

One of the clearest patterns in the map is the concentration of streets named after people in places such as Soweto, Mamelodi, Kagiso and Atteridgeville. These are historically black townships whose development was shaped by South Africa’s racial segregation and apartheid policies.

Across the province of Gauteng, names associated with figures who were at the forefront of the fight against apartheid, such as Nelson Mandela, Steve Biko, Chris Hani and Oliver Tambo, appear alongside names associated with figures who were part of the country’s colonial and apartheid history, such as Jan Smuts, Paul Kruger and Hendrik Verwoerd.

These names reflect different periods of South Africa’s history. Rather than telling a single story, the street network preserves several layers of public memory.

What also stood out was that many of the frequently repeated commemorative names refer to men. This raises questions about whose contributions become familiar through street naming and whose are less visible.

Other neighbourhoods tell quite different stories. In Cosmo City, which is a mixed-income housing development build in the early 2000s in north-west Johannesburg, street names are organised around countries and cities in Africa. In Etwatwa, a township that emerged during the final years of apartheid, names such as Arusha (a city in Tanzania), Entebbe (a city in Uganda) and Victoria Falls (a large gorge on the border of Zimbabwe and Zambia) connect an everyday neighbourhood to places elsewhere on the continent.

In the south-western parts of Centurion, a residental and commercial area between Johannesburg and Pretoria, streets have names associated with plants and trees, including Begonia, Baobab and Fever Tree.

Ivory Park, which is a township in Midrand that emerged in the early 1990s, offers another interesting example, with streets named after fish, such as Snoek, Galjoen and Tilapia.

These examples show that street naming is not only about commemorating people. It can also give a neighbourhood a particular identity or connect it to places, landscapes and ideas beyond its immediate surroundings.

The stories our streets tell

In South Africa, street naming and renaming generally fall under the authority of municipal councils, although individuals and communities can propose names or changes through local processes that often include public consultation.

What interests me about these patterns is how histories and identities become visible in the places people share. The names we encounter everyday can tell us whose histories are commemorated, which places are considered meaningful and how neighbourhood identities are expressed. They also encourage us to think about what is less visible.

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Read more: Should Graaff-Reinet be renamed Robert Mangaliso Sobukwe? Residents of the South African town say no – study

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A map cannot tell us how a particular resident feels about a street name, or whether that name creates a sense of belonging. But it can reveal which stories appear repeatedly in public space and which receive less recognition.

These are important questions when we think about how communities see themselves reflected in the places they call home.

Gauteng’s street names show us that heritage is not only found in monuments or museums. It is also written into the ordinary routes travelled every day.

I encourage people to look differently at the streets around them. The next time you read a street sign or give someone directions, ask who or what the street is named after. Think about why that name is there, whether it has changed and what other stories might be less visible.

Our streets are already telling us stories. Sometimes we simply need to stop and read them.

– Street names carry stories with them. What they tell us about Gauteng in South Africa
– https://theconversation.com/street-names-carry-stories-with-them-what-they-tell-us-about-gauteng-in-south-africa-292281