Category: The Conversation

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Magnus Killander, Professor, Centre for Human Rights in the Faculty of Law, University of Pretoria

South Africa instituted a case against Israel at the International Court of Justice (ICJ) in the Hague in late December 2023, claiming Israel was violating the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide through its actions in Gaza, and requesting provisional measures. Human rights law scholar Magnus Killander explains the process and why it’s so slow. International law, including the ICJ’s provisional measures, are binding on states. However, international law does not enforce itself and all states have an obligation to attend to the situation.

Why could it take until 2028 to get a final decision?

On 5 April 2024, the ICJ set two deadlines. It wanted to receive memorials, that is the full arguments related to the case, from South Africa by 28 October 2024 and counter-memorials from Israel by 28 July 2025. Following a request by Israel, the court on 14 April 2025 extended the time for submission of Israel’s counter-memorials to 12 January 2026.

It is likely that Israel, in a bid to delay the proceedings, will file preliminary objections, such as dealing with the jurisdiction of the ICJ to hear the case. South Africa would then have a few months to respond. Then an oral hearing on preliminary objections would be held, probably towards the end of 2026 or early 2027.

A few months after the hearing, the ICJ would deliver a judgment on the preliminary objections. Preliminary objections are unlikely to be successful, so the ICJ would then set a new deadline for Israel’s counter-memorial on the merits, which might again be extended. When Israel’s counter-memorial has been submitted, there may be a request from South Africa for a reply and from Israel for a rejoinder.

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Read more: South Africa’s genocide case against Israel: expert sets out what to expect from the International Court of Justice

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At some point, the court would consider requests from states to intervene, and set timelines for their submissions.

So far, the following states have filed requests to intervene: Nicaragua, Colombia, Libya, Mexico, Palestine, Spain, Türkiye, Chile, the Maldives, Bolivia, Ireland, Cuba and Belize. Nicaragua subsequently revoked its request.

After the written submissions, the ICJ will schedule an oral hearing. Following this the judges will write the final judgement on the merits of the case. The judgment will be hundreds of pages of detailed factual and legal analysis with separate opinions from many of the 16 judges. The court has 15 permanent judges (including South Africa’s Dire Tladi) and an Israeli ad hoc judge in the South Africa v Israel case.

It is this final judgement that will decide whether Israel breached the Genocide Convention through its actions in Gaza.

Given these lengthy procedures, it is unlikely that the final judgement in the case will be handed down before 2028.

Does it usually take this long?

Yes.

The South Africa v Israel case can be compared to the Gambia v Myanmar case. In November 2019 The Gambia brought the case that Myanmar’s treatment of the Rohingya constituted genocide.

The ICJ handed down a judgment on preliminary objections on 22 July 2022. A hearing on the merits is yet to be scheduled. The case is likely to be concluded in 2026.

The first case brought to the ICJ under the Genocide Convention, Bosnia and Herzegovina v Serbia and Montenegro, was submitted in 1993. The final judgment was delivered in 2007.

The second case, Croatia v Serbia, was submitted in 1999 and the final judgment was delivered in 2015.

The ICJ has so far held a state accountable for genocide in one case.

In its 2007 case, it held Serbia and Montenegro responsible for the 1995 genocide in Srebrenica. The ICJ case had limited impact. However, it should be noted that Ratko Mladić, a Bosnian Serb military leader, was arrested in Serbia in 2011 and transferred to the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia as called for in the ICJ judgment. In 2017 he was convicted by the tribunal for the genocide in Srebrenica, a judgment which was confirmed on appeal in 2021, 26 years after the Srebrenica massacre.

In the two cases against Serbia, the court held that, apart from the Srebrenica massacre, the mens rea, the “specific intent” to destroy a group or part of a group, had not been proven. The main difference with the Myanmar and Israel cases is that the state of Serbia did not participate itself directly in the conflict.

In both the Gambia v Myanmar and the South Africa v Israel final judgments, the main discussion will likely be in relation to whether the mens rea requirement has been met.

In my view most of the ICJ judges will find that both acts of genocide and incitement to genocide have taken place.

What’s the point then?

The orders of the ICJ are binding on states, but are often ignored. This is in line with the general difficulty of enforcing international law, in particular international human rights law and international humanitarian law.

Only political pressure from outside and inside Israel will bring about change, as it is clear that the Israeli government considers only itself as the judge of its actions. In addition, enforcement measures by the UN security council are not possible given the position of the United States. It is a permanent member of the council, with veto power, but does not want to criticise Israel and is its main supplier of weapons.

The issue of Palestine has also been raised in a case before the ICJ that does not directly involve Israel. In March 2024, Nicaragua instituted a case against Germany in relation to its export of weapons to Israel, which it argued facilitated genocide in Gaza. On 30 April 2024, the court decided not to issue provisional measures against Germany since it had shown the measures it had taken to restrict weapons exports to Israel following the invasion of Gaza.

It was only in August 2025, however, that Germany declared it would suspend the export of weapons that could be used in the war in Gaza.

Another international court based in The Hague is also trying to hold violators of international crimes to account. The International Criminal Court (ICC) deals with international criminal responsibility as opposed to state responsibility – the purview of the ICJ. Israel’s prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu and former defence minister Yoav Gallant have been indicted by the ICC. The three Hamas leaders against whom the ICC prosecutor sought indictments have been killed by Israel.

It is unlikely that we will see Netanyahu in the dock in The Hague since he avoids travelling to countries that are parties to the ICC Statute and would thus be obliged to surrender him to the ICC.

Of course, the ICC is not the only possibility in relation to criminal accountability. For example, prosecutors in Sweden are investigating war crimes in Gaza.

The wheels of international justice grind exceedingly slowly and will never be sufficient on their own to bring about lasting change.

And the latest developments?

The provisional measures issued by the ICJ on 26 January 2024, 28 March 2024 and 24 May 2024 remain in force and are binding. These included the provision of

urgently needed basic services and humanitarian assistance.

Clearly this measure and and others have not been complied with.

South Africa has not requested any additional provisional measures since the last ones were issued in May 2024. However, advisory proceedings provide another way to address the situation.

On 23 December 2024, the UN general assembly requested an advisory opinion on the obligations of Israel in relation to the presence and activities of the United Nations, other international organisations and third states in relation to the Occupied Palestinian Territory. Hearings were held from 28 April to 2 May 2025. The advisory opinion is likely to be delivered soon and address the issue of access to humanitarian aid.

This is the third advisory opinion proceedings dealing with Palestine. In December 2003, the UN general assembly requested an advisory opinion on Israel’s construction of a wall separating it from the occupied territories in the West Bank. The advisory opinion of the ICJ was delivered on 9 July 2004, finding that the construction of the wall was in violation of international law. On 19 January 2023, the UN general assembly requested an advisory opinion on the legal consequences arising from the policies and practices of Israel in the Occupied Palestinian Territory, including East Jerusalem. The court delivered its advisory opinion on 19 July 2024, confirming its view that the occupation was illegal and that Israel had an obligation to leave the occupied territory.

– Is Israel committing genocide in Gaza? International court will take years to decide, but states have a duty to act now
– https://theconversation.com/is-israel-committing-genocide-in-gaza-international-court-will-take-years-to-decide-but-states-have-a-duty-to-act-now-263076

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Michelle Moyd, Associate Professor, Department of History, Michigan State University

Tanzania has long enjoyed a reputation as a peaceful country. In contrast to most of its neighbours, this east African nation of 67 million people has largely avoided large-scale violence within its borders.

That didn’t seem likely in the early years after independence from Britain in December 1961. A little over two years into independence – in January 1964 – the founding president, Julius Nyerere, faced two political crises. The first started on 12 January 1964 in the form of the Zanzibar Revolution. Weeks of violence and destruction by Afro-Shirazi Party members followed. As many as 16,000 Zanzibaris were killed or forced into exile.

Then the country’s military, the Tanganyika Rifles, mutinied. Its soldiers were incensed over inadequate pay, loss of privileges, and poor prospects for upward mobility. A rattled Nyerere needed British military support to quell the mutiny. He ordered the arrests of its leaders, and effectively dismantled the entire force.

Nyerere then faced the dilemma of leading a new nation-state with no army and few resources to build one. His socialist agenda (Ujamaa, in Kiswahili) had prioritised other aspects of nation-building, especially education and public health. Nonetheless, with assistance from the Organisation of African Unity (OAU) and the willingness of some of its member states to provide troops, the Tanzania People’s Defence Force was established in September 1964.

In his new book, Ujamaa’s Army: The Creation and Evolution of the Tanzania People’s Defence Force, 1964-1979, Charles G. Thomas, a scholar of post-colonial African military history, skilfully narrates this complex and absorbing history. The book covers the formation and transformations of the defence force through the new nation’s first 15 years as it shed its connections to the colonial past and charted a new path.

Unlike other writing on African armies – particularly the body of work on colonial armies – this one does not centre rank-and-file troops. Instead, Thomas’s analysis is based on rich interviews with high-ranking officers who led and moulded the force in its first two decades. This has enabled him to offer a top-down view of the construction of the army.

A rocky start

Nyerere undertook the work of unifying Tanganyika and Zanzibar in the first few months of 1964 with an eye to the region’s security. The Zanzibar revolution and the Afro-Shirazi Party’s Marxism had called attention to the island as a potential Marxist outpost. Violence against the island’s ruling party and those perceived as wealthy elites seemed to bolster this perception. In the context of the cold war, this fuelled western fears of Zanzibar becoming the “Cuba of east Africa”. An influx of Soviet and Chinese military advisers to Zanzibar made western powers nervous.

Nyerere and foreign minister Oscar Kambona worked with Afro-Shirazi Party leader Abeid Karume to unify Tanganyika and Zanzibar to reassure westerners.

The rollout of the defence force in September 1964 thus included members of the Zanzibari People’s Liberation Army. This signalled that the initial 1,000-man army would serve the larger interests of socialist Tanzania.

A regional role

Throughout the 1960s, Tanzania became, alongside Zambia, Botswana, Lesotho, Angola and Mozambique, a supporter of southern African liberation struggles. The OAU formally recognised this group of nations as the “frontline states” in 1975.

Nyerere convinced the OAU Liberation Committee to set up its headquarters in Dar es Salaam in 1963 because Tanganyika was already hosting many southern African exiles. Also, conflicts in neighbouring states, such as Mozambique, were spilling over into Tanganyika. It became the nerve centre for coordinating African liberation efforts.

Liberation organisations from across southern Africa also established offices in Dar es Salaam. These included the African National Congress and the Pan-Africanist Congress from South Africa; the People’s Movement for the Liberation of Angola (MPLA); Zimbabwe African People’s Union (Zapu) and Zimbabwe African National Union (Zanu); South West Africa People’s Organisation (Swapo) from Namibia; and Mozambique Liberation Front (Frelimo).

The Tanzanian defence force took on a key role in frontline liberation struggles. In 1964 it established the Special Duties Unit, which provided a logistics pipeline to serve liberation armies.

The defence force also established training camps for liberation armies within Tanzania. And it took on a protective and support function in southern Tanzania, where Frelimo’s operations against the Portuguese embroiled communities.

Tanzania’s involvement in struggles against the white settler states of southern Africa intensified in the late 1960s and early 1970s. After Portugal retreated from its colonies, Nyerere sent the defence force to help stabilise the new Frelimo government in Mozambique against the South African- and Rhodesian-backed guerrilla force Renamo.

At the same time, the book explains, Tanzania was contending with the disruptive politics and threatening military actions of its northern neighbour, Uganda.

Uganda gained independence from Britain in 1962. In 1971 Idi Amin seized power in a military coup that ousted Uganda’s first president, Milton Obote.

Amin and Nyerere antagonised each other personally, politically and militarily for the next eight years.

In 1972, Amin bombed Tanzanian border cities in retaliation for Nyerere’s support of the invasion of Uganda by Obote supporters in 1972. In 1978, Uganda annexed the Kagera Salient across its south-western border with Tanzania. In 1979, Tanzania invaded Uganda and ousted Amin from power.

The Tanzanian defence force remained in Uganda for nearly two years, providing security as the new government attempted to re-establish services and governance for post-Amin Uganda.

Catalyst for new inquiries

Thomas’s sustained research is based in large measure on hard-won connections with defence force officers. He also used alternative sources rather than relying heavily on Tanzanian, British and US archives. Canadian military archives, for example, showed how Tanzania’s forces benefited from Canadian training and resources.

OAU archival materials helped with understanding the Tanzania People’s Defence Force as part of African solidarity efforts against apartheid and colonialism.

The book also paints a clear picture of Nyerere’s role in Africa’s postcolonial politics. It shows him as a shrewd negotiator and a “pragmatic pluralist” in a fraught cold war world, where there were many competitors for military aid, but few sources to provide it to a country seeking a non-aligned position. His decision to form the Tanzania People’s Defence Force, and his encouragement of its role in supporting liberation struggles, helped Tanzania stand apart from its neighbours.

– Tanzania’s independence leader Julius Nyerere built a new army fit for African liberation: how he did it
– https://theconversation.com/tanzanias-independence-leader-julius-nyerere-built-a-new-army-fit-for-african-liberation-how-he-did-it-246688

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

In Lagos, Nigeria’s commercial and creative capital, food is doing something unusual. It’s keeping alive the spirit of a musician.

Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, one of Africa’s most influential artists, was the architect of Afrobeat (not to be confused with today’s Afrobeats, which was born from it).

Fela pioneered his politically charged, musically expansive sound in the early 1970s by blending jazz, highlife, funk and Yoruba rhythms. He paired these with lyrics that took aim at corruption, oppression and postcolonial disillusionment. His songs were as much rallying cries as they were works of art.

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Read more: Fela Kuti is more famous today than ever – what’s behind his global power

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Today, dishes named after Fela’s protest anthems – and restaurant soundscapes steeped in Afrobeats – are making dining in Lagos a journey through African music history.

As a musicologist involved in African Studies, I research the legacy of Fela Kuti and how it manifests in new forms today, in music, political life and even food. I first raised Fela’s legacy in food in a 2022 article for the book that accompanied a major exhibition in France called Fela Anikulapo-Kuti: Rébellion Afrobeat.

For me the new Lagos trend raises a question: do these culinary tributes preserve the radical edge of Fela’s art – or do they dilute it by commercialising it?

From protest songs to plated specials

In May 2025, The Afrobeat opened at EbonyLife Place, a high-profile entertainment and hospitality complex in Lagos. It markets itself as

The world’s first restaurant dedicated to celebrating Africa’s vibrant music genre.

The Afrobeat offers not just meals but a fully curated cultural experience. Yet it was not the first to blend food and Fela.

That distinction belongs to Kuti’s Bistro, launched in 2019 by the family of Seun Kuti, Fela’s youngest son. It’s currently closed for diners but still delivers meals.

Positioned as a pan-African eatery, the bistro’s dining area was steeped in Afrobeat imagery and sound, with walls adorned in Fela-inspired art. Its dishes draw on regional African culinary traditions, from Nigerian staples to cross-continental flavours.

Like so many restaurants in Lagos today, its playlist was dominated by Afrobeats, the electronically driven pop music now dominant across west Africa and its diasporas. Afrobeats owes much to Fela’s pioneering spirit.

The menu is where the homage becomes striking. Meals at Kuti’s are named after some of Fela’s most famous songs: breakfast plates called Yanga, starters like Shakara, hearty mains such as Feast for Nation, Roforofo Fight, and I No Be Gentleman. Even desserts bear provocative titles like Trouble Sleep Yanga Wake Am and Expensive Shit.

These are not just playful references. They’re a way of transforming Fela’s work into living memory.

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Read more: The daughters and sons of Fela in African Pop

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The pairing of food and music creates a layered cultural experience. The textures and spices of the food evoke place and tradition; the music anchors the experience in a living, evolving sound. Diners are invited to consume Fela’s legacy with all their senses: sight, sound, smell, taste, and even memory.

In this way, these restaurants function as more than dining spaces. They are cultural archives. They stage a performance of history and identity every time a plate leaves the kitchen.

Preserving or packaging the radical?

Still, the shift from protest anthem to menu item raises questions.

Can a song like Expensive Shit, originally a razor-sharp satire on state harassment, retain its political bite when it is served as a dessert on a polished ceramic plate? Does turning Roforofo Fight into a main course preserve its cultural meaning? Or does it risk reducing it to a quirky marketing hook? This tension is not unique to Fela’s legacy.

Around the world, radical art often undergoes a process of “heritagisation” and commodification. It becomes a celebrated cultural product, sometimes losing the confrontational edge that defined it.

Yet this transformation does not necessarily strip away its significance. It can create new pathways for engagement. For younger diners, who may know Fela only as a name in music history or a face on a T-shirt, a menu item can become a spark of curiosity. It might prompt a search for the original song, leading to a deeper encounter with his music and the politics behind it.

A legacy that adapts

Fela’s artistic and political vision was always about creating spaces where African identity could be expressed on its own terms.

In the 1970s and 80s, that space was his nightclub, the Afrika Shrine, where music, conversation and resistance flowed freely. In 2025, it might be a restaurant table in Lagos, where I No Be Gentleman arrives as a sizzling platter of suya-spiced beef.

These spaces also speak to the adaptability of Fela’s legacy. His music has inspired entire genres; his persona has been invoked in theatre, literature, political protests, art exhibitions, films, and now dining.

Each iteration, like the opening of the New Afrika Shrine in 2000, reinterprets him for new audiences, keeping his name and ideas in circulation.

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Read more: Detty December started as a Nigerian cultural moment. Now it’s spreading across the continent – and minting money

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Today’s blending of food and music illustrates how cultural memory works in Africa. Artistic legacies can be preserved not just through direct performance, but through symbolic transformation into other mediums; mediums that engage the senses, draw on tradition, and thrive in the global marketplace.

The Afrobeat-themed restaurants of Lagos are not just curiosities for tourists or novelties for locals. They are living experiments in how to honour a cultural icon while making him relevant to the present.

Whether these spaces ultimately radicalise or simply entertain, they ensure that Fela Anikulapo-Kuti remains part of the city’s sensory landscape; not only heard, but tasted. And in a rapidly changing Lagos, that may be one of the most enduring tributes possible.

– Fela and food: how Lagos restaurants are serving up the music star’s legacy
– https://theconversation.com/fela-and-food-how-lagos-restaurants-are-serving-up-the-music-stars-legacy-262994

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

Zanzibar has long been an island of arrivals for traders, sailors, slaves and, more recently, waves of tourists. I arrived as a wedding guest and a reader of the Zanzibar born novelist Abdulrazak Gurnah, in search of the literary and emotional landscapes that shape his fiction. For a week, I was part of the tourist economy of this east African island, passively complicit in its curated pleasures.

For all its beautiful images on social media, Zanzibar is a site of difficult memory. It was once a central node in the Indian Ocean slave trade, so its past is carved into the coral-stone buildings that reflect a complex fusion of Swahili, Indian, Arab and European influences in architecture and town planning.

A visit to the Old Slave Market was sobering. You cannot look away once you’ve seen it. And yet, Zanzibar is now overlaid with carefully packaged experiences: boutique hotels with infinity pools, beach picnics with imported champagne, stalls of “African” art mass-produced for western eyes. The art has become so generic that it hurts. All the curio markets on the island look the same.

Even the language has been commodified. Everyone is selling something. Everyone is searching. “Jambo,” (Hello) say mostly young men offering one service or another. “Hakuna matata.” (No worries.) “Pole pole.” (No rush.) These cheerful Kiswahili phrases made famous by the likes of the Lion King movie are repeated like slogans and feel soulless.

Most of the cars on the roads operate as taxis with stickers that say: Private Hire. The tuk tuks, three-wheeled tricycles, weave in and out of traffic because movement is an act of constant negotiation, part of a tourist infrastructure that operates as a regulated service.

Amid the hum of engines and the ceaseless choreography of traffic, I kept searching not just for respite from the heat or wifi or good coffee, but for something literary. I was looking for the celebrated writer Abdulrazak Gurnah. Not the man (he hasn’t lived in Zanzibar for decades), but the essence of his writing, informed by this place: the ache of exile, the weight of history, the restless question of belonging he grapples with.

Gurnah is not just a writer I’ve read; he examined my doctoral dissertation at the University of Kent, where he taught for many years until his retirement. He is an important part of my intellectual development.

As a scholar of African literature, I engage deeply with the traditions, debates and histories that Gurnah’s novels illuminate, so my attempt to map his legacy in Zanzibar carried both personal and professional significance.

Absence of literary memory

Gurnah was born here, on this island of contradictions. He left following the Zanzibar Revolution of 1964, a violent outbreak of anti-Arab violence in postcolonial Africa. He was a teenager when he moved to England as a refugee, and has lived there ever since.

I expected, perhaps foolishly, to see a plaque with his name. A mural. Something. But there was nothing, even in Stone Town, where the past feels pressed into every narrow alley. This historical capital is an indecipherable tangle of markets, bathhouses, former colonial offices and palaces. I asked about bookshops at every turn. Locals looked puzzled, amused. “Why?” one asked. “You want to read on holiday?” That is because I can’t imagine a beach without a book.

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Read more: Abdulrazak Gurnah: what you need to know about the Nobel prize-winning author

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Eventually, I found Gurnah’s famous novels in a souvenir shop that mostly sold skin-care products. They sat beside cookbooks and Swahili language guides. The only other meaningful literary encounter came via the mainland: a newly published Tanzanian literary journal, Semi za Picha, sent by ferry.

That little package was the most precious thing I took away from Zanzibar. It’s described as “a film journal” and edited by Jesse Gerard Mpango and Dismas Sekibaha, who are members of an audio-visual collective, Ajabu Ajabu, based in Dar es Salaam.

It’s not that Zanzibar lacks intellectual life. There is a State University. A global centre for Swahili Studies. Museums and Unesco heritage sites.

But there are no visible monuments to literature. There is no street named after Abdulrazak Gurnah. And yet, his imagination haunts the island. Reading his fiction made me more aware of the surfaces I was treading on, all the stories hiding under sand and souvenirs here, or submerged in the waters of the Indian Ocean.

Gurnah’s novels are known for their moral precision and speak to the legacies of colonialism and displacement along the Swahili coast. His characters often inhabit spaces between languages, continents and allegiances. In many ways, the disjuncture Gurnah explores, especially the fraught layering of history, is what unfolded before us.

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Read more: Why the work of Abdulrazak Gurnah, the champion of heartbreak, stands out for me

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We criss-crossed Zanzibar by car, drove through villages with crumbling schools and no paved roads in search of the perfect beach. Then the ocean would appear, in its glimmering glory, and there were always many people taking pictures, as if the world was just a beautiful pose. But there’s something repugnant about turning people’s homes into backgrounds for entertainment. In our swimsuits, we were trespassing through communities, not just beautiful landscapes.

Zanzibar is not local anymore. It is a mesh of immigrants and itinerants: its service industry jobs are all occupied by people from many places. Local Tanzanian hotel staff, Kenyan chefs, French and South African restaurateurs, Belgian and German landlords. Whether you’re walking, or sitting at the beach, you can hear a babel of languages: Arabic, Chinese, Dutch, French, Hebrew, Italian, Shona, Swahili, Zulu.

Maybe my search for Gurnah and for literature was a search for an ethical place to stand. In Zanzibar, billboards of Tanzanian president Samia Suluhu Hassan are prominently displayed, projecting an image of calm authority. Once welcomed as a reformer, Hassan now faces growing criticism over alleged human rights abuses. But beneath the façade lies a more contested reality.

Zanzibar is a semi-autonomous archipelago with its own president and parliament, yet remains politically tethered to the mainland of Tanzania. This union has long been marked by tension over power, identity and representation as many Zanzibaris continue to assert a distinct cultural and political identity.

At the wedding, we didn’t speak of any of this. There was music, speech-making and laughter. This island, beautiful and bruised, is the backdrop of the absurdity of overtourism. And I still can’t get over the fact that in Zanzibar I could find no bookshops.

– Abdulrazak Gurnah: searching for signs of Zanzibar’s most famous writer, all I found was trinkets and tourists
– https://theconversation.com/abdulrazak-gurnah-searching-for-signs-of-zanzibars-most-famous-writer-all-i-found-was-trinkets-and-tourists-262886

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Kara Nel, Contract lecturer in Business Management, Stellenbosch University

Institutional investors who invest on behalf of others are increasingly considering environmental conservation and safe working conditions as investment criteria.

Sustainable investment has gained momentum in the last 20 years as asset managers – people who manage the day-to-day activities of institutional investors – have accepted the need to include sustainability criteria in their decision-making. In particular environmental, social and governance factors.

A study done in 2023 in North America, Europe and Asia reported that 80% of asset managers had sustainable investment policies. Five years earlier it was only 20%.

In South Africa, this trend has been particularly marked since 2011 following changes to pension fund legislation. The amendments require pension funds to take environmental, social and governance issues into account in their investment decisions.

Nevertheless, the momentum of investment decisions based on sustainability criteria has been slower in South Africa compared with other countries.

As part of my PhD research, I investigated the views of 26 asset managers about sustainable investing. I asked them to define what corporate social responsibility meant to them.

They identified specific corporate social responsibility practices they focus on. Human rights and stakeholder relationships were the most prominent. Most interviewees (15 of the 26) believed that the companies they invest in should have sound sustainability practices.

The research also highlighted a number of barriers to asset managers applying sustainability criteria. These included the fact that the South African equity market is quite small, and shrinking as the number of companies delisting from the Johannesburg Stock Exchange grows. There are therefore fewer companies to invest in. There is also limited client demand for such investments.

These barriers make it harder for investors to make a significant social investment impact.

Sustainable investment matters because asset managers control vast amounts of capital. In the absence of suitable impact-oriented investment opportunities, capital can’t be directed to solving pressing problems. These include poverty, inequality and climate change.

The barriers

The interviewees said it was challenging to integrate corporate social responsibility practices into institutional investment decision-making. They listed a number of reasons.

Seven commented that the local equity market was too small to make a significant social investment impact.

One interviewee said that if, for example, an asset manager wanted to build a fund with only environmental performers, it was not possible, since

you are not exactly spoiled for choice.

The already limited local investable market continues to shrink. Companies are delisting at a disconcerting rate. This means that there are limited sustainability-focused investment opportunities in the country.

Another challenge is low client demand for sustainable investment products. The interviewees mentioned that a limited number of asset owners and beneficiaries are requesting such products.

In addition, many companies don’t provide sufficient data on their sustainability practices. This makes it difficult for corporate role-players to make informed decisions.

Another complicating factor is that there isn’t consistency among data providers on how sustainability performance of companies should be measured. In South Africa this is further complicated by unique aspects of the country’s laws. For example, interviewees mentioned that popular global environmental, social and governance databases didn’t take into account broad-based black economic empowerment legislation. This was introduced after the end of apartheid to improve economic transformation and inclusion.

What needs to happen

Education is key to ensure real impact. Fund managers and their clients should thus be better informed about sustainable investing.

Here the Association for Savings and Investment South Africa could play an important role. This association aims to ensure that savings and investment in the country remain relevant and sustainable. Workshops and resources are provided to various role-players in the investment process.

In addition, having consistent, country-specific metrics for sustainability would make it easier to evaluate and compare companies. Some of the interviewees thought that the Johannesburg Stock Exchange 2022 Sustainability Disclosure Guidance was a step in the right direction. The document provides a step-by-step guide to get companies going in their sustainability reporting. It’s also designed to help locally listed companies clarify current global best practices. An example is climate-related disclosures.

Reporting standards put out in 2023 by the International Sustainability Standards Board have been another important development. These include requirements for sustainability-related financial information and climate-related initiatives.

The standards encourage more consistent, complete, comparable and verifiable information about sustainability-related risks and opportunities.

Another useful intervention would be the development of a social impact metric. This could include country-specific social considerations. A local example would be including broad-based black economic empowerment when measuring social impact.

In our view the focus for South African asset managers should be on investments that align with sustainable development. These include investing in infrastructure projects that address pressing challenges. Unemployment is one example.

Fund managers should also take advantage of tools like the Responsible Investment and Ownership guide. This provides actionable steps to improve responsible investment practices.

These resources can help asset managers integrate corporate sustainability into their decision-making. They can also be used to educate clients on the benefits of sustainable investing.

– Investing that protects people and the planet is growing: new study maps the progress in South Africa
– https://theconversation.com/investing-that-protects-people-and-the-planet-is-growing-new-study-maps-the-progress-in-south-africa-248022

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Bourdjolbo Tchoudiba, Doctorant en Sciences Politiques-Université Paris-Est Créteil, Laboratoire Interdisciplinaire d’Études du Politique Hannah Arendt (LIPHA), Université Paris-Est Créteil Val de Marne (UPEC)

Chad’s opposition firebrand and a former prime minister, Succès Masra, was sentenced to 20 years in prison on 9 August. He was accused of inciting violence and hate speech on social media, leading to the death of 42 people in a clash between herders and farmers in the village of Mandakao in 2023.

The opposition leader had been arrested at his home on 16 May by men in military uniform. He was initially charged with “inciting hatred, inciting armed groups to revolt, complicity in murder, arson, and desecration of graves”.

Masra rose to prominence as one of the main opponents of the Chadian regime, particularly after the death of President Idriss Déby in 2021. For many, Masra embodies an alternative to the country’s political-military dynasties, especially the Déby family, who has ruled the country since Idriss Déby came to power in 1990.

When he died, his son, military officer Mahamat Idriss Déby, became president after assuming power and forming a three-year transitional government overseen by the military. Masra served as prime minister of this government from 1 January 2024 to 16 May 2025.

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Read more: Chad’s parliamentary election hands Mahamat Déby absolute control. Here’s why it’s dangerous

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As a researcher who has studied the country’s political trajectory, I have observed how Masra, leader of Les Transformateurs (The Transformers) party, quickly gained influence after entering the Chadian political scene in 2018. His reformist message resonated with many young Chadians, especially unemployed graduates seeking change.

Political strategist

Masra’s strengths lie in his clear programme of political change and strategic approach to building a political base as well as his maturity, despite being only 41. He holds a doctorate in economics, which adds to his credibility. His resignation from the African Development Bank to fully commit to the fight for political change struck a chord with many.

In a remarkably short time, Masra managed to shift the political landscape by challenging Idriss Déby directly. Fearing electoral defeat, Déby pushed through a constitutional amendment in 2018 that changed the age limit for presidential candidates, blocking Masra from running in the 2021 election. His party was also banned for a time for the same reason.

It was under the transitional government of Mahamat Idriss Déby that Masra’s party was officially recognised on 8 June 2021. It soon became Chad’s main opposition. Masra, along with several civil society groups, rejected the transition model in Chad. They boycotted the national dialogue. In their view, it was not a genuine dialogue but a “monologue”. They believed its real purpose was to legitimise the Déby family’s dynastic succession and ensure the continued rule of their Mouvement patriotique du salut (Patriotic Movement for Salvation).

The boycott’s most dramatic moment was the peaceful protest of 20 October 2022, called by Masra to oppose extending the transition. It was violently suppressed, leaving many dead.

Exile and return

To save their lives, Masra and his close associates were forced into exile to the US at the end of 2022. He returned to Chad on 3 November 2023, under a reconciliation deal. Mahamat Idriss Déby appointed him prime minister on 1 January 2024.

With his return and appointment, Les Transformateurs’ political stance shifted dramatically towards supporting the government. Despite this, Masra retained the loyalty of his supporters. However, his short tenure as prime minister was marked by growing tensions with the government, often aired through public statements.

Detention

On 21 May, Masra was formally charged after five days in police custody. During his interrogation, a pro-government outlet claimed he was part of a plot against the state. The claim was based on information allegedly found on his phone, including exchanges with French officials and President Emmanuel Macron. It is extremely rare in Chad for a former prime minister to face such action, suggesting underlying political motives.

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

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Shortly after his arrest, Chad’s public prosecutor publicly accused Masra of inciting hatred, complicity in murder, and forming armed groups. He cited social media messages allegedly urging people in southern Chad to arm themselves against herder communities. These charges relate to a deadly farmer-herder conflict that left 42 dead and caused major damage, mostly among the Fulani community.

Meanwhile, at a press conference three government ministers said an audio message in Ngambaye, Masra’s native language, was linked to him. According to them, the recording directly urged the killing of Fulani herders in their camp.

Audio recording

This accusation was made without independent investigation. The government’s message was amplified by ruling party heavyweights on social media and in politically and ethnically charged WhatsApp groups. The rapid developments gave the impression of a judicial system being weaponised. Many Chadians already see the judiciary as a tool of the military regime.

According to Masra’s lawyers, the audio presented as evidence dates back to 2023. The authenticated 2023 recording captures Masra, in exile, urging the Ngambaye people to arm themselves and defend their community against herder attacks on farmers.

Masra is not the first politician to call for self-defence in Chad. Rising intercommunal violence is widespread, fuelled by social injustice, impunity and insecurity.

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Read more: Idriss Déby Itno offered Chadians great hope, but ended up leaving a terrible legacy

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Chadian criminal law guarantees the presumption of innocence and the right to legal counsel from the preliminary investigation stage. Yet no such process was followed for Masra. At the same time, government communications targeting him multiplied.

Officials took the unusual step of leaking unverified “evidence” (the audio) while the investigation was still underway, a clear breach of procedure.

The Toumaï Agreement

During the seventh anniversary of Les Transformateurs, Masra publicly urged Mahamat Idriss Déby to “change course and deliver the change the people demand”.

A striking revelation from that anniversary event was the existence of another deal, known as the Toumaï Agreement between the government and Masra’s political party, meant to end the political crisis in Chad. This was in addition to the Kinshasa Accord.

Masra’s lawyers argued that the Toumaï Agreement should protect Masra from prosecution as it lifted an international arrest warrant against him. The ruling party’s strong reaction to the agreement being disclosed suggests a deeper political rift.

Many of Masra’s supporters, opposition parties and civil society organisations believe the trial was aimed at neutralising him both politically and physically.

– Succès Masra: how Chad’s opposition firebrand came to be sentenced to 20 years in prison
– https://theconversation.com/succes-masra-how-chads-opposition-firebrand-came-to-be-sentenced-to-20-years-in-prison-262985

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Chloé Josse-Durand, Senior Research Associate in African Politics, Newcastle University

In 1950, British forces killed at least 29 civilians in one of the deadliest, but least chronicled, episodes of colonial violence in Kenya.

Armed soldiers killed at least 29 civilian members of Dini ya Msambwa, a spiritual and anti-colonial movement in Kenya active around what is now West Pokot county in the north-western region. Survivors describe the group’s gathering on 24 April 1950 as a peaceful one. However, British colonial forces, fearing a potential uprising, violently confronted the group at the Kolloa trading centre.

It led to one of the highest number of deaths in a single day in a single place in Kenya’s colonial period.

For the surviving families and followers of Dini ya Msambwa (the “religion of the spirits” in Kiswahili), it was a massacre. However, the British government has never publicly apologised for this atrocity.

The movement’s adherents continue to seek justice and recognition, but they face legal, political and historical roadblocks.

I am part of a team at Newcastle University working on Afterlives of Colonial Incarceration, a project focused on former British colonies. I’ve been working closely with communities affected by colonial violence in Kenya, including Dini ya Msambwa adherents.

In my view, Britain’s recognition of the Kolloa massacre isn’t just a matter of historical record. It is about acknowledging that the group’s pain is real, their loss unjust and their struggle worth remembering.

To acknowledge Kolloa as a massacre would open the door to legal and moral accountability from the British government. This would help Dini Ya Msambwa followers affirm the legitimacy of their historical grievances and their place in Kenya’s national story.

Crucially, it could also lay the groundwork for reparations, which could include financial compensation for surviving families, and the restitution of confiscated land and livestock.

The British government remains silent on the massacre. But this doesn’t erase memory. Dini ya Msambwa followers and representatives and historians are working to ensure that Kolloa – like so many forgotten chapters of colonial violence in Africa and beyond – is not buried with the last of its survivors.

The group’s origins

Dini ya Msambwa was founded in the 1940s by Elijah Masinde among the Bukusu people of western Kenya. The movement rejected colonial authority, resisted Christian missionary dominance and called for a return to African spirituality and traditions.

This combination of cultural pride and political defiance made it a target for suppression by British authorities.

Lukas Pkech, a prominent Pokot leader, brought Masinde’s preachings to West Suk and Baringo in the British-administered north-west region in 1950. His teachings were increasingly influential among Pokot communities and were seen as a direct challenge to colonial order.

British district commissioner Arthur Simpsons, along with a contingent of tribal police and British officers led by Alan Stevens, moved to quell the movement and most likely to kill its leader. What followed was a fatal confrontation in Kolloa: over 300 Dini ya Msambwa followers, armed mainly with spears, faced off with colonial security forces in what came to be called the Kolloa Affray.

Pkech and at least 28 followers were killed, along with Stevens, two other British nationals and an African askari (soldier). Oral testimonies suggest that between 44 and 50 people were killed – 29 during the event itself, and 15 to 20 others later succumbing to wounds sustained in the fighting. At least 176 Dini ya Msambwa members present at the standoff were imprisoned. Seven of them were executed for their direct involvement.

This event led to increased repression of Pokot communities and suspected Dini ya Msambwa leaders and followers.

The colonial administration confiscated over 5,600 cattle and deployed a special police force in the region. Residents were forced into hard labour on district roads as part of communal punishment. Hundreds of adherents were thrown into colonial jails and detention camps near the district administrative centre, Kapenguria.

The exact number of Dini ya Msambwa followers today is hard to assess as many choose to remain discreet for their own safety. However, the growing visibility of branches like Dini ya Roho Mafuta Pole ya Africa (African Religion of the Gently Anointing Spirit) indicates the movement’s enduring significance in Pokot society.

Dini ya Roho attracts approximately 4,000 members weekly for worship and yearly for Kolloa commemorations. In the church’s doctrine, the deaths at Kolloa are reinterpreted as a selfless act of sacrifice in fulfilment of peace for the community. Since its official registration in 2012, the church has gained growing influence.

Silencing through legal reform

In 2013, the UK government issued a formal apology and paid £19.9 million (US$26.5 million) in compensation to 5,228 Mau Mau veterans. The compensation was related to Britain’s brutal suppression of the Mau Mau uprising (1952–1960), also known as the “Kenya Emergency”. This was a large-scale anti-colonial rebellion during which more than 150,000 Kenyans were detained without trial in a vast system of camps and fenced villages. Here, torture, forced labour and systematic abuse were widespread.

The Mau Mau case secured an official apology and compensation for colonial-era torture. It also demonstrated that legal redress for historical injustices was possible.

Yet, it was also a strategic concession by the UK government.

It was limited in scope, restricted to a specific group (those tortured during the Emergency), and designed to avoid setting a broad legal precedent.

Since then, the UK has enacted a new law – the Overseas Operations Act – that imposes strict legal limits on claims related to the actions of British troops abroad, effectively barring historical claims.

Worse still, under the legal doctrine known as divisibility of the Crown, claimants must prove that abuses were ordered by the UK government in London, not just carried out by colonial administrators.

In the case of Kolloa, where documentation is sparse and most evidence comes from oral testimonies, this is an almost impossible task.

Further, unlike the Mau Mau case, which gained global attention, Kolloa has remained largely absent from mainstream narratives. The Kenyan government has lacked political will to put pressure on Britain and has itself seen the movement as dangerous. It remained banned until 2012, after the new constitution strengthened protections for freedom of religion and beliefs.

Without strong advocacy from the Kenyan state, Britain has no diplomatic incentive to revisit or acknowledge Kolloa.

Is there still hope for justice?

One promising path is international litigation. In 2022, the Talai clan from Kenya’s Nandi and Kipsigis communities – themselves victims of colonial brutality – brought a case against the UK at the European Court of Human Rights. Their efforts could set a precedent for groups like Dini ya Msambwa seeking redress beyond British courts.

Back home, Kenya’s devolved county government of West Pokot has also given representatives from the church more freedom to speak openly. While the group remains cautious about challenging the national government directly, there’s a growing movement for memorialisation, truth telling and intergenerational dialogue.

For Dini ya Msambwa, the fight is about more than financial compensation. It is about being seen, heard and remembered. The group’s struggle touches on deeper questions of dignity, memory and the right to practise their faith with pride instead of fear and resentment.

– Kenya’s 1950 Kolloa massacre: Britain won’t own up to its colonial violence but communities need closure
– https://theconversation.com/kenyas-1950-kolloa-massacre-britain-wont-own-up-to-its-colonial-violence-but-communities-need-closure-262133

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Mak Okay-Ikenegbu, Researcher, University of Portsmouth

Global standards for heating comfort are largely based on cooler, northern hemisphere climates. How relevant are these benchmarks in low-cost housing in warmer African regions?

Mak Okay-Ikenegbu did his doctoral research on thermal comfort in low-cost housing for warm and humid climates in Nigeria. His research showed that people in tropical environments can withstand higher temperatures than current global standards assume. The findings open the door to affordable housing designs that are climate-appropriate, without relying on energy-intensive solutions like air conditioning. He told us about his research.

How do you define comfortable housing for people in tropical Africa?

Comfortable housing in the tropics is housing that allows people to live, work and rest without experiencing excessive heat or discomfort. This can be without air conditioning as well. It supports well-being by allowing natural ventilation, reducing heat build-up and adapting to local climate conditions.

It is housing that keeps people thermally comfortable using passive design techniques such as cross-ventilation, shading and use of breathable materials. These materials can be adobe, earth blocks, or bamboo, which reduce indoor heat.

What did you find out about people’s housing needs?

My research found that people in low-income, tropical settings like informal settlements in Nigeria adapt to higher indoor temperatures than international standards suggest.

I developed a local thermal comfort model based on real-life experiences of people living in naturally ventilated earth and makeshift homes in Nigeria. My data came from low-income residents in low-cost homes.

This model is unique to the study context, as it directly reflects the comfort responses of people living in this environment. Adaptive thermal comfort models have been developed before, for example, the American ASHRAE 55 model and the European EN 16798 model. These are based primarily on data from temperate climates and mechanically cooled buildings.

Models like this are scarce for sub-Saharan Africa, particularly in the context of low-income or informal housing. This model has potential application for design and policy. It can inform architects, urban planners and housing authorities on how to design buildings that align with how people actually experience and adapt to heat.

This is crucial for creating affordable, climate-responsive housing that doesn’t depend on expensive mechanical cooling systems. It shows that people in tropical climates are comfortable at higher indoor temperatures than the international comfort standards suggest.

What does better housing look like in these conditions?

Affordable, climate-responsive housing solutions use local and thermally appropriate materials.

In my research, earth-based construction materials like mud or adobe walls were found to be more comfortable than materials such as scrap metal, timber planks and plastics. In earth-based housing such as those built with adobe or compressed earth blocks, indoor temperatures typically ranged from 20°C to 43°C. In contrast, in makeshift housing, often constructed from materials like corrugated metal sheets and tarpaulin, the temperatures were even higher, ranging from 25°C to 47°C.

This shows that makeshift structures tend to trap more heat and expose occupants to more extreme indoor conditions. The findings highlight the importance of building material choice and passive design in helping to reduce indoor heat and improve comfort, especially in settings without access to mechanical cooling.

I didn’t test the thermal performance of specific materials, but based on previous studies, materials like adobe or compressed earth blocks are known to offer natural insulation and reduce heat gain.

Corrugated metal roofs, which are common in low-income tropical informal settlements, often trap heat. So, incorporating insulation and ventilation beneath roofing can make a significant difference at very low cost.

Combining passive design strategies like shaded outdoor spaces, high ceilings, wide eaves, and cross-ventilation with materials that are affordable and climate-appropriate would help achieve better comfort.

What is significant or new about your findings?

My findings highlight the limitations of applying international comfort standards like ASHRAE 55 and EN 16798 in tropical climates. These standards were developed by organisations in the United States and Europe.

ASHRAE 55 is from the American Society of Heating, Refrigerating and Air-Conditioning Engineers, and EN 16798 is from the European Committee for Standardisation. They set out detailed guidelines for what indoor temperature are considered comfortable based on studies mostly from cooler climates and mechanically cooled buildings.

I found that many of the indoor temperatures that international standards would label as “too hot” were actually considered fine by residents. This was done by creating a comfort guide based on how people in the local area experience heat in their homes.

Based on the European standard, depending on outdoor conditions, comfortable indoor temperatures are expected to fall between 22°C and 32°C in the buildings surveyed in this study. The American standard shows a narrower range of approximately 23°C to 29°C. But the model or guideline developed in this study, based on actual feedback from residents in low-income homes in Nigeria, showed that people were comfortable at higher temperatures than those predicted by the international standards.

In this local context, comfort temperatures ranged from 24°C to 40°C, reflecting a greater tolerance for heat. This higher threshold suggests that people living in tropical climates, particularly in naturally ventilated and informally built homes, have adapted to their environment in ways that global models do not fully account for.

This matters because it affects how we design, build and improve low-cost housing in hot climates. If we rely only on international standards, we risk pushing for expensive cooling systems like air conditioning in order to meet recommended indoor conditions. Simpler, low-cost solutions based on how people actually adapt to heat could work just as well, or even better.

What policies or interventions can make this feasible?

Local adaptive comfort standards do not exist for sub-Saharan African contexts like Nigeria. Housing policies should therefore recognise the value of local comfort models and not impose global standards. Governments and other local stakeholders should allow and promote context-specific benchmarks when designing or delivering affordable housing schemes.

Building codes, urban development policies and political interventions should encourage residents and builders to adopt passive design techniques. These can be shading and ventilation, for example. Interventions must support the use of local, sustainable materials that perform well in hot, humid climates.

Investment is needed in community-led housing upgrades, especially in informal settlements. Even small improvements to insulation or adding windows for cross-ventilation can greatly improve comfort without incurring major costs.

– How hot is your home? Nigerian study explores comfort levels in buildings
– https://theconversation.com/how-hot-is-your-home-nigerian-study-explores-comfort-levels-in-buildings-262060

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Mark Deng, McKenzie Postdoctoral Research Fellow, The University of Melbourne

South Sudan’s chief justice, Chan Reec Madut, was sacked in late May 2025 after more than 13 years on the bench. Madut leaves behind a legacy of inefficiency and accusations of judicial graft. But the sacking violated South Sudan’s 2011 transitional constitution and the law. Ultimately, the president’s decision threatens the rule of law and judicial independence. Constitutional scholar Mark Deng discusses this worrying development.

What was envisaged for South Sudan’s post-independence judiciary?

South Sudan won independent statehood following an internationally supervised referendum in 2011. The transitional constitution, drafted after the referendum, is the country’s founding law. It provides for the establishment of the three arms of government – legislature, executive and judiciary – with distinct powers and functions. The judiciary exercises judicial power and enforces the rule of law in the country. It has five levels of courts, the Supreme Court of South Sudan being the highest.

To shield courts from political whims, judges are appointed to, and removed from, office by the president of the republic only on the recommendation of the judicial service commission. There are constitutional grounds for removing a judge, relating to gross misconduct or incompetence or mental infirmity. Subject to these grounds and others, a judge may serve until the age of 70.

The chief justice is the head of the judiciary of South Sudan. His responsibilities include administering and supervising lower courts. He has power to issue judicial circulars and directives to lower courts to ensure proper and efficient administration of justice in the country.

What challenges are facing the judiciary?

The judiciary has been facing many challenges that threaten its independence and, by extension, the proper administration of justice. The most notable is political interference.

This has manifested itself in at least two ways. The first is that courts or individual judges face constant threats by the members of the executive branch and the military seeking to get rulings in their favour. For example, a report by the International Commission of Jurists cited a case in which a military general used a threat of force to obtain an outcome favourable to him.

The second is President Salva Kiir’s behaviour towards judges. He has, for example, been sacking judges without following the constitutional procedures that require the judicial service commission to conduct a full and proper investigation before a judge may be removed. This has rendered courts powerless, particularly in relation to enforcing the constitutional limits of power and the rule of law on the political branches of the government.

The sacking of chief justice Madut is the latest and most alarming. It implies that judges serve at the president’s pleasure, much like the government ministers. It also divests the judicial service commission of its constitutional functions.

What’s known about the outgoing chief justice?

Madut had worked as a judge in Sudan prior to South Sudan’s independence in 2011. He also served as the deputy chair of Southern Sudan referendum commission. Kiir appointed him as the chief justice of South Sudan on 15 August 2011, replacing John Wuol Makec.

Madut’s tenure was characterised by corruption through nepotism and favouritism. In 2013, for example, he appointed 78 legal assistants, including his daughter, without following the formal recruitment process.

Perhaps of most concern to many people in South Sudan was Madut’s meddling in purely political matters. In 2015, for example, he wrote a letter to Kiir to congratulate him for expanding the number of states from 10 to 28. The letter was inappropriate for three reasons. First, the creation of the 28 states was a political matter for parliament. Second, it was contentious because the president lacked power to create more states in the country at the time. Third, it was apparent that the president’s decision was going to be challenged in the Supreme Court, over which Madut was presiding.

Indeed, opposition parties challenged it as unconstitutional. Because of his expressed support for the creation of the 28 states, Madut was deemed to have a conflict in the case. Consequently, he was asked to recuse himself from the constitutional panel set up to hear the case but he refused. The majority of the Supreme Court judges upheld the president’s decision.

Kiir did not explain what prompted Madut’s sacking. However, it could be the sum of all these accusations that led to this course of action. Whatever the case, the end result of the president’s sacking of judges unilaterally is the erosion of the rule of law and undermining of judicial independence. In short, it is his will that matters now, not the constitution.

Who is the new chief justice and what is his record?

Benjamin Baak Deng is the new chief justice. Kiir appointed him on 28 May 2025 from within the Supreme Court of South Sudan, on which he was also serving as a judge. He has a PhD in international environmental law and had worked as a judge in Sudan from the 1980s to the early 2000s. Like all the South Sudanese who were working in Sudan, he relocated to Southern Sudan during the interim period (2005–2011).

In June 2022, he was appointed to the judicial reform committee mandated by the 2018 revitalised agreement. The committee was mandated with a comprehensive review of the judiciary and its performance and to recommend measures to address the challenges facing it. It finalised its work in March 2024 and submitted its report (yet to be made public) to the president of the republic. Deng is widely regarded as a man of integrity, competence and hard work.

What are the top priorities for the new chief justice?

There are at least four. The first is to resolve the massive case backlog and improve efficiency in deciding cases. The second is to improve working conditions for judges. This would include ensuring a safe workplace and providing judges with modern work equipment.

The third is to uncompromisingly maintain and protect the independence of the judiciary from the political branches. The former chief justice lost public trust and confidence because of his pandering to the executive government, which he did in the most overt way in some instances.

The challenge is that he will be dealing with the same president who has shown little interest in observing his constitutional limits. But the president spoke during Deng’s swearing-in and pledged his commitment to respecting and protecting the independence of the judiciary:

the judiciary must operate independently and remain free from political interference.

It remains to be seen whether the president will put his words into action this time round.

The final area of immediate focus is addressing the under-representation of women in the judiciary. Of the 117 judges in the country, only 21 are women. Women’s under-representation in the judiciary is largely a product of patriarchy, particularly customary practices that traditionally do not allow women to be in a position of authority and to have access to education.

The transitional constitution and the 2018 revitalised agreement obligate the government to take affirmative action to address gender imbalances. At least 35% must be women in every institution of government in South Sudan. The 21 women judges equate to 18%. There are many young women lawyers or law graduates within and outside South Sudan who could be trained and appointed as judges.

The new chief justice has the opportunity to reform the judiciary into an institution that effectively enforces the rule of law and administers justice impartially and efficiently. However, his success will also depend on the commitment of the government to provide the resources required and the space to exercise independence.

– South Sudan’s new chief justice has a chance to reform the judiciary – if he’s allowed to do his job
– https://theconversation.com/south-sudans-new-chief-justice-has-a-chance-to-reform-the-judiciary-if-hes-allowed-to-do-his-job-262351

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Gerald Arhin, Research Fellow in the Political Economy of Climate Compatible Development , UCL

Imagine running a business for over a century without knowing what’s in your warehouse. That’s essentially what many African countries are doing with their mineral wealth. Governments across the continent still have very little knowledge of what lies beneath their soil.

Between the 18th and 20th centuries, European colonial powers exploited African mineral wealth for their industrialisation. Post-independence, many African nations nationalised their mining sectors. International pressure led to privatisation in the 1980s. This weakened the motivation and capacity of governments to develop long-term strategies. They have more incentive to export minerals for foreign exchange in the short term.

As political economists, we have been researching the governance of Ghana’s and Rwanda’s minerals sectors for over a decade. We conducted research into why some African nations are investing more than others in geological investigations. These are studies that examine where minerals can be found and what their economic potential is. We focused on Ghana and Rwanda because of their different levels of commitment to investing in geological investigations.

We found that intense political competition forces Ghanaian governments to have short-term priorities. This makes geological investigations (a long-term, risky venture) unappealing to ruling elites. In contrast, the Rwandan Patriotic Front government has invested in geological surveys over the last decade.

Beyond economic and technical costs, context-specific political dynamics – interests, ideas and power relations – shape the decision to invest in geological mapping.

A mixed search

Ghana is rich in several minerals and is Africa’s largest producer of gold, which is its highest export earner. Minerals generated US$11 billion in revenue in 2024.

The country is also rich in diamonds, manganese and bauxite. It recently discovered lithium in commercial quantities. Lithium is a “critical mineral” for the energy transition and this discovery will be of interest to investors.

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Read more: The world is rushing to Africa to mine critical minerals like lithium – how the continent should deal with the demand

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Rwanda is a producer of tin, tantalum and tungsten. It also has commercial deposits of gemstones, silica sands, kaolin, vermiculite, diatomite, clays, limestone and gold.

Policy experts and international organisations often encourage governments to invest in geological mapping of their minerals. This is to enhance greater investment in the sector and boost the country’s gains from its resources. But these investigations are costly and lucrative findings aren’t guaranteed.

Some African governments have limited commitment to investing in geological mapping. Others, such as Uganda, Morocco, Botswana and South Africa, have put resources into it. For example, the Ugandan government announced its intention to expand national geological mapping coverage from 50% to 100%.

Ghana’s lack of geological knowledge

The roots of the knowledge gap stretch back to colonialism. European powers meticulously mapped African minerals, but kept the data for themselves. Today, the British Geological Survey holds over 300,000 geological reports and maps from other countries. Much of it is gathering dust in archives rather than helping African governments understand their own resources.

Even basic geological knowledge often sits in London, Paris or Brussels rather than in Accra, Kigali or Nairobi.

Take Ghana, which has been mining gold for over a century yet still lacks comprehensive geological surveys.

We found that the country’s competitive political system, where power alternates between two main parties almost every eight years, stands in the way of long-term planning. Successive Ghanaian governments have relied on private mining companies to conduct geological investigations. There is limited monitoring of whether investigations are carried out before extracting minerals. This approach has obvious flaws. Firstly, companies may not share all their findings. Secondly, the government doesn’t have control over information about its own resources.

We also found evidence of a darker political calculation. Through licensing, political elites are able to maintain lucrative relationships with mining companies. Comprehensive geological mapping might force more transparent, competitive bidding processes that could disrupt these arrangements. This includes vested political interests extending into the small scale and artisanal mining space.

Rwanda’s different path

Rwanda tells a different story. Since 1994, the governing Rwandan Patriotic Front has increasingly taken control of all aspects of the society. As part of this drive it has developed longer-term ambitions in relation to its development strategies.

The country has chosen to know more about what lies beneath its land and has taken steps to improve its capabilities.

Firstly, it revised its mining law. The Rwandan government had initially invited foreign mining companies to obtain permits on a first come, first served basis. Though permit holders were required to invest in geological investigations before extraction, there was limited monitoring of what firms were doing. This is similar to what was taking place in Ghana.

Secondly, the Rwandan government even established its own mining company, Ngali Mining, to invest directly in exploration.

Thirdly, it has attracted investment in geological surveys, with some support from donors. In this way, it directly employs geological investigation firms rather than relying on mining firms to invest in investigations themselves.

The results are impressive: between 2012 and 2016, the government attracted four different sets of North American and European firms to conduct extensive mapping studies.

Fourth, as a result of these surveys, the government re-categorised existing mining areas into 52 separate areas for mineral exploration. As a result, the Rwandan government now attracts investment to these areas because there is more understanding of which minerals exist there.

It’s important to note that Rwanda imports many of its minerals from neighbouring Democratic Republic of Congo and then re-exports them. Importing and re-exporting DRC minerals earns Rwanda immediate foreign exchange earnings. This is particularly evident in rising Rwandan gold exports in recent years. Thus, even where governments may be keen to invest in geological investigations, when other short-term priorities exist it is less easy to sustain long-horizon goals in domestic mining sectors.

Breaking the knowledge barrier

The global demand for minerals is soaring.

This has made developing comprehensive knowledge of underground resources more urgent for African countries. However, our research suggests that simply throwing more money at geological surveys won’t reorganise domestic minerals sectors if political incentives favour short-term interests.

Understanding the political dynamics is the first step towards unlocking Africa’s mineral potential. Only by learning more about the power structures that shape these decisions can countries begin to map their way to more sustainable mineral wealth.

– Are African countries aware of their own mineral wealth? Ghana and Rwanda offer two very different answers
– https://theconversation.com/are-african-countries-aware-of-their-own-mineral-wealth-ghana-and-rwanda-offer-two-very-different-answers-261703