Civil Society

The following is a guest post by Megan Roberts, associate director of the International Institutions and Global Governance program at the Council on Foreign Relations. As the scrum of U.S. presidential candidates clamors for attention, another important election kicked off on Tuesday: the selection of the next secretary-general (SG) of the United Nations. As Ban Ki-Moon prepares to step down at the end of 2016, after two five-year terms UN watchers have been speculating for months about his successor—and the process by which he (or she) will be elected. After eight male secretaries-general, pressure is mounting for a woman to take the helm in Turtle Bay. Many expect Ban’s replacement to hail from Eastern Europe, the only region that has not filled the post. Whoever succeeds Ban will confront a daunting global humanitarian crisis, resurgent great power politics, and unprecedented strains on UN peacekeeping. She or he will need to sustain global momentum behind the Paris climate agreement and the recently agreed Sustainable Development Goals, while deftly responding to fast moving crises throughout the world. Firing the starter’s pistol for the SG race, this week the presidents of the General Assembly and the Security Council jointly released a letter inviting member states to nominate candidates. Traditionally, the selection of an SG has been a closed-door affair negotiated among the great powers. The process is likely to differ markedly this year, given growing attention from civil society, increased interest among UN member states, and changes in the process for selecting heads of other international institutions since Ban himself was chosen in 2006. The UN Charter gives scant guidance on how the secretary-general should be selected, stating only “The Secretary-General shall be appointed by the General Assembly upon the recommendation of the Security Council.” Since 1946, the Security Council has closed ranks during each election, offering the General Assembly only a single candidate to confirm. The process whereby the Security Council selects this individual has been shrouded in secrecy, with Council members using informal straw polls to test out candidates without putting names to a vote. Often a candidate’s nationality has proven as important as his qualifications, with appointments following an informal, but not guaranteed, system of regional rotation. The entire arrangement limits the General Assembly (with 178 members not represented on the Council) to a rubber stamp role in the selection process, while excluding any input from civil society. Pressure has been building for a more open and inclusive selection process. These demands have only grown as other major international institutions, including the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank, have adopted tentative, if still controversial, steps to select their leaders in a more transparent and competitive manner. Within the UN system itself, a number of executive positions, including the International Labor Organization and the World Health Organization, have explicit criteria and timelines, and candidates are interviewed, all characteristics that the election of the UN secretary-general has lacked. Complementing these official efforts, several prominent civil society campaigns, including 1 for 7 Billion and the Campaign to Elect a Woman UN Secretary-General, are demanding greater transparency in SG elections. The Elders, composed of eminent retired statesmen and women chaired by former Secretary-General Kofi Annan, are also calling for a number of changes to make the procedure more inclusive. Within the wider UN membership, meanwhile, a cross-regional coalition called the Accountability, Coherence and Transparency (ACT) Group—which brings together countries as diverse as Ghana, New Zealand, Saudi Arabia, and Switzerland—is focusing the General Assembly’s attention on the need for an improved process. These disparate efforts have put pressure on the Security Council to yield some of its privileges to the broader UN membership. In September the General Assembly passed a resolution calling on the presidents of the General Assembly and the Security Council to kick off the SG selection process with a joint letter. The resolution noted that the General Assembly would meet with all SG candidates, and that gender and geographic criteria should be considered in the selection process. After much discussion within the Security Council, the jointly authored letter was released this week. Among other things, the letter refers to voluntary, informal meetings between candidates and the membership of the General Assembly. This joint letter, coming so early in the calendar, suggests that the selection of the next SG could be a less opaque and exclusive process in 2016. Despite this apparent progress, a number of unanswered questions remain. The first relates to timelines. Civil society activists, as well as the ACT group, are requesting that countries adhere to a clear deadline for nominating SG candidates. In the past, late entrants have been brought to the fore to break deadlocks after multiple rounds of voting showed Council paralysis. In 1981, for instance, Javier Pérez de Cuéllar emerged at a late stage after it became clear that other candidates did not have the support of the permanent members of the Council. The lesson? “Wait your way through enough rounds of voting and the Security Council will take anyone who doesn’t seem out and out objectionable,” advises David Steven. While it might make for a winning campaign strategy, the General Assembly will have less time to review late entrants. The most obvious obstacle to this potential reform is Russia, which has so far resisted efforts to articulate a specific timeline for nominating candidates. The second uncertainty is whether specific criteria for the position will be articulated. Though the secretary-general leads a global force of more than one hundred thousand peacekeepers and manages a multi-billion dollar annual budget, precise qualifications for the position have never been developed. The September General Assembly resolution was vague on this front, simply calling for candidates with “proven leadership and managerial abilities, extensive experience in international relations, and strong diplomatic, communication and multilingual skills.” The joint letter went no further in defining qualifications. Ideally, subsequent negotiations will be more specific as to the skills and experience required for the position. A third unknown is whether the Security Council will finally agree to present more than one candidate for the General Assembly vote. The Elders have advocated for three names, while the1 for 7 Billion coalition argues for at least two candidates. Enabling the full UN membership to choose among multiple candidates would increase the perception of a competitive process. There could, of course, be downsides. Candidates (and their governments) would be tempted to curry favor with particular blocs of UN members. In the aftermath of a tightly contested race, moreover, the winning candidate could find it difficult to secure the support of those who had opposed him or her. For their part, the permanent members of the Security Council understandably seem inclined to keep the current, one-candidate arrangement. This would be unfortunate, however. For while a competitive election carries risks, it promises to increase the perceived legitimacy of the resulting choice. The most likely scenario is that the 2016 selection of the next UN secretary-general will be the most open and transparent yet, while falling well short of the one-country-one-vote aspirations of most members of the General Assembly. Like many outcomes at the United Nations, it will be a messy amalgam of great power privilege and the illusion of inclusion. All this uncertainty hasn’t stopped more confident UN watchers from placing their bets on the eventual winner—at the time of writing, the odds favor Irina Bokova, a Bulgarian, who currently leads UNESCO.

On December 10, President Jacob Zuma fired Nhlanhla Nene, the well regarded finance minister, and replaced him with the unknown and inexperienced David van Rooven. Though Zuma is not required by the South African constitution to consult with anybody on cabinet appointments, the fact that he did not inform his cabinet or provide public explanation for his removal of Nene and appointment of van Rooven may have been the last straw. South Africa already has been buffeted by the fall in commodity prices, uncharacteristically low growth rates, and fears that the widely anticipated U.S. Federal Reserve’s increase in interest rates will attract investor funds from emerging markets. The Rand, the South African currency, plunged, the Johannesburg Stock exchange indexes swooned, and government borrowing costs jumped. Business commentary was uniformly hostile to Nene’s firing, with dire predictions that the new appointment foreshadowed an end to South Africa’s hitherto prudent macroeconomic policy. The governing African National Congress’s (ANC) two partners, the Congress of South African Trade Unions (COSATU) and the South African Communist Party (SACP) were also not informed of the move and criticized it. The general public did not like the move either. In South Africa #ZumaMustFall became the top Twitter hashtag. Four days later, Zuma reversed himself and appointed the highly regarded Pravin Gordham as finance minister, a position he held from 2009 to 2014. The Rand and the stock markets recovered (if not completely). Opposition to the Nene firing from within the ANC is likely the reason for Zuma’s reversal. If Zuma shows little understanding of how a modern economy works (he has almost no formal education), plenty of ANC leaders not only understand it, but are personally invested in it. As has been the case in the past, the South African political economy has once again self-corrected with the appointment of Gordham, who has successfully steered South Africa through its only recession since the coming of “non-racial” democracy in 1994. The South African media is now reporting that Zuma and his political allies within the ANC have been politically wounded. The ANC faces local elections in 2016 and an internal fight in 2017 over Zuma’s successor as ANC leader. The opposition parties, especially the center-right Democratic Alliance and the left-wing Economic Freedom Fighters, are visibly strengthening as public disillusionment with Zuma grows: the South African media reports that 66 percent of the public distrusts the president. At this point, the party leadership race appears to be between Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma, Zuma’s former wife and his candidate of choice, and Cyril Ramaphosa, an architect of the 1994 “non-racial’ democratic settlement and the candidate of business. The South African media is also speculating that the ANC could remove Zuma as party leader soon. As of December 14, #ZumaMustStillFall had replaced, #ZumaMustFall. Only the ANC can remove its party leader and, in effect, the president. That has happened before; in 2008, the party removed Thabo Mbeki as party leader and forced him to resign the presidency a few months later. As a practical matter, Zuma could be removed by a majority vote of the National Assembly or by a motion of no confidence. The ANC holds 62 percent of the seats in the National Assembly. How ANC members vote would be largely determined by the party’s National Executive Committee (NEC). Zuma has appointed most NEC members to government posts. If Zuma were to fall, many or most of them would lose their jobs and salaries. Hence, at this stage, it is unlikely that the NEC will turn against Zuma. However, this episode has probably weakened the candidacy of Dlamini-Zuma to be his successor as party leader and enhanced the position of Cyril Ramaphosa. Perhaps the significance of the past five days is that once again South Africa’s political system has demonstrated an ability to self-correct within a democratic political framework and an economy largely conducted according to free-market principles.

This is a guest post by Cheryl Strauss Einhorn, a journalist and adjunct professor at the Columbia Business School. Just this past month, Rwandan President Paul Kagame followed neighboring rulers in Burundi, the Republic of Congo, and Togo to become the latest long-serving African ruler this year to attempt to extend his hold on power for a third term. Like his neighbors Kagame has done it legally, through a change in the nation’s constitutional term limits, but not without coercion. “He’s never pretended to be a democrat,” says Boston University’s Timothy Longman, director of the African Studies Center. “There’s an attempt to respect the rule of law at one level, in contrast to military dictators, he did not seize power; he went through a process of changing power.” But the process was not free and fair. Kagame supporters circulated a petition suggesting a constitutional change and obtained signatures from 60 percent of voters, over 3.5 million people. However, Longman says interviews about the process revealed that “people were going door to door and telling people to sign.” If they didn’t sign, the petitioners recorded their names and addresses. “It was not a free signature,” he says. “The petition tells us nothing about Rwandan public opinion.” The petition, though, was influential. Rwanda’s Supreme Court cleared the way for the constitutional change and then just weeks ago the country’s upper house of parliament voted unanimously to make it so. The result is that the 54-year old Kagame could potentially remain in office until 2034. He’s been in power since 1994, following his Tutsi rebel force’s victory over the interim government at the end of the Hutu led genocide that killed over 800,000 Tutsis. Since then he’s won two consecutive terms with 95 percent of the vote in both elections. But even though Kagame and the leaders of his neighboring countries are not violating their constitutions, the resistance to term limits is symbolic. It shows the continued fragility of African democracy. Third termism like this is a milestone on the road to president for life. Only term limits make it possible to consider voting someone out of office. And only then is it possible to transition power. Kagame is being coy about whether he’ll allow a transition. He says he’s open to being persuaded to run again and wrote on his presidential twitter account that "If I ran again, I would do more of what I am doing to improve the well-being of the citizens of Rwanda." It’s just that record of improved well-being that makes Kagame somewhat different than his peers trying to extend their power. Kagame is largely credited with praise for not only ending the Rwandan genocide but also for rebuilding the nation. The World Bank says between 2001 and 2014, real GDP growth averaged 8 percent per annum, far above the tepid growth of his neighboring countries. Still, Longman says that Rwanda manipulates its economic statistics, that it’s part of Kagame’s propaganda and is not real “because they’ve changed the measures.” And, apart from Burundi, Rwanda remains the poorest country in East Africa, according to the World Bank Development Indicators, with per capita income of $638 comparing negatively with Kenya’s $1,245, Tanzania’s $912, and Uganda’s $657. The United States has warned Kagame that he faces instability and uncertainty if he presses ahead with running for a third term, but it is unlikely that Rwanda will experience the kind of violence that resulted from term limit controversies in Burundi, Congo, and Togo in part because Kagame does not tolerate dissent. Human rights groups accuse Kagame of increasingly repressive measures to curtail civic and political life. Reporters Without Borders, which ranks press freedoms according to criteria including media independence, consistently reports Rwanda as among the most authoritarian, listing it as 161st out of 180 countries surveyed in 2015’s World Press Freedom Index. Two years ago, a journalist received a seventeen-year sentence for charges including “insulting the president” and “inciting the people against the government.” Opposition politicians are not tolerated well either, according to a report that Dr. David Himbara, who spent six years in Kagame’s government promoting economic development as the head of Rwanda’s Development Board, gave to Congress. Himbara fled Rwanda two years ago after becoming concerned about the increasingly violent nature of the Kagame regime. But if a country is a democracy then dissenters should not have to flee, journalists should not be jailed, and the people should get to express their true opinion at the polls. No one is saying democracy is the only form of legitimate government. But, certainly Rwanda and these other countries are not legitimate democracies. These power grabs are effectively coups.

While those of us who love Nigeria have been fixated on Boko Haram and the discontents of the North, the Ibo-dominated parts of the south have been heating up. Separatists that invoke the defeated Biafra in the 1967-70 civil war are increasingly visible. On December 2, at least 8,000 pro-separatist Ibo youth demonstrated at the Niger Bridge at Onitsha, Anambra state, the link between Nigeria’s south east and the west. At least eight demonstrators and two policeman were killed. The demonstrators burned the city’s central mosque and attacked trucks belonging to the Dangote Group, owned by northern billionaire Aliko Dangote. Meanwhile, the amnesty that reduced violence in the adjacent, largely non-Ibo, riverine, oil-producing parts of the country is scheduled to end in December. President Muhammadu Buhari has said that it will not be renewed, but that there will be enhanced state investment in the region—at a time when government revenue is falling because of the decline in international oil prices. To help sort through developments, especially in Iboland, the International Crisis Group (ICG) has published a quick summary of events in question-answer form. It provides a good, quick summary of the Biafra episode and identifies the larger groups active on behalf of current Biafra separatism, including an introduction to their intricate politics. The ICG concludes that at present there is little Ibo sentiment for a repeat of the 19670-70 war of secession. But, it also warns that in the aftermath of December 2, the risk of violence could escalate, especially if the federal government and the security services mishandle the situation. The ICG warning is well placed. The flash point of the current round of demonstrations was the government’s October 19 arrest of Nnamdi Kanu. He is the leader of the separatist Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB) and the director of Radio Biafra, an unlicensed radio station that on occasion urges a violent struggle for an independent Biafra. The charges against him could lead to long jail terms and even a death sentence. Ostensibly, the demonstrators are demanding his release. Ever since the civil war, the Federal government has denounced any form of separatism. President Buhari recently reiterated that Nigeria is indivisible. On occasion the security services have responded badly to separatist demonstrations. It should be recalled that it was the 2009 murder of Mohammed Yussuf while in police custody that led to the transformation of Boko Haram into the organization it is today. The Abacha military government’s 1995 execution – a judicial murder – of Ken Saro-Wiwa, leader of the Movement for the Survival of the Ogoni People led to Nigeria’s international pariah status and the Commonwealth’s suspension of Abuja for three years. Judicious security service behavior and the government’s restrained use of its prosecutorial authority will be crucial to the successful management of the current round of separatist demonstrations.

This is a guest post by Allen Grane, research associate for the Council on Foreign Relations Africa Studies program. Last week, South African High Court Judge Francis Legodi ruled against the Zuma administration moratorium on the country’s domestic trade in rhino horns. As it is possible to harvest a rhino’s horn without killing the animal, there is discussion about the potential for a regulated trade in rhino horns. In light of the dramatic increase in rhino poaching, the argument that legalizing trade in rhino horn could help save the species has been gaining steam. The high court ruling is a reflection of this thinking. However, the decision from the judge may not actually mean much. Legodi’s decision is based on due process. He found that in 2009, when the moratorium was imposed, the then minister of environmental affairs did not give adequate notice of plans to impose the moratorium or allow proper public participation in the process. In the past, rhino farmers have argued that their right to sale rhino horn is guaranteed by the South African Constitution and its bill of rights which promises the “…use of natural resources while promoting justifiable economic and social development.” The rhino breeders who brought the case before the court argue that rhino horn is a renewable resource, as a rhino that is dehorned will grow the horn back (rhino farmers are able to harvest several horns in a rhino’s lifetime). And, because the South African government has long allowed people to ‘own’ rhinos, the breeders do have property rights to the animals. The South African Water and Environmental Affairs Ministry quickly announced its intention to appeal the decision. This action effectively suspends the High Court’s ruling, meaning the domestic rhino horn trade is still not legal in South Africa. The court’s decision, and the recent headlines it has made, may prove more significant than the domestic trade. Indeed, the demand for rhino horn within South Africa is relatively low, and rhino breeders (and the South African government) do not stand to profit much from a domestic trade. The largest markets for rhino horn are in Asia, where rhino horn can go for as much as $65,000 a kilogram. Many view the petition by rhino breeders as a way to convince the UN’s Convention on the International Trade of Endangered Species (CITES) to legalize the trade internationally. It is not a coincidence that the next meeting of CITES will be in South Africa next year. In light of the upcoming CITES meeting, the South African government has already formed a committee to determine the viability of a legalized trade. As rhino horn is renewable, this committee is meant to research whether or not a legal trade will alleviate the current pressure on rhino populations from poaching. It is believed that this committee’s recommendations will influence the South African governments decision whether to appeal to CITES for a legal international trade in rhino horn. Critics of this plan say that legalizing the trade would make the market for rhino horn larger, while proponents argue that by legalizing the trade the supply will increase and reduce the extravagant prices that currently drive rhino poaching. Both sides of the argument have merit. While the High Court’s decision may or may not stick, the end result may be a harbinger of what’s to come on an international scale.

South Africa’s Supreme Court of Appeals has overturned a lower court verdict and convicted Oscar Pistorius of murder. The celebrated para-Olympian was initially found guilty of manslaughter in the killing of his live-in girlfriend, Reeva Steenkamp, in 2012. Using a high-powered weapon, he fired four shots through a bathroom door, killing Steenkamp. He claimed he thought there was an intruder and that he felt his life was threatened. The minimum sentence for murder is fifteen years, though judges have some discretion in sentencing. Pistorius who after being released from prison has been under house arrest for the lessor charge must now return to prison. Pistorius is twenty-nine years of age; he could be forty-four when his sentence ends. South African media expects that his athletic career is over. The presiding judge, Eric Leach, characterized Pistorius’s downfall as “a tragedy of Shakespearian proportions.” Few will disagree. South Africa has no jury system. Trials at all levels are by judge or a panel of judges. The prosecution as well as the defense can appeal a verdict from a lower court to a higher one. The Supreme Court of Appeals is the highest court dealing with criminal matters. Pistorius could appeal to the Constitutional Court, but only in the unlikely event that he could demonstrate that his constitutional rights have been violated, and that is unlikely. There are twenty-four judges on the Supreme Court of Appeals. The Pistorius case was reviewed by a panel of five, and their verdict was unanimous. The five judges were multiracial and included one woman; the presiding judge is white. The lower court judge who convicted Pistorius of manslaughter, Judge Thokorzile Mosipa, is black. The Supreme Court ruled that she did not correctly apply the legal principle of “dolus eventualis,” whether Pistorius knew that death would be a likely result of his actions. In his statement announcing the verdict, Judge Leach paid due respect to Judge Mosipa: “The trial judge conducted the hearing with dignity and competence that is a credit to the judiciary of this country. The fact the appeal has succeeded is not to be seen as a slight on the trial judge.” The Pistorius case has periodically roiled South Africa since 2012. Now, it appears to be over. For many South Africans, the case became an emblem of many of the country’s social problems: high levels of domestic violence, especially violence against women; the ubiquitous presence of fire-arms; and the frequency of home invasions that often result in murder. Women’s groups argued that Pistorius’s initial sentence on the basis of manslaughter meant that he, literally, “got away with murder.” South African media is welcoming the Supreme Court’s ruling as serving justice and as a reaffirmation that no one is above the law. Beyond its tragic and soap opera dimensions, the Pistorius case is a reaffirmation of the independence of the South African judiciary and the primacy of the rule of law.

The following is a guest post by my colleague Yanzhong Huang, senior fellow for global health at the Council on Foreign Relations. The Ebola epidemic demonstrated not only the human devastation wrought by lethal infectious disease, but also the broad coalition of actors needed to combat the outbreak. In Liberia, the U.S. military provided logistical and medical support that was integral to stemming the Ebola epidemic. How did armed forces interact and cooperate with civil society and government workers on the ground? What lessons can we learn from civil-military relations during the Ebola outbreak to guide us in future international health crises? In this podcast, I discuss these and other questions with U.S. Army Colonel Valery Keaveny, who played a central role in the U.S. Army’s 101st Airborne Division’s intervention in Liberia, and the University of Sydney’s Adam Kamradt-Scott, whose recent report on lessons learned from civil-military cooperation during the Ebola Outbreak has already made its way into the hands of UN officials, government leaders, and opinion makers.

In November during a Nairobi, Kenya slum visit, Pope Francis used plain language to express home truths about African elites. According to UK media the Pope ascribed the “injustices” suffered by the slum residents to “wounds inflicted by minorities who cling to power and wealth, who selfishly squander while a growing majority is forced to flee to abandoned, filthy, and rundown peripheries.” He also talked about the unjust distribution of land, a particularly sensitive issue among Kenya’s poor, where the perception is that the elites have helped themselves to the most productive land. The elites, he said, have established “new forms of colonialism.” He urged them to be more responsive to the peoples they rule. Indeed, the indigenous “colonialism” described by the Pope is to be found throughout Africa, not least in Kenya and Uganda, two of the three countries he visited. President Yoweri Museveni of Uganda has ruled for 24 years and estimates of his net worth range from $1.1 to $11 billion. (According to the UN Development Program gross national income in Uganda is $1,335 a year). Uhuru Kenyatta, has been president of Kenya for less than two years. However, he is the son of Jomo Kenyatta, who ruled Kenya from 1964 to 1978. The son’s estimated net worth is $500 million. (Gross national income in Kenya is $2,158 a year). Gross inequality of income, with links between power and money, is to be found elsewhere: by comparison, Donald Trump’s estimated net worth is $4.5 billion according to Forbes. But, the direct relationship between the poverty of most and wealth of the few is particularly stark in Africa. The celebrated Nigerian author, Chinua Achebe, wrote that there is nothing wrong with the Nigerian character. Instead, he wrote, “The Nigerian problem is the unwillingness or inability of its leaders to rise to the responsibility, the challenge of the personal example, which are the hallmarks of true leadership.” In Nairobi, the Pope was describing something of the same reality.

Col. Sambo Dasuki, ret., National Security Advisor to Nigeria’s President Goodluck Jonathan from 2012 to 2015, stands accused of stealing huge sums of money intended for the military’s struggle against Boko Haram. He has denied the accusations and said that he is prepared “to open the can of worms,” but only at his trial. Dasuki’s career runs like a thread through Nigeria’s post-civil war (1967-70) history and crosses between traditional, military, and civilian politics. Born in 1954, he is the first son of Alhaji Ibrahim Dasuki, the Sultan of Sokoto, the most senior traditional ruler in Nigeria and generally regarded as the spiritual leader of the country’s Muslims. Dasuki entered the military and participated in U.S. military training: he attended the U.S. Army School of Artillery and the U.S. Army Command and General Staff College. His biography also says that he has degrees from American University and George Washington University, both in Washington, D.C. Some Nigerians will cite Dasuki as an example of how U.S. military training makes better coup plotters than democrats. He was an active coup-maker. He participated in Gen. Muhammadu Buhari’s 1983 military coup against civilian president Shehu Shegari. Subsequently, he also participated in the 1985 coup led by Gen. Ibrahim Babangida against Gen. Buhari (he was one of four officers who arrested Buhari). Subsequently, he served as General Babangida’s aide de camp while the latter was military chief of state (1985-92). Babangida’s successor as military chief of state was Gen. Sani Abacha (1993-98), who viewed Dasuki (and many others) with suspicion and was notorious for human rights violations. Abacha removed Alhaji Ibrahim Dasuki from the Sultinate of Sokoto and imprisoned Gen. Olusegun Obasanjo, a former military chief of state (1976-1979), who later would serve as civilian chief of state from 1999 to 2007. During the Abacha period, Sambo Dasuki left government and lived outside of the country for various periods. Sambo Dasuki returned to Nigeria following the restoration of civilian government in 1999. He remained close to Gen. Babangida. Goodluck Jonathan made him his national security advisor in 2012. It was in that position that he was the “face” of the Jonathan administration’s delay of the 2015 elections by almost two months, ostensibly because of a military campaign against Boko Haram. The western media is linking Dasuki’s arrest to the increasing Boko Haram carnage. Given the utter lack of transparency on military expenditure, it is premature to assume automatically Dasuki’s guilt. Indeed, given Dasuki’s threat to “open the can of worms,” presumably implicating many others in the Jonathan administration, there must be a question as to whether the trial will ever take place. In any event, there are many reasons for bad blood between Dasuki and President Buhari.

According to a recent Credit Suisse report, the African middle class is almost seventeen times smaller than had been previously thought. For at least a decade it has been conventional wisdom among investors that Africa’s middle class is growing, that the “lions are on the move” (McKinsey’s phrase), and that the continent is the next China for frontier market investors. In 2011, the African Development Bank’s (AFDB) paper, “The Middle Pyramid: Dynamics of the Middle Class in Africa,” had classified 313 million Africans as middle class, further supporting the optimistic narrative. Now, however, the “rise of the African middle class” narrative is looking oversold. Rather than numbering 313 million, other research studies, notably those that inform the Credit Suisse Group’s “Annual Global Wealth Databook,” indicate the figure is nearer eighteen million. The food company Nestle’s Africa regional chief executive sums up the new pessimism: “We thought this would be the next Asia, but we have realized the middle class here in the region is extremely small and it is not really growing.” So, how big really is the African middle class? Part of the issue is defining “middle class.” In a press interview, Steve Kayizzi-Mugerwa, an author of the AFDB paper noted that his bank “took some effort to describe what it means by its definition of middle class. It was certainly not based on European or American norms.” In an interview with “Mail and Guardian Africa,” former AFDB President Donald Kaberuka said, “I think we are wasting too much time on the definition of the middle class and the cut-off point, it is a sterile debate.” The AFDB study measured income and consumption to determine middle class status, which it determined fell within a range of $2 to $20 per day. It then divided that range into three bands. It fully acknowledged that in the lower and largest band, middle class income and consumption was fragile, and that illness, job loss, or a variety of other factors could plunge a middle class individual or family back into the poor. They are particularly vulnerable to the current fall in commodity prices and contraction in China’s imports from Africa. Other economists, notably Anthony Shorrocks, Jim Davies, and Rodrigo Lluberals focus on assets rather than income to determine the size of the middle class. That approach, they argue “breaks new ground by defining the middle class in terms of a wealth band rather than an income range.” They conclude that 14 percent of the world’s population is middle class, but only 3.3 percent of Africa’s 572 million adults – or 18.8 million. (This includes North Africa in their African statistics.) Of the African middle class as defined by assets, one quarter, or 4.3 million, live in South Africa. In Nigeria, only 922,000 of its 83.3 million adults are middle class, using this method of calculation. According to a “Mail and Guardian” table based on the “CreditSuisse Wealth Databook 2015,” 38.8 percent of the North American population is middle class, 33.1 percent of Europe’s, and 10.7 percent of China’s. How to account for the continued and pervasive poverty in Africa following years of economic growth? There is a strong argument that it is primarily the African rich, even super-rich, that have been the primary beneficiaries. Based on the “CreditSuisse Wealth Data Book 2015,” as reported by the Mail and Guardian, the 3.2 percent of the population that is middle class accounts for 32.1 percent of Africa’s wealth. But the richest Africans, only 1.15 million adults or 0.2 percent of African adults, accounts for 30.6 percent of the continent’s wealth. That leaves the remaining 37 percent of the continent’s wealth for 96.6 percent of the continent’s population.

This is a guest post by Claire Wilmot, a former intern for the Council on Foreign Relations Africa Program. She is a master of global affairs candidate at the University of Toronto. You can follow her on twitter at @claireLwilmot. Violence in Burundi has escalated significantly over the past month. Opposition leaders and activists have been tortured and killed, independent media is being stifled, and human rights monitors report the daily discovery of bodies across the capital. It is estimated that at least 240 have been killed and thousands have fled since April, when President Pierre Nkurunziza announced his intention to flout a constitutional two-term limit and run for a third term in office. It is unsurprising that Nkurunziza’s refusal to relinquish power triggered a wave of violence, given the history of civil conflict in Burundi. The Arusha Accords, which ended Burundi’s 1993-2005 civil war recognized that the country’s vulnerability to violence stemmed from “a struggle by the political class to accede to and/or remain in power.” Arusha implemented a number of provisions that sought to lower the stakes of political competition in Burundi—a pivotal mechanism was limiting Burundi’s president to two terms in office. Limiting terms for leaders helps avoid the kind of zero-sum politics that can lead to violence in highly divided societies. Burundi’s colonial history gave rise to a state-capture complex—access to the state is a lucrative privilege for the political class in power, often at the expense of the majority. In poor or divided societies, maintaining power becomes a high-stakes game, and can lead political competitors to resort to violence. Term limits can play a stabilizing role by leveling the political playing field. Newcomers have a greater chance of ascending the presidency if the incumbent must step down after two terms, and opponents are more likely to challenge the government electorally. Nkurunziza’s victory in the July elections, which were not free or fair, proved to the opposition that contesting power peacefully is futile. Despite growing fear that the ruling party’s rhetoric is reminiscent of the genocide in neighboring Rwanda, it is unlikely that the conflict in Burundi will play out along ethnic lines. Burundi has been successful in ethnically integrating the government and key institutions. Political identities are not determined by ethnicity alone—both Hutu and Tutsi make up the opposition, and both have suffered government repression. Fears over possible military fragmentation are founded; however, the crowding out of certain officers appears to be based on party affiliation rather than ethnicity. The heart of the conflict is between Nkurunziza’s faction of the ruling CNDD-FDD, and those unwilling to accept democratic backpedaling. The AU was quick to condemn violence in Burundi, but failed to pressure Nkurunziza to respect his country’s constitution and step aside, which might have prevented violence. However, presidential term limits are a touchy subject at the AU—many heads of state in the region have successfully pursued strategies similar to Nkurunziza. The AU’s Peace and Security Council issued a statement in October urging Nkurunziza to commit to inclusive negotiations with the opposition. So far, he has failed to include key opposition groups in the inter-Burundian dialogue, denouncing them as “enemies of the nation.” Extending the dialogue to these groups would recognize the legitimacy of Nkurunziza’s political opponents, something he is yet unwilling to do. The AU also proposed an Africa-led peace implementation mission should a political solution fail. Ethnic rifts may be less salient, but political divisions have become explosive. Burundi’s conflict is unlikely to culminate in genocide; however, the re-emergence of civil war could be just as devastating. A political solution may still be possible for Burundi, and international actors should continue to pressure Nkurunziza to pursue inclusive dialogue with the opposition. The key to preventing future political violence, however, lies in defending constitutional provisions that encourage peaceful contestations of power.

The UN Security Council has adopted a resolution condemning killings and torture occurring in Burundi. The French-introduced resolution, sounds the alarm about the widespread bloodshed and potential for genocide in the central African nation. The resolution gained support from the UN Under Secretary General for Political Affairs, Jeffrey Feltman (an American), who reported to the Security Council, inter alia, on violence occurring in the Burundi capital of Bujumbura, specifically in neighborhoods that did not vote for incumbent President Pierre Nkurunziza. UN High Commissioner for Human rights Prince Zaid bin Ra’ad (a Jordanian and former ambassador to the United States) has expressed deep concern about the “increasingly grave human rights crisis” in Burundi: “At least 240 people have been killed since protests began in April, with bodies dumped on the streets on an almost nightly basis.” The UN Special Advisor on the Prevention of Genocide, Amama Dieng (Senegal) called on the Burundi government to restore dialogue and de-escalate the crisis. He stressed that the international community, especially the African Union, the East African community, and the UN have an indispensable role. The mandate of the UN Electoral Observation Mission in Burundi is ending, and the UN office in Burundi closed in 2014 at the request of the Nkurunziza government. It is expected that the UN Secretary General will appoint a special advisor to coordinate UN efforts in Burundi. The resolution calls on all sides “to reject any kind of violence.” The French Deputy Permanent Representative said, “We are extremely worried by what we are seeing in Burundi at this moment: this increase of political violence and the extremely alarming ethnically-based hate speech.” Observers are looking over their shoulders at the Rwanda genocide twenty-one years ago. The British Permanent Representative made the point explicitly: “We remember what happened in that region, in neighboring Rwanda 21 years ago. We must not let history repeat itself.” The head of the UN’s human rights office in Central and West Africa, Scott Campbell, even commented that the UN is less equipped to deal with violence in Burundi than it was in Rwanda.

In countries where corruption has become “structural,” distorting much of daily life, it can assume very localized forms. A petition by thirty-two imams, deputy imams, and muezzins of certain mosques in the Isa local government area of Sokoto state in Nigeria provides a window for outsiders into corruption at the local, grass roots level. The religious leaders have complained to the Independent Corrupt Practices Commission (ICPC) that the past chairman of the Isa local government area, Alhaji Umar Muhammad Wali, had “diverted” their allowances which, the petitioners say, the Sokoto state government had directed be paid to all imams, deputy imams, and muezzins on a monthly basis. The petitioners claim that imams were to receive 20,000 Naira per month (USD 100.80), deputy imams, 15,000 Naira (USD 75.37), and muezzins, 10,000 Naira (USD 50.40). Though Sokoto state is poor, it is the seat of the Sultan of Sokoto, the most senior Islamic traditional ruler in Nigeria, and the direct descendant of Usman Dan Fodio, who created the Sokoto Caliphate in 1806. The Isa local government area is in the far north of the state, and borders on Niger. Its population is mostly Muslim. Boko Haram, the jihadist terrorist group seeking to overthrow the secular state, has only rarely operated in Sokoto, though it has tried to murder the sultan, whom it sees as a collaborator with the secular government in Abuja. The state’s population is mostly Muslim, but there is a Christian minority (there are Anglican and Roman Catholic bishops). The amounts of money that the former chairman allegedly diverted from the Islamic religious leaders in the Isa local government area would likely be a significant part of each individual’s personal income. The ICPC is a federal body established in 2000. It receives petitions and reports of corruption and it has prosecutorial authority. However, it is usually underfunded, and it has had few prosecutions or convictions. But, a revitalized and energized ICPC could play a positive role in President Muhammadu Buhari‘s anti-corruption crusade. How it responds to the Isa petition could indicate whether it could play an effective role at the grass roots.

This is a guest post by Aubrey Hruby and Jake Bright. They are the authors of The Next Africa: An Emerging Continent Becomes a Global Powerhouse. The role of technology in sub-Saharan Africa is growing. An emerging information technology (IT) ecosystem is reinforcing regional trends in business, investment, and modernization. There is a growing patchwork of entrepreneurs, startups, and innovation centers coalescing from country to country. Most discussions of the origins of Africa’s tech movement circle back to Kenya, which was home to several major technological innovations between 2007 and 2010. This innovation inspired the country’s Silicon Savannah moniker, and has provided an example for other African countries to follow. In 2007, Kenyan telecom company Safaricom launched its M-Pesa mobile money service to a market lacking retail banking infrastructure yet abundant in mobile phone users. The product converted even the most basic cell phones into roaming bank accounts and money-transfer devices. Within two years M-Pesa was gaining nearly six million customers and transferring billions annually. The mobile money service shaped the African continent’s most recognized example of technological leapfrogging: launching ordinary citizens without bank accounts into the digital economy. Shortly after M-Pesa’s launch, four technologists created the Ushahidi crowdsourcing app in response to Kenya’s 2007 election violence. The software that evolved became a highly effective tool for digitally mapping demographic events anywhere in the world. Ushahidi has since become an international tech company with multiple applications in more than twenty countries. In 2008, Erik Hersman, an Ushahidi co-founder, hatched Nairobi’s iHub innovation center after identifying the need for "[permanent information technology] community spaces…in major cities [for] young entrepreneurs. The nexus point for technologists, investors, [and] tech companies.” Since 2010, 152 tech companies have formed out of iHub. It has 16,000 members and on any day, numerous young Kenyans work in its labs and interact with global technologists. iHub gave rise to Africa’s innovation center movement, inspiring the upsurge in tech hubs across the continent. Another Kenyan milestone was the government’s 2010 completion of The East African Marine System undersea fiber optic cable project, which increased East African broadband and led to establishment of a national Information and Communication Technology (ICT) Authority. Today, Silicon Savannah is but one corner of sub-Saharan Africa’s tech scene. Across the region a Silicon Valley inspired network is developing. Nigeria is a hotbed for startup activity. Facebook recently announced an initiative to beam internet access to Africa from space. Silicon Valley investment is funneling into ventures from Kenya to South Africa. In total, our research highlights the existence of roughly two hundred African innovation hubs, 3,500 new tech related ventures, and $1bn in venture capital to a Pan-African movement of startup entrepreneurs. Our study also reveals growing connections between the United States and sub-Saharan Africa’s IT sector. Tech giants IBM, Microsoft, and Google are expanding business operations in the region and partnering with African innovation centers. Repatriated entrepreneurs from the U.S. contemporary African diaspora are leading many of the continent’s tech incubators and startups. All three of Africa’s most prominent ecommerce startups--Jumia, Konga, and MallforAfrica--were founded by Nigerians who earned their university degrees and initial private sector experience in the U.S. A noteworthy portion of the combined $300 million in venture capital to these entities comes from American investment firms, attracted to the opportunities of digital sales to the world’s fastest growing population expected to consist of 540 million smartphone owners by 2020. Following the lead of countries such as South Africa and Kenya there are growing expectations on African governments to flesh out plans and infrastructure for information and communication technologies. Countries such as Ethiopia, Nigeria, and Ghana are already feeling the pressure, conscious of the success of Silicon Savannah. Most of SSA’s tech applications are emerging as solutions to local challenges, but this is creating unforeseen opportunities for other markets. Business people and investors are using IT in Africa to solve longstanding socio-economic issues formerly relegated to the development sector. Aid-agency grants previously going to NGOs are already being diverted to social-venture African tech organizations. It is still early days for sub-Saharan Africa’s burgeoning IT sector. As it continues to connect with the region’s demographic and economic currents, expect tech to play an increasingly significant role in Africa’s business, politics, and international relations.

This is a guest post by Cheryl Strauss Einhorn, a journalist and adjunct professor at the Columbia Business School. Twenty-five years ago South Africans sought global assistance to create an inclusive democracy. As of yet it has failed to achieve that goal. South Africa continues to sit economically as it does geographically, at the nexus of the first and third world. It’s a nation of people from developed and developing countries, and of rich and poor. It is plagued by inequity between, and within, its black and white neighborhoods. Economic opportunity is limited, social cohesion remains fragmented, and the country has devolved into bouts of identity violence with foreign populations often the victims. This is especially the case in economically vulnerable areas where there is competition for housing, education, employment, and ultimately for survival. Even though South Africa signed a twenty-six-nation free trade pact this summer creating a common market spanning from Cape Town to Cairo, it is experiencing its worst violence toward immigrants since 2008. It wants to promote pan-African commerce, but not pan-African community within its borders. Seven people have died, thousands more were arrested or displaced and yet there has been only limited action to quell the strife. President Zuma has denounced the violence but also railed against neighboring countries saying, “As much as we have a problem that is alleged to be xenophobic, our sister countries contribute to this. Why are their citizens not in their countries?” Other half-hearted government measures include relying upon law enforcement and creating a parliamentary committee to study the violence. But, the police have limited tools and the committee, suffering from rampant absenteeism among its members, has failed twice to submit its report due in August. News leaks intimate that its recommendations will be benign, amounting to promoting increased dialogue between impacted parties and ensuring that foreigners have proper documentation. These measures don’t address the underlying problems: a lack of shared economic prosperity and a spate of misguided citizenship policies that contribute to xenophobia. Unemployment was 24.3 percent in 2014 (35 percent including discouraged job seekers). In 1995, a year after transitioning to democracy it was recorded at 15 percent. Unemployment is near 50 percent among eighteen to twenty-four year olds, and 64 percent including discouraged youths. Structural factors explain some of the difficulty: low education levels, especially among blacks, as well as some geographic factors from the apartheid era that physically separated the population by race, creating pockets of poverty and wealth. With growing inequality, there is increased mistrust as disenfranchised South Africans note that foreigners are prospering despite stiff odds. Unlike European countries, South Africa doesn’t provide social assistance; immigrants have to fend for themselves. Still, the foreigners, mostly Somalis residing in the townships, have proved to be savvy entrepreneurs. Given nothing, many have become traders, running small shops that stay open longer and charge less than local stores. They undercut prices by forming buying clubs, with several families pooling money together. Simon Fraser University sociologist Heribert Adams surveyed South Africans in the townships asking why they didn’t copy the foreigners. Many responded, “We don’t trust one another.” Yet, even so, while they won’t share their burdens with one another, they trust that their government will shoulder their hardships and enshrine their opportunities, thereby making it seem as if their problem stems from foreign competition. Indeed the government has increasingly enacted policies that create a zero-sum environment where citizens have rights and foreigners have none, sending a message of mistrust. These rules misguidedly create an expectation that citizen rights trump human rights. New visa regulations make it harder for foreigners to obtain a general work visa by forcing employers to not only explain why a citizen or permanent resident could not fill the position but offer proof of its efforts to do so, and even target foreign families, forcing them to carry copies of unabridged birth certificates. Too, a proposed new land bill would bar foreigners from owning agricultural land. Even South Africa’s teachers union is exclusionary, prohibiting foreigners, despite some being better equipped than locals. But by narrowing the definition of who belongs and who has entitlements, by passing ever-more exclusionary rules, the government is breeding divisiveness. It’s also sending a message to its poor that they need the government’s protection to prosper. Foreigners in South Africa know that’s not true.