Civil Society

In early August, the Sudanese UN envoy stated that Sudan President al-Bashir plans to travel to New York to speak at the upcoming UN General Assembly (UNGA). Al-Bashir is under indictment by the International Criminal Court. Countries that are signatory to the Rome Statute are required to apprehend those indicted and to hand them over to the International Criminal Court (ICC). That almost happened earlier in the summer when al-Bashir attended an African Union summit in South Africa. A South African superior court ordered the Zuma administration to arrest him. In that case, al-Bashir, perhaps with the connivance of the Zuma administration, left before the court’s order could be carried out. (The Zuma administration’s failure to arrest al-Bashir is still before the South African courts.) The United States is a signatory of the Rome Statute, but the senate has never ratified it. Nevertheless, U.S. policy has generally been supportive of the court. Under the host country agreement between the United States and the United Nations, which dates from the establishment of the UN headquarters in New York, the U.S. government is obliged to issue visas to those coming to UN meetings. There is provision for rare exceptions where the individual would constitute a threat to U.S. national security. Nevertheless, the Obama administration does have legal grounds to deny al-Bashir a visa. On the other hand, the Obama administration could issue al-Bashir a visa, and then promptly arrest him upon arrival in New York. It would then hand him over to the ICC for trial, as called for by the Rome Statute. That is the course recommended by Luis Moreno-Ocampo, the chief prosecutor for the ICC from 2003 to 2012, in a column in the August 24, 2015, New York Times. Moreno-Ocampo argues that U.S. law (the American Service-Members’ Protection Act), authorizes the executive branch “to bring to justice” those accused of atrocities. Under the Nuremberg Charter, the genocide convention, and the ICC statute, heads of state have no immunity from charges before international tribunals. Ocampo-Moreno credibly argues that a U.S. arrest and handover would be legal. But, would such a course be in the U.S. interest? Opponents of an al-Bashir arrest might cite Sudan’s cooperation in the fight against terrorism in the region. Sudan also has an important role to play in resolution of the ongoing civil war and humanitarian disaster in South Sudan. Ultimately, the Obama administration would face a political choice, not a legal one. One can well imagine that at least some in the Obama administration hope the problem will go away; that al-Bashir will not seek to come to New York. But, should al-Bashir come, Ocampo-Moreno claims that his arrest would provide the Obama administration the opportunity to reject impunity for crimes of genocide. The political and security costs of an al-Bashir arrest and handover might be relatively low. Khartoum is something of a political snake pit. Many Sudanese with political ambitions might be happy enough with the removal of al-Bashir. Cooperation on terrorism and the search for a solution in South Sudan might well continue after an initial period of vituperation. More problematic is the African Union, now under the presidency of Zimbabwe’s Robert Mugabe, himself accused of massive human rights abuses. It is conceivable that AU member states might renounce the Rome Statute, which most of them have signed, given the perception that the court disproportionately targets Africans. There might be a gesture of solidarity with al-Bashir in the context of the UN General Assembly. However, the UNGA is arguably the most important forum for African leaders, and they are unlikely to sabotage it for long. Few will deny that al-Bashir’s hands are covered with the blood of innocents.

It is conventional wisdom that South Africa has a very high rate of domestic abuse. (Exact rates are unknown due to irregularities in South Africa’s statistics, combined with the fact that gender based violence is vastly underreported worldwide.) Oscar Pistorius is a celebrated South African athlete who competed in the London 2012 Olympic and Paralympic Games, using prostheses (his legs were amputated as a child). In 2014, he killed his live-in girlfriend, Reeva Steenkamp, a South African model. At the trial, he said he believed she was an intruder. He was acquitted of murder but convicted of manslaughter before a black, female judge, Thokozile Masipa. (The race and gender of the judge caused little comment.) She found that the prosecution failed to prove intent, necessary for a murder charge. The trial was the occasion for much South African soul-searching, not least about domestic abuse and gender-based violence. Judge Masipa sentenced Pistorius to six years in jail. Under South African law, having served one-sixth of his sentence, he may be released under house arrest. That was to occur on August 21. However, under South African law, the prosecution as well as the defense may appeal. The prosecution has now done so. In the meantime, the Progressive Women’s Movement of South Africa, a civil organization with ties to the governing African National Congress (ANC) has asked the minister of justice to keep Pistorius in jail pending the outcome of the prosecution’s appeal. The ANC Women’s League welcomed the delay in the release of Pistorius. According to the media, the Women’s League said, “The ANC Women’s League remains convinced that judge Thokozile Masipa handed down an erroneous judgment and an extremely lenient sentence to Pistorius, setting a bad precedent in cases involving gender-based violence, especially in instances where women die at the hands of their partners.” It has also roundly criticized the presiding judge for her sentence, which, it maintains, was too lenient. The minister of justice has agreed to the request. However, it is widely expected in South Africa that he will be overruled by the courts. Pistorius’ supporters see this gambit as ANC grandstanding on the issue of violence against women. On the other hand, many, including the victim’s family, do feel that the original sentence was too lenient and the result of sloppy police work. The Progressive Women’s Movement doesn’t appear to be very active at present. The promptness with which the ANC Women’s League supported its call raises questions about its independence from the ruling party. However, the fact that it circulated a successful petition against Pistorius’ release signifies gender based violence is an issue South Africans care about. But the South African judiciary is independent and tough. Observers predict that Pistorius will, in fact, be transferred to house arrest in the near future, if not by August 21. While prosecutors may appeal a judgment and a sentence, the success rate is not high. The sloppy police work cannot be undone. Is there anything worth saying about this episode? Yes. It illustrates once again the independence of the judiciary, both from the government of the day but also from public opinion. It also illustrates the complexity of race and politics. Pistorius and Steenkamp are white Afrikaners. The judge and the attorney general are black, as are most members of the ANC Women’s League. So, too, are most of the victims of gender based violence. Yet it is the Women’s League that is criticizing by name the presiding judge in the Pistorius case as having been too lenient in a case of gender based violence. A Steenkamp family spokesperson thanked the Progressive Women’s Movement, and specifically Jacqui Mofeteng, the first black Miss South Africa and a women’s rights advocate, for its intervention in favor of keeping Pistorius in jail. This episode highlights that issues of gender based violence cross South Africa’s conventional social divisions.

With a rapidly growing and urbanizing population, persistent poverty, and weak governance, Sub-Saharan Africa is likely to be the source of new epidemics that potentially could spread around the world. Understanding the disastrous response of African governments, international institutions, and donor governments to the Ebola epidemic is essential if history is not to be repeated yet again. That makes Laurie Garrett’s essay, "Ebola’s Lessons," in the September/October 2015 issue of Foreign Affairs, essential reading. Laurie Garrett steps back to understand the course of the Ebola epidemic and the mistakes made in the world’s response to it. Within African countries she profiles the lack of institutional capacity to facilitate an effect response: Liberia had two medical doctors for every 100,000 people when Ebola came. Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Guinea were unable to identify Ebola quickly and bring it under control. The developed world showed little interest until their own citizens were under threat; then, they hysterically overreacted. The relevant international health institutions, especially the World Health Organization (WHO), were inadequate for a variety of reasons. Garrett is also not afraid to address cultural obstacles to overcome. With respect to burial practices, for instance, “People across the region whispered that they were more afraid of angering their ancestors than they were of the disease.” Garrett’s picture of incompetence and short-sightedness is not pretty. But, she also describes heroes, notably Medicines Sans Frontiers (MSF), as well as specific individuals. There were the local, traditional chiefs in Liberia who independently initiated the necessary steps to quarantine victims of the disease, thereby stopping its spread. She also gives full credit to the American and British governments’ efforts – once they were finally mobilized. Of particular value is Garrett’s analysis of the World Health Organization and its future necessary remodeling. Garrett quotes a senior WHO official who, in my view, hits the nail on the head: “We’re in an extremely dangerous position, being pressured to make incremental changes until member states are assuaged, but not so much change that the organization, internally revolts.” Garrett quotes the official as going on to say that the WHO “has got to evolve, to be more than a mere technical organization. It must be a health emergency manager.” Garrett’s article is a gripping read. She tells an important story that is accessible to non-specialist readers. Policy makers in Washington, New York, and Geneva should heed her specific recommendations.

This is a guest post by Claire Wilmot, an intern for the Council on Foreign Relations Africa Program. She is a master of global affairs candidate at the University of Toronto. In June 2014, Nigeria experienced its first attack by a female suicide bomber. Since then, Boko Haram has increasingly used girls and women as operatives in suicide attacks on soft targets. According to the Nigeria Security Tracker, Female suicide bombers have been responsible for over 200 deaths since May 2015, nearly half of all casualties from Boko Haram-attributed suicide bombings during this period. Female suicide bombers serve a number of tactical purposes. They are effective smugglers and rouse less suspicion while moving in civilian areas. Their attacks have a high propaganda value and are more likely to be sensationalized by the media than attacks by men. It is no coincidence that the first series of female suicide attacks in Nigeria took place shortly after 200 girls were abducted on Chibok, capitalizing on the international attention generated by the #BringBackOurGirls campaign. The attacks using female suicide bombers made the government appear weak and stoked fears that the girls had been “weaponized” by Boko Haram. In Nigeria and also abroad, the dominant narrative of female involvement in terrorist violence is one of coercion. The argument is supported by the high incidences of kidnappings of girls and women (more than 2000 since the insurgency began in 2009), and the testimony of escapees, who report egregious physical and psychological abuse at the hands of their captors. Human rights groups have reported that some girls and women appear to have been “brainwashed.” Moreover, some female bombers have been children as young as seven—incapable of granting informed consent to participate in such an act. Conventional wisdom suggests that terrorist groups resort to the use of female operatives when they are at their weakest. Boko Haram’s spike in female suicide bombings could indicate that Boko Haram is experiencing difficulty recruiting from its historic support base—young, uneducated, unemployed men from Nigeria’s northeast. Excessive and indiscriminate violence against civilians may be eroding support among communities who previously sympathized with Boko Haram’s vision. However, according to at least one credible source in northeastern Nigeria, most women in Boko Haram are acting voluntarily. They become suicide bombers to seek revenge for the deaths of their spouses or parents, as well as reunification in the afterlife. Detailing the dire humanitarian situation in the northeast, the source reported that many girls and women in Boko Haram controlled areas feel there is little prospect of a return to civilian life. Those who choose to return face ostracism, and would be ineligible for marriage. In a context of loss and hopelessness, martyrdom becomes an acceptable option. Incidences of gender-based violence and other human rights violations by Nigerian security forces could also push women to support or join Boko Haram out of fear. In the early days of Boko Haram’s insurgency, one source emphasized that female support for the group’s activities has been understated. Women were reportedly converting female family members, and receiving training in the group’s former stronghold of Markas. That source also claimed that some women had donated their daughters to carry out suicide bombings. Last year, several members of a “female cell” of Boko Haram were apprehended in Abuja, charged with recruiting female members. The two narratives of female involvement in Boko Haram—passive victims versus active participants—are not mutually exclusive. Both reflect the complexity of gender in insurgencies, and should contribute insight into post-conflict policy. Treating women and girls solely as passive victims can lead to incomplete understandings of conflicts and inadequate subsequent peace processes. Women may also be political actors with grievances that find resonance with extremists, and as important sources of community knowledge, they are uniquely positioned to build or disrupt ideological momentum for political movements. Gender inclusive peacebuilding strategies in Nigeria could help diminish support for extremists.

Below is a visualization and description of some of the most significant incidents of political violence in Nigeria from August 1, 2015 to August 8, 2015. This update also represents violence related to Boko Haram in Cameroon, Chad, and Niger. These incidents will be included in the Nigeria Security Tracker.   August 1: Boko Haram killed thirteen in Konduga, Borno. August 2: Boko Haram killed eight in Madagali, Adamawa. August 4: Boko Haram killed eight and kidnapped 135 in Tchakarmari, Cameroon. August 4: Boko Haram killed ten fishermen in Kukawa, Borno. Thirteen insurgents were also killed in the incident. August 5: Chadian soldiers killed seven Boko Haram insurgents in Tchoukou Dallah, Chad. August 6: Boko Haram killed nine in Fika, Yobe. August 7: Suspected pirates killed four soldiers and one policeman in Bayelsa, Niger Delta.  

Coauthored with Eleanor Powell, intern in the International Institutions and Global Governance program at the Council on Foreign Relations. United Nations peacekeeping efforts have long had a dark side: a history of sexual exploitation and abuse against civilians by UN personnel. While the UN has paid lip service to stopping such sexual violence, a recent internal review reveals the still-alarming scope of these crimes—and the failure of the international community to hold perpetrators to account. After years of inaction and broken promises, however, several factors are aligning today in promising ways that prime the political environment for progress. But the important question is how far this progress will go. Sexual violence by peacekeepers is by now disturbingly familiar. Reports of such crimes date back at least to the 1990s, in UN missions in Mozambique, Bosnia, Guinea, Liberia, and Sierra Leone. Abuses ran the gamut from sex trafficking to prostitution in exchange for money, food, or medical supplies. After repeated outcries, the UN condemned these abuses as reprehensible in a 2003 special bulletin from the secretary-general and established a “zero tolerance” policy in 2005. In fact, business as usual continues. Experts offer various explanations for these recurrent abuses, ranging from power differentials between peacekeepers and impoverished civilians to lack of training and education on UN policies within troop-contributing countries. But one common thread runs through all these cases of abuse: peacekeeping personnel enjoy a staggering level of impunity, thanks to the structure of the UN peacekeeping system. Generally speaking, rich states contribute funds for peacekeeping, and poorer states contribute troops. UN peacekeeping missions are at their historic high deployment, with 106,000 military and police units (compared to 34,000 in 2000) and 19,000 civilian staff in sixteen operations under UN command around the world. Moreover, contemporary missions last almost three times longer than their predecessors, and the UN also provides logistical support to more than 20,000 African Union (AU) personnel. The high demand for UN peacekeepers means that the United Nations Department of Peacekeeping Operations (UNDPKO) is constantly scrambling not just for funds, but for personnel to fill peacekeeping slots. Current UN policies go extra lengths to encourage troop-contributing countries to keep sending personnel—with disastrous consequences for oversight and accountability. Currently, agreements among UNDPKO, troop-contributing countries, and host countries assign jurisdiction for investigating any alleged abuse solely to the troop-contributing country. Any disciplinary action by the sending state, moreover, remains purely voluntary. These policies are meant to send two clear messages: the sovereignty of troop-contributing countries will be protected, and the UN is in the business of promoting continued troop donations rather than turning them away. Inevitably, given the UN’s desire not to step on anyone’s toes, internal UN reform efforts to date have done little to stop sexual abuse by peacekeepers. A UN Office of International Oversight Services report from May 2015 recorded 480 allegations of abuse between 2008 and 2013. (Given the underreporting of such crimes, the number of victims is likely far higher). While no UN mission was immune, the report singled out as egregious four missions in Haiti, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Liberia, and Sudan/South Sudan. Moreover, the report suggested a disturbing trend: in 36 percent of cases, the alleged victims were minors. This report, along with the recent leaked allegations against French troops in the Central African Republic and another round of allegations of abuses committed by AU peacekeeping contingents from Chad and Equatorial Guinea, suggests that little has been done to curb sexual abuse in such operations a quarter of a century after it was first reported. At long last, however, real action may be on the horizon. In June, UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon announced the creation of an External Independent Review Panel, co-chaired by Marie Deschamps (Canada), Hassan Jallow (Gambia), and Yasmin Sooka (South Africa), to examine the UN’s handling of allegations of sexual exploitation and abuse. This marks the first time the UN has commissioned such a review. The panel will publicly release its findings within ten weeks, to be subsequently used “in any manner the Secretary-General considers to be in the interests of the United Nations.” Meanwhile, President Obama plans to hold a summit on peacekeeping during the UN General Assembly’s high-level week in late September. Beyond urging states to fill gaps in existing missions and plan future operations, the president can use this platform to highlight the glaring problem of sexual abuse in UN missions. Finally, in October, the United Nations is scheduled to undertake a high-level review of Security Council Resolution 1325 (2000), which calls upon UN peace missions to be more gender sensitive and end impunity for gender-based crimes. In parallel with these multilateral efforts, some troop-contributing states are beginning to combat impunity on their own, by taking allegations against their nationals seriously, and publicly detailing their disciplinary actions. India recently made headlines for punishing several members of its contingent for sexual abuses in the DRC, and France announced it would take legal action against its soldiers accused of raping children in the Central African Republic in 2014. Another promising development is the growing activism of civil society actors. Until recently, the advocacy community focused its energies on the broader category of sexual violence in conflict, which has sometimes distracted attention from the particular problem of abuse by peacekeepers. That has changed. In May, Code Blue became the first advocacy campaign focused specifically on sexual exploitation committed by peacekeeping personnel. The group has leaked internal UN reports, placing new pressure on the UN, troop-contributing states, and major funders of peace operations—including the United States. More recently, in July, the UN’s deputy high commissioner for human rights, Flavia Pansieri, stepped down after Code Blue’s leaked reports revealed that she had failed to act after being informed of allegations against French soldiers in the Central African Republic. This unprecedented confluence of factors—including high-level attention from the UN, national governments, the media, and advocacy groups—suggests that real reform could be in the offing. But it is by no means guaranteed. This attention provides a window of opportunity for action against sexual violence by peacekeepers, but that window will not stay open long, as interest inevitably shifts to other international crises and scandals. Moreover, this brief window of opportunity may not be open to all possible reforms. True progress on this issue would entail greater transparency and cooperation from troop-contributing countries, a consistent process for handling allegations and determining sentences, and some form of UN enforcement capability to deal with states that refuse to comply. But with little being done to combat the UN’s problem of high troop demand and low supply, peacekeeping missions are unlikely to see these major reforms any time soon. The danger is that UN member states and the UN itself will continue to take cosmetic steps, such as a nonbinding General Assembly resolution that condemns sexual violence by peacekeepers and directs troop contributors and mission commanders to take steps, including improved predeployment training and mission monitoring, to curtail such abuse. Another risk is that the UN will hail the report as a watershed moment, only to let recommendations get lost in bureaucratic limbo. While promoting norms is important, accountability and consequences matter even more. The UN needs to establish some mechanism to hold UN troops and civilian personnel to account for sexual crimes committed during peace operations, so that they cannot be shielded behind national sovereignty. True change will require three ingredients: greater transparency, generous funding, and high-level political pressure. First, the UN must improve its mechanisms for victims to report abuse and mandate new reporting requirements for troop-contributing countries. Missions must detail and publicly disclose the number of victims and perpetrators, broken down by nationality, and the disciplinary action taken as a result of substantiated allegations. Greater transparency would expose the scope of the problem and help civil society groups hold troop-contributing countries accountable by naming and shaming governments that give their soldiers a pass when it comes to committing sexual violence. Second, wealthy donor nations should provide legal, technical, and other assistance to help well-intentioned governments that are willing to hold their troops accountable but lack financial and other capacities to do so. Finally, the United States must lead on this agenda. President Obama should use the UN special session on peace operations this September to spotlight the problem of sexual abuse by peacekeepers, and his administration should keep the pressure on in ensuing months to ensure that the UN’s fine words translate into action.

South Africa’s general malaise owes much to its very slow recovery from the international economic crisis that began in the United States in 2008. The country’s gross domestic product growth rate has declined from a usual 3 percent to 1.5 percent in 2014. Weaker commodities prices have also slowed an economy that still includes a large mineral export sector. Unemployment is a major cause of South African poverty. It peaked in the first quarter of 2015 at 26.4 percent, according to Statistics South Africa, the national statistical service of South Africa. The rate is even higher among blacks, who constitute about 80 percent of the population. It is estimated that unemployment among black youth in the townships is around 50 percent. It is also high in rural areas. Hence it is good news that in the second quarter of 2015, unemployment dropped to 25 percent, according to the latest reports by Statistics South Africa. Very high levels of unemployment are a characteristic of the South African economy. According to Bloomberg, South Africa has the second highest jobless rate of the 62 countries that it tracks. There are now 5.23 million South Africans without jobs, which marks a healthy decline of about 305,000. The South African government estimates that economic growth will be 2 percent in 2015. This is better than 2014, but still not at pre-2008 recession levels. The South African government’s aspirational National Development Plan looks to cut unemployment to 14 percent by 2020 and 6 percent by 2030. While slow economic growth certainly contributes to high unemployment, there are also important structural issues. Trade unions, allied to the governing African National Congress, keep wages high. Government policy has not promoted the creation of low-skilled, low-paying jobs. Yet, in part because of the shortcomings of the educational system, a large percentage of the population is unskilled. In many African countries, the informal sector of the economy absorbs unemployment. South Africa, however, appears to have the smallest informal sector of any large African country. This, in part, is the baleful heritage of apartheid, which restricted black enterprise and mobility. Moreover, there are numerous other structural and technical drivers of high unemployment. Measuring levels of poverty in South Africa (and elsewhere) is difficult given the variety of technical and definitional issues. However, the Daily Maverick, a respected South African publication, concludes that 21.7 percent of the population lives in extreme poverty. That means they do not have enough money to pay for the food necessary to meet their nutritional requirements. An additional 37 percent are unable the purchase both food and meet other necessities, such as transport and fuel. So, more than half of the country’s population is poor, and a high percentage of the poor are unemployed. Over the past decade, the percentage who are unemployed in South Africa has fluctuated in the mid-twenties. The most recent drop in unemployment is a welcome sign, but is unlikely to be the harbinger of long-term trends. Until the structural roots of high unemployment are addressed in South Africa, serious progress on reducing poverty cannot be made.

In his rightfully celebrated speech at the African Union (AU) headquarters in Addis Ababa on July 28, President Barack Obama proclaimed, “no one person is above the law, not even the president.” This is a fundamental principle of American law, based on centuries of English precedent, but it is by no means universally accepted. The AU, an organization that includes all of the continent’s independent countries except Morocco, has a problematic record of upholding this principle. The AU is based on the idea of an overarching African unity, and many Africans hope that it will evolve into an African equivalent of the European Union. Its importance has increased since its establishment in 2002. It has played an important role in promoting the unacceptability of military coups and has imposed sanctions where coups occur. The AU is dominated by chiefs of state and the heads of government of its members. They make up the Assembly of the African Union, the highest decision-making body that meets semi-annually. It should, therefore, be no surprise that the AU is ambiguous at best about the principle that chiefs of state are subject to the law. With respect to the International Criminal Court (ICC), the Assembly of the African Union voted to reject its authority over chiefs of state or heads of government, with specific reference to the trial of Uhuru Kenyatta, Kenya’s president, for crimes against humanity. With respect to the AU’s African Court of Justice and Human Rights, an entity with a function similar to that of the ICC, the Assembly explicitly voted to grant immunity to chiefs of state just last year, amid criticism from various observers and human rights groups. Amnesty International criticized the AU as contradicting its own constitution, particularly an article affirming AU members’ right to intervene in situations of human rights crimes or genocide. The ICC and the African Court are extra-national entities. If the AU appears to reject their authority over chiefs of state and heads of government, it appears to have taken no position on whether they are subject to their own national law. For example, the AU was silent when African chiefs of state have set aside constitutionally mandated term limits, a practice which President Obama strongly criticized in his July 28 speech. Poor governance has been perhaps the greatest barrier to Africa’s economic, social, and political development since decolonization. A characteristic of this poor governance has been the lack of accountability by political leaders to their own people wherein “big men” would facilitate their rule by setting aside term limits. During his 2009 speech in Ghana, President Obama famously said, "Africa doesn’t need strongmen, it needs strong institutions." President Obama’s July 29 speech had a continent-wide audience. It is to be hoped that the AU will promote the accountability of African leaders to their people and acknowledge that they are subject to the rule of law.

Numerous organizations and publications rank universities around the world. The value of the exercise is inherently controversial, and by definition it has winners and losers. Nevertheless, rankings always command a large audience. One ranking that focuses on Africa is Journals Consortium. According to its website, it offers scholarly publishers web applications that provide technical, marketing, and editorial support “critical to the success of their journals in the e-publishing environment.” It has compiled a rank-order list of the one hundred top universities in Africa. Its stated criteria is research publications, scholarly citations, and visibility on the internet. In this ranking, African universities are competing only against other African universities, rather than with institutions outside the continent. The top ten universities, according to Journals Consortium: 1.    University of Cape Town (South Africa) 2.    Cairo University (Egypt) 3.    University of Pretoria (South Africa) 4.    University of Nairobi (Kenya) 5.    University of South Africa (South Africa) 6.    University of the Witswatersrand (South Africa) 7.    Stellenbosch University (South Africa) 8.    University of Ibadan (Nigeria) 9.    University of KwaZulu-Natal (South Africa) 10.  Ain Shams University (Egypt) The list is dominated by South Africa, which has six of the top ten universities. Egypt has two, while Nigeria and Kenya each have one. Of the remaining ninety, thirteen are also in South Africa. (The University of Johannesburg, at number eleven, just missed the top ten.) Nigerian media have commented on the country’s poor showing, especially given its disproportionately large population of 183 million, which is greater than that of the Russian Federation. Under apartheid, five of these six South African universities in the top ten were “white” and well funded. The exception was the University of South Africa, an “open” university; Nelson Mandela took its courses while imprisoned on Robben Island. All are now racially integrated, with all but one having a student body that is majority non-white. Journals Consortium’s list, whatever its validity as an indicator of relative academic quality, highlights a South African paradox. The country has world-class institutions, but most students at all levels are still educated in institutions challenged by apartheid’s legacy of poor education funding for the majority of the population.

This is a guest post by Claire Wilmot, an intern for the Council on Foreign Relations Africa Program. She is a master of global affairs candidate at the University of Toronto. Over the weekend, 170 opposition fighters were captured and thirty-one killed by Burundian armed forces in the Chibitoke region (near the borders of Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of the Congo). This is the latest in a series of violent incidents following President Pierre Nkurunziza’s bid to run for a third term in office in violation of Burundi’s constitution. Last week Nkurunziza’s party, the National Council for the Defense of Democracy–Forces for the Defense of Democracy (CNDD-FDD), announced victory in the parliamentary elections, despite an opposition boycott and the UN proclamation that the vote was not free, fair, or credible. Once a post-conflict success story, Burundi now threatens to relapse into violence, raising questions about what went wrong in the peacebuilding process. Burundi emerged from a twelve-year civil war in 2006 and was placed on the agenda of the Peacebuilding Commission (PBC), a UN advisory body that supports strategies for countries emerging from conflict. Burundi has a similar Hutu-Tutsi ethnic makeup as its neighbor, Rwanda, (85 percent and 14 percent) and experienced episodic ethnic cleansing during the civil war. The Arusha Accords ending the conflict detailed a power sharing constitutional arrangement designed to avoid the kind of “zero-sum” politics that lead to violence in highly divided societies. One crucial aspect of Burundi’s peace efforts seems to have worked: political and security entities are no longer split along clear ethnic lines. Observers argue the most salient divide is now between those who support the incumbent party, and everyone else. Whether this modest success is enough to prevent the re-emergence of conflict remains to be seen—the situation is extremely tense as the election draws closer. Peacebuilding gains began to unravel after the 2010 election boycott, and the PBC subsequently failed to reopen dialogue among opposing groups. However, as the chair of the Burundi configuration of the PBC recently emphasized, the failure to meaningfully engage youth (aged 15-25), particularly ex-combatants, in peacebuilding efforts also had a detrimental impact on peace. Others have emphasized that the failure to create opportunities for youth outside of conflict may have been a driving factor in the country’s recent violence. The Imbonerakure, the youth wing of the CNDD-FDD, has attacked protestors and engaged in campaigns of violence and intimidation in the north. Leaked UN documents revealed that the group has received arms and training from the ruling party. The ease and speed with which youth have taken up arms is testament to the incomplete nature of the demobilization and reintegration process after the war. Among the ranks of the Imbonerakure are former combatants  whose grievances are easily manipulated by political elites that offer them security, a cause, and material rewards. Little progress has been made in Burundi in terms of socioeconomic development; over 80 percent of Burundians still live below the poverty line. The situation is particularly dire for youth, who experience unemployment at a rate three times higher than their older counterparts in parts of the country. Frustrated with the lack of progress, many of these young people are now armed and ready to participate in violence if the political situation deteriorates. The role of youth as agents of positive change or drivers of conflict in fragile societies has been widely documented. It is clear that creating opportunities for youth to participate in the reconstruction of their countries, combined with a development strategy to improve their wellbeing, is vital to maintaining peacebuilding gains.

There has been a significant upsurge in attacks in Nigeria attributed to Boko Haram. At least 200 were killed over the July 4 weekend, which is in the midst of Ramadan. While there were attacks in Maiduguri, the carnage also took place outside of Borno state in the far northeast of the country, Boko Haram’s usual area of operations. This time, there were attacks in Jos, in the middle belt, an area where there is conflict between Christians and Muslims, farmers and herders, and Fulani and Barome ethnic groups. Boko Haram has fished in those troubled waters before, but not recently. There is speculation that Boko Haram’s target in Jos was the mosque’s imam, who has rhetorically attacked the group. There was also an attack on a church in Potiskum in Yobe state. There have been Boko Haram attacks on Christian churches before, but these have been associated with a splinter group, Ansaru. The past few weeks have also seen an upsurge in suicide bombings carried out by girls and young women. Meanwhile, the face of Boko Haram, Abubakar Shekau, remains absent from the media. Some media has linked the upsurge in violence in Nigeria to the call by the self-proclaimed Islamic State to “make Ramadan a month of disasters for the infidels.” Maybe, maybe not. Boko Haram swore allegiance to the Islamic State in March, but there is no clear evidence of tactical or strategic coordination between the two groups. Boko Haram has, however, adopted some of the Islamic State’s tactics with respect to social media. Boko Haram has evolved rapidly since its re-emergence in 2011. We must anticipate that it will continue to evolve in response to the security initiatives Muhammadu Buhari has directed against it. The president is the type of Muslim that Boko Haram particularly loathes: a participant in the secular state who does not subscribe to Boko Haram’s theological construct. President Buhari won the March national elections on a platform of security restoration and promising an end to corruption. Last weekend is a reminder that defeating Boko Haram is a tall order and will require Nigerians to show the patience that the Buhari administration requires.

For this outsider, the parliamentary and judicial response to the Zuma administration’s failure to detain Sudanese President Omar al-Bashir and turn him over to the International Criminal Court (ICC) provides a window in to the state of South African democracy. To me, it is clear that the Zuma government broke both South African and international law by not only failing to hold al-Bashir, though specifically ordered to do so by the South African judiciary, but also facilitated his clandestine departure. South African law is relevant because the South African government at the time incorporated the ICC treaty into its own legal system. Neither the judiciary nor the parliament is taking the Zuma administration’s violation of the law quietly. The Pretoria high Court has “invited” the National Director of Public Prosecutions to look into how South Africa violated a court order to hold al-Bashir. Judge President Dunstan Mlambo said, “A democratic state based on the rule of law cannot exist or function if the government ignores its constitutional obligations.” The parliamentary debate was raucous. The official opposition, the Democratic Alliance (DA), stated that the Zuma government was in contempt of both the South African court and the ICC. A DA parliamentarian, Steven Mokgalapa said, “The African National Congress (ANC) government, led by Zuma has committed a crime of assisting a wanted man to run from the law.” Congress of the People (COP) leader Mousiuoa Lekota is quoted by the media as saying, “You lied to us. You said you will uphold the constitution, uphold the law and be an example. You have misled the people of our country and now we are ashamed before the nations of the world.” (“Terror” Lekota – his nickname comes from soccer – is a Robben Island veteran and was once an ANC stalwart; a former Minister of Defense, he broke with the ANC when it removed Thabo Mbeki from the party leadership.) The ANC defense boils down to the propositions that heads of state are immune from the ICC. (The Rome Statute specifically says that heads of state are subject to ICC jurisdiction.) Further, that al-Bashir was attending an Africa Union summit, rather than making an official visit to South Africa. However, some ANC leaders are roundly attacking the ICC and calling for South Africa to withdraw. In what is likely to be a swipe at the United States, ANC Secretary General Gwede Mantashe said on local radio that the ICC “is a tool in the hands of the powerful to destroy the weak and it is a court that is focusing on Africa, Eastern Europe, and the Middle East.” He said South Africa should consider leaving the ICC: “If I was in government, I would give notice, get out of that, it was not what was envisioned.” Justice and Constitutional Development Deputy Minister John Jeffrey is quoted as saying that the ICC “has diverted from its mandate and allowed itself to be influenced by powerful non-member states. We signed up for a court that was going to hold human beings accountable for their war crimes – regardless of where they were from. We perceive it as tending to act as a proxy instrument for those states who see no need to subject themselves to its discipline, to persecute African leaders, and effect regime change on the continent.” The al-Bashir episode provides a muddled picture of South African democracy. The government appears to have acted illegally. The judiciary and the legislature have reacted vociferously. But, nobody seems to expect that anything will happen.

The White House announced on June 25 that President Obama will host Nigerian President Muhammadu Buhari in Washington, D.C. on July 20. The White House statement notes that both presidents will be accompanied by “senior advisors,” an indication that the visit will be more substantive than ceremonial. As is usual with a substantive visit to Washington by a head of state, the agenda for the conversations will be carefully prepared in advance. The White House statement refers specifically to a “holistic” response to Boko Haram and “Nigeria’s efforts to advance important economic and political reforms.” According to the Nigerian media, the two presidents agreed to the visit when they met at the G-7 in Schloss Elmau, Germany. The visit will take place just after Ramadan, which ends July 17 (President Buhari is a Muslim). There will be much to talk about. Boko Haram carnage continues unabated. President Buhari has publicly said that the Nigerian government is almost out of money, with many federal and state civil servants going unpaid. Nigeria watchers will be interested in whom President Buhari includes on his team. It will likely be an indication of who will be the new president’s close collaborators and advisors. President Obama’s invitation to President Buhari may mitigate criticism that the U.S. president is not visiting Nigeria during his upcoming trip to Ethiopia and Kenya.

The Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF), a populist , far-left “revolutionary” political party led by Julius Malema is now the third largest in South Africa’s National Assembly under the system of proportional representation, though it received only about 6.35 percent of the votes in the 2014 elections. It has issued a statement on the Emanuel Church massacre in Charleston, South Carolina. It will have credibility, especially to those unfamiliar the United States. After expressing its condolences to the families of the victims, the EFF statement advances the argument that what happened in Charleston was “an anti-black racist killing.” Few would quarrel with that conclusion. The statement goes on to say that, “The African-American community in the United States of America has been under racist attack by the policing system which continues to treat them as sub-citizens without the full protection of the law. Black people under the U.S. criminal system, purely because of the color of their skin, are permanent crime suspects whom the police harass and kill with impunity.” For most observers of the American scene, this is a gross over-statement. Nevertheless, in the aftermath of the highly publicized police killings in Ferguson, Missouri, and Staten Island, New York, the reluctance of grand juries to indict police, and the disproportionate size of the black U.S. prison population, the EFF overstatement has credibility, especially with an African audience. The statement reaches the conclusion that “…America is light years from attaining a human face. It remains the breeding ground for racist whites even after both Mandela and Obama.” The EFF statement then goes on to harness the Charleston tragedy to its political agenda, including the removal in South Africa of apartheid and colonial symbols “because they continue to inspire white supremacy.” After invoking the universality of the black diaspora, it calls on the African Union to “…promote and support African-Americans because they are clearly not safe under Obama and will never be under all the successive governments of the U.S.” The EFF statement is a reminder that for many Africans, the image of the United States is too often inseparable from white supremacy, racism, and violence. This is at least part of the basis for the assertions by many African intellectuals that the United States is hypocritical in its advocacy of human rights and its criticism of African “big men” and corruption. Within a South African context, the strident anti-white tone of the Charleston statement may foreshadow more radical EFF rhetoric. The statement even includes what might be a threat against American whites: “As Africans in Africa we want to send a strong message to white America that we are watching the continuing brutal murder of our brothers and sisters and we must not be pushed to a place where we will have to respond.”

From the perspective of the expectations of Nelson Mandela, South Africa has been treading water, if not worse, especially since the national elections of 2014. Economic growth remains an anemic 2 percent or less, thereby challenging Mandela’s assumption that poverty could be eliminated rapidly. Public concerns about corruption remain unaddressed. Parliament appears increasingly dysfunctional. Its procedures are under assault by Julius Malema’s Economic Freedom Fighters and stonewalling tactics by the Zuma government over corruption. All the while, the Zuma government appears to be consolidating executive power at the expense of the other, theoretically co-equal branches of government. It has twice kept out the Dalai Lama, apparently to keep Beijing happy, while it welcomed Sudanese President Omar al-Bashir with a red carpet to keep the African Union happy. Though wanted by the International Criminal Court (ICC) for genocide, the Zuma government forestalled Bashir’s arrest, which was required by South African law and mandated by the judiciary, by assisting in his clandestine departure. Once one of the strongest supporters of the ICC, the ruling party, the African National Congress (ANC), now denounces it in neo-colonial terms similar to the denunciations by Zimbabwe’s Robert Mugabe and Kenya’s Uhuru Kenyatta. Democracies often go through bad patches of governance. However, democratic institutions including an independent judiciary, civil society, and the rule of law provide a corrective mechanism. Up to now, all three have fulfilled this role in post-apartheid South Africa and have been a basis of optimism about the future of the country. The al-Bashir incident will be a test of the extent to which that optimistic conclusion is still valid. The bottom line appears to be that the Zuma government broke South African law by failing to arrest Bashir and undermined the judiciary by failing to implement its ruling. The courts are now demanding that the Zuma government provide an explanation in seven days for how Bashir entered the country, was not arrested, and then left, though there was a court order requiring the government to ensure that he not leave. Civil organizations are saying that they will likely sue the government for contempt of court, but will delay filing until the government responds to the courts with its explanation. The opposition Democratic Alliance has roundly denounced the government’s behavior. It can be anticipated that it will raise the issue in the National Assembly. Meanwhile, the media, including social media, is expressing outrage over the Zuma government’s behavior. Nothing that happens in South Africa now will result in Bashir’s arrest and handover to the ICC. But the courts and civil society may be able to hold the Zuma government accountable. However, if they fail to do so, or are successfully thwarted by Zuma and the ANC, South Africa will have moved away from democracy conducted according to the rule of law. The next week or so could be significant for South Africa’s future.