Sean Jacobs's Blog, page 15

Liberal internationalism after USAID

As US aid falters, the crisis of liberal internationalism deepens. What comes next when even its strongest institutions can no longer hold the facade together? Protestors in February, 2025 denouncing the cuts to USAID. Image �� Philip Yabut via Shutterstock

In the aftermath of President Donald Trump���s recent decision to dismantle USAID, liberal internationalists have rallied, galvanized by the attack to defend the value of their institutions. Established by President John F. Kennedy in 1961, USAID formalized US humanitarian relief efforts and diplomatic interventions in the Global South, especially���as I have written elsewhere���during the Congo Crisis, at a height in the transformative era of decolonization and the Cold War.

Trump���s plan has frozen more than 90 percent of USAID���s global operations as one of many perceived sites of state overspending and threatens unemployment for around 10,000 people. On February 21, 2,000 federal employees were put on immediate leave and given 15 minutes to pack their desk. Footage of these employees leaving the headquarters building has gone viral. Similarly, British Prime Minister Keir Starmer recently announced plans to cut the UK international aid budget from 0.5 percent to 0.3 percent in order to sustain an increase to defense spending over the next two years. Beyond compassion for individual ex-employees, this wave of cuts has provoked a defensive reaction from those in the international humanitarian sector: If one of us is under attack, we all are.

Since then, many organizations and their supporters have eulogized the cuts in USAID and its UK equivalent (recently absorbed into the Foreign, Commonwealth, and Development Office). Social media is awash with statements in support of USAID���s annual $4 billion activities. ���The Trump administration���s abrupt elimination of so many vital human rights and humanitarian programs is reckless, cruel, and will wreak havoc on efforts to promote democracy and rule of law around the world,��� said Sarah Yager, Washington director at global NGO Human Rights Watch. As a result of the cuts in the UK, Anneliese Dodds announced her resignation as the British Minister for International Development, asserting that the decision would ���remove food and healthcare from desperate people – deeply harming the UK���s reputation.���

Yager���s choice of defense���to assert USAID as a global policeman for democracy and rule of law���rings alarm bells for anyone who has read about US interference under the justification of ���protecting democracy��� during the Cold War and the War on Terror. Similarly, Dodds���s connection between the UK���s status as a global power and its humanitarian activities in service of ���desperate people��� feels outdated.

Justifications of the moral function, technocratic efficiency, and international security of the US and UK aid agencies are rooted in long-held beliefs about the West���s paternalistic responsibility for the Global South. This has its origins in colonial relationships and the legacies of the civilizing mission. Dodds���s statement helps to reveal how integral the West���s supposed benevolence and superiority has been in shaping the history of humanitarianism and for guiding the lines of who was perceived as deserving of aid or not. To create the archetype of the savior, one must continually construct the archetype of the ���saved��� as passive, needy, infantilized, and ���desperate��� to justify continued operations and growth in a sector that should ultimately be aiming for its own redundancy.

However, from many humanitarians��� perspective, Yager and Dodds are broadly correct. For them, the cuts are a lose-lose, materially for the recipient nations and reputationally for the donor states. Suggestions have been made that those facing cuts should look to the history of humanitarianism for morale as well as inspiration to reform the sector and prove the illiberals wrong. One senior humanitarian specialist encouraged British humanitarians to ���remember the great history you share and start imagining a new shape for British humanitarian aid as soon as you can��� on his LinkedIn page. Keep calm and carry on.

But a return to the cycle of liberal reformism���or ���carrying on������in humanitarianism shuts off the possibility of learning from the debates and critiques that the sector has faced since its origin, which have only grown more pertinent in the past decade. The coloniality of liberal internationalist logic and aid delivery has been well documented, most often by those described as ���recipients��� in the Global South as well as critical activists and scholars. The liberal internationalist order was designed to police and protect member states unequally; to be strong enough to intervene in Global South nations but too weak to hold powerful states, such as the UN permanent members, to account. Western and strong postcolonial nations alike, such as Indonesia and India, have long violated foundational principles whilst using ���protecting democracy��� or national security as justifications. The liberal order has relied on humanitarian organizations to defuse the consequences of these interventions and to continue to preach the gospel in support of retaining the same liberal structures and logics that failed to prevent the violence in the first place. In the aftermath of recent cuts, reactionary calls to support liberal internationalism in its time of need feel extraordinarily disconnected from a world where we are acutely aware of these state violations and the inadequacies of the humanitarian ���smoothing over��� process.

Trump���s cuts to USAID will not resolve these systemic problems, nor were they designed to. Indeed, he accepts the promise made by liberal internationalism and humanitarian operations to alleviate suffering around the world, but he rejects that this aim is politically or morally necessary���even at the cost to the US���s reputation. Ultimately, defending the sector and promoting reform will do little to reverse the mindset of someone who disagrees with the humanitarian intention to save lives beyond one���s own borders. Instead, we must acknowledge that liberal internationalists and Trump share a common history of white supremacy and coloniality, and that strengthening the humanitarian sector will only reinforce racist conceptions of recipients as dependent or undeveloped.

Why is it so hard to let go of a broken system? As Eleanor Davey, Fernando Espada, and Kim Scriven identified in their piece on the humanitarian reform and the mega-crisis, ���after decades of reform initiatives, a paradox has emerged, in which humanitarian actors and commentators repeatedly evoke that the system is not ���fit for purpose��� while the system itself is constantly reinforced even in times of increasingly budgetary constraints.��� The liberal internationalist order thrives on the cycle for reform, welcoming the pretense of critical debate and organizational scrutiny whilst focusing resources on technical issues of operational efficiency and the excising of ���bad apples.��� But this performance of scrutiny only strengthens the argument that it is a democratically rigorous ideology, sincerely invested in improvement and the alleviation of suffering, rather than opening a discussion of the structural inequalities baked into its foundational logics.

This new attack from Trump, and Starmer to a lesser degree, has only galvanized liberal internationalists and humanitarians back into reformism. Under threat and poorly valued, the sector���s defenders have amplified their moral supremacy and purity. The sector is alive with the possibility of reasserting the promises that they seem to have forgotten they have already broken. Already reluctant to reckon with its own structural harm, power, and politics, reformists have reacted to Trump���s decision by positioning themselves and their organizations as underdogs to a giant foe, willing to ���sacrifice��� themselves in service of the liberal internationalist system. But this positioning ignores the capital accrued within the Western officers of the international humanitarian sector as well as undermining the work of Global South activists and critical practitioners who have long spoken out against the paternalistic, racists, and harmful systems of aid.

For a sector that sustains wealth for an elite class of cosmopolitans, there seems to be a refusal to reckon with basic ethical questions: If the foundational logics of Western models of humanitarian operations and international aid are harmful, what better alternatives exist? What if, instead of pretending humanitarianism is not inherently political, we make considered, political choices about the redistribution of capital across our communities rather than securitized ���hot spots��� in the Global South? Can internationalism be a means to solidarity and mutual exchange between groups rather than top-down delivery of ���palliative��� aid to ���desperate people���?

The solution is not state austerity, but we also know it is not the revitalization of liberal humanitarian institutions in the West. Alternative forms of relief, community building, and methods of redistribution have been forged in the past and often ignored for their lack of scalability, political malleability, or potential for capitalist growth. But by decolonizing our relationship with other states and instead thinking of what we owe one another as citizens of a global society���and thus what kinds of methods we need to solve our own problems���there exist many generative sources of inspiration: mutual aid projects, South-South liberation movements, tenants and labour unions, and indigenous models of development, among countless others.

Even recent history can provide opportunities for inspiration. During the Black Lives Matter movement, some drew parallels between the US policing and carceral system and the international humanitarian sector; from one racist and patriarchal construct that justified its harms through a promise to ���protect and serve��� to another. Similarly, Olivia Rutazibwa has begun to consider what abolitionism could look like in the context of international aid and development, developing the concept of ���ethical retreat��� as an alternative to both liberal intervention and white-supremacist cuts.

Rather than reflexively rushing to defend USAID and the FCDO, reformers need to acknowledge the long history of harm caused by international aid and take the opportunity to empower alternatives to the global humanitarian and development systems.

Criminalizing poverty in Nigeria

With thousands jailed without trial, Nigeria���s justice system punishes the poor while the powerful walk free. Can real reform break this cycle of injustice? Photo by Tope. A Asokere on Unsplash

Jamiu Adedokun, a 17-year-old apprentice tailor working in the Oshodi area of Lagos, comes from a low-income home and cannot afford daily transportation fares. He treks 10 kilometers to and from work routinely. On an unfortunate night in October 2024, Jamiu was picked up by a notorious police task force team known for ���raiding��� innocent persons to demonstrate their efficiency. He was subsequently charged with breach of public peace before a magistrate court in Oshodi.

For months, Jamiu���s family members were unaware of his whereabouts. He languished in Kirikiri prison without trial until the Take It Back Movement Legal Aid, which I co-head, intervened and secured his release. Jamiu���s story exemplifies how Nigeria���s criminal justice system disproportionately targets the poor, criminalizing poverty instead of addressing real crimes. I can personally relate to Jamiu���s ordeal. On January 1, 2021, I was detained alongside other activists, including Omoyele Sowore and Juwon Sanyaolu, after participating in a peaceful protest demanding good governance.

We were charged with ���disturbance of public peace��� and held at Kuje Prison under inhumane conditions. I suffered a burst upper lip and loss of blood and flesh due to police brutality before being transferred to ���Abattoir,��� a notorious detention facility linked to the now-disbanded Special Anti-Robbery Squad (SARS). For eleven days, I endured the stench and misery of dingy cells, including the death row cell in Kuje prison, witnessing firsthand the systemic failures that keep the poor locked away without hope.

The Nigerian justice system is notorious for its inefficiency. Court cases drag on for years, often due to a lack of judicial personnel, poor case management, and a backlog of unresolved matters. According to Sylvester Nwakuche, the Acting Controller-General of the Nigerian Correctional Service (NCoS), as of January 6, 2025, a staggering 48,932 inmates are in custody awaiting trial. Many of them have spent years behind bars without having their cases heard.

Despite the government allocating N7.2 billion for the upgrade of correctional facilities, prisons like Kirikiri Maximum Security Prison remain severely overcrowded. Nigeria���s criminal justice system was never designed to protect the poor; it was built by colonialists to maintain control. The first constabulary forces, established in 1863, were meant to suppress dissent, protect colonial interests, and criminalize resistance.�� After independence in 1960, rather than dismantling this oppressive structure, successive governments retained and even strengthened it, ensuring that law enforcement remained an instrument of repression rather than justice. A glaring example of this injustice was the execution of Ken Saro-Wiwa and the Ogoni Nine in 1995. Their trial, conducted under a military regime, was widely condemned for its lack of due process, with bribed witnesses and a predetermined verdict.

The case demonstrated how the criminal justice system could be weaponized to eliminate dissenters while shielding those in power. Today, similar abuses persist, with political prisoners, activists, and ordinary citizens suffering at the hands of a corrupt system. However, the post-1999 era of electoral democracy has introduced contradictions���on one hand, increasing judicial inefficiency and wrongful detentions, and on the other, fostering the rise of pro-bono legal practice and public interest litigation that have helped secure justice for many indigent persons.

The radical legal activism of figures like Alao Aka Bashorun, Gani Fawehinmi, and Femi Falana has significantly shaped the fight for justice. These lawyers and their contemporaries have worked to hold the state accountable and secure legal representation for those who cannot afford it. Their work, alongside movements like the Take It Back Movement Legal Aid and other progressive legal initiatives, has somewhat tempered the excesses of the justice system, though not yet enough to ensure fundamental fairness.

While the 1995 execution of Ken Saro-Wiwa and the Ogoni Nine under the Abacha regime marked a peak in state repression, the present-day system remains deeply flawed. The widespread practice of pre-trial detention, the weaponization of the legal system against political dissidents, and systemic police brutality show that justice is still out of reach for the poor. Unless Nigeria dismantles this inherited structure of oppression and replaces it with a justice system that prioritizes fairness and human rights, the cycle of impunity will continue. The current system does not just fail the poor���it actively punishes them for their poverty, ensuring that justice remains out of reach for those who need it most.

Since Nigeria���s return to electoral democracy in 1999, there have been legal reforms aimed at improving human rights protections, such as the enactment of the Administration of Criminal Justice Act (ACJA) in 2015. This law was meant to ensure speedier trials and reduce the number of people held in pre-trial detention. However, its impact has been inconsistent due to poor enforcement, corruption, and chronic underfunding of the judiciary.

Although there is now a more active civil society and a legal framework that theoretically provides for human rights, the criminal justice system remains heavily skewed against the poor. The government���s proposed N38 billion budget for feeding inmates and N7.2 billion for prison upgrades, while appearing as progress, fail to address the root causes of wrongful incarceration and prolonged detention.

For many awaiting trial, the inability to afford a lawyer is a major barrier to justice. The poor are left to navigate the legal system alone, often unaware of their rights or how to challenge their detention. Although Nigeria���s constitution provides for free legal aid, the Legal Aid Council of Nigeria is grossly underfunded and overwhelmed. Lateef Fagbemi, the Attorney General of the Federation, recently admitted:

I am not saying that the budget allocation of the Legal Aid Council should be as much as it is in developed countries, but it should be reasonable enough to reflect the reality in the country. Everything is changing, and it cannot give what it does not have.

In Gideon���s case, the police told Take it Back Legal Aid Committee that they were waiting for the advice of the Directorate of Public Prosecution (DPP) before proceeding to proper trial. However, investigations revealed that the prosecutor had not even applied for the advice since 2024, leaving the accused persons in indefinite legal limbo.

Similarly, Jamiu Adedokun, an orphan, has been in Kiri-Kiri prison detention, with a stalled trial, since October 2024, simply for being arrested for ���breach of public peace,��� further proving the system���s inefficiency. Justice in Nigeria has increasingly become a privilege of the wealthy. Legal representation is expensive, and suspects who cannot afford the steep legal fees often remain in detention indefinitely. According to Statista, as of October 2023, Nigeria ranked 14th globally in the share of pretrial detainees.

The connection between class and access to justice is clear. For individuals like Chimobi Obi, a 17-year-old accused of a minor offense, legal fees of ���50,000 to ���100,000 are simply out of reach for his father, a motorcycle rider. ���My son has spent months behind bars for a crime just because lawyers are asking me for money I do not have,��� he lamented. This commercialization of justice has created a two-tier system���where the wealthy can buy their freedom, while the poor languish in prison for years without trial. The criminal justice system has become a tool to suppress the poor and marginalized. Amnesty International reported that in the aftermath of the August 2024 protests, more than 1,000 people were arrested across Nigeria, with many remaining in detention without trial. Some detainees even lost their lives due to harsh treatment and prison conditions.

Activist Omoyele Sowore was detained for months in 2019, not for a crime, but for daring to challenge the government. Cases like his show how the justice system is weaponized to silence dissent and oppress the underprivileged. Ghana has made significant strides in reducing its pre-trial detainee population over the past decade. In 2015, the country had 2,423 detainees awaiting trial, but by 2024, the number had dropped to 1,666. This steady decline reflects a justice system that, while not perfect, has made efforts to address prolonged detention. With a total prison population of 14,991 as of 2024, Ghana���s percentage of pre-trial detainees is notably lower than Nigeria���s, showing a commitment to curbing excessive pretrial incarceration.

In contrast, Nigeria���s pre-trial detention crisis has worsened over time. In 2005, the number of awaiting-trial detainees stood at 28,363, but by 2024, it had skyrocketed to 56,973. As of February 2025, the total prison population stands at 79,863, with an alarming 67% awaiting trial. This means Nigeria now has more than 53,000 people in custody who have not been convicted of any crime���more than three times Ghana���s entire prison population. The trend highlights systemic inefficiencies, including police abuse of pre-trial detention, sluggish judicial processes, and an underfunded legal aid system.

The stark contrast between Nigeria and Ghana underscores a deeper issue: Nigeria���s criminal justice system is designed to detain rather than to deliver justice. While Ghana has demonstrated that reforms can reduce unnecessary pre-trial detention, Nigeria continues to treat incarceration as a default response, worsening overcrowding and human rights abuses. Without systemic change, the Nigerian justice system will remain a revolving door where the poor are trapped indefinitely, while the wealthy and powerful evade accountability. The plight of the more than 50,000 awaiting trial inmates is more than a statistic���it is a human rights crisis. Without urgent reform, thousands more will continue to suffer under an unjust system that punishes poverty rather than crime.

While the government���s proposed N38 billion budget for feeding inmates and the N7.2 billion for prison upgrades seem promising, these measures do little to address the root causes of prolonged pretrial detention and systemic failures.�� The bitter experience of people like Jamiu Adedokun, Gideon Yahaya, Chimobi Obi, and countless others underscores the urgent need for a system that upholds justice for all, not just the privileged few.

African music festivals and the politics of reclamation

Across the continent, music festivals are challenging industry gatekeepers and testing what it means to organize on African terms. Afrochella festival 2019, Accra, Ghana. Image credit Fquasie via Wikimedia Commons CC BY-SA 4.0.

This post is part of our series collaboration with AfroWave.

The energy at Afrochella in 2018 was palpable, electric, a heady mix of sound and movement that seemed to rise from the ground at Accra���s El Wak Stadium. It wasn���t just a music festival; it was a homecoming, a reunion of the African diaspora that stretched from Accra to Atlanta, Lagos to London. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the air filled with laughter, conversation, and music that vibrated deep in my chest. One felt proud, not just in being African but in being part of something larger: a story that had always been ours but was now reclaiming its rightful place on the world stage.

That night, as Daddy Lumba���s and King Promise���s voices soared over the crowd and Stonebwoy delivered anthems of solidarity, I personally began to see African music festivals for what they truly are: not just gatherings but stages of cultural negotiation. In their exuberance lies a deep political project���to reclaim narratives, bridge diasporic divides, and challenge the global commodification of African identity. Yet beneath the pride and possibility, these festivals also raise difficult questions. Who benefits from their growing global prominence? Are they amplifying authentic African voices or merely repackaging them for export? And what happens when a festival like Afrochella, a symbol of diasporic pride, becomes embroiled in disputes over intellectual property rights, as it did in its name debacle with Coachella in 2022?

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In 1977, Lagos hosted the Second World Festival of Black Arts and Culture (FESTAC), one of the largest cultural gatherings in African history. With over 17,000 participants from 56 nations, FESTAC was both an artistic celebration and a bold assertion of African agency in a postcolonial world. The festival���s slogan, ���Rebirth and Rediscovery,��� underscored its dual mission: to reclaim African heritage and project its creativity onto a global stage.

Scholar Sylvia Wynter has argued that events like FESTAC challenged colonial epistemologies by foregrounding African art as a source of knowledge and power. The festival���s diverse performances���from traditional drumming to experimental jazz���redefined African culture as dynamic, countering Western stereotypes of Africa as static or primitive. Materially, FESTAC bolstered Nigeria���s position as a cultural leader in postcolonial Africa, but it also highlighted disparities in how resources for such events were allocated, sparking debates about the economic priorities of newly independent states. Nigeria in 1977 was under military rule, grappling with its identity as a nation-state composed of multiple ethnic groups. FESTAC���s Pan-African ethos was an attempt to unify these identities under a broader cultural banner, even as internal tensions persisted.

The Pan-African Festival in Algiers in 1969 exemplified the revolutionary potential of art. Hosted by a newly independent Algeria, the festival brought together artists, musicians, and freedom fighters from across the continent. Frantz Fanon���s belief��that culture could catalyze political change was palpable. Performers like Miriam Makeba and poets like Aim�� C��saire used their art to articulate visions of freedom and resistance. The festival not only celebrated African liberation movements but also cemented Algeria���s role as a hub for revolutionary solidarity during a period marked by anticolonial struggles across the continent.

Algeria in 1969, having recently emerged from a brutal war of independence against France, was eager to position itself as a beacon of postcolonial hope. The festival���s emphasis on liberation and solidarity echoed the nation���s broader political agenda, combining cultural expression with the strategic goal of uniting African and diaspora communities against neocolonial forces.

The 21st century has seen African music festivals evolve into global phenomena, fueled by the rise of Afrobeats and the increasing connectivity of the African diaspora. Afrochella, launched in Ghana in 2017, has become synonymous with Detty December, the annual holiday season when diasporic Africans return to the continent. The festival positions itself as a diasporic bridge, showcasing Ghanaian culture while appealing to international audiences. Similarly, Afro Nation, which debuted in Portugal, expanded to Ghana, drawing thousands to see stars like Wizkid, Burna Boy, and Tiwa Savage. However, Afrochella���s rebranding as AfroFuture���prompted by a lawsuit from Coachella���s parent company���revealed ongoing tensions about cultural ownership and narrative control. Critics saw the lawsuit as Western cultural gatekeeping, but the festival���s new name, AfroFuture, emphasizes a vision embracing African culture���s past, present, and future.

Corporate sponsorships from companies like Heineken and MTN bring financial stability but also shape festival branding. UNESCO warns that such partnerships can risk diluting local authenticity in favor of a more globalized aesthetic. Festivals must navigate this tension carefully, balancing the financial support of global sponsors with the imperative to center local narratives and participants.

Nyege Nyege, Uganda���s avant-garde festival, exemplifies how festivals can navigate���and challenge���these tensions. By embracing experimental sounds like East African techno and gqom, Nyege Nyege redefines African authenticity as dynamic and evolving rather than fixed. Cofounder Derek Debru describes it as a space for ���freedom���to create, to experiment, to connect.��� However, the festival���s openness to queerness and unconventional performances has sparked backlash from Ugandan officials, with critics invoking colonial-era morality laws to denounce it. These laws, legacies of British colonial rule, highlight the contradictions of modernity: The very frameworks used to police identity are colonial impositions.

The 2018 controversy, where Uganda���s minister of ethics and integrity, Simon Lokodo, sought to ban Nyege Nyege, underscored the festival���s role as a space of resistance. Critics of the ban noted the irony of invoking ���Africanness��� to enforce colonial-era values, while the festival���s programming resisted essentialist views of African culture. As RA Magazine observes, Nyege Nyege���s blend of electronic innovation and traditional rhythms exemplifies Africa���s pluralistic cultural landscape, offering a model of authenticity grounded in creativity and diversity.

From bustling urban centers like Accra during Detty December to the serene natural settings of Uganda���s Nyege Nyege, these music festivals have turned cities into stages for cultural dialogue and celebration. Yet their impact is often fraught with contradictions, revealing the tensions between their lofty intentions and the realities of their execution.

Accra, for example, transforms into a cultural capital during December, drawing diasporic tourists who inject energy and economic activity into the city. Streets bustle with pop-up markets, Afrobeat sound systems, and vibrant displays of local artistry. But many reports highlight that much of the revenue generated by these festivals flows to external organizers and upscale venues, often leaving small-scale vendors and local artists marginalized. Events like Detty December contribute to the gentrification of neighborhoods, driving up rents and displacing local residents. This raises questions about who truly benefits from these events, especially as the commercialization of cultural spaces often prioritizes global consumption over local empowerment.

The case of Lagos���s Nativeland festival further exposes the fragility of such events when profits overshadow the well-being of participants. The collapse of its stage in 2024, narrowly avoiding catastrophe, was emblematic of broader systemic neglect. What if a globally recognized artist like Wizkid had been injured during the incident? Such a scenario would likely have provoked greater scrutiny and more compassionate responses from organizers. Instead, the festival���s tepid acknowledgment of the event underscored a lack of accountability and the risks faced by local communities when safety takes a backseat to commercial gain. Nativeland���s logistical failures and profit-driven motives reflect a broader shift away from the grassroots ethos that once defined these gatherings. When cultural spaces are reduced to commodities, they risk losing their transformative potential.

Historically, festivals like FESTAC in 1977 offered an alternative model. These events were grounded in collaboration between state actors and local communities, fostering cultural pride and solidarity. Unlike contemporary festivals that often rely on elite sponsorships, FESTAC prioritized community participation and state-led support, creating spaces where culture intersected with political empowerment.

Despite challenges, festivals retain the capacity to democratize cultural production and foster meaningful connections. By revisiting the collaborative ethos of their predecessors, contemporary festivals can bridge the gap between commerce and community. Investing in infrastructure, centering local stakeholders, and fostering equitable participation could ensure these vibrant cultural events remain true to their promise���platforms for African creativity that honor the communities they represent.

Indeed, not all is bleak. Flytime Fest in Lagos offers a different narrative. As Africa���s longest-running concert series, Flytime has consistently celebrated Nigerian music and culture since 2004. Its 2024 edition, headlined ��by Olamide, Davido, and Ayra Starr at the Eko Convention Center, marked 20 years of breaking barriers. By organizing Nigeria���s first-ever multi-day music festival and serving as a launchpad for both local and international acts, Flytime has set a standard for live entertainment in Africa. Similarly, festivals like WeLoveEya in Benin provide meaningful platforms for francophone artists, while East Africa���s Blankets and Wine continues to be a staple of regional cultural expression. FEMUA in C��te d���Ivoire use of proceeds to fund educational initiatives ��exemplifies how festivals can create lasting change. These examples highlight how festivals can combine commercial success with cultural celebration, fostering pride while creating opportunities for artists and audiences alike.

African music festivals have become platforms for imagining new cultural, economic, and political possibilities. At their best, these festivals could be reimagined as spaces where local communities are not only included but centered as the most vital stakeholders. This means moving beyond the mere commodification of culture for a global or diasporic audience and instead fostering partnerships that empower the artisans, performers, and vendors who give these festivals life. Locals must not only benefit economically but also shape the narratives and values that these events promote. For instance, infrastructure investments should prioritize safety and sustainability, addressing both the immediate risks to attendees and the broader need for long-term cultural preservation.

These festivals also have the potential to set a global standard for cultural integrity and inclusivity, challenging exploitative practices while celebrating Africa���s dynamic, multifaceted creativity. By redistributing power and profits toward those who form the backbone of these events, African music festivals could evolve into truly transformative institutions���spaces that celebrate both the innovation of contemporary African artistry and the enduring importance of collective memory and cultural heritage.

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As the final notes of Afrochella 2018 faded into the warm Accra night, I stood there, awash in pride and possibility. That night, I realized that African music festivals are not just events; they are movements. They tell the world that Africa���s cultural and artistic expressions are as diverse as its people, resonating with creativity and complexity

These festivals are spaces where Africa negotiates its past, asserts its present, and imagines its future. They remind us that music is more than entertainment���it is identity, history, and power. Reflecting on festivals like FESTAC and the Pan-African Festival of Algiers, it becomes clear that these gatherings were never just about music or art but about articulating a vision of African identity and sovereignty in a postcolonial world. They sought to reposition Africa as a cultural and intellectual leader, challenging global perceptions rooted in colonialism and celebrating the continent���s creativity as a force for solidarity and liberation.

Today, African culture occupies a more prominent place in the global imagination, but this visibility comes with new tensions. While artists like Rema, Tems and Tyla dominate international stages, and festivals like AfroFuture captivate diasporic audiences, questions of ownership, authenticity, and exploitation persist.

This reflection is also a critique of myself. Over the past nine years, I���ve spent eight Christmases and New Years on the continent, immersing myself in these festivals. I���ve reveled in their joy and creativity, but I���ve also taken up space. In demanding accountability from organizers, I must also examine my own participation. How can I demand more equitable practices while ensuring my presence contributes meaningfully rather than detracting from local communities? The challenge now is ensuring that these platforms remain faithful to their origins as spaces of reclamation and resistance. As they evolve, their organizers, audiences, and stakeholders must remain vigilant, ensuring that these soundscapes of identity remain movements that uplift and empower rather than exploit and commodify.

The politics of South African sound

From kwaito to amapiano, South African music is a bridge between past and present, where cultural memory, resistance, and reinvention collide on the dancefloor. [image error] Still from "Yebo Lapho (Gogo)" �� 2024.

When the Black youth of Soweto fomented a movement through laid-back yet infectious grooves, they did so on the heels of their predecessors��� bubblegum sound that had invigorated and roused many. Ditching its polished aspirational aesthetic for a bold streetwise edge, they fused South African bubblegum with rap, R&B, and house music, giving rise to the distinct sound of kwaito. Drawing on these multicultural influences, the kwaito generation ignited a movement that transcended music.

With a sonic imperative to capture the post-apartheid atmosphere of abandon and release, kwaito became a cultural statement���a radical declaration of agency and self-determination. Born of varied influences, the kwaito youth sought to carve a unique identity. Though seeking to dissociate themselves from the agony and struggle that marked the previous generation���s music, they did not shy away from revitalizing past milestones. Through sampling and interpolation, they wove past and present into a sonic and visual tapestry, breathing new life into aesthetics while preserving their timeless essence.

As the fulcrum bridging past and present, kwaito has remained a steadfast cultural influence on South Africa���s musical landscape. With shared township origins, the smooth mid-tempo sound of amapiano traces its roots to that culture, with its own fusion of jazz, deep house, and kwaito. Through the alchemy of sound and story, contemporary artists act as cultural archivists in motion. Like their predecessors, they blend amapiano with historical cultural symbols, creating a hybrid that pays homage to the past while pushing the culture forward.

Part of a broad movement, contemporary artists reclaim and reimagine historic storytelling motifs to fit their own narratives. Artists like Focalistic, embodying a full-throated reclamation of street culture reimagined through a modern lens, carry the legacy of township culture into new musical frontiers. His tagline, ���Ase trap tse ke pina tsa ko kasi��� (This is not trap, these are songs from the township), firmly anchors his artistry in its local roots even while it resonates globally. In remixing his groundbreaking hit ���Ke Star��� with Nigerian musician Davido, he pushed creative limits while remaining faithful to the song���s origins through blending township dance rhythms with the expressive power of Sepitori. Figures like DBN Gogo capture the past by weaving retro aesthetics into their creative identity, evoking a powerful sense of nostalgia. In striking contrast to her collaborators, in music videos like ���Balimele,��� she curates a space for retro reinvention, not only recalling the golden eras of South African pop but also creating a poetic contrast with the contemporary streetwear culture. Past and present come together effortlessly in a single frame. Similarly, Felo Le Tee masterfully honors this tradition of archival referencing with a compelling visual narrative on ���Yebo Lapho (Gogo).���

���Yebo Lapho (Gogo)��� intricately weaves a visual tapestry of South African musical culture. Using clothing as an aesthetic device, the video reveals inspired styling that seamlessly transports us through history. In a dynamic interplay of past and present, loose-fitting shirts and pants adorned with vibrant colors and patterns emerge from the bustling energy of a taxi rank���a thread intertwining a unique experience of Black life with the bold streetwear style of the 1980s. As Scotts Maphuma waxes lyrical to entice ���eye candy��� with the lure of big bucks, the bold signature patterns of a Dice shirt are reimagined, reviving its legacy and restoring its timeless cool. The camera lingers on a Carvela shoe, reinforcing its cultural significance. Through the youthful movement of Izikhothane, its resonance in pop culture was renewed as a statement of identity, rebellion, and self-expression. Neatly tying up the theme, syncopated shots capture amapantsula, decked in their usual vibrant pants, Converse All-Stars, and signature bucket hats, give way to contemporary dancers who redefine cool with amapiano moves.

[image error]Still from “Yebo Lapho (Gogo)” �� 2024.

In another scene, the entourage revives Sophiatown sophistication, donning tailored coats paired with the trademark flat cap. Rooted in the 1950s tradition of cultural resistance that reimagined the Victorian aesthetic with township flair, here Scotts delivers a defiant speech. Flanked by protesters, the scene largely unfolds before a colonial-style building. Serving as broader commentary, this makes a powerful metaphorical statement. The scene���s protest elements seamlessly merge the essence of the style���expression, resistance, defiance���to the era from which it emerged. Beyond its historically inspired styling, it reclaims the very narrative that shaped this mode of dress. Here are Black men, blending creativity, ambition, and rebellion in their quest for recognition, standing on the other side of the defiance that challenged the oppressive conditions.

Layering the visual narrative with added texture and context, the music video cleverly incorporates scenes that resemble a live television broadcast. Styled with a logo that echoes the familiar branding of the national broadcaster SABC 1, Felo Le Tee curates his own channel���Felo TV, evoking a sense of nostalgia. SABC 1, a crucial cultural force driven by a mission to reshape narratives on Blackness, popularized kwaito music and township-based storytelling. It portrayed Black people in upwardly mobile and empowering roles. Reflecting kwaito���s aspirational impulse, the channel gave a glimpse into the possibilities of an imagined future���gradually unfolding, within grasp. Much like De Mthuda���s sonic and visual tribute to the iconic 1980s sitcom Sgudi Snaysi, Felo Le Tee���s invocation serves as a cultural capsule, a vessel of memory and identity. It is a poetic reclamation that places Felo Le Tee at the helm of his own channel, envisioning a history yet be written.

Conversely, this historical rewrite serves as a subversive reimagining of the channel���s legacy from a bygone era, when curated cultural experiences like Live and Yo TV were communal rituals���shaping taste, style, and identity���and Black music, leading the charge, was championed with institutional support and visibility. It is a nostalgic return to the golden years. But the conclusion offers a sobering contrast, pulling us back to the present, where a carefully stitched montage of the song���s viral dance floods social media, and what was once shared intimacy is now splintered into algorithmic solitude.

Reviving, reshaping, and propelling the culture forward, contemporary artists do the vital work of preserving the aesthetics and heritage of a past that, though it lies beyond our current moment, thrums beneath the surface of contemporary culture. Through their invocations, the past is honored, kept vividly alive and endlessly resonant. At its most sincere, the work of reclaiming old art bridges time and memory, reconciling identity and belonging. As a progenitor of amapiano, kwaito continues to hold relevance in the cultural zeitgeist. Its essence reverberates across various subcultures, its legacy revived and restored. Yet its powerful resonance in the mainstream, often fueling bursts of collective nostalgia, sees a steady stream of generic remakes. Stripped of context and emptied of meaning, artists draw from rich cultural symbols not as homage but as aesthetic shortcuts aimed at mass appeal. Still, the presence of custodians like Thebe, DJ Mahoota, and Thandiswa Mazwai in the mainstream anchors kwaito in its cultural roots, even as it evolves within new musical landscapes. Coming full circle in poetic fashion, the past is once more woven seamlessly into the present.

Imperial belonging and the weaponization of the sea

The legacy of France���s colonial violence in the Indian Ocean is one stone that contemporary mainstream media tends to leave unturned. Mayotte, 2008. Image credit Colin Houston via Flickr CC BY 2.0.

On March 13, 2009, Comorian artist and writer Soeuf Elbadawi collaborated with his theater troupe, O* Mcezo, to stage a performance based on the traditional form of punishment called gungu. During gungu spectacles, individuals accused of a crime or social transgression were paraded through town streets. In this iteration of the gungu la mcezo, Elbadawi played the role of the accused, smearing his body with chalky white paint to transform himself into an embodiment of France. The performance came at a critical juncture in the more than 150-year-long colonial relationship between France and the Comorian archipelago, as just a few weeks later, the island of Mayotte would be poised to vote for departmentalization, further ensconcing itself within the imperial fold.

In choosing the boisterous and confrontational gungu display, Elbadawi and O* Mcezo counterbalanced the elaborately constructed silences and fictions that have justified France���s retention of Mayotte since the 1974 independence referendum. As the architect of this continued relationship, it has deployed a range of strategies, from leveraging its position on the UN Security Council to stymie a referendum on its occupation of Mayotte, to censuring Elbadawi for his 2009 performance. Simmering beneath the surface of this neocolonial veneer are the histories and afterlives of colonial enslavement, extraction, and immobility that France has papered over with contemporary narratives of benevolent paternalism, xenophobia, and (ever-deferred) prosperity.

Before the intensification of European colonial intervention in the Indian Ocean in the 19th century, the Comorian archipelago, which is situated between East Africa and Madagascar, was a pivotal point of connection for both trade and religious networks. It was also an important source and destination for enslaved labor in the centuries-long Indian Ocean slave trade. Recognizing the strategic importance of these well-placed islands within the broader geographic landscape, Britain and France jockeyed for influence over the Comoros, gradually making inroads with local sultans. The balance would eventually tip in France���s favor with the annexation of Mayotte in 1841, which launched 70 years of conquest that culminated with the colonization of all four islands in 1912.

In the intervening century between France���s colonization of the Comoros and the unprecedented disaster of Cyclone Chido in December 2024, the islands occupied a rather obscure position within the public consciousness in the Global North. However, Chido, which was the most devastating tropical storm to strike Mayotte since the beginning of the 20th century, has begun to unravel French colonial logic on the global stage. And while this long historical thread has started to fray, news outlets in the US and Europe continue to uncritically reproduce gaping contextual lacunae that perpetuate the suppression of Comorian history and perspectives.

The nature of French colonialism in the Indian Ocean is one stone that contemporary mainstream media tends to leave unturned. French colonial activity in the region was propelled in part by the devastating loss of Haiti and Mauritius���s astoundingly productive sugar economies at the beginning of the 19th century at the hands of the Haitian Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars. As its rivals Britain and Germany succeeded in conquering East Africa���s islands, coastlines, and hinterlands, France became increasingly determined to secure a foothold in the Comoros���and more importantly Madagascar���to start up new cash crop plantations and conscript indigenous populations into coercive labor regimes. Securing a foothold on these islands also meant maintaining a strategic military and naval presence across the vast oceanic space between Africa and Asia, a positioning that has only become more important to France since the era of decolonization.

Since the three sovereign islands declared their independence in 1975, France has ceaselessly intervened in Comorian attempts at self-determination in a series of hostile, neocolonial acts. These interventions came in the form of the annexation of Mayotte, as well as the numerous coup d���etat that it mounted in the independent Comoros. These actions worked in lockstep to paint the Comorians who chose independence as the irredeemably backward and ungovernable inhabitants of ���the coup-coup islands��� and those who chose to stay part of France ���as French as the Dordogne or the Somme.���

R��mi Carayol, in his 2024 book, Mayotte: d��partement coloniale, demonstrates just how sedimented Mayotte���s colonial status is in the French public memory and imagination. Mayotte, he argues, is attached to the metropole ���by an invisible, umbilical cord��� that materializes and immortalizes the maritime border between the island and the Comoros. This imposition of colonial time and space leaves us suspended in the reality that France has made and renders us liable to believing the oft-repeated adage that Mayotte was French ���before Nice and Savoy.���

The facile perpetuation of these narratives sublimates the true intention of French imperial expansion in the Indian Ocean, which was not animated by a well-meaning desire to extend the benefits of French citizenship to Africans. Moreover, colonial subjects were far from oblivious to France���s exploitative ambitions. Although present-day rhetoric attempts to justify France���s presence in Mayotte by repeatedly citing Mahorais public opinion, many of the island���s 19th-century inhabitants did not gratefully accept the new colonial order that had arrived on their shores, suggesting that Mahorais��� contemporary allegiance to France���and consequent embrace of far-right politics���does not reflect a stable tradition over time. Rather, the colonial archive is rife with numerous examples of Comorian resistance to French rule and the labor abuses that it engendered. In 1856, laborers in Mayotte deserted Grand Terre���s sugar plantations in a month-long revolt that ended with France���s execution of the rebel leaders. In the ensuing decades, protests against the violence of engagisme, or indenture, on Grande Comore also threw the colony into disarray, as administrators struggled to contain workers��� agitations.

The specter of colonial violence continued to loom over the course of the 20th century when anticolonial activists in Mayotte were forced to flee the island by a campaign that laid the groundwork for the eventual rejection of the 1974 referendum. The threat and reality of corporeal harm has stretched into the present day, as Comorian migrants continue to make the dangerous journey by boat across the Mozambique Channel. The militarized enforcement of this maritime border attempts to naturalize notions of ethnic and cultural differences between Comorians and Mahorais, who share undeniable linguistic, cultural, and religious heritage. It also weaponizes the sea, which was a site of connectivity in the centuries before European colonialism, facilitating the sustenance of economic, social, and familial ties throughout the western Indian Ocean.

By severing these historical truths from the public consciousness, France engages in a process of racialized disengagement that Martinican theorist Frantz Fanon described in his monumental text, Black Skin, White Masks. Fanon describes this phenomenon on the scale of the individual, writing that the construction of the self is an intrinsically relational process, in which the ���elaboration of the body schema��� occurs ���in a spatial and temporal world��� wherein the self reaches outward, enacting a process of actualization that is mediated through quotidian interactions with people and objects. For black subjects, this process is interceded by whiteness and coloniality, which ���fixes��� them in space and time as a ���Negro��� and arrests their development into full personhood.

Each act of French neocolonial meddling echoes the process by which whiteness ���[cuts] sections of���reality��� and scaffolds the discursive conditions in which a pervasive colonial aporia can thrive. Fanonian thought also provides speculative insights into the underexamined psychology of the Mahorais who advocate so vociferously for French rule and make no secret of their racist disdain for their Comorian counterparts. While Euro-American media outlets tend to liken Mayotte���s migration crisis to those unfolding in the Global North, doing so belies how the colonial encounter on the Comorian archipelago ���disrupted the psychological horizon and mechanisms,��� re-working the extant racial order such that ���not only must the black man be black; he must be black in relation to the white man.��� The strange alchemy of this new racial hierarchy and the promise of belonging under the banner of French republicanism has produced a convoluted and counterintuitive logic: freedom means tightening the ties that bind Mayotte to France and equality means that the Mahorais���who are already treated as second-class citizens���are more deserving than Comorian migrants of the socioeconomic benefits of imperial belonging.

Elbadawi and O* Mcezo take an axe to this reality and its attendant fictions by staging an imagined relationality with France, gesturing subtly to Fanon. Performance and play become a potent means of prefiguring a world in which Comorians, and other victims of colonial incursions, can take imperial powers to task. Conceptions of selfhood also come to the fore over the course of this performance, which O* Mcezo tinkered with and brought to multiple towns in the Comoros. As a form of extralegal justice, gungu is inextricable from the rigid social boundaries of the slaving society in which it was practiced. The custom of binding the accused bears clear visual allusions to enslavement. And while slavery casts shame and social death onto its victims, it also forces proximity and relationality, thrusting freedom into direct relief with unfreedom. Like a cyclone, dissident art practices on the archipelago contain the potential energy to unsettle that which appears stable, to turn reality on its head, and to push the truth into the field of view of those who refuse to bear witness.

Good revolutions talk back

As political discontent rises in Kenya, silencing women���s and queer rights in the pursuit of economic justice risks compromising the movement entirely.

End Finance Bill protests in Nairobi 2024. Photo by Hassan Kibwana on Unsplash.

In June 2024, Kenya bore witness to a historic uprising���a rebellion sparked by austerity measures in a bill imposing heavy taxes on essential items like menstrual products and cancer treatment services. Dubbed the ���Gen Z protests,��� the movement encapsulated a generation’s frustration with a system intent on prioritizing debt repayment over public welfare. Since the protests, the revolutionary spirit among Kenyans has persisted, as the urgency of “Ruto Must Go!” remains paramount. Kenyans understand that the struggle is not merely against taxation but against a government that aims to decapitate any funding for development, leaving the citizens to bear the burden of a debt they did not incur. Yet, within the political uprising, the specter of misogyny and homophobia loomed large, exposing the ugly underbelly of the movement���s loudest voices.

In November 2024, Busia Senator Okiya Omtatah, a vocal critic of the Ruto administration and prominent figure in the people���s struggle, announced his presidential candidacy for 2027���a moment that sparked hope among Kenyans who envision a future of development guided by anti-imperialism. Still, in celebrating this potential for a new Kenya, some voices rose to demand clarity on Omtatah���s manifesto, specifically his plans to address pressing issues such as gender-based violence. While many supporters championed Omtatah���s commitment to constitutionalism, others, eager for a savior, were quick to dismiss the critical inquiries, seemingly stemming from the worry that probing too deeply into the ideas of a promising leader might expose flaws that could jeopardize prospects for change.

The conversation surrounding gender justice in Kenya often dismisses the necessity of addressing women���s concerns, framing them as distractions from broader economic issues���that women should not expect special consideration, and insisting that their fight for economic freedom aligns seamlessly with the collective struggle. There���s a tendency to distill the intricate dynamics of oppression into a singular narrative of patriarchy while accusing calls to address the gender-sexuality question as mere liberal navel-gazing. In a landscape where integrity feels scarce, the reluctance to confront uncomfortable questions reveals the complexities of accountability in the pursuit of a long-awaited revolution.

Thus, a critical dialogue emerged within the organizing, particularly among women and queer Kenyans who noticed the bigoted tones with which social issues are discussed and who resisted simplistic interpretations of their struggles. Many asserted that they could not rally alongside individuals who were complicit in their dehumanization. Still, even among the most ardent figures of the uprising, there remains a prevailing belief that economic justice must take precedence, as it stands as the foremost oppressor uniting the Kenyan working class. But for people who have faced the worst of gender-based violence at the intersection of economic injustice, the question was left unanswered: after the revolution, where will all the misogynists go? This concern is not unfounded, as revolutions that fail to address foundational issues of oppression allow old hierarchies to re-emerge under new banners.

The prevailing argument is that economic justice should be prioritized over gender justice since the fight against capitalism and imperialism lays the groundwork for eradicating the gender oppression that thrives within these systems. While the assertion that these issues are facets of the greater class struggle is correct, it neglects the elephant in the room: can we truly trust that a new government, even one borne from revolutionary fervor, will not perpetuate the very discrimination it aims to dismantle? How can we have confidence in a future socialist society that will idealistically punish bigotry but somehow condone it in its organizing? Complacency in the face of oppression is a dangerous gamble. Social justice can only be a distraction from resistance work in which gender-based violence is interwoven.

In How Europe Underdeveloped Africa, Guyanese Pan-African activist Walter Rodney articulates that ���Development is a many-sided process.��� Economic reductionism, in the name of revolutionary praxis, is ultimately regressive and dilutes the efficacy of the movement. As contradictions sharpen, so must our organizing. Critical dialogue is not only vital for cultivating a movement that truly reflects the principles of working-class revolution, but also for unearthing those who harbor anger not at oppression itself, but at the fact that the power to oppress remains out of their reach. In interrogating our ideological positions, we must create a culture where rigorous self-reflection strengthens our unity rather than stifles it. By doing so, we can build a movement that is both enduring and unyielding. How can we expect to mature as a nation if citizens are discouraged from voicing their concerns to spare leaders from discomfort? Ironically, those challenging Omtatah with tough questions demonstrate greater faith in the strength of his campaign than those who seek to shield him from accountability.

The oversimplification inherent in reducing complex social phenomena primarily to economic factors can culminate in those with limited knowledge beyond economics becoming dominant voices in our organizing. To succeed, we need leaders who grasp the interconnectedness of diverse struggles within the overarching class struggle. A culture that prioritizes silence and complacency only creates fertile ground for discrimination, effectively doing the oppressive work of the state. Liberation work is often characterized by bold, difficult undertakings; thus, deferring concerns by women and queer people isolates a cause that will only thrive in solidarity, leaving space for corrupt regimes to use economic crises as an excuse to justify marginalization and suppression of dissent (which they have done!). Revolutions require us to engage in discussions, as these can become the tipping point for the solidarity necessitated by resistance. Stifling dissent under the guise of revolutionary discipline is contrary to the spirit of liberation. Embracing the multidimensionality of our class struggle by platforming those who have long worked at the intersection of these issues���through party organizing, coalition-building, and consciousness-raising���can only serve the greater good. As we engage with leaders like Okiya Omtatah, we must pose pointed questions regarding their plans for the gender-sexuality question. If faults in a political candidate���s strategy are exposed, we can better assess their capability to lead a pro-people government. If they cannot address the gaps, their campaign lacks stability and is likely to falter under scrutiny, let alone withstand corrupt opposition.

If Omtatah aspires to forge a new Kenya, the need for a robust framework for inviting and addressing public concerns is pressing. This begins with assembling a team that recognizes the urgency of a multifaceted strategy for reclaiming political power. It is critical to affirm his position through the perspectives of his team members, including Omtatah���s campaign committee chair, Mary Kathomi Riungu, who has repeatedly stated that ���LGBTQ+ rights are a well-funded [Western] agenda in Africa������a sentiment that informs her skewed interpretation of anti-imperialism work. Our greatest error would be to rally behind a messianic leader without understanding their political philosophy, settling for vague assurances of constitutionalism without concrete details or clarity on who will help shape these policies. The most effective liberation movements foster accountability in their pursuits.

Moreover, Omtatah has positioned himself at a disconcerting intersection, affiliated with both the Kenya Christian Professional Forum (KCPF), a Christofascist organization that has consistently upheld patriarchal values that subjugate women and queer people, and the National Coordination Committee of the People’s Assembly (NCCPA), a subdivision of the Communist Party of Marxist-Kenya (CPM-K). The concern that a leader who straddles such opposing camps may carry conflicting philosophies into governance is a sound assessment shared by many seeking clarity. Scrutinizing the inconsistencies in potential leaders before they assume power is essential to avoid the pitfalls of ideological dilution.

As articulated by Bissau-Guinean anti-colonial visionary Am��lcar Cabral in his speech Weapon of Theory, ������nobody has yet made a successful revolution without a revolutionary theory���. Pragmatic solutions and ideological integrity are not opposing forces; rather, they are intricately linked, with ideology providing the foundational principles that inform direct action in the long run. While Omtatah has a notable history of standing against state oppression, Kenyans are justified in demanding more than a track record. At the core of our organizing lies the fundamental question of ideology. Relying solely on credentials can be deceptive, particularly when considering the history of leaders who have risen to power through pro-people campaigns only to align themselves with imperialist agendas���starting with Kenya’s first president, Jomo Kenyatta.

Economic exploitation, social injustice, and political disenfranchisement are not isolated entities; they are mutually reinforcing. Those who feel that homophobia and misogyny are a ���non-issue��� are regurgitating the state���s talking points and aligning themselves with the very actors they claim to oppose. The same corrupt policing systems that surveil, abduct, and wrongfully imprison working-class Kenyans also perpetrate violence and murder against women and queer people. These issues are inextricably linked, so we cannot solve for x without solving for y. The resistance must comprehensively demand accountability; otherwise, we leave gaps for bigots to move with impunity, and we risk forming a front too fractured to succeed.

The crisis of African liberators

As Mozambique nears 50 years of independence, its ruling party clings to power amid political turmoil, contested elections, and growing public discontent. Is this the beginning of a new struggle for liberation?

Police barricade during a demonstration on the corner of Eduardo Mondlane and Am��lcar Cabral avenues in Maputo, two of the main leaders of former Portuguese African colonies�� independence. November 7th, 2024. Image �� Marilio Wane.

Leia em portugu��s��aqui.

On the eve of celebrating the 50th anniversary of its independence on June 25, 1975, Mozambique is going through a political and human rights crisis that is unprecedented in its young history as a nation. The anniversary coincides with the that of other former Portuguese colonies in Africa���Angola, Cape Verde, Guinea-Bissau (which became independent in 1973), and S��o Tom�� and Pr��ncipe (which became independent in 1975)���since the historical liberation processes took place in parallel and articulated fashion, in the face of the struggle against a common enemy. This synchronicity prompts a series of reflections on the countries��� experiences over the last five decades. Objectively, the assessment is not positive, given that these countries are among the world���s most impoverished nations, as shown by various social and economic indicators. In addition, these countries are afflicted by acute political crises marked by their populations��� weariness with the vicissitudes of the current regimes, especially in Mozambique, whose case is paradigmatic of an even greater problem on the continent.

In the wake of the major geopolitical transformations taking place in the main centers of global power, political movements have emerged on the African continent that challenge the regimes installed after independence. Many characterize these as struggles for a ���second independence,��� in the sense that the movements for liberation from the European colonial yoke, which began in the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s, became distorted over time, degenerating into oppressive and authoritarian regimes. This has led to a crisis of representation based on the widespread perception that African political elites have hijacked their respective state apparatuses to satisfy private interests and keep themselves in power. Even more aggravating is the idea that these elites have allied themselves with their former European colonizers, as well as with other foreign players, becoming the local counterpart to a logic of neocolonial domination.��

Certainly, the most eloquent example of this phenomenon is the case of the Alliance of Sahel States (AES), a recently founded mutual defense pact between the countries of Mali, Niger, and Burkina Faso. This is a coordinated action with the manifest aim of eliminating French influence in the region, resulting from colonialism and previously abetted by the local political elites, who were deposed by military coups. To this end, the leaders of the movement expelled French military bases (and even embassies, in some cases) and redirected dividends from the exploitation of mineral resources to the respective national treasuries. Even more emblematic of the movement���s aims was its unilateral decision to leave ECOWAS, the regional cooperation bloc, on the grounds that it was an organization manipulated by the West under the leadership of Nigeria.

Across the continent, emerging movements challenge the status quo, characterized by demands for emancipation, participation, and greater social inclusion. Each in its own way, these movements express new correlations of forces resulting from their internal and regional social dynamics in interaction with broader geopolitical transformations. As a result, their success or failure will depend on factors such as the solidity of institutions, the degree of organization of civil society, and above all, how the regimes in power will react to a whole set of relatively unprecedented situations in African countries since their independence. Let���s see how the current political crisis in Mozambique fits into this context.

From controversial elections to a ���parallel government���

Since the results of the general elections on October 9 were announced, a wave of demonstrations and civil protests has swept Mozambique, challenging what is seen as electoral fraud in favor of the Frelimo party, which has been in power since independence. On October 24, the electoral bodies gave victory to Daniel Chapo, the ruling candidate, with 70.61 percent of the votes, against 20.37 percent for the runner-up, Ven��ncio Mondlane, supported by the newly created Podemos party. However, the electoral process was marred by numerous allegations of irregularities, from the registration process to the voting itself. In fact, since the first multiparty elections in 1994, accusations of fraud have been recurrent and widely documented, with the determining factor being the fact that Frelimo has almost absolute control over state institutions, including the electoral and judicial bodies. However, this time, due to the sheer volume of accusations, the challenge came not only from the opposition but also from various sectors of civil society and even the international community (especially the European Union).

The fact is that after the official announcement of the results, the main opposition candidate called on the population to demonstrate in protest and obtained great support for his cause, above all because of widespread dissatisfaction with deteriorating living conditions in the country. The brutal murders of Elvino Dias and Paulo Guambe, activists from the Podemos party, which took place in circumstances that have yet to be clarified, further aggravated public indignation. Against this backdrop and having been harshly and disproportionately repressed by the authorities, the demonstrations escalated from marches in the streets to more drastic actions. Over the last three months, the country has witnessed episodes of genuine popular revolt and civil disobedience, such as the interruption of access routes, activities at ports, airports, and borders, and the destruction of infrastructure (especially police stations and headquarters of the ruling party), leaving the country in a state of anomie bordering on ungovernability.������

Tensions peaked in the last week of 2024 after the Constitutional Council validated the election results, which were widely contested at various levels. During this phase of the demonstrations, acts of popular revolt increased and police repression intensified, to the point that civil society organizations filed accusations against security authorities to international bodies on the grounds of serious human rights violations and crimes against humanity. As 2025 began, with the expected confirmation of Frelimo���s victory, the inauguration ceremony for the new president was also marked by strong popular protests and disproportionate police repression, resulting in arrests and even deaths.��

At the inauguration, public participation was isolated and suppressed, supposedly for security reasons. From a symbolic point of view, the ceremony epitomized the notorious disconnection between the once liberating party and Mozambican society. By contrast, Ven��ncio Mondlane���s triumphant return to the country the week before was greeted with popular acclaim in the streets of the country���s capital. Since October, Mondlane had gone into self-exile, allegedly for his own safety. It was from his exile that the officially defeated candidate called for and organized the demonstrations, which included work stoppages and, especially, the nonpayment of road fares, among other actions. Many demonstrations led to violence and various tensions, generating an atmosphere of generalized confusion for which both parties were blamed. Controversies aside, the fact is that the demonstrations called for by the opposition gained massive popular support, in visible contrast to the officially established authority of the regime.

Taking advantage of the vacuum in the popularity of the sworn-in president, Mondlane proclaimed himself President of the Republic via social networks, from ���where��� he does most of his mobilization work. This communication strategy has been one of the main factors behind his popular support, especially among the huge youth population, plagued by unemployment, absolute poverty, violence, and low expectations for the future. In fact, as various Mozambican social analysts have said, these are the fundamental causes of popular discontent, with the electoral crisis appearing as the tip of the iceberg of deeper problems. In this sense, various sectors of society have called for an initiative to promote an inclusive dialogue between the new government and the opposition, which has not happened, thus postponing a solution to the crisis.

It is precisely through social media that Mondlane has instituted a kind of ���parallel government,��� issuing ���presidential decrees��� based on agendas that are widely supported by a large part of the population and, on the other hand, contradict the government���s decisions and policies. This situation of ambiguity has resulted in several episodes of social tension that are expected to worsen over the next few years, with no prospect of reduction and a high risk of growing out of control and becoming violent, as has already been observed. According to data published by the Decide Electoral Platform (a civil society organization that has been monitoring the latest electoral processes), 353 deaths have been recorded since the demonstrations began in October, with the majority, 91 percent, being lethal shootings by the police. According to the organization, if this situation of ���two governments��� continues, the tendency is for social unrest to increase, leading to more deaths and violent clashes.

Problems and solutions in the neighborhood

The environment of uncertainty in Mozambique is paradigmatic of a broader context on the continent, namely, contestation against political regimes that were consolidated decades ago, after the dawn of African independence. At a regional level, the prompt support provided by Frelimo���s closest historical allies, such as the ANC (South Africa), MPLA (Angola), ZANU-PF (Zimbabwe), and Chama Cha Mapinduzi (Tanzania), who recognized the electoral victory of their ���comrades��� even before the final official validation, is quite symptomatic. It���s no coincidence that some of these countries are facing similar problems at home: In last year���s elections, Nelson Mandela���s historic ANC was forced to form a government of ���national unity��� with the Democratic Alliance (DA), the party that represents the white segment of the population; this situation stems from the growing unpopularity of the party that fought apartheid and has ruled the country since 1994. In Angola, meanwhile, there is enormous concern on the part of the regime about the potential contamination effect that the situation in Mozambique could generate locally, given the parallels between the two countries��� histories.

As a counterpoint, Botswana held elections that put an end to 58 years of rule by the BDP party, which had been in power since its independence in 1966. This case attracted attention precisely because it was a point outside the curve, in which the transition took place smoothly. This perhaps reflects the fact that Botswana is recognized as one of the most prosperous countries in Africa, registering positive economic growth rates and good positions in the HDI ranking by the continent���s standards. Despite being a country of little strategic relevance in the region, Botswana���s example holds important lessons for its neighbors, especially from the point of view of political stability and socioeconomic development.

Finally, for Mozambique and its counterparts in the PALOP (Portuguese-speaking African countries), the 50th anniversary of independence could serve as a moment of reflection that provides useful lessons for overcoming the difficult living conditions to which the overwhelming majority of their inhabitants are subjected. In the cases of Mozambique and Angola, one-party systems survived the establishment of liberal democracy, resulting in a kind of ���multipartyism without democracy,��� in which almost absolute control over all institutions and spheres of public life persists. As the Mozambican case suggests, the excessive concentration of power on the part of the liberation parties and movements, whose legitimacy is anchored in past anticolonial struggles, can become the main factor of instability and an obstacle to development. As a result, the various protest movements all over the continent point to internal solutions in the form of strengthening civil society and mechanisms aimed at greater inclusion of various actors and sectors of society in decision-making processes. Only in this way will everyone be able to truly participate in the celebrations of the 50th anniversary of independence.

A crise dos libertadores Africanos

�� medida que Mo��ambique se aproxima dos 50 anos de independ��ncia, seu partido no poder se agarra ao poder em meio �� turbul��ncia pol��tica, elei����es contestadas e crescente descontentamento p��blico. Ser�� este o in��cio de uma nova luta pela liberta����o? Manifesta����o popular em avenida movimentada da zona central da capital do pa��s, com entoa����o do hino nacional e agita����o de bandeiras. Maputo, 22 de Novembro de 2024. Foto �� Mar��lio Wane.

Read in English here.

��s v��speras de celebrar os 50 anos de independ��ncia conquistada em 25 de junho de 1975, Mo��ambique passa por uma crise pol��tica e de direitos humanos sem precedentes na sua jovem trajet��ria como na����o. A efem��ride traz uma carga simb��lica ainda maior devido �� coincid��ncia temporal com as outras ex-col��nias portuguesas em ��frica���Angola, Cabo Verde, Guin��-Bissau (tornada independente em 1973) e S��o Tom�� e Pr��ncipe���uma vez que os processos hist��ricos de liberta����o decorreram de forma paralela e articulada, diante da luta contra um inimigo comum. Da�� que tal sincronicidade vem suscitar todo um conjunto de reflex��es sobre aquilo que tem sido a sua experi��ncia vivida ao longo destas cinco d��cadas. Objetivamente, a avalia����o n��o poder�� ser das melhores, visto que estes pa��ses pertencem ao grupo das na����es mais empobrecidas do mundo, como mostram diversos indicadores sociais e econ��micos. Al��m disso, o momento coincide com agudas crises pol��ticas marcadas pelo cansa��o da popula����o com as vicissitudes dos regimes vigentes, especialmente em Mo��ambique, cujo caso �� paradigm��tico da crise de uma problem��tica ainda maior ao n��vel do continente.��

Na esteira das grandes transforma����es geopol��ticas que se verificam nos principais centros de poder global, observam-se tamb��m, no continente africano, movimenta����es pol��ticas cujo denominador comum reside na contesta����o dos regimes instalados ap��s as independ��ncias. Trata-se do que muitos caracterizam como lutas por uma esp��cie de ���segunda independ��ncia���, no sentido de que os movimentos de liberta����o do jugo colonial europeu, desencadeados a partir das d��cadas de 1950, 1960 e 1970, desvirtuaram-se ao longo do tempo, degenerando em regimes opressores e autorit��rios. Da�� decorre uma crise de representatividade, baseada na percep����o, bastante difundida, de que as elites pol��ticas africanas sequestraram os seus respetivos aparelhos de estado para a satisfa����o de interesses privados e, concomitantemente, para a sua manuten����o no poder. Ainda mais agravante �� a ideia de que tais elites aliaram-se aos seus antigos colonizadores europeus, bem como a outros players estrangeiros, tornando-se a contraparte local de uma l��gica de domina����o neocolonialista.��

Certamente, o exemplo mais eloquente deste fen��meno seja o caso de Mali, N��ger e Burkina Faso, que recentemente fundaram a Alian��a dos Estados do Sahel, como pacto de defesa m��tua entre estes pa��ses. Como pano de fundo, trata-se de uma a����o coordenada com o objetivo manifesto de eliminar a influ��ncia francesa resultante do colonialismo na regi��o e anteriormente viabilizada pelas elites pol��ticas locais, depostas por golpes militares. Neste sentido, foram tomadas a����es concretas como a expuls��o de bases militares francesas (e at�� mesmo embaixadas, em alguns casos) e a revers��o dos dividendos da explora����o de recursos minerais para os respetivos tesouros nacionais. Ainda mais emblem��tica dos prop��sitos deste movimento foi a sua decis��o unilateral de abandonar a CEDEAO, o bloco de coopera����o regional, sob a acusa����o de que esta seria uma organiza����o manipulada pelo Ocidente, sob a lideran��a da Nig��ria.��

Enfim, em diversos pa��ses e regi��es do continente, surgem movimentos de contesta����o do status quo caracterizados por demandas de emancipa����o, participa����o e maior inclus��o social. Cada qual �� sua maneira, estes movimentos expressam novas correla����es de for��as resultantes das suas din��micas sociais internas e regionais, em intera����o com as transforma����es geopol��ticas mais abrangentes. Como resultado, o seu sucesso ou fracasso depender�� de fatores como a solidez das institui����es, o grau de organiza����o da sociedade civil e, sobretudo, da natureza da rea����o dos regimes vigentes em rela����o a todo um conjunto de situa����es relativamente in��ditas em pa��ses africanos desde as suas independ��ncias. Vejamos, ent��o, como o caso da atual crise pol��tica em Mo��ambique se enquadra neste contexto.

De elei����es controversas a um ���governo paralelo���

Desde a divulga����o dos resultados das elei����es gerais de 9 de Outubro ��ltimo, uma onda de manifesta����es e protestos civis tomaram conta do pa��s, em contesta����o ao que se considera como uma fraude eleitoral a favor do partido Frelimo, no poder desde a independ��ncia. No dia 24 de Outubro, os ��rg��os eleitorais deram a vit��ria a Daniel Chapo, o candidato da situa����o, com 70.61% dos votos, contra 20,37% do segundo colocado, Ven��ncio Mondlane, apoiado pelo rec��m-criado partido Podemos. Entretanto, o processo eleitoral foi marcado por um in��meras den��ncias de irregularidades, desde o processo de recenseamento e, mais ainda, durante a vota����o propriamente dita. Na realidade, desde as primeiras elei����es multipartid��rias de 1994, as acusa����es de fraude tem sido recorrentes e fartamente documentadas, tendo como fator determinante o fato de a Frelimo deter controle quase que absoluto sobre as institui����es do Estado, incluindo os pr��prios ��rg��os eleitorais e judici��rios. Ocorre que desta vez, devido ao grande volume de den��ncias, a contesta����o n��o partiu apenas da oposi����o, mas tamb��m de diversos setores da sociedade civil e at�� mesmo da comunidade internacional (especialmente, da Uni��o Europeia).

Fato �� que, ap��s a divulga����o oficial dos resultados, o principal candidato da oposi����o convocou a popula����o a se manifestar em protesto, obtendo grande ades��o �� sua causa, sobretudo por conta da not��ria insatisfa����o popular com a crescente deteriora����o das condi����es de vida no pa��s.Ainda no contexto eleitoral, os n��veis de indigna����o foram agravados por conta do assassinato brutal de Elvino Dias e Paulo Guambe, ativistas do partido Podemos, ocorrido em circunst��ncias ainda n��o esclarecidas. Sobre este pano de fundo e tendo sido dura e desproporcionalmente reprimidas pelas autoridades, as manifesta����es subiram de tom, passando de marchas pelas ruas para a����es mais dr��sticas em diversos pontos do pa��s. De modo que, nos ��ltimos dois meses, o pa��s tem assistido a epis��dios de uma verdadeira revolta popular e desobedi��ncia civil, como interrup����o das vias de acesso, das atividades nos portos e aeroportos, fronteiras, destrui����o de infraestruturas (especialmente esquadras de pol��cia e sedes do partido no poder), deixando o pa��s numa situa����o de anomia, beirando a ingovernabilidade.������

O pico de tens��o foi atingido na ��ltima semana do ano de 2024 ap��s a valida����o, pelo Conselho Constitucional, dos resultados eleitorais largamente contestados a v��rios n��veis. Durante esta fase das manifesta����es, para al��m da intensifica����o dos atos de revolta popular, observou-se intensa repress��o policial, resultando em den��ncias das autoridades de seguran��a por parte de organiza����es da sociedade civil, junto a organismos internacionais, sob alega����o de viola����o grave de direitos humanos e crimes contra a Humanidade. Iniciado o ano de 2025, j�� com a esperada confirma����o da vit��ria da Frelimo, a cerim��nia de posse de novo presidente foi tamb��m marcada por fortes protestos populares e repress��o policial desproporcional, resultando em pris��es e at�� mesmo, ��bitos. Tais ocorr��ncias registradas na cerim��nia oficial de investidura presidencial marcaram negativamente o ato, sobretudo pela in��dita falta de participa����o popular, isolada e reprimida por alegadas raz��es de seguran��a.��

Do ponto de vista simb��lico, a cerim��nia da tomada de posse foi a pr��pria imagem da not��ria desconex��o do partido outrora libertador com a sociedade mo��ambicana. Situa����o ainda mais refor��ada pelo contraste em rela����o ao regresso triunfal de Ven��ncio Mondlane ao pa��s, na semana anterior, tendo sido recebido por aclama����o popular pelas ruas da capital do pa��s. Desde Outubro, Mondlane havia se autoexilado, alegadamente por motivos de seguran��a, na sequ��ncia dos protestos contra os resultados eleitorais que come��ava, ent��o, a liderar. Foi a partir do seu ex��lio que o candidato oficialmente derrotado convocou e organizou as manifesta����es, que incluiu a����es como paralisa����o do trabalho e, especialmente, o n��o pagamento de tarifas rodovi��rias, entre outras. Muitas destas situa����es redundaram em viol��ncia e tens��es diversas, gerando um ambiente de confus��o generalizada cuja responsabilidade foi mutuamente atribu��da a ambas as partes, em tom acusat��rio. Controv��rsias �� parte, fato �� que as manifesta����es convocadas pela oposi����o obtiveram massivo apoio popular, em vis��vel contraste com a autoridade oficialmente institu��da do regime.��

Aproveitando tal contexto de v��cuo de popularidade do presidente empossado, Mondlane autoproclamou-se Presidente da Rep��blica, atrav��s das redes sociais, a partir de onde faz o seu trabalho de mobiliza����o, preferencialmente. Tal estrat��gia de comunica����o tem sido um dos principais fatores desta ades��o popular, especialmente entre a imensa camada jovem da popula����o, assolada com baixas expectativas de futuro resultantes da sua exposi����o ao desemprego, �� pobreza absoluta e �� viol��ncia. Efetivamente, tal como tem afirmado diversos analistas sociais mo��ambicanos, estas s��o as causas fundamentais do descontentamento popular, sendo que a crise eleitoral surge como a ponta do iceberg de problem��ticas mais profundas. Neste sentido, diversos setores da sociedade tem apelado �� iniciativa de se promover um di��logo inclusivo por parte do novo governo com a principal for��a de oposi����o, o que n��o tem ocorrido, adiando-se assim, as possibilidades de solu����o para a crise.��

Tem sido justamente atrav��s das redes sociais que Mondlane ���instituiu��� uma esp��cie de governo paralelo, editando ���decretos presidenciais��� baseado em pautas largamente apoiadas por boa parte da popula����o. E, por outro lado, contrariando as decis��es e pol��ticas do governo. Desta situa����o de ambiguidade, tem resultado diversos epis��dios de uma tens��o social que se prev�� agudizar ao logo dos pr��ximos tempos, sem perspetivas de redu����o e com alto risco de descontrole e viol��ncia crescente, como j�� se tem observado. De acordo com dados publicados pela Plataforma Eleitoral Decide (organiza����o da sociedade civil que tem monitorado os ��ltimos processos eleitorais), desde o in��cio das manifesta����es em outubro, foram registrados 353 ��bitos, sendo que a maioria, 91% do total, corresponde a disparos letais efetuados pela pol��cia. Ainda segundo esta organiza����o, caso se mantenha esta situa����o de ���dois governos���, a tend��ncia �� de aumento da inquieta����o social, levando ao aumento de mortes e confrontos violentos.��

Problemas e solu����es na vizinhan��a

Tal como se apresenta, o ambiente de incerteza que se vive em Mo��ambique �� significativamente paradigm��tico do contexto contempor��neo de contesta����o a regimes pol��ticos consolidados h�� d��cadas, ap��s a alvorada das independ��ncias africanas. A n��vel regional, �� bastante sintom��tico o pronto apoio prestado pelos aliados hist��ricos mais pr��ximos da Frelimo, como o ANC (Africa do Sul), MPLA (Angola), ZANU-PF (Zimbabwe) e Chama Cha Mapinduzi (Tanz��nia), que reconheceram a vit��ria eleitoral dos seus ���camaradas��� antes mesmo da valida����o final oficial. N��o por acaso, alguns destes pa��ses enfrentam problemas semelhantes a n��vel dom��stico: nas elei����es realizadas no ano passado, o hist��rico ANC de Nelson Mandela foi compelido a formar um governo de ���unidade nacional��� como o DA (Alian��a Democr��tica), o partido que representa o segmento branco da popula����o; tal situa����o decorre da impopularidade crescente do partido que lutou contra o apartheid e que governa o pa��s desde 1994. J�� em Angola, h�� uma enorme preocupa����o por parte do regime pelo potencial efeito de contamina����o que a situa����o de Mo��ambique pode gerar localmente, dado o paralelismo dos processos hist��ricos dos dois pa��ses.��

Como contraponto, ainda neste contexto e no auge da crise p��s-eleitoral mo��ambicana, o Botswana realizou elei����es que puseram fim a 58 anos de dom��nio do partido BDP, no poder desde a sua independ��ncia, conquistada em 1966. Este caso chamou a aten����o justamente por ser um ponto fora da curva, em que a transi����o se deu de forma tranquila, o que talvez reflita o fato de ser apontado como um dos pa��ses mais pr��speros de ��frica, vindo a registrar taxas positivas de crescimento econ��mico e boas posi����es no ranking de IDH, para os padr��es do continente. A despeito de se tratar de um pa��s de pouca relev��ncia estrat��gica na regi��o, o exemplo do Botswana traz li����es importantes para os seus vizinhos, sobretudo do ponto de vista da estabilidade pol��tica o do desenvolvimento socioecon��mico.��

Enfim, para Mo��ambique e os seus cong��neres dos PALOP���Pa��ses Africanos de L��ngua Oficial Portuguesa���que os 50 anos de independ��ncia sirvam de momento de reflex��o que tragam elementos ��teis para a supera����o das dif��ceis condi����es de vida a que est��o submetidas a esmagadora maioria dos seus habitantes. Especialmente para os casos de Mo��ambique e Angola, em que os sistemas de partido ��nico praticamente sobreviveram �� instaura����o de uma democracia liberal, resultando numa esp��cie de ���multipartidarismo sem democracia���, em que persistiu o controle quase que absoluto sobre todas as institui����es e esferas da vida p��blica. Como sugere o caso mo��ambicano, a excessiva concentra����o de poder por parte dos partidos-movimentos de liberta����o, ancorada na legitimidade adquirida por conta da luta anticolonial, pode se transformar ela pr��pria no principal fator de instabilidade, tornando-se automaticamente num obst��culo ao desenvolvimento do pa��s. De modo que os diversos movimentos de contesta����o que se observam um pouco por todo o continente apontam para solu����es internas, sob a forma do fortalecimento da sociedade civil e de mecanismos que visam maior inclus��o dos diversos atores e setores da sociedade nos processos de decis��o. De resto, s�� assim todos poder��o participar verdadeiramente das celebra����es dos 50 anos da independ��ncia.

How not to report on Eastern Congo

Western media coverage of the DRC conflict is riddled with inaccuracies, oversimplifications, and racial bias���reinforcing dangerous narratives rather than informing the world. Goma City, DRC, October 5th 2015. Image �� LMspencer via Shutterstock.

The first victim of war is not truth, as the adage says. It���s peace. But indeed, truth follows shortly after. Over a month ago, the Congolese armed group M23 took over the city of Goma, capital of North Kivu. Thousands have been killed in the latest escalation of a conflict that has a long and complex history. The M23 has been fighting the Congolese army (FARDC) and its many allies, including foreign mercenaries, local militia groups known as Wazalendo, soldiers from the Burundian and South African armies, and the Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Rwanda (FDLR). The FDLR was founded by members of the Interahame, militiamen who committed the 1994 Rwandan genocide against Tutsis and fled to the DRC at the end of the genocide. As of early March, the M23 has taken control of the city of Bukavu, and after refusing peace talks on multiple occasions, Congolese President Felix Tshisekedi has finally agreed to attend direct talks with the M23.

We should encourage the media to give attention to conflicts that are often ignored. The less visibility, the more the risks of escalation and human rights violation; and with public scrutiny also comes the opportunity to apply diplomatic pressures, better understand conflicts, and ultimately encourage dialogue. But visibility can also come with harmful distortions. And unfortunately, the current coverage of the crisis in the DRC has mostly been inaccurate, poorly contextualized, misguided, and dangerously stereotypical. Below are four egregious examples that illustrate this sloppiness.

First, the media coverage so far has emphasized that M23 is Rwanda-backed, a proxy of Rwanda, and that the DRC is being invaded by a foreign force. Although there is evidence that Rwanda is supporting the M23, the foreign invasion narrative is, at best, misleading and, at worst, dangerously inaccurate.

M23 rebels are as Congolese as the Congolese army; in fact, many used to be in the Congolese army. The group was established in 2012 by soldiers disgruntled with their work conditions and, most importantly, with the treatment of their ethnic group: Tutsi Congolese citizens called the Banyamulenge. For decades, the Banyamulenge have faced discrimination, violent attacks, and the threat of extermination or exile. They are targeted because of their ethnicity, deemed Tutsi ���foreigners.��� On social media, anti-Banyamulenge hate speech is endemic. Political and military leaders, diasporic actors, and community leaders promise that those who are deemed to side with the Tutsis ���will be decisively crushed, like corn in the mill.��� These voices promise to ���clean the Banyarwanda��� from cities and claim that this is a war ���against the Tutsis.��� Messages calling on killing Banyamulenge are widely circulated. This violent ideology of ethnic hatred is supported and encouraged by the continued presence and violent activities of the genocidal force FDLR in the DRC.

Reducing the current situation to a foreign invasion is very dangerous, because it lends support to the ideologies of genocide and xenophobia that underpin the treatment of Banyamulenge in Eastern Congo, and it reinforces a dangerous narrative that is driving violence against these populations. In addition, the simplistic framing fails to recognize that the M23 today is part of the Congo River Alliance (AFC), a multiethnic Congolese coalition of 17 political parties, two political groups, and several armed militias. In fact, the AFC is led by a Congolese politician Corneille Nangaa, who until recently, worked in the electoral commission that ratified the election of current Congolese President Tshisekedi.��And while the M23 initially formed as a self-defense group to defend the Banyamulenge, it has evolved to be in broader opposition to corruption and bad governance in the country.

There is little doubt that the Rwandan government is supporting the M23. Since 1994, the Rwandan government has consistently stated that it won���t be at peace until members of the FLDR are arrested and tried in Rwanda. That the FDLR has been able to continue to train, organize, and kill right next to the Rwandan border and to spread their ideology of hate is profoundly destabilizing for the entire region���and it explains in part why the crisis implicates both Rwanda and the DRC. But reducing the situation in Eastern Congo to a Rwandan invasion is misleading.

Second, some of the coverage is blatantly inaccurate. Take this Al Jazeera report, which states: ���M23 says it is defending ethnic Tutsis, who fled to the DRC amid the 1994 genocide in Rwanda.��� This sentence confuses the M23 (the movement claiming to defend Congolese ethnic Tutsis known as Banyamulenge) with the FDLR (the movement created by Rwandan militaries and militiamen who committed the genocide and fled to Congo in 1994). So, let���s make this clear: Those who fled from Rwanda to Congo in 1994 were the pro-Hutu extremist soldiers and militias who committed the genocide. The ethnic Tutsi Banyamulenge did not flee to the DRC amid the genocide. They were already in Congo. If you wonder why there are ethnic Tutsis on both sides of the DRC���Rwanda border, it stems from the arbitrary colonial partition of Africa in the 19th century. This is an issue all over the continent. But insofar as the borders are now what they are, denying that the Banyamulenge are Congolese is false and dangerous.

Then, as a third example, consider this report by Ruth Maclean, the West Africa bureau chief for The New York Times. Maclean provides a simple story to understand why ���Rwanda-back rebels��� are fighting: ���In their telling, they���re protecting ethnic Tutsis, the minority group massacred in a 1994 genocide, some of whom also live in Congo. But experts say the real reason is Congo���s rare minerals, which power our phones and devices. Congo���s mines are making the rebels���and their patrons in Rwanda���rich.��� The readers are not told who these experts are. Any concerns about the treatment of the Banyamulenge communities are brushed aside. Instead, for Maclean, the real explanation for the crisis is simple: the greed of the M23 and the Rwandan government.

In an accompanying video explainer, she talks again of the real motivations of the M23 and Rwanda: ���UN experts say the rebels are in fact exploiting Eastern Congo for mineral wealth.����� As evidence, the viewer is shown���for four brief seconds���a screenshot of a UN report. But if you pause the video to read the document, it tells a different story. The highlighted section of the report focuses on ���abuses by Wazalendo��� and reads ���Armed groups in South Kivu continued to exploit the AFC/M23 crisis to remobilize, consolidate and expand territorial control and exploit natural resources.��� In other words, the excerpt shows that Wazalendo groups (i.e., militias allied with the Congolese army who are fighting against the M23) profit from the crisis by exploiting natural resources. Such a mix-up is perhaps what you get for asking your West African bureau chief to cover a conflict in Central/East Africa.

This is not to suggest that the M23 has not exploited mines or funded its army through illegal mining. The point here is about basic journalistic principles and misattribution. In a paper that prides itself on employing the ���best��� journalists in the world, blatant factual inaccuracy and distortion go unchecked, ultimately feeding a reductive and one-sided narrative. Conflicts in Africa deserve fact-checked reporting too.

Last example: Take this report by The Associated Press, titled ���Rwanda-Backed Rebels Move Deeper into Eastern Congo as UN Reports Executions and Rapes.��� This report was taken up by other news organizations, including CBS and CBC. The headlines imply that the M23 rebels are responsible for gang rapes. But a look at the UN statement tells a different story: The UN Commission for Human Rights has documented ���cases of conflict-related sexual violence by the (Congolese) army and allied Wazalendo fighters��� and was in the process of ���verifying reports that 52 women were raped by Congolese troops in South Kivu, including alleged reports of gang rape.��� Where the UN report assigns these cases of sexual violence to the Congolese army and its allied militias, sloppy headlines attribute them to the ���Rwanda-backed rebels.��� To be clear, the M23 is likely also responsible for abuses. The same report holds the M23 responsible for 12 summary executions, and the UN has levelled serious accusations over the years against the M23. Human rights violations should always be called out, whoever is behind them. But this is yet another example of misattribution and demonstrates an evident lack of journalistic accuracy in the reporting of the Eastern Congo crisis.

The cumulative effect of this inaccurate, sloppy, confused, and confusing coverage is the creation of a dangerous narrative: A group of ruthless violent foreigners, who are Tutsis, are invading the Congo so that Rwanda can take over the country���s riches. As Ruth Maclean puts it: ���They���re taking land, they���re making money, and they���re reaping the benefits.��� This rhetoric aligns with the genocidal conspiracy theory that calls to fight against the establishment of an imaginary Tutsi-Hima empire. We are reminded time and time again that Rwanda President Paul Kagame himself is a Tutsi and���mistakenly���that his government is Tutsi-dominated; but we are almost never told that Rwanda post-1994 succeeded in getting rid of ethnic labels to ensure that people in the country today are simply Rwandans. We are told about the mineral riches of Congo, but little is said about the current exploitation of the mineral resources by foreign entities and corporations from China, North America, Europe, and elsewhere with the blessing of Congolese authorities���an industrial scale, country-wide billion-dollar exploitation��that pales in comparison to the profits��the M23 is reported to have made from minerals to fund its advance ($800,000 per month, according to recent UN estimates).

Most importantly perhaps, so very little is said about the Congolese army working hand in hand with the FDLR. We are rarely told that the Congolese president has publicly and repeatedly vowed to wage war against Rwanda and bragged about acquiring weapons capable of reaching Kigali. Do we see images of the Franco-Romanian mercenaries who had been hired by the Congolese army, fleeing the fighting in Congo and heading to Rwanda for surrender? These private security contractors are linked to networks of former French militaries involved in various conflicts across Africa since the 1990s (including in Rwanda in 1994). How ironic, then, that coverage of the conflict consistently calls Rwanda the ���darling of the West,��� when Western operatives such as these mercenaries are barely discussed; when most Western countries have intensely denounced Rwanda in the latest escalation of the conflict; and when Western media so overwhelmingly blame Rwanda for the crisis.

These basic factual inaccuracies, distortions, and lack of context would not pass editorial scrutiny if the conflict was not happening in Africa. This is part of a long and tired tradition. These biases are as much the result of structural forces shaping international news production as the reflection of culturally and sociologically ingrained racism in the journalistic field. Shrinking budgets for foreign news has further accelerated the reliance on news agencies as the primary draft of journalistic coverage. This phenomenon is acute in reporting African news and often contributes to the establishment of a single narrative in the early stages of developing news stories. The treatment of ���Africa��� as a distinct journalistic beat has historically been full of racist assumptions that deny the complexity, humanity, and diversity of African experiences; and it explains why leading news organizations like The New York Times assume that their bureau chief based in Senegal will be well-equipped to write about a conflict in the DRC. The confusion of the M23 with the FDLR, or the misattribution of the UN report findings, are as much factual inaccuracies resulting from time pressure as they are the reflection of deeply ingrained stereotypes that all parties in African conflicts are equally and necessarily violent, ruthless, and irrational.

As a recent book by media scholar j. Siguru Wahutu reminds us, it is also essential to pay attention to the role of African news organizations in shaping news narratives about African conflicts. In part, the distortions mirror the rhetorical line defended by the Congolese government���one that finds resonance in Congolese media. Seen from Kinshasa, mainstream news organizations like Radio-T��l��vision nationale congolaise (RTNC) have branded the latest escalation in the conflict as ���l���aggression Rwandaise��� (the Rwandan aggression). Meanwhile, local radio and social media are seeing an increase in anti-Tutsi rhetoric and xenophobic sentiment. This locally driven political narrative compounds long-standing ideological biases in Western media to result in a low-quality, reductive, and ultimately dangerous reporting both within and outside the continent.

We can have different perspectives on the conflict and opposing theories about the geopolitics of the region, but these should be grounded on verified facts rather than sloppy coverage. Such poor reporting is unfair to the Congolese victims of the crisis. It���s also insulting to the journalists, African and foreign, who strive for fair reporting of intricate conflicts in the face of precarious and dangerous conditions. The situation is complex and volatile. The priority should be civilians, and the last thing the crisis needs is sloppy reporting likely to inflame the tensions.

On the longer term, there is a lot that international news organizations can do to improve their coverage: implementing media-monitoring teams within news organizations to evaluate whether coverage contributes to the reproduction of stereotypes; encouraging journalists to seek out a broader range of sources and voices, with a view towards the widely available yet consistently sidelined African expertise; ensuring consistent use of editorial and fact-checking standards; centering multilingualism as a core skill for correspondents working across Africa; greater staff diversity across the news production chain (notably, by including African journalists in senior-level positions); reconsidering the usefulness of the ���Africa correspondent��� job description; to name a few. Many of these initiatives are low-cost. What they primarily require is a willingness within the journalistic field to reconsider how things have been done for too long.

In the meantime, what we can hope for is more humility from journalists who think the conflict is a simple story, more accuracy and contextualization from news organizations, and an acute understanding that news narratives have real-world consequences.

Redefining Sahelian diplomacy

Breaking from ECOWAS and Western influence, the Alliance of Sahel States signals a geopolitical shift���but can it deliver real stability? The presidents of Mali, Niger, and Burkina Faso take part in the first summit of the Alliance of Sahel States (AES) in Niamey, July 2024. Image �� Djibo Issifou/picture-alliance/dpa/AP Images.

The arid Sahel region, which covers eight countries stretching from the desert to the savannah, has been in turmoil for decades. Between desertification, poverty, and violent extremism, Sahelian countries have been struggling to maintain stability and foster sustainable development. Several countries have experienced recurring military coups and social uprisings within their territories in the past five years. A military coup took place in Mali in May 2021, followed by ones in Burkina Faso in September 2022 and in Niger in July 2023. The leaders of these coups are all military men who claim to have taken power to stabilize their countries and fight against jihadists.

The new political and diplomatic directions of Burkina Faso, Mali, and Niger are reshaping the Sahelian region and, indirectly, the African continent. In September 2023, these three nations created the Alliance of Sahel States (AES) aimed at a mutual defense agreement and diplomatic coordination regarding foreign affairs. Following the establishment of the charter, the member countries went to work on the initiatives and held their first summit in July 2024 in Niger. The creation of AES was met with considerable support from the member states��� populations. The streets of Niamey, the capital of Niger, were full of supporters of the three military leaders and the new directions of their countries.

The AES members detached from the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) to protest the sanctions imposed on them due to the military coups. This rupture led to more strife between the two blocs, accusing each other of destabilizing the region. As a result, economic and diplomatic ties between ECOWAS and AES are strained, resulting in further internal frictions. Currently, both organizations maintain free trade and immigration; however, these dynamics may change in the future if ECOWAS chooses to retaliate. The AES members are also resorting to bilateral agreements to fill in the gaps of economic advantages lost from exiting ECOWAS.

ECOWAS has historically played the role of mediator in conflicts within the region, with its stand-by forces, composed of military, police, and civilians, ready to intervene when necessary. By creating an armed force of 5,000 troops, the AES claims to fill the void left by the rupture with ECOWAS. With the intensity of extremist attacks on the rise, especially in Mali and Burkina Faso, the joint armed forces do not seem able to curb the violence and protect civilians. The rupture with ECOWAS poses a danger as further regional frictions are an opportunity for terrorist groups to grow.

The sociocultural movement of the AES, with its messages of nationalism and traditional values, resonates with a younger generation eager for a new postcolonial era. In 2025, Togo has expressed interest in joining the AES. Chad, due to its proximity and the fact that it is a member of the now-defunct G5 Sahel, has not ruled out the possibility of joining the alliance. The tangible results of AES leaders��� promises are yet to be seen; therefore, for the moment, the alliance remains a symbol of change.

All three member nations of the AES are former French colonies, and until recently, France maintained a strong diplomatic, political, and cultural hold on them. France also had a significant military presence in Sahel countries, with bases in Niger, Burkina Faso, Mali, and Chad, and a mandate to fight insurgencies and maintain peace. Following years of foreign military presence without noticeable improvement to national security, anti-French and anti-imperialist sentiments intensified, and local populations led protests against the presence of foreign troops.

France���s relationship to Sahelian nations has been unequal and paternalistic, with the European country maintaining a sphere of influence over the region, as it did during the colonial era. A new generation born during the independence era has rejected this postcolonial influence. The world is witnessing a diplomatic shift in which formerly colonized countries break ties with the colonial power and seek new partnerships based in equality and equitable collaboration. The departure of French troops has left a vacuum that Russia is exploiting to increase its influence and present itself as an equal partner, notably through the Wagner Group, which recently merged with Africa Corps, a Russian military company under the country���s Ministry of Defense. Understanding the growing anti-French sentiment in the region, Russia promoted equality, knowing it would appeal to the current generation of leaders. The involvement of Africa Corps in the fight against extremism paved the way for political and diplomatic ties and influence in the region.

However, Russian military support does not seem to have improved the security situation within the AES. In 2023 alone, there were over 8,000 deaths attributed to internal conflicts in Burkina Faso. In Mali, the army, with the support of the Africa Corps, led offensives that have increased the level of violence in the country. The AES countries sharing borders in the Liptako-Gourma region have over 3 million displaced people due to active fighting. Overall, within the AES territories, violence in 2024 increased by 9 percent compared to 2023 and by 37 percent compared to 2021.

These recurring conflicts in the Sahel have drivers rooted in history, local politics, and ethnicity that can only be solved through internal mechanisms. Poor governance, climate change, and poverty exacerbate these conflicts. The leaders in power cannot stop the insurgencies without holistically addressing these root causes. Resenting French colonial legacy is understandable; however, embracing a new foreign partner without first protecting national interests may not be the solution. Russia has been increasing its presence in the West and Central African regions, asserting itself in the global competition to undermine the United States and China. The AES, needing operational support from Russia, could find itself a pawn in a global power competition and fail to provide sustainable stability and peace in their territories.

In its second year, AES is currently at the center of diplomatic and geopolitical shifts, and the world is watching their actions.This organization could be the starting point of new Sahelian diplomacy led by the principles of equality and newfound re-independence. As the alliance builds and establishes its regional mechanisms, historical challenges remain. With one country already expressing its willingness to join, other countries could follow suit. Growing the alliance would increase its strength and operational means in providing security and replacing previous instruments such as the G5 Sahel. Its growth might also increase competition with ECOWAS, heightening regional tensions.

On one hand, the AES has the potential to redefine the region based on sovereignty and equality, if the root causes of their challenges are addressed. On the other, if the challenges persist, it would be the case of another regional agreement struggling to meet its goal.