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I: Of jihadists and drones, and what it means for the new landscape of military technology (and conflict) in African states

Consider this recent BBC report:

Jihadist groups are increasingly carrying out drone strikes in West Africa, raising alarm that they are building the capacity to wage a “war from the skies”.

A leading violence monitoring organisation, Acled, has recorded at least 69 drone strikes by an al-Qaeda affiliate in Burkina Faso and Mali since 2023, while two Islamic State (IS) affiliates have carried out around 20 - mostly in Nigeria, which has been battling numerous insurgent groups for almost 25 years.

The same terror groups are also using new communications technologies like Starlink to bypass regulated (and therefore state-monitored) communication systems. Beyond drones and satellite communications, the workhorse weapons of the Sahelian insurgents are still relatively low-tech (like technicals and machine guns).

As armed non-state actors adopt new technologies and operational techniques on the battlefield, African militaries are struggling to catch up. Consequently, the Continent currently accounts for more than half of global fatalities from terror attacks. The Sahel, where jihadists and other separatist groups are waging wars against communities and states, contributes the bulk of these figures (see image below).

The wars in the Sahel aren’t just peripheral affairs that can be ignored by governments in capitals. For example, in late April of this year jihadists in Mali got very close to Bamako, a city of over 4m people which at the time had endured a blockade of sorts for months. The same jihadists and allies overrun several urban centers in the North before the assault on Bamako.

This raises the question: What would it take to pacify the Sahel? And how can African militaries respond to the evolving technological and organizational landscape of the region’s battlefields?

These may sound like absurd questions to most people, for two reasons. First, we have become conditioned to accept violence and disorder as core features of the Sahel; and so the absolute best we can do is to manage both. Second, the region’s weak states and current leadership don’t seem like the best candidates to execute on this mission even if we were to come up with a workable plan.

This post is a modest attempt to challenge both positions. Peace, and not the management of conflict, should be the ultimate goal of security policy in the Sahel. To this end, we don’t have the luxury of waiting for the “right” types of states and leadership. This is for the simple reason that improvements in economic performance, service delivery, quality of governance, and entrenchment of civilian politics will all likely co-evolve with the region’s security situation. As long as there is conflict in the Sahel, we should expect that governments and politics in the region will be militarized. The levels of military spending, the salience of the military, and policymakers’ attention to military affairs will leave little room for regular order civilian politics and policymaking. This commonsense observation is backed up by research showing that wars lead to executive aggrandizement even in established democracies. We shouldn’t pretend that the situation would be different in much less institutionalized polities.

At the same time, lasting peace and progress in the Sahel will require a demilitarization of government and politics. Leaders in Sahelian capitals cannot run away from the fact that the insurgencies they face are partially fueled by ideas and political causes (of varying degrees of legitimacy). In any case, this isn’t new. They have a history of managing the underlying politics that should offer lessons into the future. Therefore, war alone will not bring security. War is merely a means to a specific strategic end, which necessarily has to involve an honest reckoning with some of the political demands of the insurgents; as well as service delivery as a means of inward conquest of the populations that have found themselves boxed into supporting the insurgents.

The main argument herein (which applies to the wider Continent) is that security policy in the Sahel should focus on increasing the cost of rebellion, thereby shifting the equilibrium to war by other means (i.e., normal, regular order politics). In addition, Sahelian states should do more to integrate their military spending into national and regional development strategies — via the establishment of regional arms industries, defense research institutions, and general modernization of security policy.

To be blunt, African countries must stop winging security policy. History shows that you can’t have nice things unless you can militarily defend your interests. Furthermore, being serious about security policy along the lines suggested above has the potential to unlock innovations with positive spillovers into the civilian economy.

For instance, the Sahelian states of Burkina Faso, Mali, and Niger have seen significant increases in military spending since insurgency activity picked up in the region (see graph above). On the eve of the NATO-led destruction of the Libyan state (2010), the three countries’ military spending averaged 1.17% of GDP. By 2024 the figure had jumped to 3.7%, with Burkina Faso (4.7%) and Mali (4.2%) far outpacing Niger (2.2%). The figures look more stark when presented as shares of national budgets (see below). Last year the three countries spent around 15% of national budgets on defense.

There’s no reason why such significant chunks cash cannot go towards promoting a domestic arms industry; or even better, join forces within the Alliance of Sahel States (AES) or ECOWAS to develop joint ventures.

Of course, all this is easier said than done. To think this through, it is worth stepping back from the specifics of the Sahelian conflicts for a moment, and thinking about how militaries win wars; as well as the economics of conflict in the African context.

II: How militaries win wars

Over the last three years it’s been interesting to observe Ukraine’s technological response to Russian attacks. Two things, in particular, have stood out to me. First, Kiev quickly came up with defensive systems against Russian drones (including the very impressive Iranian Shaheds). Second, Ukraine impressively altered battlefield dynamics by developing offensive drone capabilities (both within Ukraine and well into Russia). Importantly, the offensive innovation had significant input from soldiers in an iterative loop across design, engineering, deployment, and feedback from soldiers. All this had significant private sector involvement (and financing from NATO members). Ukraine’s openness to innovation has yielded an impressive defense start-up ecosystem:

… Ukraine went from seven drone manufacturers before the full-scale invasion to more than five hundred today. Over the same period, it went from just two electronic warfare companies to roughly two hundred. Today, it is also making progress toward developing its own missile production capabilities. The Brave1 defense tech cluster, which directly connects frontline units with startups, engineers, and investors, has evolved into an ecosystem of more than two thousand companies, with a marketplace of over one thousand validated solutions that operate in a different way from traditional procurement systems.

Importantly, this transformation has been enabled by a deliberate effort to build an entirely new innovation ecosystem within the Ukrainian government. Much of this effort was led by the Ministry of Digital Transformation, which was previously led by Mykhailo Fedorov, the current minister of defense.

Of course, Ukraine has also made organizational changes within its force structure in order to optimize battlefield impact. So it’s not just tech and engineering that did all the heavy lifting.

The case of Ukraine maps nicely onto the warfare literature on how technological, operational, and organizational changes alter battlefield outcomes. Like in Ukraine, battlefield outcomes depend not just on the sizes of militaries and their hardware, but on “doctrine and tactics by which materiel is actually used” as well. Importantly, changes in technology (types of munitions, range, technological capabilities), organizational forms (force command structure, doctrine, career incentives, and institutional culture), and operational concepts (how forces and arms are deployed in the battlefield) can significantly alter battlefield outcomes. Naturally, there is argument in the literature as to whether these changes happen gradually or discontinuously (see here and here). It is also worth noting that innovative changes are not always driven by wartime necessities (as in Ukraine), but can also happen during peacetime when strategic thinkers sit back to plan for future wars.

For our purposes, the important thing to note is that such changes typically do not happen on their own, but in response to specific strategic and political threats. In other words, how militaries conduct wars results from the joint effects of the strategic awareness of the belligerents and the threat level they face. These two factors also determine the degree to which leaders impose costs on societies in efforts to fend off threats — including intensity of mobilization, deployment of fiscal resources, investments in technological innovation, reorganization of military command structures, etc.

A famous example in early 19th century African military history was Shaka’s improvements on the assegai (iklwa) and overall reorganization of Zulu force structure, both of which revolutionized warfare in Southern Africa and fundamentally shifted battlefield dynamics in their favor. Facing existential threats from rival clans, Shaka had strong incentives to think hard not just about winning battles or raiding rival clans, but also securing and consolidating power. To that end, he came up with a new technology (iklwa and shield), vastly increased and reorganized the Zulu army, adopted a policy of integrating defeated clans into Zulu society, and centralized authority.

What emerges from the above discussion is that militaries win wars when internalized strategic imperatives interact with deliberate investment in technological improvements, operational doctrines, and organizational structures that increase the chances of battlefield success. Importantly, having clear strategic imperatives ensures that military victories on the battlefield are converted into consolidation of (civilianized) political control. Wars become means to specific strategic ends, and not open-ended slow-burning affairs.

III: The political economy of war and innovation in Sahelian states

It’s true that both the Sahelian states and the insurgents they face have proven themselves to be capable of innovating and adapting new technologies, operational tactics, and organizational structured to increase their respective chances of battlefield success. This is especially clear in how rapidly both sets of belligerents have responded to one another’s tactics. For example, both sides now deploy drones for surveillance (although governments currently have an edge on anti-drone technology). Insurgents’ use of mobile units on motorcycles has been met with attack drones and distributed forward bases (as opposed to vulnerable large garrisons).

That said, it’s also very clear that neither side has managed to decisively alter the course of war. The wars have simply gone on and on for more than a decade. This is a puzzle worth exploring, with particular attention to Sahelian states.

It is not enough to quickly rush to “weak state capacity” or “radicalization” as a catch-all explanatory variables. These are certainly important features of the problem at hand. At the same time, Sahelian states have been dealing with systemic insecurity caused by Libya’s collapse for the better part of 15 years. Within that timeframe, we ought to have seen a lot more organizational, tactical/doctrinal, and technological innovations aimed at tilting the balance of power in their favor.

So why didn’t this happen? First, the strategic foundation for revolutionary changes in Sahelian militaries’ organizational forms, operational doctrine, and technological capacity was absent. For decades, coup-proofing and suppression of mostly civilian political opponents were the primary motivations for organizational and operational innovation in Sahelian militaries. Fighting wars against fairly organized and resourced adversaries like JNIM was simply not a policy priority. Consequently, investment in technology was simply outsourced through arms imports or reliance on foreign fighters (French, Russian, the UN, and others). This might explain the broad lack of investments in capacity to fundamentally alter battlefield dynamics.

Second, Sahelian states lack the economic base, engineering know-how, and private sector dynamism needed to rapidly innovate in the face of emerging threats — even against low-tech innovations like the motorbike technical above (Malian authorities simply banned motorbikes outside urban areas, a totally unworkable policy directive given the lack of transportation alternatives). For all three countries, manufacturing value added as a share of GDP is below 10%. In 2024, total manufacturing value added in Niger ($1.08b), Mali ($2.04b), and Burkina Faso ($2.2b) was $5.32b. The three countries have a combined population of over 75m people. The entire country of Mali has about 300 consulting engineers in the fields of “civil engineering, hydraulics, electricity, and urban planning.” Commensurate figures are hard to come by for Niger and Burkina Faso, but their respective civil engineering numbers likely fall within this range. Data on other engineering disciplines are unavailable for all three. However, it is unlikely that they are any different than Kenya which has seen a significant decline in training engineers.

At this point its worth going back to the budget figures cited above. Why would policymakers spend upwards of 15% of national budgets on an endeavor (war) and not integrate that level of fiscal effort into an overall nation-building and developmentalist agenda? By outsourcing significant bits of operational tactics (e.g., by relying on Russians and others) and technological innovations (through imports), Sahelian economies are wasting an opportunity to learn both how to effectively conduct war and to develop an arms industry that matches the threats they face. The fact of the matter is that foreign arms manufacturers have little incentive to design and engineer for Sahelian conditions and technological landscape. That is on Sahelian militaries and policymakers.

Third, there are the cold facts and figures. As shown above, in 2023 deaths from conflict constituted a relatively small share (1.1%) of the causes of mortality in Mali. Of course this number belies the scale of disruptions, human displacement, and general suffering throughout Mali due to war. Furthermore, war likely aggravated the lethality of the other causes of mortality (especially easily treatable illnesses). However, it is possible to see why governments like Mali’s may not treat the war with the strategic seriousness it deserves. Like the myriad other problems the country faces, war can be pigeonholed as yet another challenge to be managed, rather than solved. In addition, while JNIM remains dangerous (see the April attack on Bamako), it is not a force that can govern all of Mali (with its estimated 6000 fighters). So in a sense, it makes sense that a strategically complacent administration (especially one that is fearful of opening the can of worms that is the politics of conflict in Central and Northern Mali) would opt for containment rather than pursue a decisive victory or degradation of JNIM, followed by lasting political settlement.

Several similar conflicts — whereby insurgents view warring itself and exploitation of war economies as ends in themselves rather than bigger strategic objectives (like conquest of capitals and governing entire countries) — exist across the Continent. This in turn affects the calculus of states, many of which choose containment over all out war. Yet containment is a terrible strategy. War is horrible. And those who choose to make a living through war and human suffering ought to be stopped at all costs.

IV: African policymakers must take national security seriously; it is the foundation of strategic independence

Writing over at CFR, Michelle Gavin, former U.S. ambassador to Botswana, recently made this ominous projection:

Nonstate actors’ power will increase as states flounder. Radical extremist organizations, including Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin and the Islamic State in the Greater Sahara, already control large swaths of Sahelian territory. Extremists also hold territory in parts of East Africa. Organized international criminal networks will grow in sophistication and capacity as under-resourced states struggle to enforce laws.

By simply looking at the patterns of military spending in Africa, you wouldn’t know that we are (i) in the middle of a significant restructuring of the international system in a way that will likely increase the cadence of conflict onset; and (ii) that several African countries face serious threats from armed non-state actors as suggested by Ambassador Gavin.

While the Sahelian countries have seen spending a share of output increase since 2011, the continent as a whole has witnessed sustained declines since the Cold War peak in the late 1970s (see figure above). The same goes for relatively global military spending, whereby the Cotninent’s share at less than 0.8% is minuscule relative to its land mass and population share and has been declining over the last decade (see below).

This is unfortunate. Security is not something that states do on the side, and which can be separated from the rest of economic and social life. It is the foundation for domestic peace that enables commerce and other human endeavors to flourish. In addition, taking national security seriously is the cornerstone of strategic independence within the international system. As I keep saying, you cannot have nice things unless you are able to defend yourself militarily.

Regardless or regime type, African policymakers should not treat the military as a secretive enclave sector. There is ample scope for military spending to be a catalyst for domestic research and innovation towards battlefield solutions that increase the chances of ending wars in favor of governments. Many of such innovations would likely also have civilian uses and contribute to overall national development.

As is shown in the trends above, there is no question that African governments ought to find ways of beefing up their security profiles. And the best way to do so would be to fully integrate military spending into domestic or regional developmentalist agendas. At the moment, only South Africa, Nigeria, Egypt, Algeria, Morocco, and Ethiopia have sizable defense firms with the ability to scale regionally and globally (see also this interactive map). There is no cross-country defense industry cooperation that I am aware of. It is high time policymakers on the Continent took seriously the need to pursue joint ventures, in addition to thinking about localized innovations to match unique threat profiles such as in the Sahel.

This would not only be good for security, but also for the economy and related politics. If higher military spending creates jobs, helps grow economies, and delivers tangible improvements in security, there will be less rancor about the opportunity cost of not spending the same resources in other sectors. I say this because too often the conversation on security spending gets shut down because of concerns about the loss of fiscal space for social spending, or the fear that bigger security budgets automatically lead to the aggrandizement of militaries (thereby increasing coup risk) and eventually autocracy. While these concerns are valid, they should always be balanced against the equally high social costs of domestic disorder and total lack of strategic independence. Again, you cannot have nice things unless you can militarily defend yourself.

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I: What African policymakers need to know about the origins of modern economic growth

Modern economic growth is a relatively recent phenomenon. Before the modern era, there was, relatively speaking, a lot less variation around the world in individual-level measures of development outcomes. The average person was illiterate, lived a life characterized by poverty, scarcely had any material possessions, and died young. As late as 1900 about 40% of all children born died before they turned five.

Then over a few decades in the 18th century something clicked in northwestern Europe and unleashed what we understand today as sustained modern economic growth and the extension of mass prosperity.

Well, that is one version of the story; and one that admittedly compresses economic history across space and time.

There’s another version of the story that is more variegated. In this rendering, modern economic growth did not just spring out of nowhere. Instead, it was the culmination of centuries of cumulative marginal improvements (in trade, finance, law, politics, governance, engineering, science, etc) that eventually came together and ignited the commercial and then industrial revolutions that we are now familiar with. Notably, these societies developed cultures of growth and progress that sustained these processes over centuries.

Stated differently, societies that were able to quickly adopt and domesticate the organizational forms (especially polities, firms, and family units), technologies (with emphasis on scientific mastery of the physical world), and human habits (in personal, professional, and civic life) that are necessary to sustain modern economic growth and development were decidedly different from those that did not. With this in mind, to understand contemporary variation in the distribution of national incomes one must first understand (1) the origins of modern economic divergence over centuries; and (2) why certain countries or regions of the world have failed to engineer quick catch-up growth since the advent of modern economic growth.

And what were those differences that produced divergence? There are countless bad explanations out there of economic divergence over the last 500 years — ranging from hand-wavy essentialist takes on identity and culture, to heroic extrapolations across entire regions based on well-identified but narrow social scientific studies. There are also some very good academic debates on the topic — especially among works that explore the divergence between China, the Muslim world, and Western Europe (see here, here, here, here, here, and here, for example).

For policymakers interested in a practical understanding of the origins of modern economic growth, I’d advise them to rely on established patterns within literatures (as opposed to individual studies); take real histories of real places seriously; and to privilege parsimony over ornate stories that are little more than descriptions of symptoms and not fundamental causes of economic divergence across time and space.

This leads me to two factors that policymakers (as opposed to academics) should consider to be important for catalyzing and sustaining modern economic growth: stateness and elite hegemony (these should broadly be viewed as necessary but not sufficient conditions).

Centralized polities created the possibility of organizing (competitive) commerce at scale within and across well-defined territories. They provided security and other important public goods necessary for commercial flourishing, allocated and protected property rights, facilitated the scaling up of individual-level innovations, and through competition with other states provided strong incentives for economies to stay competitive and at the cutting edge of emerging innovations (i.e., stateness facilitated catch-up development). And following the advent of the modern era, states also became important vessels of national politics and policies — especially social policies that massively upgraded the quality of human capital. This, in turn, enabled both voluntary (e.g., stable wage labor) and coerced (e.g., taxation) redistribution of the benefits of commerce at scale — thereby enabling mass prosperity in a select set of prosperous polities.

Of course, stateness also facilitated the pillaging of less powerful states and peoples throughout the world, in addition to the benefits outlined above. But that’s no reason to dismiss the role of states as powerful platforms for beneficial collective action towards improving human welfare.

Organized elite hegemony was equally important. Here, what I mean by “organized elite hegemony” are religious, cultural, academic, and political elites who had the authority (and qualifications) to set (aspirational) standards and organize societal effort towards specific ends. Such elites had sufficient influence over the general public to coordinate social, political, and economic life; in addition to pursuing their own self preservation in ways that were generally consistent with the advancement of society at large (or at least as they understood it). Consequently, they were able to spawn and maintain cultures of progress, mechanisms for disciplining elites (religion, science, rational organization of civic life), and a sense of continuous improvement.

Importantly, the existence of organized elite hegemony facilitated change without societal collapse. Sometimes this slowed down progress, as when incumbents sought to protect their privileges (especially against mass interests). But in general, it enabled societies to change — as all societies must —on their (elites’) own terms, rather than being yanked about like rudderless vessels at sea by the forces of history.

Notice that the operative mechanism here wasn’t social stratification as an end in itself, or anything special about the specific elites who were in charge.

Rather, it was specialized sets of elites and their networks as a technology for coordination at scale and entrenching habits of continuous personal and social improvement. Some scholars have characterized this definition of elite hegemony as “institutions.” Unfortunately, such characterizations tend to be ahistorical and project contemporary institutional qualities and ends to earlier periods — almost as if the people-centric antecedents were destined to yield modern institutional forms and practices. I prefer to emphasize the role of proto-institutional elite formations in part because institutions tend to be as good as the people staffing them, in addition to their underlying logics and norms. The point here is that merely adopting “successful” institutional forms isn’t enough.

With this in mind, it is (or should be) clear how the confluence of strong states and organized elite hegemony gave some societies an advantage over their contemporaries; and prepared them to both engineer and exploit the benefits of modern economic growth.

How does this framing apply to our understanding of economic growth and development in contemporary African states? To that we now turn.

II: Why are African countries relatively poorer than most parts of the world?

In How Africa Works, Joe Studwell starts off by attempting to explain why African countries are poor today. It’s worth dwelling on this question since the many stylized explanations of the persistence of poverty in Africa out there fall well short; and because you can’t solve a problem that you don’t understand. Studwell lands on three main explanations that deserve close attention.

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I: Has industrial policy become the new development fad?

The March 31, 2026 release of a World Bank policy research report s…

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I: A long war is very likely on the cards; and its (negative) impacts will have long lags

…

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I: What explains the …

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I: Important lessons from the last commodity boom (2000-2014)

An important driver of Afric…

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Mahmood Mamdani’s latest book, Slow Poison: Idi Amin, Yoweri Museveni, and the Making and of the Ugandan State, consists of three tightly interwoven strands of inquiry. First, Mamdani uses his biography to explore themes related to the Asian Question in postcolonial East Africa as well as Uganda’s political and economic development. Second, the book offers an interesting meditation on leadership and the dilemmas of postcolonial state-building. Finally, Mamdani contrasts the roles of Idi Amin and Yoweri Museveni in midwifing Uganda’s political and economic underdevelopment. This review discusses each of these strands in broader perspective.

I: Idi Amin Dada beyond the headlines (making sense of 1970s Uganda)

I recommend Slow Poison to readers for one simple reason: it asks us to reconsider how we view leadership on the Continent. Instead of the standard shallow moralizing about African leaders that is prevalent in academia and the media, Mamdani asks us to carefully think through how personal background, domestic political and economic incentives, as well as the international environment interact to shape African leaders’ policy choices.

Such analysis is needed for us to make sense of African states’ current predicament and the best way forward. For example, despite their many failings, Africa’s Independence Generation did so much with so little. On average, these men and women were of a much higher calibre than Africa’s invariably complacent contemporary leaders. Their successes and failures provide important lessons for our times.

Mamdani is spot on when he writes that it was “at precisely their moment of triumph [that these leaders] lacked the resources to translate their vision into reality.” They lacked socio-cultural and political hegemony. They lacked control over their economies and the terms of their integration into the global economy. They lacked the human capital needed to run while others walked. And perhaps most importantly, they inherited terribly weak states that stood little chance in the face of neocolonial meddling and the many economic crises of the long decade from the late 1970s to the early 1990s. Many are yet to reach Nkrumah’s proverbial political kingdom. Faced with these challenges, satisficing became unavoidable. And many leaders made (mostly understandable) mistakes.

Despite this general understanding, Mamdani’s subject, Idi Amin, is a really hard case to think through.

It’s relatively easy to analytically understand the actions (and mistakes) of leaders like Julius Nyerere, Kenneth Kaunda, Tom Mboya, Jomo Kenyatta, Sekou Toure, Ahmed Ben Bella, Houphouet Boigny, or Kwame Nkrumah. It is much harder to do the same for leaders of Amin’s ilk. Yet Mamdani asks us to go there (and most readers will struggle with this, at first). And, on balance, I think his difficult ask is justified on the merits — even though I agree with Wallace Kantai that the Amin/Museveni contrast is sometimes overdone (more on this below).

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I: Wallowing in nostalgia is not a strategy

Early last year I urged us all to quickly move…

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I: Economics

(1) African economies will register strong nominal growth in 2026. But m…

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To close the year, this post reviews the calls I made early this year in my “Africa i…

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Thank you for being a regular reader of An Africanist Perspective. If you haven’t done so yet, please hit subscribe to receive timely updates on new posts along with over 31,000 other subscribers. All new regular content is free. Book reviews and the archives are gated.

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In The Second Emancipation, Howard French delivers a masterful exploration of the global political history of Africa in the first two thirds of the 20th century. French’s vessel is the biography of Kwame Nkrumah, which he uses to guide readers through a captivating and readily accessible journey through the rapidly changing world in which the former Ghanaian president lived.

I strongly recommend the book for the deeply-researched (intellectual) history of Pan-Africanism, Black Internationalism, the global decolonization movement, and the well-rounded interrogation of Nkrumah the man and politician. It’s easily my favorite book of the year.

This review will focus on what we can learn about leadership and development policymaking from Nkrumah’s tenure atop Ghanaian politics.

I: The wages of postcolonial decline and collapse of the quality of African leadership

A striking feature of contemporary Africa is the almost total lack of historically-aware and self-consciously strategic leaders. To be blunt, most African countries are led by two-bit rent-seekers with astonishingly low ambitions. The same leaders are fairly comfortable being at the bottom of the totem pole of global elites. You see this in how they unthinkingly batter away their countries’ natural resources, human capital, and market access for the proverbial trinkets. Too often you get the sense that they are simply not interested in addressing their societies’ problems.

In this post — and with reference to the life of Kwame Nkrumah — I argue that leadership matters, and that things weren’t always this bad on the Continent. There was a time when many (admittedly imperfect) African leaders were intrinsically motivated to be ambitious and willing to deploy whatever little leverage they had to expand their own agency, policy autonomy, and strategic independence — all with a view of improving their citizens’ living standards and their nations’ standing in the world.

My aim herein is twofold. First, it’s to shed some light on how we ought to define “good leadership” on Continent. Second, it’s to define how Africa’s leaders can help the region avoid a calamitous future as far as human welfare goes.

There’s no way to sugarcoat the current state of affairs on the Continent and what it means for the future. Africa is rapidly becoming the last world region to be ravaged by extreme poverty and its manifestations. Importantly, most African states remain weak and unable to secure their citizens, provide essential public goods and services, or create enabling conditions for commerce at scale. It’s my contention that coordinating out of this mess will require a much higher caliber of leaders than the Continent currently has.

For emphasis, the facts and figures quantifying decades-long policy failures across the Continent are grim. 600m people in the region lack access to power — this is over 80% of the global population without power (Africa represents 18% of global population). Only 20% of Africans use clean fuels to cook (those without access represent 43% of global total). Of the 58m primary school age children worldwide who aren’t enrolled, 33.8m are in Africa. An astonishing 60% of African 17 year olds are not in school. Furthermore, the region significantly lags the rest of the world on research — a reflection of the sorry state of higher education in the region. The atrocious levels of under-investment in education extend well beyond education. 31.7% of kids in the region are stunted (only South Asia records similar levels). Under 40% of Africans have access to piped water in their homes. The region’s economies remain largely informal, and create a mere 30% of the needed annual formal jobs. Over 80% of jobs are in the informal sector. It is no wonder that the last few years have seen young Africans protest their governments at risk of life and limb. A majority now openly support coups. The list goes on and on.

Sure, there has been some recent progress on key development indicators. Infant mortality rates are relatively lower (although still unconscionably high). Life expectancy is up. Despite enduring challenges to quality and access, education attainment levels are inching ever higher. And many countries continue to post economic growth rates that outpace their population expansion.

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I: Policymaking is fundamentally about balancing tradeoffs and setting clear goals, but can African policymakers have it all when it comes to electrification?

I love well-r…

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With reference to leading personalities, politics in post-independence Kenya can be periodized into three eras: the Jomo Kenyatta era (1963-1978), the Daniel arap Moi era (1978-2002), and the Raila Odinga era (2003-2025). As the founding president Kenyatta shaped Kenya’s postcolonial political settlement, the related elite ba…

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Foreign Policy magazine’s Fall 2025 issue has interesting essays on development. They are all worth reading, as they provide important perspectives on how the current geopo…

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I: Forcing energy-poor low-income countries to disproportionately focus on climate mitigation is anti-development

Charles Kenny, Vijaya Ramachandran and Guido Núñez-Mujica o…

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This is a follow up to earlier pieces that I wrote on development in an age of climate change; why (energy) poverty is not a viable climate strategy in the developing world…

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I: African economies desperately need lots and lots of formal sector jobs

The rate of informal employment in Africa is high, and basically hasn’t budged over the last 20 yea…

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I: All borders are arbitrary

All borders are artificial, and arbitrarily refl…

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Let’s be blunt. It’s fair to say that, relative to other African counties, contemporary Ethiopia and Li…

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This is the final installment in a four part series to mark the first anniversary of the June 25, 2024 protests. It offers a general commentary on how the current moment fi…

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