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Today's humanitarian news and analysis
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South Africa’s National Assembly recently passed a bill to set up a new border management agency. The Border Management Authority will fall under Home Affairs, a government department long distinguished by its lack of respect for immigrant and refugee rights. But there are other, deeper causes for concern.
Whereas previously, police and customs officers were under strict (if not always effective) civilian oversight, this new agency will be able to circumvent constitutional constraints. Broader changes to immigration and asylum policies are also in the works, such as a “risk-based” vetting system that could be used to justify barring most people from entering the country overland. Bolstering these efforts are plans to detain asylum seekers at processing centres dotted along the border.
South Africa’s new border management strategy has equivalents across the continent that likely do little to prevent smuggling and human trafficking or to stop terrorism – the justifications often used for such securitisation. Instead, they help reinforce authoritarian leadership and undermine regional governance initiatives. In the longer term, they are likely to impact development.
Free movement – within countries or to neighbouring areas – is central to people finding work and surviving in these precarious times. Constraints on such movement, whatever the source, are fundamentally anti-poor and anti-freedom. They treat migrants as suspected criminals, rather than as people legitimately seeking protection or employment. Many of these policies are being implemented with aid from the European Union and strong domestic support. Countries like Eritrea already maintain a repressive “exit visa” system while Central African Republic, Ethiopia, Niger, and Sudan are all planning enhanced border management strategies, including bio-metric tracking and militarisation.
Containment era
Militarising the margins has become an integral plank in the continent’s new approach to “migration management”. Following the Valletta Summit in late 2015, the EU created a trust fund that is funnelling billions of euros of development aid through bilateral arrangements with African states, including those with appalling human rights records, such as Sudan and Eritrea. Legitimised by a language of sovereignty, greater border controls are part of an emerging containment era in which Africans’ movements – not only towards Europe but even across the continent – are becoming pathologised and criminalised. There are continental variations. Some countries and sub-regions are less committed to control than others, but so-called containment development is undeniably on the rise. In this new developmental mode, success is measured primarily by the ability to keep people at home.
Critics of this approach focus heavily and justifiably on the migrants condemned to camps and detention centres, and the growing numbers who die before reaching their destination. Others note the extraordinary growth in a range of unsavoury professions: smuggling, kidnapping, and trafficking. Although often tinged with an alarmism driven by moral outrage or professional interest, these stories of exploited people and extinguished lives need to be told.
Yet focusing exclusively on the migrant victims of new containment technologies and practices, risks overlooking their implications for the continent’s governance and all Africans’ human rights. At the very least, the kind of bilateral arrangements various African countries are signing with the EU will scupper African Union plans to promote easier and safer movement within the continent. They will similarly curtail free movement policy proposals circulating within sub-regional economic communities.
While the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), already has a working protocol, it has been compromised by fears of terrorism and EU-funded programmes to deter migration through the region. In the Southern African Development Community (SADC) and the East African Community (EAC), proposals modelled on the ECOWAS framework are now less likely to move forward. This domesticates politics in ways that weaken the regional governance mechanisms needed to address collective development concerns and negotiate more favourable global trade positions. In place of multilateralism, we are likely to get stronger militaries and more authoritarian leaders. Indeed, directing aid and weapons to existing leadership in the region will almost certainly erode democracy and heighten insecurity and instability.
Growth industry
What is perhaps most worrying is how emergent border management approaches are likely to extend and proliferate beyond borders. Efforts promoted by the EU, with complicity from many African leaders, effectively seek to limit movement and freedom across and within countries. Europe fears that any movement – typically towards cities – will beget further moves, some of which will be towards the European motherland.
The EU’s new migration-linked development aid emphasises the need to create local opportunities so people need never move. The results are likely to be increased investment in rural areas. While not in itself a bad thing, such spending will be distorted by the desire to fix people in place. African leaders may care little about migration towards Europe, but under these new agreements they risk losing aid money if they fail to control populations within their borders. And ongoing urbanisation can also present a political challenge to their power. Maintaining people in situ – not only within their countries but within “primordial” rural communities – helps maintain systems of ethnic patronage and prevents unruly urbanites from protesting at the presidential gates.
Securitised border management of the kind South Africa is mooting is a gateway to the kind of containment strategies the EU is promoting. Within this new paradigm, millions will be detained in facilities across Africa or condemned to die along land and water borders. Smuggling, trafficking, and corruption will blossom in place of trade that could increase prosperity. Overseeing this will be politicians empowered by military aid windfalls and a global community without the moral authority to condemn their human rights abuses.
The vast majority of Africans who have no European fantasies will live in decreasingly democratic countries. The African Union and regional campaigns promoting development through accountable institutions and freer movement will also likely lead nowhere. The results – heightened inequality within and between countries, along with increased poverty and likelihood of conflict – will create precisely the pressures to migrate that Europe hopes to contain.
(TOP PHOTO: South African soldiers apprehend irregular migrants from Zimbabwe. Guy Oliver/IRIN)
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Everyone’s heard of climate change, right? Global warming, stranded polar bears, droughts, floods, and pestilence – a terrifying prospect imprinted on all our minds.
Actually, no. In some of the most vulnerable parts of the world, many communities on the front lines of climate change may well not be aware of how their environments are being altered, and the threat that poses to future livelihoods.
That lack of awareness makes adapting to the risks by switching to new, climate-smart agricultural methods all the harder.
Godai village in Nigeria’s northwestern state of Kaduna is already witnessing reduced rains, with the farmers lamenting poorer rice, maize, and vegetable harvests.
The long-term forecast is for still dryer conditions across the north, with the potential decline in yields for rain-fed agriculture as high as 50 percent.
Nigeria as a whole is classified as one of the 10 most vulnerable countries in the world, according to a 2015 climate change index by the global risk analytics company Verisk Maplecroft.
Climate what?
But despite the looming threat, six out of 10 farmers interviewed in Godai by IRIN said they “knew nothing” about climate change.
They all noted that the rains had reduced; half said there had been an increase in pests; and an equal number mentioned a problem of soil degradation. But deforestation rather than climate change was the most commonly mentioned culprit.
Maharazu Ibrahim, who grows maize and vegetables on a five-hectare plot, offered a typical comment: “I know nothing about [climate change], but we are witnessing strange weather.”
Most of the farmers were figuring out their own coping strategies. Ahmed Isa, like several of his colleagues, has planted mango and cashew nut trees on his land “to save the soil”. Others were using more animal dung on their fields, or digging water channels.
There was little expectation of government aid, but “we do need enlightenment,” said Nasiru Adamu, who farms an eight-hectare plot.
In theory, the government provides an agricultural advice service, staffed by a network of trained officers. But the farmers told IRIN that, in reality, it is badly underfunded and there is little support for rural communities.
“The few extension workers that are available we understand lack full knowledge about climate change,” said Yahaya Ahmed of the Developmental Association for Renewable Energy, a Kaduna-based NGO.
A lack of transport, even simple motorbikes, also limits their effectiveness.
But as is the case in much of rural Nigeria, each of Godai’s farmers owns a radio. They told IRIN that radio broadcasts and traditional leaders were their main sources of information.
Getting the message out
The farmers had clearly received the message on deforestation, so why had so few of them heard about climate change?
“When I was working with Radio France International, we introduced a magazine programme in Hausa [the language of the north] on climate change and it went a long way to educate local farmers on climate change adaptation,” said Atayi Babs of the Climate and Sustainable Development Network of Nigeria.
“But there are millions of Hausa-speaking people that are not listening to RFI, so we [must] use local radio and television stations, and even pidgin-English [Nigeria’s unofficial lingua franca] to educate farmers.”
According to Ahmed: “Radio journalists don't visit remote communities to interview [farmers] directly. Mostly, the information aired about climate change on radio is from written articles, which are translated, and the people don't understand a bit of it.”
Effective advocacy campaigns need to be designed with the input of the communities they are trying to influence, said Sam Ogallah of the Pan-African Climate Justice Alliance, a regional lobby group. If “[campaigns] are not targeted to the needs of the end users,” they don’t work, he added.
Nigeria recognises climate change as a strategic priority: It has adopted a Nigeria Climate Change Policy Response and Strategy; there is a National Adaptation Strategy and Plan of Action on Climate Change; the Ministry of Environment has a dedicated Department of Climate Change; and there are plans for a climate change trust fund.
All laudable steps, but Ogallah said there is a disconnect between the bureaucratic paper shuffling in Abuja and real climate action in places like Godai.
“Nigeria has several climate change policies and plans,” he told IRIN, “[but] still doesn’t have a climate change Act or Bill to guide climate actions in the country.’’
The government needs to take the lead, he added, because civil society doesn’t have the resources to run multi-year projects, and the private sector will only step in to help if there is a strong signal of intent from the authorities.
“We need advocacy programmes. We need awareness programmes,” said Babs, the ex-radio journalist. “Just because you live in a rural community, you shouldn't be left behind; not only in climate change awareness, but in every aspect of life.”
(PHOTO: Gondai village. Mohammad Ibrahim/IRIN)
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