With the IMF forecasting a 6.1% fall in advanced economy GDP in 2020 and world trade expected to contract by 11%, there is intense focus on the question of how and when to re-open economies currently in lockdown.

But no ‘opening up’ plan has a chance of succeeding unless it commands the confidence of all the main actors in the economy – employees, consumers, firms, investors and local authorities.

Without public confidence, these groups may follow official guidance only sporadically; consumers will preserve cash rather than spend it on goods and services; employees will delay returning to work wherever possible; businesses will face worsening bottlenecks as some parts of the economy open up while key suppliers remain closed; and firms will continue to delay many discretionary investment and hiring decisions.

Achieving public confidence

Taken together, these behaviours would substantially reduce the chances of a strong economic bounce-back even in the absence of a widespread second wave of infections. Five key steps are needed to achieve a high degree of public confidence in any reopening plan.

First, enough progress must be made in suppressing the virus and in building public health capacity so the public can be confident any new outbreak will be contained without reverting to another full-scale lockdown. Moreover, the general public needs to feel that the treatment capacity of the health system is at a level where the risk to life if someone does fall ill with the virus is at an acceptably low level.

Achieving this requires the government to demonstrate the necessary capabilities - testing, contact tracing, quarantine facilities, supplies of face masks and other forms of PPE (personal protective equipment) - are actually in place and can be sustained, rather than relying on future commitments. It also needs to be clear on the role to be played going forward by handwashing and other personal hygiene measures.

Second, the authorities need to set out clear priorities on which parts of the economy are to open first and why. This needs to take account of both supply side and demand side factors, such as the importance of a particular sector to delivering essential supplies, a sector’s ability to put in place effective protocols to protect its employees and customers, and its importance to the functioning of other parts of the economy. There is little point in opening a car assembly plant unless its SME suppliers are able to deliver the required parts.

Detailed planning of the phasing of specific relaxation measures is essential, as is close cooperation between business and the authorities. The government also needs to establish a centralised coordination function capable of dealing quickly with any unexpected supply chain glitches. And it must pay close attention to feedback from health experts on how the process of re-opening the economy sector-by-sector is affecting the rate of infection.  

Third, the government needs to state how the current financial and economic support measures for the economy will evolve as the re-opening process continues. It is critical to avoid removing support measures too soon, and some key measures may have to continue to operate even as firms restart their operations. It is important to show how - over time - the measures will evolve from a ‘life support’ system for businesses and individuals into a more conventional economic stimulus.

This transition strategy could initially be signalled through broad principles, but the government needs to follow through quickly by detailing specific measures. The transition strategy must target sectors where most damage has been done, including the SME sector in general and specific areas such as transport, leisure and retail. It needs to factor in the hard truth that some businesses will be no longer be viable after the crisis and set out how the government is going to support employees and entrepreneurs who suffer as a result.

The government must also explain how it intends to learn the lessons and capture the upsides from the crisis by building a more resilient economy over the longer term. Most importantly, it has to demonstrate continued commitment to tackling climate change – which is at least as big a threat to mankind’s future as pandemics.

Fourth, the authorities should explain how they plan to manage controls on movement of people across borders to minimise the risk of new infection outbreaks, but also to help sustain the opening-up measures. This needs to take account of the fact that different countries are at different stages in the progress of the pandemic and may have different strategies and trade-offs on the risks they are willing to take as they open up.

As a minimum, an effective border plan requires close cooperation with near neighbours as these are likely to be the most important economic counterparts for many countries. But ideally each country’s plan should be part of a wider global opening-up strategy coordinated by the G20. In the absence of a reliable antibody test, border control measures will have to rely on a combination of imperfect testing, quarantine, and new, shared data requirements for incoming and departing passengers.  

Fifth, the authorities must communicate the steps effectively to the public, in a manner that shows not only that this is a well thought-through plan, but also does not hide the extent of the uncertainties, or the likelihood that rapid modifications may be needed as the plan is implemented. In designing the communications, the authorities should develop specific measures to enable the public to track progress.

Such measures are vital to sustaining business, consumer and employee confidence. While some smaller advanced economies appear close to completing these steps, for many others there is still a long way to go. Waiting until they are achieved means higher economic costs in the short-term. But, in the long-term, they will deliver real net benefits.

Authorities are more likely to sustain these measures because key economic actors will actually follow the guidance given. Also, by instilling confidence, the plan will bring forward the consumer and business decision-making crucial to a strong recovery. In contrast, moving ahead without proper preparation risks turning an already severe economic recession into something much worse.

African policymakers face a dilemma when it comes to COVID-19. The first hope is to prevent the virus from gaining a foothold at all, and many African states have significant experience of managing infectious disease outbreaks. The establishment of the Africa Centre for Disease Control highlights the hugely increased focus on public health in recent years.

But capacities to track, test and isolate vary wildly, notably between neighbours with porous and poorly controlled borders and, in most cases, sustained national-level disease control is difficult. Initial clusters of COVID-19 cases are already established in many places, but a lack of testing capacity makes it hard to know the full extent of transmission.

It is not obvious what African states should do as a response. Lack of information about COVID-19 means the proportion of asymptomatic or mild cases is not known, still less the ways in which this is influenced by human geography and demographics.

Africa is an overwhelmingly young continent with a median age under 20. But it also faces chronic malnutrition, which may weaken immune responses, and infectious diseases such as malaria, TB and HIV are widespread which could worsen the impact of COVID-19, particularly if treatment for these diseases is interrupted.

Complex and unknown

Ultimately, how all these factors interact with COVID-19 is complex and remains largely unknown. Africa may escape with a relatively light toll. Or it could be hit harder than anywhere else.

What is clear, however, is that cost of simply following the rest of the world into lockdown could be high. Africa is relatively rural but has higher populations living in informal settlements than anywhere in the world. Many live in cramped and overcrowded accommodation without clean water or reliable electricity, making handwashing a challenge and working from home impossible.

And the benefits appear limited. The goal of lockdowns in most places is not to eliminate the virus but to accept the economic and social costs as a price worth paying in order to ‘flatten the curve’ of infection and protect healthcare systems from being overwhelmed. But this logic does not hold when many of Africa’s healthcare systems are barely coping with pre-coronavirus levels of disease.

Africa suffers in comparison to much of the rest of the world in terms of access to quality and affordable healthcare, critical care beds and specialist personnel. For example, in 2017, Nigeria had just 120 ICU beds for a country of 200 million, equating to 0.07 per 100,000 inhabitants compared to 12.5 per 100,000 in Italy and 3.6 per 100,000 in China.

The pandemic’s ruinous economic impacts could also be more acute for Africa than anywhere else. The continent is highly vulnerable to potential drops in output and relies heavily on demand from China and Europe. Many states are already facing sharply falling natural resource revenues, and investment, tourism and remittances will suffer - all on top of a high existing debt burden.

Analysis by the World Bank shows that Africa will likely face its first recession in 25 years, with the continental economy contracting by up to 5.1% in 2020. Africa will have scant financial ammunition to use in the fight against COVID-19 with currencies weakening, food prices rising, local agri-food supply chains disrupted and food imports likely to decrease as well. A food security emergency appears a strong possibility.

So, although several states have imposed national lockdowns and others closed major urban centres, lockdowns are difficult to manage and sustain, especially in places where the daily hustle of the informal sector or subsistence agriculture are the only means of survival and where the state has neither the trust of the population nor the capacity to replace lost earnings or meet basic needs.

Of course, this is not simply a binary choice between lockdown or no lockdown - a range of intermediate options exist, such as some restriction on movement, curfews, shutting places of worship, banning only large gatherings, or closing pubs, schools and borders.

A significant number of African states have so far taken this middle path. This will not prevent the virus from spreading nor, in all probability, be enough to ensure adequate healthcare for all Africans infected with COVID-19. But it may help slow the spread and buy invaluable time for African states and partners to prepare.

How this time is used is therefore of paramount importance. Popular trust in the state is low in many African countries so strategies must empower communities, not alienate them. Africa’s experience of previous epidemics and long traditions of collective resilience and community-based crisis response - which persist in many places – are significant strengths.

The right messages must be carried by the right messengers, and policies - including cash transfers and food distribution - implemented sensitively. If not, or if responses become militarized, public consent is unlikely to be sustained for long.

The recognition by Ukraine of the jurisdiction of the International Criminal Court (ICC) to consider grave crimes allegedly perpetrated in its territory has led to the ICC Prosecutor’s preliminary examination identifying a wave of alleged war crimes and crimes against humanity.

There are claims of persecution, forced conscription, deportation, sham trials, enforced disappearances, and property seizure - in Crimea. As well as killings, torture, inhuman treatment, sexual violence, and indiscriminate shelling - in Donbas. The court now needs to decide whether to open a full investigation which could lead to charges against specific individuals, as in the trial currently taking place in the Netherlands over MH-17.

However, the ICC does remain a court of last resort as Ukraine retains the principal power to prosecute grave violations perpetrated in its eastern regions and Crimea, with the court only stepping in if Ukraine (or another court with jurisdiction) is either unwilling or unable to do so.

As the evidence mounts up, Ukrainian investigators, prosecutors and judges are becoming more open to cooperation with foreign experts, law firms, human rights NGOs and younger domestic professionals - a significant proportion of whom are women.

Transformation shows determination

This is an unusual shift, given the rigid hierarchical nature of post-Soviet institutions, with elderly males in most of the top positions. The transformation shows the determination to see perpetrators of crimes in Crimea and Donbas tried by the ICC, with joint professional development trainings and joint communications about the alleged crimes.

Ukraine has also been strengthening its institutions. The Prosecutor’s Office of the Autonomous Republic of Crimea has been improving quality control of its war crime proceedings, and has taken a strong pro-ICC stance. The Office of the Prosecutor General established a special department to monitor the armed conflict proceedings, and two specialised war crime units have been formed in Donbas.

Although too early to assess progress - given recent prosecution reform and that much-needed legislation on international crimes is still pending – these are promising signs of Ukraine’s intent to take a specialised approach to armed conflict violations. And Ukrainian civil society organisations are also playing a more important role, documenting alleged crimes and sending evidence to the ICC.

Any intervention by the ICC in Ukraine also has a considerable impact on the wider dynamics of addressing international crimes, further extending the court’s reach beyond a focus on Africa which has attracted widespread criticism since it began in 2002.

The ICC has already opened investigations in Georgia, Bangladesh/Myanmar, and Afghanistan, with preliminary examinations in Colombia, Venezuela, Iraq/UK, Palestine, and The Philippines. But the Ukrainian case would further develop the European subtleties of the court’s jurisprudence.

Although the ICC is currently investigating the 2008 Russia-Georgia war, the active phase of that armed conflict lasted for just five days whereas Russia’s military involvement in Ukraine has been ongoing for the six years. The temporal difference in no way diminishes the suffering of victims and the necessity for the proper investigation, prosecution and compensation in the Georgian context.

And yet, going by even the preliminary findings of the ICC prosecutor, the spectrum of war crimes and crimes against humanity allegedly perpetrated in Ukraine is much wider. Some incidents, such as the illegal construction of the Crimean Bridge, is an amalgam of the violations against property, cultural heritage and the environment. Cumulatively, the Ukrainian and Georgian cases would substantially contribute to the development of the court’s emerging European lenses.

The Russia-Ukraine armed conflict is also the first instance of armed hostilities of such magnitude and duration in Europe since World War II and the Yugoslav Wars. The ICC’s readiness to take on such geopolitically challenging cases which leave itself open to attack will be tested.

But by examining new contexts - including Ukraine - the ICC would develop a more layered reading of the nature and scope of the crimes it works on. For example, alleged indoctrination and use of children by armed groups in eastern Ukraine is likely to differ from the known practices of abducting and recruiting child soldiers in Africa.

Investigating evidence of Russia’s persecution of pro-Ukrainian activists - forcing them out of Crimea - coupled with the creation of favourable conditions for Russian citizens to relocate to Crimea could lead to proving the existence of a policy of mass colonisation of the peninsula - adding new layers to the court’s jurisprudence on population displacement. And previously under-prosecuted crimes may come to the fore, such as attacks on cultural property or causing the destruction of the environment.

Although the ICC proceedings on Ukraine – along with those being held by the International Court of Justice (ICJ) - are unlikely to bring immediate results, Ukraine has developed an international adjudication strategy based on the available viable options and what can be practically delivered.

The simple act of a reputed international court outlining Russia’s alleged violations in Crimea and Donbas and naming those individually responsible would be an impactful achievement in itself, regardless of whether Russia pays any attention or compensation.

And any international judgments or those of domestic courts such as the Dutch MH-17 proceedings and Russia’s response - predicted to be non-compliance - is an important argument for continuing sanctions against Russia over its conduct in Ukraine.

The mutually reinforcing effect of both the Crimea and Donbas proceedings within Ukraine and at international courts should not be underestimated. These investigations into war crimes, terrorism and human rights issues are deeply relevant - not only for the conflict itself, but also for the development of international law.

Part One of this series assesses Ukraine’s efforts to hold Russia accountable as a state at the International Court of Justice (ICJ).

On 10 January 2020, Chinese scientists released the sequence of the COVID-19 genome on the internet. This provided the starting gun for scientists around the world to start developing vaccines or therapies. With at least 80 different vaccines in development, many governments are pinning their hopes on a quick solution. However, there are many hurdles to overcome. 

Vaccine development

Firstly, vaccine development is normally a very long process to ensure vaccines are safe and effective before they are used. 

Safety is not a given: a recent dengue vaccine caused heightened disease in vaccinated children when they later were exposed to dengue, while Respiratory Syncytial Virus vaccine caused the same problem. Nor is effectiveness a given. Candidate vaccines that use novel techniques where minute fragments of the viruses’ genetic code are either injected directly into humans or incorporated into a vaccine (as is being pursued, or could be pursued for COVID-19) have higher risks of failure simply because they haven’t worked before. For some vaccines, we know what levels of immunity post-vaccination are likely to be protective. This is not the case for coronavirus. 

Clinical trials will have to be done for efficacy. This is not optional – regulators will need to know extensive testing has taken place before licencing any vaccine. Even if animal tests are done in parallel with early human tests, the remainder of the process is still lengthy. 

There is also great interest in the use of passive immunization, whereby antibodies to SARS-CoV-2 (collected from people who have recovered from infection or laboratory-created) are given to people who are currently ill. Antivirals may prove to be a quicker route than vaccine development, as the testing requirements would be shorter, manufacturing may be easier and only ill people would need to be treated, as opposed to all at-risk individuals being vaccinated.

Vaccine manufacturing

Developers, especially small biotechs, will have to make partnerships with large vaccine manufacturers in order to bring products to market. One notorious bottleneck in vaccine development is getting from proof-of-principle to commercial development: about 95 per cent of vaccines fail at this step. Another bottleneck is at the end of production. The final stages of vaccine production involve detailed testing to ensure that the vaccine meets the necessary criteria and there are always constraints on access to the technologies necessary to finalize the product. Only large vaccine manufacturers have these capacities. There is a graveyard of failed vaccine candidates that have not managed to pass through this development and manufacturing process.

Another consideration is adverse or unintended consequences. Highly specialized scientists may have to defer their work on other new vaccines to work on COVID-19 products and production of existing products may have to be set aside, raising the possibility of shortages of other essential vaccines. 

Cost is another challenge. Vaccines for industrialized markets can be very lucrative for pharmaceutical companies, but many countries have price caps on vaccines. Important lessons have been learned from the 2009 H1N1 flu pandemic when industrialized countries took all the vaccines first. Supplies were made available to lower-income countries at a lower price but this was much later in the evolution of the pandemic. For the recent Ebola outbreaks, vaccines were made available at low or no cost. 

Geopolitics may also play a role. Should countries that manufacture a vaccine share it widely with other countries or prioritize their own populations first? It has been reported that President Trump attempted to purchase CureVac, a German company with a candidate vaccine.  There are certainly precedents for countries prioritizing their own populations. With H1N1 flu in 2009, the Australian Government required a vaccine company to meet the needs of the Australian population first. 

Vaccine distribution

Global leadership and a coordinated and coherent response will be needed to ensure that any vaccine is distributed equitably. There have been recent calls for a G20 on health, but existing global bodies such as the Coalition for Epidemic Preparedness Innovations (CEPI) and GAVI are working on vaccines and worldwide access to them. Any new bodies should seek to boost funding for these entities so they can ensure products reach the most disadvantaged. 

While countries that cannot afford vaccines may be priced out of markets, access for poor, vulnerable or marginalized peoples, whether in developed or developing countries, is of concern. Developing countries are at particular risk from the impacts of COVID-19. People living in conflict-affected and fragile states – whether they are refugees or asylum seekers, internally displaced or stateless, or in detention facilities – are at especially high risk of devastating impacts. 

Mature economies will also face challenges. Equitable access to COVID-19 vaccine will be challenging where inequalities and unequal access to essential services have been compromised within some political systems. 

The need for global leadership 

There is an urgent need for international coordination on COVID-19 vaccines. While the WHO provides technical support and UNICEF acts as a procurement agency, responding to coronavirus needs clarity of global leadership that arches over national interests and is capable of mobilizing resources at a time when economies are facing painful recessions. We see vaccines as a salvation but remain ill-equipped to accelerate their development.

While everyone hopes for rapid availability of safe, effective and affordable vaccines that will be produced in sufficient quantities to meet everyone’s needs, realistically, we face huge hurdles. 

On April 9, Iraqi President Barham Salih gathered the Shia, Kurdish and Sunni political blocs at the presidential palace to task head of intelligence Mustafa al-Kadhimi with forming a government.

Kadhimi is the third prime minister-designate assigned since Prime Minister Adil abd al-Mehdi resigned in November, in the wake of mass protests against government corruption and the country’s ethno-sectarian based political system.

Kadhimi’s two predecessors, Muhammad Tawfiq Allawi and Adnan al-Zurfi, both failed to form a government. This third attempt came as Iraq struggles with repeated crises since October 2019, when the government began responding with deadly force to large-scale mass protests, killing more than 600 and injuring tens of thousands.

In January, the assassination of Qasem Soleimani escalated tensions between the United States and Iran, with Iraq stuck in the middle and becoming the home for regular tit-for-tat attacks. The Islamic State — never completely defeated — took advantage of these crises and increased its attacks in disputed territories.

The outbreak of COVID-19 challenges the country’s fragile public health sector, while the decline in the price of oil will make it harder for leaders to pay the public salaries that keep the system (and patronage) moving.

What does the delay in forming a government amid multiple crises mean for the post-2003 Iraqi political system?

Iraq’s post-2003 political system is designed to withstand crisis. Over the years, political parties reflecting the country’s ethnic and sectarian divides have had a tacit understanding that crises represent a risk to their collective interests. These elite stakeholders have together weathered civil war, insurgency and multiple protests — despite deep conflicts with one another.

For instance, in September 2018 protesters attacked most major political party headquarters and the Iranian consulate in Basra, and authorities killed some 20 protesters.

Since the May election of that year, the fragmented Shia elite had been unable to even declare which side has the largest parliamentary bloc, let alone decide on a government.

But after the September crisis, the previously gridlocked parties swiftly came together to form an “understanding” that pushed through the impasse leading to the Mehdi government. In 2020, however, Iraq’s political parties were slower to come back together despite the multiple crises — far greater than 2018. The system is less able to swiftly fix itself, based primarily on the fragmentation of the elite — and their determination to prevent any challenge to their rule.

Why did the two prior attempts fail?

The two previous prime minister-designates each fell short for different reasons. When I met Allawi in February at the prime minister’s guesthouse in Baghdad, he was very clearly convinced that his mandate was to sideline the parties.

He hoped that simply choosing technocratic ministers outside the elite pact, with the support of Moqtada al-Sadr behind him, would garner support from protesters and the disillusioned public. He failed, however, because his cabinet had to go through parliament and the parties rejected what they saw a threat to the elite pact and the system.

Zurfi similarly failed after being directly appointed in March by Salih after the Shia parties failed to come up with a candidate. From the beginning, then, Zurfi faced challenges because parties were not in agreement. He attempted to directly confront his opposition, and spoke out against Iranian influence in Iraq. As a result, Zurfi was unable to even get to parliament with his proposed cabinet, as the Shia parties got back together to bring him down.

The failure of both strategies — Allawi attempting to work outside the elite party system and Zurfi trying to target certain parties — reveals tensions in Iraq’s political system. This fragmentation strains the parties’ ability to swiftly unite, and the system’s ability to withstand crises.

The endemic problems are a consequence of fragmentation, including the failure following the 2018 elections to declare governing parliamentary bloc. Moreover, after that election, newcomers into the political system (two-thirds of the MPs are serving their first term) are increasingly making their own demands and less willing to blindly toe party lines.

Can Kadhimi overcome the impasse?

Kadhimi’s appointment as prime minister-designate nonetheless is on shaky foundations. His appointment had previously faced a veto from Iran and its allied groups which make up the Fateh bloc. Kataeb Hezbollah, an armed group close to Iran and linked to the Popular Mobilization Units, issued a statement accusing Kadhimi with blood on his hands for the deaths of Soleimani and Abu Mahdi al-Muhandis.

Many Fateh bloc members had for months vetoed Kadhimi’s name due to this allegation. Immediately before Kadhimi addressed the nation for the first time, Iraqi state television broadcast a prerecorded statement by PMU (and Fateh) leader Qais al-Khazali, who had also previously accused Kadhimi of spying for the Americans and being complicit in the two killings.

Khazali, who commands the second-largest party within Fateh, accepted the party line to back Kadhimi but came out with his own conditions on television. However, the concerns about the COVID-19 crisis and the collapse of the price of oil finally brought all sides to compromise — a design of the political system.

Kadhimi has signalled he will play by the old rules with these stakeholders. Because of the magnitude of these simultaneous crises, Iraqi politics is moving back to the post-2003 norm. The ethno-sectarian based political system is geared to weather such existential crises more than it is to handling day-to-day governance. Despite the notion of “post-sectarianism” in Iraq, this system is based on ethno-sectarian political party compromise.

In his television address, Khazali, who had previously attempted to move away from sectarian language, explained that the process of selecting a prime minister is reserved to the Shia, who have the right as the majority, and not to Salih, a Kurd.

Over the years Kadhimi has expressed an admiration of the bravery of the protesters and of the importance of civil society. Many Iraqi civil society activists owe their lives to the work of the former intelligence chief. However, he has also been part of the same system that has violently suppressed protesters.

As the compromise prime minister-designate, he will find it difficult to transform his country as long as he plays by the rules of post-2003 Iraq — an irony not lost on the protesters who immediately rejected the candidacy of a man whom until recently many protesters had supported.

This article was originally published in The Washington Post

Ukrainians are accustomed to crisis. As COVID-19 spread, forest fires were raging in the Chernobyl exclusion zone, turning Kyiv into the most polluted city in the world. The fighting in Donbas continued, claiming the lives of more Ukrainian soldiers, bringing the total to more than 4,000 — and, on top of that, President Zelenskyy overhauled his government. So Ukraine is fighting three battles at the same time — war with Russia, the struggle against its own ineffective system, and now COVID-19.

Every crisis is a reality check — the coronavirus provoked and exposed the strategic vulnerabilities and deep-rooted features of Ukraine’s system of governance. Three trends have come to the fore. First, the inefficiency and paralysis of many state agencies, particularly the lack of coordination between them and the prevalence of vested interests. Second, the reliance of the country’s leaders on large financial-industrial groups (FIGs) to compensate for weak institutional capacity. Third, a strong societal and private sector mobilization to fill the gaps in the dilapidated public health system.

State agencies are rigid and ineffective. Despite the modern Prozorro digital public procurement system, and the government’s allocation of $2.5 million from the early days of the epidemic, the Ministry of Health blocked COVID-related purchases for over a month. This was a tactic by — now ex-minister — Yemets to pressure the state medical procurement agency into appointing a protégé of his as one of its deputy heads.

Lowest testing rate in Europe

Similarly, in some regions, notably Odesa, procurement stalled and orders went to politically connected businesses at higher-than-market prices. Lack of tests and laboratory equipment means Ukraine has administered only 72,000 tests within a population of 42 million to date — the lowest rate in Europe.

Doctors were given orders to ensure they only test patients in hospitals with COVID-19 symptoms and only those arriving from Asia, while ignoring the fact that millions of Ukrainian labour migrants were in Europe. Indeed, the first confirmed case was imported from Italy.

Ukrainian government and public health officials lack information to take informed decisions. There is no accurate electronic database of registered deaths and reporting is lagging behind events. Information on testing availability in the regions is missing.

Thirteen days after the first case of the virus was recorded, Zelenskyy exhorted business tycoons to come to the rescue. Taking a populist tone, Zelenskyy said ‘Ukraine has been feeding you for a long time and it is time that you helped the country’. The tycoons divided the regions among themselves to deliver relief efforts according to the location of their enterprises.

It is believed FIGs have donated around $25 million to procure testing kits, ventilators, personal protective equipment (PPE) and disinfectants. This may sound impressive, but many of those same tycoons actually owe millions to the state, some even billions, and cause serious problems by perpetuating the current rent-seeking system, where public resources benefit those groups resulting in serious social losses.

Reliance on these groups makes Zelenskyy a hostage to their favour in any potential reform efforts. It is a dangerous solution, as these tycoons often obstruct Ukraine’s economic development.

An alternative — and more transformative — trend of public-private partnerships is emerging in some regions. Across Ukraine, hundreds of small- and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs) have led efforts to deliver PPE, support the vulnerable with food supplies, and to procure ventilators for key hospitals.

They have mobilised hundreds of volunteers to deliver assistance and partnered with local non-profits. Fundraising initiatives have begun in Lviv, Odesa, Kyiv and Poltava with donations and expenditure has been posted online for transparency. Companies have repurposed to produce PPE kits and medical equipment. The efforts unfolded quickly and, in some cases, in smooth collaboration with municipal and regional authorities.

Ukraine cannot afford to ‘waste’ this crisis, which could help accelerate healthcare reform, decentralization, modernize governance, and boost citizen empowerment. But for this to happen, the country has to deploy a ‘smart response’.

Such ‘smart response’ means applying a resilience framework that nurtures the agility of the system of governance, ensures a diversity of actors in decision-making, supporting both self-regulation and better coordination. Rather than reaching out to tycoons, Zelenskyy should enter a coalition with true agents of change — SME leaders, volunteers, and mayors who have mobilized effective grassroots action. These actors demand a level playing field with accountable governance and effective state institutions.

Civic COVID-19 response hubs and local authorities should be joined in a network that spans the regions, and connected with the national agencies designing pandemic responses. For a national strategy to be effective, central headquarters should draw information from local communities and manage a ‘team of teams’ in a decentralised fashion.

Ensuring effective public service delivery without compromising integrity and keeping the risk of corruption low should also be a priority of political reform, with volunteers and the private sector ensuring civic oversight of both regional and national funding.

Civic engagement such as this can be transformative as it defies the Soviet legacy of paternalism and expands the belief among citizens that society can work for them. By assisting the relief effort, citizens are gaining valuable insights into quality of public services and participate in holding them to account.

Citizens are also developing a better understanding of the purpose of having effective armed forces, police, border guards and modern hospitals. They are coming to understand the value of taxpayer money and witnessing how corruption erodes institutions.

This survival mobilization — if properly harnessed by the state — could drive transformative change and make Ukraine more resilient, not just against present crises, but future ones too.

COVID-19 has offered regimes in the region the opportunity to end popular protest. The squares of Algiers, Baghdad, and Beirut – all packed with protesters over the past few months – are now empty due to the pandemic, and political gatherings have also been suspended. In Algeria, Iraq and Lebanon, COVID-19 has achieved what snipers, pro-regime propaganda, and even the economic crisis, could not.

Moreover, political regimes have taken advantage of the crisis to expand their control over the political sphere by arresting their opponents, such as in Algeria where the authorities have cracked down on a number of active voices of the Hirak movement. Similarly, in Lebanon, security forces have used the pandemic as an excuse to crush sit-ins held in Martyr’s Square in Beirut and Nour Square in Tripoli.

However, despite the challenges that the pandemic has brought, it also offers opportunities for protest movements in the region. While the crisis has put an end to popular mobilization in the streets, it has  created new forms of activism in the shape of solidarity initiatives to help those affected by its consequences.

In Iraq, for example, protest groups have directed their work towards awareness-raising and sharing essential food to help mitigate the problem of food shortages and rising prices across the country. In Algeria, Hirak activists have run online campaigns to raise awareness about the virus and have encouraged people to stay at home. Others have been cleaning and disinfecting public spaces. These initiatives increase the legitimacy of the protest movement, and if coupled with political messages, could offer these movements an important chance to expand their base of popular support.

Exposes economic vulnerability

Economic grievances, corruption and poor provision of public services have been among the main concerns of this recent wave of protests. This pandemic only further exposes the levels of economic vulnerability in the region. COVID-19 is laying bare the socio-economic inequalities in MENA countries; this is particularly evident in the numbers of people engaged in the informal economy with no access to social security, including health insurance and pensions.

Informal employment, approximately calculated by the share of the labour force not contributing to social security, is estimated to amount to 65.5% of total employment in Lebanon, 64.4% in Iraq, and 63.3% in Algeria. The crisis has underscored the vulnerability of this large percentage of the labour force who have been unable to afford the economic repercussions of following state orders to stay at home.

The situation has also called attention to the vital need for efficient public services and healthcare systems. According to the fifth wave of the Arab Barometer, 74.4% of people in Lebanon are dissatisfied with their country’s healthcare services, as are 67.8% of people in Algeria and 66.5% in Iraq.

Meanwhile, 66.2% of people in Lebanon believe it is necessary to pay a bribe in order to receive better healthcare, as do 56.2% of people in Iraq and 55.9% in Algeria. The COVID-19 crisis has highlighted the need for more government investment in public healthcare systems to render them more efficient and less corrupt, strengthening the protesters’ case for the need for radical socio-economic reforms.

On the geopolitical level, the crisis puts into question the stability-focused approach of Western powers towards the region. For years, Western powers have directed their aid towards security forces in the interests of combating terrorism but COVID-19 has proved itself to be a much more lethal challenge to both the region and the West.

Facing this new challenge requires international actors to reconsider their approach to include supporting health and education initiatives, as well as freedom of expression and transparency. As argued by Western policymakers themselves, it was China’s lack of transparency and slow response that enabled the proliferation of the virus, when it could have been contained in Wuhan back in December 2019.

This crisis therefore offers regional protest movements the opportunity to capitalize on this moment and push back against the policies of Western powers that have invested in regional stability only to the extent of combating Islamic jihad. 

But crises do not change the world, people do. The COVID-19 pandemic will not in itself result in political change in the MENA region. Rather, it brings opportunities and risks that, when exploited, will allow political actors to advance their own agendas. While the crisis has put an end to popular mobilization and allowed regimes to tighten their grip over the political sphere, behind these challenges lie real opportunities for protest movements.

The current situation represents a possibility for them to expand their popular base through solidarity initiatives and has exposed more widely the importance of addressing socio-economic inequalities. Finally, it offers the chance to challenge the stability-focused approach of Western powers towards the region which until now has predominantly focused on combating terrorism.

Differing approaches across the hemisphere have had different impacts on presidential popularity and, at least in one case, on democratic institutions and human rights. Yet, even within that diversity, South America’s Southern Cone countries (Argentina, Chile, Paraguay and Uruguay) have shown a sign of solidarity: protecting and facilitating trade flows, sponsoring cross-border research and ensuring citizens’ return to their home countries.    

The response from populist leaders

On the extreme have been the responses of presidents of Brazil, Nicaragua and Mexico, all of whom have ignored the science of the virus and of experts and refused to implement isolation policies.  President Jair Bolsonaro of Brazil fired his health minister, Luis Henrique Mandetta on 16 April for contradicting him and earlier had claimed that the pandemic was a hoax or little more than a ‘measly cold.' 

Meanwhile, Nicaraguan president Daniel Ortega has resisted closing businesses and schools.  After a mysterious 34-day absence, Ortega appeared on television on 15 April reinforcing his refusal to close businesses saying that Nicaraguans must work or they will die and claiming that the virus was ‘imported.’ 

Mexico’s Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador (AMLO) has also resisted the call for strict stay-at-home policies, though with his Deputy Health Minister, Hugo López-Gatell, has closed schools – recently extending the closure to the 1st of June and urging non-essential businesses to close – but focusing primarily on social distancing. 

In contrast to his deputy health minister and Foreign Minister Marcelo Ebrard – who had declared the situation a health emergency on 30th March, later than many neighbouring countries – AMLO has largely attempted to avoid discussion of the pandemic, claiming that in his case he has lucky charms that prevent him from contracting the virus. 

And both Bolsonaro and AMLO have participated in large public rallies, doing all the things that politicians love, shaking hands and hugging babies, and in the case of the former even wiping his nose before embracing an elderly woman.

The Nicaraguan, Brazilian and Mexican presidents make an odd grouping since one (Bosonaro) is considered of the extreme populist right and the others (Ortega and AMLO) of the populist left. What unites them is good old-fashioned populism, a belief in a leader who represents the amorphous popular will and should be unfettered by checks and balances on his power, including something like… science.  

An eclectic group

At the other extreme have been the quick responses by governments in Peru, Argentina, Chile, El Salvador and Colombia which put quarantine measures in place in mid-March. In these cases, governments have even banned outdoor activities and in the case of Peru and Colombia (in the large cities) have imposed alternating days for when women and men can leave the house so as to better control outside movement.  

This too, though, is an eclectic group. It includes a Peronist president Alberto Fernández in Argentina, conservative presidents Sebastian Piñera in Chile and Ivan Duque in Colombia, interim president and relative political neophyte Martin Vizcarra in Peru and outsider president Nayib Bukele in El Salvador. 

El Salvador’s strict quarantine measures have led to rising concerns that Bukele is using the crisis to consolidate personal power, using the national police and the armed forces to enforce the quarantine and ignoring three rulings by the Supreme Court urging the president to end the abuses. In Argentina, Peronist Fernández has shown a surprising commitment to containment even as it hurts his party’s working-class base, not something typically expected of the populist Peronist Party.   

In all of these cases, the quick, strong responses by the presidents shored up their popularity. Peru’s Vizcarra saw his popularity shoot up 35 points in a week to 82 per cent according to surveys taken in March. In late March 2020, Fernández in Argentina saw his approval ratings swell to 79.2 per cent with 94.7 percent of citizens approving of the government’s strict shelter-at-home policies.   Even presidents Piñera and Duque who had struggled with low approval ratings throughout 2019 and saw those numbers sink even lower after the social protests that ended the year have seen their numbers rise.  

According to an 20th April poll, Piñera’s popular approval rating swelled from 13 percent in March 18th at the start of the crisis to 25 per cent by 20th April; while hardly a sweeping popular mandate, even that level was unthinkable only a few months ago when administration was battered by social protests. 

In Colombia, after a series of political missteps and the popular protests, Duque’s popular approval rating had slumped to 26 per cent; by April 2nd, 62 percent of Colombians supported the once-beleaguered president.   (No recent surveys were available for Bukele in El Salvador.)

In contrast, Bolsonaro’s in Brazil has only nudged up.  Before the crisis hit, the president’s popularity had been in steady decline from a high of 49 per cent in January 2019 to 30 per cent by early December 2019. But by the first week in April, in the midst of a crisis in which other presidents saw their approval ratings increase by double digits, after his public disagreements with the health minister, Bolsonaro’s had sunk to 33 per cent while the soon-to-be-fired Mandetta’s stood at 76 per cent.  

AMLO in Mexico has fared no better. The populist leftist scored a high 86 per cent approval rating in February 1, 2019. By March 28, 2020 with concerns over his weak and flippant COVID-19 response and a severe contraction in economic growth, AMLO’s approval rating had sunk 26 points to 60 per cent and his disapproval stood at 37 per cent.    

In the midst of disharmony, coordination

Despite these differences, many countries in the region have shown the solidarity they often speak of but rarely follow in policy or practice. Peru, Chile and other countries have collaborated in repatriating citizens back to their home countries in the midst of the crisis.  

Even the countries of the Southern Cone common market, MERCOSUR, have pulled together on a number of fronts.  The trade bloc had effectively been ruled a dead-man-walking after its failed efforts to integrate Venezuela into the bloc, lowering its standards to let in the petroleum dependent semi-authoritarian government of then President Hugo Chávez. 

Even on the basics of internal cooperation, the block was struggling, unable to coordinate monetary policies and non-tariff trade barriers between the original founding member states, Argentina, Brazil, Paraguay and Uruguay.

The 35-year-old customs union seemed to get a breath a new life with the announcement that it had concluded 20-year-long negotiations with the EU for a free trade deal. Ratification of that deal, however, ran aground on the political differences between the recently elected governments of Bolsonaro in Brazil and the Peronist Fernández in Argentina. 

Bolsonaro refused to attend the Fernández December 2019 inauguration, in protest of the newly elected president’s leftist leanings.  And this was well before their sharply divergent reactions to the COVID-19 virus. 

How surprising then that Mercosur has served as an effective coordination mechanism for these different and once opposed governments. The trade body is collaborating among member states to ensure the repatriation of citizens and has agreed to coordinate to ensure that trade flows, especially of medical supplies, are not interrupted by shutdown measures. 

Mercosur has even gone one step further than several other bodies have failed to take.  In early April the bloc’s governing body, based in Montevideo, Uruguay created a $16 million (12 million pound) fund to augment country research and assist in the purchase of supplies needed to combat the virus.  

Now if Brazil, Argentina and the others could only coordinate their domestic coronavirus responses and economic policy. In late March Fernández announced he was pulling Argentina out of a possible Mercosur-EU trade deal.

The World Health Organization (WHO) declared the spread of COVID-19 to be a Public Health Emergency of International Concern (PHEIC) on January 30 this year and then characterized it as a pandemic on March 11.

Declaring a PHEIC is the highest level of alert that WHO is obliged to declare, and is meant to send a powerful signal to countries of the need for urgent action to combat the spread of the disease, mobilize resources to help low- and middle-income countries in this effort and fund research and development on needed treatments, vaccines and diagnostics. It also obligates countries to share information with WHO.

Once the PHEIC was declared, the virus continued to spread globally, and WHO began to be asked why it had not yet declared the disease a pandemic. But there is no widely accepted definition of a pandemic, generally it is just considered an epidemic which affects many countries globally.

Potentially more deadly

The term has hitherto been applied almost exclusively to new forms of flu, such as H1N1 in 2009 or Spanish flu in 1918, where the lack of population immunity and absence of a vaccine or effective treatments makes the outbreak potentially much more deadly than seasonal flu (which, although global, is not considered a pandemic).

For COVID-19, WHO seemed reluctant to declare a pandemic despite the evidence of global spread. Partly this was because of its influenza origins — WHO’s emergency programme executive director said on March 9 that ‘if this was influenza, we would have called a pandemic ages ago’.

He also expressed concern that the word traditionally meant moving — once there was widespread transmission — from trying to contain the disease by testing, isolating the sick and tracing and quarantining their contacts, to a mitigation approach, implying ‘the disease will spread uncontrolled’.

WHO’s worry was that the world’s reaction to the word pandemic might be there was now nothing to be done to stop its spread, and so countries would effectively give up trying. WHO wanted to send the message that, unlike flu, it could still be pushed back and the spread slowed down.

In announcing the pandemic two days later, WHO’s director-general Dr Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus reemphasised this point: ‘We cannot say this loudly enough, or clearly enough, or often enough: all countries can still change the course of this pandemic’ and that WHO was deeply concerned ‘by the alarming levels of inaction’.

The evidence suggests that the correct message did in fact get through. On March 13, US president Donald Trump declared a national emergency, referring in passing to WHO’s announcement. On March 12, the UK launched its own strategy to combat the disease. And in the week following WHO’s announcements, at least 16 other countries announced lockdowns of varying rigour including Austria, Belgium, Canada, Czech Republic, Denmark, Finland, France, Germany, Hungary, Netherlands, Norway, Poland, Portugal, Serbia, Spain and Switzerland. Italy and Greece had both already instituted lockdowns prior to the WHO pandemic announcement.

It is not possible to say for sure that WHO’s announcement precipitated these measures because, by then, the evidence of the rapid spread was all around for governments to see. It may be that Italy’s dramatic nationwide lockdown on March 9 reverberated around European capitals and elsewhere.

But it is difficult to believe the announcement did not have an effect in stimulating government actions, as was intended by Dr Tedros. Considering the speed with which the virus was spreading from late February, might an earlier pandemic announcement by WHO have stimulated earlier aggressive actions by governments?

Declaring a global health emergency — when appropriate — is a key part of WHO’s role in administering the International Health Regulations (IHR). Significantly, negotiations on revisions to the IHR, which had been ongoing in a desultory fashion in WHO since 1995, were accelerated by the experience of the first serious coronavirus outbreak — SARS — in 2002-2003, leading to their final agreement in 2005.

Under the IHR, WHO’s director-general decides whether to declare an emergency based on a set of criteria and on the advice of an emergency committee. IHR defines an emergency as an ‘extraordinary event that constitutes a public health risk through the international spread of disease and potentially requires a coordinated international response’.

In the case of COVID-19, the committee first met on January 22-23 but were unable to reach consensus on a declaration. Following the director-general’s trip to meet President Xi Jinping in Beijing, the committee reconvened on January 30 and this time advised declaring a PHEIC.

But admittedly, public recognition of what a PHEIC means is extremely low. Only six have ever been declared, with the first being the H1N1 flu outbreak which fizzled out quickly, despite possibly causing 280,000 deaths globally. During the H1N1 outbreak, WHO declared a PHEIC in April 2009 and then a pandemic in June, only to rescind both in August as the outbreak was judged to have transitioned to behave like a seasonal flu.

WHO was criticized afterwards for prematurely declaring a PHEIC and overreacting. This then may have impacted the delay in declaring the Ebola outbreak in West Africa as a PHEIC in 2014, long after it became a major crisis. WHO’s former legal counsel has suggested the PHEIC — and other aspects of the IHR framework — may not be effective in stimulating appropriate actions by governments and needs to be reconsidered.

When the time is right to evaluate lessons about the response, it might be appropriate to consider the relative effectiveness of the PHEIC and pandemic announcements and their optimal timing in stimulating appropriate action by governments. The effectiveness of lockdowns in reducing the overall death toll also needs investigation.

When the H1N1 influenza pandemic struck in 2009, some industrialized countries were well prepared. Many countries’ preparedness plans had focused on preparing for an influenza pandemic and based on earlier alerts over the H5N1 ‘bird flu’ virus, countries had made advanced purchase or ‘sleeping’ contracts for vaccine supplies that could be activated as soon as a pandemic was declared. Countries without contracts scrambled to get supplies after those that already had contracts received their vaccine.

Following the 2009 pandemic, the European Union (EU) developed plans for joint-purchase vaccine contracts that any member state could join, guaranteeing the same price per dose for everyone. In 2009, low-income countries were unable to get the vaccine until manufacturers agreed to let 10 per cent of their production go to the World Health Organization (WHO).

The situation for COVID-19 could be even worse. No country had a sleeping contract in place for a COVID-19 vaccine since nobody had anticipated that the next pandemic would be a coronavirus, not an influenza virus. With around 80 candidate vaccines reported to be in development, choosing the right one will be like playing roulette.

These candidates will be whittled down as some will fail at an early stage of development and others will not get to scale-up for manufacturing. All of the world’s major vaccine pharmaceutical companies have said that they will divert resources to manufacture COVID-19 vaccines and, as long as they choose the right candidate for production, they have the expertise and the capacity to produce in huge quantities.

From roulette to a horse race

Our game now changes from roulette to a horse race, as the probability of winning is a matter of odds not a random chance. Countries are now able to try to make contracts alone or in purchasing consortia with other states, and with one of the major companies or with multiple companies. This would be like betting on one of the favourites.

For example, it has been reported that Oxford University has made an agreement with pharmaceutical company AstraZeneca, with a possibility of 100 million doses being available by the end of 2020. If the vaccine works and those doses materialize, and are all available for the UK, then the UK population requirements will be met in full, and the challenge becomes vaccinating everyone as quickly as possible.

Even if half of the doses were reserved for the UK, all those in high-risk or occupational groups could be vaccinated rapidly. However, as each major manufacturer accepts more contracts, the quantity that each country will get diminishes and the time to vaccinate the at-risk population gets longer.

At this point, it is not known how manufacturers will respond to requests for vaccine and how they will apportion supplies between different markets. You could bet on an outsider. You study the field and select a biotech that has potential with a good production development programme and a tie-in with a smaller-scale production facility.

If other countries do not try to get contracts, you will get your vaccine as fast as manufacturing can be scaled up; but because it is a small manufacturer, your supplies may take a long time. And outsiders do not often win races. You can of course, depending on your resources, cover several runners and try to make multiple contracts. However, you take on the risk that some will fail, and you may have compromised your eventual supply.

On April 24, the WHO co-hosted a meeting with the president of France, the president of the European Commission and the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation. It brought together heads of state and industry leaders who committed to ‘work towards equitable global access based on an unprecedented level of partnership’. They agreed ‘to create a strong unified voice, to build on past experience and to be accountable to the world, to communities and to one another’ for vaccines, testing materials and treatments.

They did not, however, say how this will be achieved and the absence of the United States was notable. The EU and its partners are hosting an international pledging conference on May 4 that aims to raise €7.5 billion in initial funding to kick-start global cooperation on vaccines. Co-hosts will be France, Germany, Italy, the United Kingdom, Norway and Saudi Arabia and the priorities will be ‘Test, Treat and Prevent’, with the latter dedicated to vaccines.

Despite these expressions of altruism, every government will face the tension between wanting to protect their own populations as quickly as possible and knowing that this will disadvantage poorer countries, where health services are even less able to cope. It will not be a vote winner to offer a share in available vaccine to less-privileged countries.

The factories for the biggest vaccine manufacturers are in Europe, the US and India. Will European manufacturers be obliged by the EU to restrict sales first to European countries? Will the US invoke its Defense Production Act and block vaccine exports until there are stocks enough for every American? And will vaccine only be available in India for those who can afford it?

The lessons on vaccine availability from the 2009 influenza pandemic are clear: vaccine was not shared on anything like an equitable basis. It remains to be seen if we will do any better in 2020.

In the COVID-19 crisis so far, Cyril Ramaphosa has been widely praised for displaying the decisive leadership so many hoped for when they cast their ballot for him in May 2019. Buttressed by others such as health minister Dr Zweli Mkhize, and on a simple objective to prevent transmission, South Africa has been a lesson to the world. Act fast. Act hard.

Former president Thabo Mbeki’s disastrous response to the HIV crisis cast a long shadow over his legacy, and Ramaphosa has taken note. South Africa has had one of the tightest lockdowns in the world. No exercise. No cigarettes. No alcohol.

The lockdown was imposed when the country had only around 1,000 recorded cases and just two deaths. As a result, transmission from returning travellers has not yet led to an exponential infection rate within the community. The government’s swift reaction has bought much needed time with the peak now seemingly delayed to September or October.

Continental and national leadership

Ramaphosa has also emerged as a key focal point for Africa-wide responses. As current chair of the African Union (AU) he leads the continental engagement with the World Health Organization (WHO), and the various international finance institutions, while South African officials are working with the AU and the United Nations Economic Commission for Africa (UNECA) on a push for African debt restructuring.

He has also been active in trouble shooting to unlock external assistance to the continent, including from China and Russia. Appointing special envoys is typical of his boardroom-honed leadership style.

International and regional partnerships are vital for resilience and the arrival of 217 Cuban doctors to South Africa is strongly reminiscent of the liberationist solidarity of the Cold War era. And regional economies remain dependent on South Africa to protect their own vulnerable citizens. Following the 2008 financial crisis, it was South Africa’s regional trading relationships that remained robust, while trade with its main global partners in China and the US dropped.

Despite the plaudits, Ramaphosa remains vulnerable to challenge at home, notably around his failure to stimulate South Africa’s moribund economy. On the eve of lockdown, Moody’s joined its peers Standard and Poor’s and Fitch in giving South Africa a below investment grade credit rating. The move was a long time coming. Long mooted economic reforms were slow to materialise, and South Africa had fallen into recession.

Ramaphosa depends on a small core of close advisors and allies, initially united in apparent opposition to the kleptocratic rule of President Jacob Zuma and the deep patronage networks he created within both the party and the state. But this allegiance is being tested by economic reality. Support within the party was already drifting prior to the crisis.

Disagreements are not just technocratic – there are big ideological questions in play around the role of the state in the economy, the level of intervention, and its affordability, with key government figures sceptical of rapid market reforms. Energy minister and former union stalwart Gwede Mantashe is wary of job losses, and minister of public enterprises Pravin Gordhan protective of state-owned enterprises (SOEs). Before coronavirus hit, Ramaphosa seemed content to allow these policy disputes to play themselves out with little decisive intervention.

Slow progress on reform, against worsening economic performance, left Ramaphosa and his allies exposed. In January the president missed the UK’s African Investment Summit in order to assert control over a party meeting at which it was expected his detractors would seek to remove Gordhan.

COVID-19 has sharpened thinking

As the independently assertive - and eminently quotable - pro-market reformist finance minister Tito Mboweni stated, ‘you can’t eat ideology’. Accelerated reform and restructuring is required if the government turns to the International Monetary Fund (IMF) for assistance.

For the first time, Gordhan has been forced to deny a bailout to beleaguered state airline South African Airways (SAA), and the government’s lockdown bailout of R300 billion has been applauded by business. Much like the fiscal stimulus and recovery plan of 2018, it relies on smart spending, targeting sectors with high multiplier effects. It also includes significant reserve bank loans.

But it has been criticised for not doing enough to help the most vulnerable. There is considerable fear of what could happen when the virus takes hold in South Africa’s townships and informal settlements where social distancing is almost impossible, basic toilet facilities are shared, and HIV and TB rates high.

There are mounting concerns of the humanitarian cost of a prolonged lockdown, and the government has been faster than others in implementing a tiered lockdown system, trying to get people back to work and keep the economy afloat.

South Africa has been criticized by the UN for the use of lethal force by security forces in enforcing lockdown and, in a society plagued by corruption, there are fears legislation to stop the spread of false information could be used to restrict legitimate reporting on the virus response or other issues.

COVID-19 shines a spotlight on societies’ fault-lines worldwide. South Africa is often touted as having one of the highest levels of inequality in the world but, in a globalized economy, these divisions are international as much as they are local.

Resilience comes from within, but also depends on regional and global trading and financial systems. South Africans and international partners have long recognised Ramaphosa’s leadership qualities as an impressive voice for the global south.

But he must also be an advocate for South Africa’s poor. This crisis could accelerate implementation of his landmark pro-poor National Health Insurance and Universal Health Care programmes. Or the hit of COVID-19 on top of South Africa’s existing economic woes could see them derailed entirely. Ramaphosa must push through economic reforms at the same time as managing COVID-19 and rebuilding trust in his government.

Summary

• Many social and political issues have so far been neglected in planning for the circular economy transition. This paper aims to redress this by considering how ‘just transition’ and social equity may be achieved through policy and practice.
• The prevailing economic model is linear, in that resources are extracted, transformed into products, used, and finally discarded. In contrast, the circular economy recognizes that natural resources are finite, and aims to keep the materials in products in circulation for as long as possible: reusing, repairing, remanufacturing, sharing and recycling. While the concept of the circular economy is largely focused on developing new technologies and businesses to enable keeping materials in circulation, it also includes the notions of ‘designing out’ waste, substituting renewable materials for non-renewable ones, and restoring natural systems.
• The UN 2030 Agenda demonstrates that environmental, social and economic sustainability objectives cannot be separated. As the links between the environmental issues of climate change, overconsumption of resources and waste generation, and social issues of inequality and the future of work become increasingly obvious, the urgency to connect environmental with social justice is gaining in significance. The language of ‘just transition’ – a transition that ensures environmental sustainability, decent work, social inclusion and poverty eradication – has started to penetrate debates and research on sustainability policy, particularly in the contexts of climate change and low-carbon energy transition.
• A just transition framework for the circular economy can identify opportunities that reduce waste and stimulate product innovation, while at the same time contributing positively to sustainable human development. And a just transition is needed to reduce inequalities within and between countries, and to ensure that the commitment of the UN Sustainable Development Goals to leave no one behind is fulfilled.
• It is important to identify the likely impacts on employment as a result of digitalization and industrial restructuring. Combining circular economy policies with social protection measures will be important in order to ensure that the burden of efforts to promote circularity will not fall on the poor through worsening working conditions and health impacts, reduced livelihoods, or job losses. Identifying potential winners and losers through participatory ‘roadmapping’ can help shape effective cooperation mechanisms and partnerships nationally and internationally.
• Many low- and middle-income countries that rely heavily on ‘linear’ sectors such as mining, manufacturing of non-repairable fast-moving consumer goods, textiles and agriculture, and the export of these commodities to higher-income countries, are likely to be negatively affected by the shift to circularity. These countries will need support from the international community through targeted assistance programmes if international trade in established commodities and manufactures declines in the medium to long term. 
• International cooperation to create effective and fair governance mechanisms, and policy coordination at regional, national and local levels will play an important role in shaping a just transition. Multilateral technical assistance programmes will need to be designed and implemented, in particular to support low- and middle-income countries.
• Governments, international development finance institutions and banks are among the bodies beginning to establish circular economy investment funds and programmes. Just transition principles are yet to be applied to many of these new finance mechanisms, and will need to be integrated into development finance to support the circular economy transition.
• New international cooperation programmes, and a global mechanism to mobilize dedicated support funds for countries in need, will be critical to successful implementation across global value chains. Transparent and accountable institutions will also be important in ensuring that just transition funds reach those affected as intended.