Russia’s ongoing occupation of Ukraine’s Crimean peninsula and support of separatist hostilities in the eastern provinces of Donbas have resulted in 1.5 million internally displaced persons, 3,000 civilians killed, and a growing list of alleged violations of international law and socio-economic hardship.

But Ukraine is struggling in its efforts to hold Russia accountable – either as a state or through individual criminal responsibility - as it cannot unilaterally ask any international court to give an overall judgment on the conflict.

So it focuses on narrower issues, referring them to authorised adjudication and arbitration platforms such as the International Court of Justice (ICJ), European Court of Human Rights, UNCLOS arbitration, and the International Criminal Court (ICC). These options are limited, but still worth taking - and their relevance is proving to be far wider than the Russia-Ukraine conflict.

Policy of cultural eradication

In 2017, Ukraine initiated proceedings against Russia at the ICJ on the basis of two international treaties: the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (CERD), with regard to Crimea; and the International Convention for the Suppression of the Financing of Terrorism (ICSFT), with regard to Donbas.

Under the CERD, Ukraine alleges Russia has carried out a policy of cultural eradication of ethnic Ukrainians and Crimean Tatars in Crimea, including enforced disappearances, no education in the Ukrainian and Crimean Tatar languages, and the ban of the Mejlis, the main representative body of the Crimean Tatars.

Under the ICSFT, Ukraine alleges Russia has supported terrorism by providing funds, weapons and training to illegal armed groups in eastern Ukraine. In particular Ukraine alleges Russian state responsibility - through its proxies - for downing the infamous MH17 flight.

Both these treaties are binding upon Ukraine and Russia and entitle an individual state party to refer a dispute concerning them to the ICJ, but certain procedural pre-conditions must first be exhausted. These include a failed attempt to settle a dispute either through negotiations or the CERD Committee (for the CERD) or unsuccessful negotiations and arbitration (for the ICSFT).

Russia challenged Ukraine’s compliance with the pre-conditions, but the ICJ disagreed with Russia’s submission that Ukraine had to resort both to negotiations and to the CERD Committee. For the first time, the court clarified these procedures under the CERD were two means to reach the same aim, and therefore alternative and not cumulative.

Requiring states to avail of both procedures before going to the ICJ would undermine the very purpose of the CERD to eliminate racial discrimination promptly, and ensure the availability of effective domestic protection and remedies.

The relevance of this clarification transcends the Ukraine-Russia dispute. With the rise of discriminatory practices, from populist hate-filled rhetoric endangering vulnerable communities to large-scale persecution such as that of the Rohingyas, the UN’s principal judicial body is sending a clear larger message to the world: such practices are unacceptable and must be dealt with expeditiously and efficiently. If states fail to do so, there are now fewer procedural impediments to do it internationally.

The ICJ also confirmed Ukraine had complied with both procedural preconditions under the ICSFT and that it would give judgement on the alleged failure of Russia to take measures to prevent the financing of terrorism. The outcome of this will be of great importance to the international community, given the general lack of international jurisprudence on issues of terrorism.

The court’s interpretation of knowledge and intent in terrorism financing, as well as clarification of the term ‘funds’, is particularly relevant both for the Ukraine-Russia case and for international law.

As the final judgement may take several years, the ICJ granted some provisional measures requested by Ukraine in April 2017. The court obliged Russia to ensure the availability of education in Ukrainian and enable the functioning of the Crimean Tatar representative institutions, including the Mejlis.

When Russia contested Ukraine’s references to the alleged Stalin-ordered deportation of the Crimean Tatars and the rule of law in the Soviet Union being hypocritical, by arguing that history did not matter, the court disagreed.

In fact, Judge James Crawford emphasised the relevance of the ‘historical persecution’ of Crimean Tatars and the role of Mejlis in advancing and protecting their rights in Crimea ‘at the time of disruption and change’.

These conclusions are important reminders that the historical inheritance of injustices inflicted on vulnerable groups should be taken into account when nations address their imperial legacies.

The court’s provisional measures and Judge Crawford’s position are particularly relevant in light of Russia’s policy of the total - territorial, historical, cultural – ‘russification’ of Crimea, as they highlight the role of the historical background for assessing the alleged discriminatory and prosecutorial policy of Russia’s occupying authorities against the Crimean Tatars.

The ICJ’s judgement on the merits of this as well as other human rights, and terrorism issues of Crimea and Donbas will be an important consideration for the international community in its view of the Russia-Ukraine armed conflict and the sanctions policy against Russia.

The development of this case also has a mutually catalysing impact on Ukraine’s efforts to establish those individually criminally responsible for atrocities in Crimea and Donbas, through domestic proceedings and through the International Criminal Court.

Ukraine’s attempts to seek individual criminal responsibility for gross abuses in Donbas and Crimea at the International Criminal Court (ICC) are assessed in part two of this series, coming soon.

In Morocco, the COVID-19 pandemic has increased public trust in government, but people still have doubts about the effectiveness of the healthcare system. According to a recent study conducted by the Moroccan Institute for Policy Analysis (MIPA), the majority of Moroccans surveyed are generally satisfied with the measures taken by the government to battle the coronavirus. However, the same survey also shows that Moroccans do not have confidence in the healthcare sector’s ability to respond to this pandemic.

The positive perceptions of the government’s response can be explained by the swift and strict measures enacted. King Mohammed VI held a high-level meeting with the prime minister, the minister of health, and top security officials on 17 March and a few days later, on 20 March, the Moroccan government declared a state of health emergency and began to implement aggressive measures to contain the virus.

This has included closing airports, schools, mosques, cafés and shops – with the exception of food markets – preventing large gatherings, as well as strict guidelines to ensure social distancing. As of 2 April, nearly 5000 people have been arrested for violating the state of health emergency.

In order to address urgent medical needs and to mitigate the economic impact of the pandemic, the King ordered the creation of an emergency fund, raising more than 32.7 billion Moroccan Dirhams ($3.2 billion). The Ministry of Finance will begin to make cash transfers to vulnerable citizens, and especially those who have lost their jobs. However, the stipulations surrounding these cash transfers will be decided in the coming weeks.

Updates about the virus are communicated daily by the Ministry of Health, despite growing criticism of its communication strategy. As of 4 April, Moroccan authorities have confirmed 883 cases and 58 deaths.

Call for national unity

In times like these, there is a call for unity in the face of a national and global crisis, and opposition groups such as Adl wal Ihssan and Rif activists have expressed their support for government measures and have encouraged people to follow the new guidelines and restrictions. However, despite calls to release political prisoners, Moroccan authorities have not indicated that they will do so. This is a missed opportunity vis-à-vis the opposition because it could have served as a way to further strengthen national unity during the crisis.

These are all promising signs and point to what is likely to be a short-term burst in unity and institutional trust. However, the institutional weaknesses in governance and the healthcare system have not disappeared, which is why this increase in institutional trust should be taken with a grain of salt.

Public trust issues

This pandemic poses tremendous challenges for governments across the globe, and this holds especially true for states in the Middle East and North Africa region, where citizens do not approve of government performance and do not trust key state institutions. The 2019 Arab Barometer survey found that Moroccans do not trust most of the country’s political institutions (notably the parliament and the Council of Ministers) and the level of satisfaction with the government’s performance remains extremely low.

On the public health front, as shown in two of MIPA’s recent surveys, trust in the healthcare system is also very low. Around three-quarters of those surveyed do not trust Moroccan hospitals, highlighting the acute structural problems in the healthcare system. In fact, there is a stark divide between private and public healthcare, as well as a huge gap in access to healthcare facilities between urban and rural areas. Most of the country’s hospitals and doctors are located in major urban areas and the only three laboratories with capabilities for COVID-19 testing are located in Rabat and Casablanca, but even there, testing capacity is very limited.

Similar to other countries, there could be a major shortage of doctors and medical equipment throughout Morocco. So far, the Ministry of Finance has said that 2 billion dirhams of the emergency fund will go towards purchasing medical equipment such as beds, ventilators, tests, prevention kits and radiology equipment, but the timeline remains unclear.

A vulnerable economy

There is significant concern about the medium- and long-term economic impact of the virus. Two of the country’s key economic sectors have already been hit hard: agriculture and tourism. The agricultural sector was already struggling due to the impact of drought, while the coronavirus pandemic is likely to impact Morocco’s tourism industry not just this year, but well into 2021. In terms of government response, the emergency fund is a strong start, but questions surrounding the management of these funds have already been raised.

The most vulnerable parts of the population have been affected by the economic crisis because of the country’s bulging informal sector – in which most people work - and a very weak private sector. In fact, two-thirds of the workforce are not covered by a pension plan, almost half of the working population does not currently benefit from medical coverage and there is no social care system for vulnerable parts of the population. As of 1 April, more than 700,000 workers have lost their jobs.

Moving forward?

Even if public perceptions of the government’s response are positive at the moment, this is most likely a short-term surge that should not be taken for granted. Despite the efforts made by the government, Morocco’s health system is not equipped to handle this crisis. Even with the new measures that have been implemented, if the spread of the virus gets out of control, more funds, more doctors, and more equipment will be needed. Given the structural weaknesses of the healthcare system, this will be an uphill battle.

Moreover, even if the government manages to mitigate the public health impact, the economic consequences will be dire—especially in the tourism industry—and will severely hurt those workers in the informal sector who are living without a safety net. In Morocco, this category represents most of the working population.

This crisis highlights that the Moroccan government must urgently tackle its large portfolio of unfinished reforms, notably in healthcare, the economy, and labour rights. So far, the government is capitalizing on the spirit of unity, social solidarity and public support. The future trajectory of the pandemic and the effectiveness of governance will determine if this spirit of solidarity will last. If the government fails to effectively mitigate the public health and economic impacts of this pandemic, this solidarity and cooperation will not last long.

As the US surgeon general warns Americans to brace for ‘our Pearl Harbor moment’, the US faces a week in which it may see the worst of the global pandemic. The absence of US leadership at the global level has enabled the Security Council’s inaction. And at the G7, President Trump actively obstructed efforts to agree a joint statement.

US efforts to increase its support of international aid to the tune of $274million are minimal, not least in light of a 50% reduction in its support for the World Health Organization (WHO) and radically diminished support for other global health programmes as well. International coordination is essential to mitigate unregulated competition for critical medical supplies, manage border closures, and guarantee international economic stability.

True, it won’t be possible to control the epidemic at home if the global effort to defeat the pandemic fails. But the absence of leadership from Washington at home is palpable. And what happens at home sets a natural limit on America’s internationalism.

Both solution and problem

In response to the coronavirus crisis, the US state is proving to be a solution - and a problem. The dramatic response to the economic crisis is evident with the $2.3trillion stimulus package signed into law by President Trump boldly supported by both Democrats and Republicans in the most significant piece of bipartisan legislation passed in decades.

America’s political economy is unrecognisable, moving left and looking increasingly more European each week as Congress and the executive branch agree a series of stimulus packages designed to protect citizens and businesses. Some elements of this legislation were more familiar to Americans, notably $200bn in corporate tax breaks.

But Congress also agreed unemployment insurance, and cheques - one in April, one in May – to be sent directly to those Americans most directly hit by the economic impact of COVID-19. In effect, this is adopting a temporary universal basic income.

The stimulus plan also dedicated $367bn to keep small businesses afloat for as long as the economy is shuttered. Already the government is negotiating a fourth stimulus package, but the paradox is that without rigorous steps to halt the health crisis, no level of state intervention designed to solve the economic response will be sufficient.

The scale of the state’s economic intervention is unprecedented, but it stands in stark contrast to Washington’s failure to coordinate a national response to America’s health crisis. An unregulated market for personal protective equipment and ventilators is driving up competition between cities, states, and even the federal government.

In some cases, cities and states are reaching out directly beyond national borders to international organisations, foreign firms and even America’s geopolitical competitors as they search for suppliers. In late March, the city of New York secured a commitment from the United Nations to donate 250,000 protective face masks.

Now Governor Cuomo has announced New York has secured a shipment of 140 ventilators from the state of Oregon, and 1,000 ventilators from China. The Patriots even sent their team plane to China to pick up medical supplies for the state of Massachusetts. And following a phone call between President Putin and President Trump, Russia sent a plane with masks and medical equipment to JFK airport in New York.

Networks of Chinese-Americans in the United States are rapidly mobilising their networks to access supplies and send them to doctors and nurses in need. And innovative and decisive action by governors, corporates, universities and mayors drove America’s early response to coronavirus.

This was critical to slowing the spread of COVID-19 by implementing policies that rapidly drove social distancing. But the limits of decentralized and uncoordinated action are now coming into sharp focus. President Trump has so far refused to require stay-at-home orders across all states, leaving this authority to individual governors. Unregulated competition has driven up prices with the consequence that critical supplies are going to the highest bidder, not those most in need.

Governor Cuomo’s call for a nationwide buying consortium has so far gone unheeded and, although the Federal Emergency Management Agency has attempted to deliver supplies to states most in need, the Strategic National Stockpile is depleting fast. Without critical action, the federal government risks hindering the ability of cities and states to get the supplies they need.

But President Trump is reluctant to fully deploy his powers under the Defense Production Act (DPA). In March, he did invoke the DPA to require certain domestic manufacturers to produce ventilators. But calls for it to be used to require manufacturers to produce PPE (personal protective equipment), control costs, and manage allocations has so far gone unheeded by a president generally opposed to state interventions for managing the economy.

It is true that federalism and a deep belief in competition are critical to the fabric of US history and politics, and innovations made possible by market values of entrepreneurism and competition cannot be underestimated. In the search for a vaccine, this could still prove to be key.

But with current estimates that more Americans will die from coronavirus than were killed in the Korean and Vietnam wars combined, it is clear now is the time to reimagine and reinvent the role of the American state.

In the absence of a coordinated effort driven by the White House, governors are working together to identify the areas of greatest need. Whether this will lead to a recasting of the American state and greater demand for a deeper and more permanent social safety net is a key question in the months ahead.

In the short-term the need for coordinated state action at the national level is self-evident. US leadership globally, to manage the health crisis and its economic impacts, is also vital. But this is unlikely to be forthcoming until America gets its own house in order.

Iraq is a country already in turmoil, suffering fallout from the major military escalation between the US and Iran, mass protests calling for an end to the post-2003 political system, and a violent government crackdown killing more than 600 and wounding almost 30,000 - all presided over by a fragmented political elite unable to agree upon a new prime minister following Adil abd al-Mehdi’s resignation back in November.

COVID-19 introduces yet another threat to the fragile political order, as the virus exposes Iraq’s ineffective public health system dismantled through decades of conflict, corruption and poor governance.

Iraqi doctors are making every effort to prepare for the worst-case scenario, but they do so with huge structural challenges. The Ministry of Health lacks enough ICU beds, human resources, ventilators, and personal protective equipment (PPE). Bogged down in bureaucracy, the ministry is struggling to process procurements of equipment and medications, and some doctors have made purchases themselves.

But individual efforts can only go so far as many Iraqi doctors are concerned the official numbers of confirmed COVID-19 cases do not reflect the complexity of the situation on the ground.

The ministry relies predominately upon patients self-presenting at designated public hospitals and has only just begun community-based testing in areas of suspected clusters. Reliance on self-presentation requires a level of trust between citizens and state institutions, which is at a historic low. This gap in trust – 17 years in the making – puts Iraq’s COVID-19 response particularly at risk.

Iraq’s myriad vulnerabilities

Certain social and political factors leave Iraq uniquely exposed to the coronavirus. The country’s vulnerability is tied directly to its social, religious and economic interconnections with Iran, an epicenter of the pandemic.

Exchanges between Iran and Iraq are concentrated in two regions, with strong cross-border links between Iraqi and Iranian Kurds in the north-east, and Iraqi and Iranian Shia pilgrims in the south. Cross-border circulation of religious pilgrims is particularly concerning, as they can result in mass ritual gatherings.

The high number of confirmed cases in the southern and northern peripheries of the country puts a spotlight on Iraq's failure in managing healthcare. The post-2003 government has failed to either rebuild a robust centralized healthcare system, or to pave the way for a federalized model.

Caught in an ambiguous middle between a centralized and federalized model, coordination across provinces and hospitals during the coronavirus crisis has neither reflected strong management from Baghdad nor robust ownership at the governorate level.

This problem is part of a wider challenge of managing centre-periphery relations and federalism, which since 2003 has not worked effectively. Baghdad has provided all 18 provinces with instructions on testing and treatment, but only a handful have enough resources to put them into practice. Advanced testing capacity is limited to the five provinces with WHO-approved centers, with the remaining 13 sending swabs to Baghdad.

But the greatest challenge to Iraq’s COVID-19 response is the dramatic deterioration of state-society relations. Studies reveal a profound societal distrust of Iraq’s public healthcare institutions, due to corruption and militarization of medical institutions. Numerous videos have recently circulated of families refusing to turn over sick members - particularly women - to medical teams visiting households with confirmed or suspected cases.

As medical anthropologist Omar Dewachi notes, the ‘moral economy of quarantine’ in Iraq is heavily shaped by a history of war and its impact on the relationship between people and the state. Although local and international media often interpret this reluctance to undergo quarantine as a matter of social or tribal norms, distrusting the state leads many families to refuse quarantine because they believe it resembles a form of arrest.

The management of coronavirus relies upon an overt convergence between medical institutions and security forces as the federal police collaborate with the Ministry of Health to impose curfews and enforce quarantine. This means that, troublingly, the same security establishment which violently cracked down on protesters and civil society activists is now the teeth behind Iraq’s COVID-19 response.

Without trust between society and the political class, civil society organizations and protest movements have directed their organizational structure towards awareness-raising across Iraq. Key religious authorities such as Grand Ayatollah Sistani have called for compliance to the curfew and mobilized charitable institutions.

However, such efforts will not be enough to make up for the lack of governance at the level of the state. In the short-term, Iraq’s medical professionals and institutions are in dire need of technical and financial support. In the long-term, COVID-19 is a lesson that Iraq’s once robust public healthcare system needs serious investment and reform.

COVID-19 may prove to be another catalyst challenging the ‘muddle through’ logic of the Iraqi political elite. International actors have largely been complicit in this logic, directing aid and technical support towards security forces and political allies in the interest of short-term stability, and neglecting institutions which Iraqis rely on for health, education, and well-being.

The response to the crisis requires cooperation and buy-in of a population neglected by 17 years of failed governance. This is a seminal event that may push the country to the brink, exposing and stirring underlying tensions in state-society relations.

This analysis was produced as part of the Iraq Initiative.

The COVID-19 epidemic has hit every aspect of American life. The upcoming November general elections will not be immune to the virus’ impact and may be scheduled to happen while the pandemic remains active, or has returned.

There is a danger the epidemic forces change to the way voting takes place this fall, amplifying risks around election security and voter suppression that ultimately undermine the integrity of the elections.

This is further highlighted by the US Supreme Court’s last-minute ruling along ideological lines to restrict an extension on the absentee voting period in the Wisconsin Democratic presidential primary despite the level of infections in the state, forcing voters into a trade-off between their health and their right to vote. The US could be thrown into a political crisis in addition to the health and economic crises it already faces.

Bipartisan sentiment

While France, Chile and Bolivia have already postponed elections in the wake of COVID-19, there is a bipartisan sentiment that the US elections should be held as scheduled on the Tuesday after the first Monday in November. This is enshrined not only in America’s sense of itself – having weathered elections during a civil war, a world war and heightened terrorist alert before – but also in its federal law since 1845.

Despite increasing appetite for federal elections to go ahead in November, there are serious vulnerabilities, which are already becoming visible as connections are drawn between mail-in voting and voter fraud, greater voter access and disadvantages for the Republican party, and city polling closures and Democratic voter suppression.

Concerns around voting access have gained the most attention. If voting in-person is untenable or risky (especially for vulnerable health populations), voters must have alternative means to cast ballots.

During negotiations for the Coronavirus Aid, Relief, and Economic Security (CARES) Act, the Democratic caucus in the House of Representatives proposed $4 billion in state election grants and a nationally-mandated period for early voting and no-excuse absentee voting.

But the final CARES Act sidestepped the access question and stripped funding to $400 million for election security grants to ‘prevent, prepare for, and respond to coronavirus, domestically or internationally, for the 2020 Federal election cycle’. Without knowing exactly what is in store from a cyber-threat perspective, the actual cost for basic election security upgrades is estimated to be $2.1billion. And that is a pre-COVID-19 calculation.

With social-distanced voters likely to be getting more election information than ever from social media, information security is critical to prevent influence from untrustworthy sources. And opportunities for cyber intrusions are likely to increase as states transition to greater virtual registration, plus absentee and mail-in balloting.

This will open new doors on well-documented, existing voter suppression efforts. With the Supreme Court clawing back the Voting Rights Act in 2013 - allowing certain states to make changes to election and voting laws without federal pre-clearance - heightened election security requirements, such as exact match campaigns and voter purges, have been used to justify voter suppression.

As more vote remotely in the remaining primaries (many now rescheduled for 2 June) and the November general elections, the added burden on states around verification will only increase temptation to set aside ‘non-compliant’ ballots. Especially as some in the Republican Party, including Donald Trump, have advocated a contested view that higher turnout favours the Democratic Party.

A fundamental principle of US democracy is that losers of elections respect the result, but history shows that election results have been contested. In 2000, it took weeks for a result to be confirmed in the presidential election. More recently, in the 2018 race for governor in Georgia, allegations of voter suppression raised questions about the validity of the eventual result.

Without proper access, security, and verification the electoral process – whenever it takes place – will become vulnerable to questions of integrity. The federal response to the initial spread of COVID-19 saw costly delays which pushed the US into a public health crisis and economic contraction.

Any narrative thread of election illegitimacy with November’s elections will further pull apart the fabric of a country already frayed by coronavirus. Federal and state authorities must start planning now for how the US will hold elections in the midst - or immediate aftermath - of COVID-19.

International criminal justice provides a stark reminder that state sovereignty is not an absolute, and that the world’s most heinous crimes should be prosecuted at an international level, particularly where domestic systems lack the capacity or will to hold perpetrators to account. 

The post-Cold War period witnessed a dramatic rise in the number of international tribunals with jurisdiction over war crimes and serious human rights abuses in countries including Cambodia, East Timor, Rwanda, Liberia, Sierra Leone and Yugoslavia. With these processes approaching, or having reached the end of their dockets, many have called for the creation of new tribunals to address more recent conflicts, including the army crackdown in Myanmar in 2017 that resulted in evidence of crimes against humanity against the Rohingya. 

In January this year, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) imposed emergency provisional measures on Myanmar, instructing it to prevent genocidal violence against its Rohingya minority. But a final judgement is expected to take years and the ICJ has no way of enforcing these interim measures. Myanmar has already responded defiantly to international criticism. 

Model for justice

Myanmar is not the first country to face scrutiny for such crimes in Southeast Asia. The Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia (ECCC), more commonly known as the Khmer Rouge Tribunal was established in 1997 to prosecute Khmer Rouge leaders for alleged violations of international law and serious crimes perpetrated during the Cambodian genocide. This provides an opportunity to consider whether the Tribunal can act as a ‘hybrid’ model for justice in the region. 

The first lesson that can be taken from the Cambodian context is that the state must have the political will and commitment to pursue accountability. It was indeed the Cambodian government itself, who requested international assistance from the United Nations (UN), to organize a process for holding trials. The initial recommendation of the UN-commissioned Group of Experts was for the trial to be held under UN control, in light of misgivings about Cambodia’s judicial system. Prime Minister Hun Sen rejected this assessment and in prolonged negotiations, continued to spearhead the need for domestic involvement (arguably, in order to circumscribe the search for justice). This eventually resulted in the creation of a hybrid body consisting of parallel international and Cambodian judges and prosecutors with supermajority decision-making rules.   

It is worth noting that the Hun Sen government initially chose to do business with former Khmer Rouge leaders, until it became more advantageous to embrace a policy of putting them on trial. It is possible to infer from this that there will be no impetus for action in Myanmar until it is domestically advantageous to do so. At present, this appetite is clearly lacking, demonstrated by de-facto leader Aung San Suu Kyi shying away from accountability and instead defending the government’s actions before the ICJ.

One unique aspect of the Khmer Rouge Tribunal has been the vast participation by the Cambodian people in witnessing the trials as well as widespread support for the tribunal. This speaks to the pent-up demand in Cambodia for accountability and the importance of local participation. While international moral pressure is clear, external actors cannot simply impose justice for the Rohingya when there is no domestic incentive or support to pursue this. The reality is that the anti-Rohingya campaign has galvanized popular support from the country’s Buddhist majority. What is more, the Rohingya are not even seen as part of Myanmar so there is an additional level of disenfranchisement.

Secondly, the Cambodian Tribunal illustrates the need for safeguards against local political interference. The ECCC was designed as national court with international participation. There was an agreement to act in accordance with international standards of independence and impartiality, but no safeguards in place against serious deficiencies in the Cambodian judicial system. Close alliances between judges and the ruling Cambodian People’s Party, as well as high levels of corruption meant the tribunal effectively gave Hun Sen’s government veto power over the court at key junctures. Despite the guise of a hybrid structure, the Cambodian government ultimately retained the ability to block further prosecutions and prevent witnesses from being called. 

In Myanmar, political interference could be a concern, but given there is no popular support for justice and accountability for crimes committed against the Rohingya, the prospects of a domestic or hybrid process remain unlikely. However, there are still international options. The investigation by the International Criminal Court (ICC) into crimes that may have taken place on the Myanmar–Bangladesh border represents a potential route for justice and accountability. The UN Human Rights Council has also recently established the Independent Investigative Mechanism for Myanmar (IIMM), mandated to collect and preserve evidence, as well as to prepare files for future cases before criminal courts.

Finally, the Cambodian case illustrates the culture of impunity in the region. The ECCC was conceived partly as a showcase for international standards of justice, which would have a ‘contagion effect’ upon the wider Cambodian and regional justice systems. 

Cambodia was notorious for incidents in which well-connected and powerful people flouted the law. This culture of impunity was rooted in the failure of the government to arrest, try and punish the Khmer Rouge leadership. The Tribunal, in holding perpetrators of the worst crimes to account, sought to send a clear signal that lesser violations would not be tolerated in the same way. Arguably, it did not achieve this in practice as Cambodia still has a highly politicized judicial system with high levels of corruption and clear limits to judicial independence. 

What this illustrates is that the first step towards accountability is strengthening domestic institutions. The United Nation’s Special Rapporteur on the situation of human rights in Myanmar has urged domestic authorities to embrace democracy and human rights, highlighting the need to reform the judicial system in order to ensure judicial independence, remove systemic barriers to accountability and build judicial and investigatory capacity in accordance with international standards. Based on this assessment, it is clear that domestic institutions are currently insufficiently independent to pursue accountability.

The ECCC, despite its shortcomings, does stand as proof that crimes against humanity will not go completely unpunished. However, a process does not necessarily equal justice. The region is littered with justice processes that never went anywhere: Indonesia, Nepal, and Sri Lanka. International recourse is also challenging in a region with low ratification of the ICC, and the absence of regional mechanisms like the Inter-American Court of Human Rights, the European Court of Human Rights, and the African Court on Human and Peoples’ Rights (although their remit is not mass atrocity prosecutions). 

The Cambodian case study illustrates the challenges of ensuring justice and accountability within the region. The end of impunity is critical to ensure peaceful societies, but a purely legalistic approach will fail unless it is supported by wider measures and safeguards. It is these challenges, that undermine the prospects for ensuring justice for the Rohingya within Myanmar.

In the face of the COVID-19 pandemic, many global leaders have invoked war analogies – from the Pearl Harbor attack to the collective spirit on display during the Second World War – to highlight past lessons learned or rally their populations.

For Iran’s leadership, more recent war analogies hold resonance and help explain the ideological and political conundrum limiting an effective COVID-19 response. While the Islamic Republic has weathered a multitude of challenges, COVID-19 is putting unprecedented strain on Iran’s already fragile, heavily-sanctioned economy and further exposing domestic political fissures amid ongoing international tensions.

Iran has been identified as the regional epicentre of the pandemic with a steadily rising number of deaths, including several of the country’s political and military elite. Yet the Iranian government has not evoked the collective memory of the war as an opportunity for national resistance and mobilization.

Sluggish and poorly managed

This is unsurprising, because thus far the Iranian government’s response to COVID-19 has been sluggish and poorly managed. After an initial slow response, Iran then attempted to downplay the impact of the virus, covering up the number of cases and deaths and blaming the United States, before implementing a poorly coordinated action plan marred by government infighting.

For the Iranian leadership, the Iran-Iraq war has been the single most influential and defining period – it has impacted its political ideology, domestic and security policies and international relations. More than half a million Iranians died, and a paranoid worldview and sense of isolation was cemented among many elite leaders such as Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei.

The war created a valiant culture of leadership from Qassem Soleimani to presidents Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and Hashemi Rafsanjani and, over time, has resulted in the development of Iran’s asymmetrical defense capabilities.

The war enabled a dark purge of political opponents and the gradual birth of Iran’s reformist faction, all while the ethos of sacrifice and martyrdom was linked to the collective notions of resistance.

These would be carried forward in other resistance campaigns both regional and economic. Most defining was Ayatollah Khomeini’s infamous 1988 decision to ‘drink the poisoned chalice’ and end the long war. Three decades later, Iran continues to contend with those outcomes.

To acknowledge that the COVID-19 crisis could have equally profound consequences would add further pressure to the Islamic Republic at a time of incomparable vulnerability. Even before this crisis, the Iranian government linked sanctions to economic warfare, making future negotiations conditional on sanctions relief.

Iranian hardliners used the opportunity to promote Iran’s subsistence-based resistance economy designed to insulate Iran’s economy from external shocks such as sanctions. While both groups recognize the economic urgency, their contending strategies help explain the muddled government response and the ongoing ideological competition between the political elites.

Rouhani has argued that a full lockdown of the Iranian economy is impossible because it is already under significant strain from sanctions - the Iranian economy experienced a 9.5% contraction in 2019 and is expected to worsen in the coming year.

That said, through Iran’s New Year holidays the government did take action to slow the spread of the virus, discouraging travel and shutting schools, pilgrimage sites and cancelling Friday prayers. Finally, on 4 April, after receiving permission from Khamenei to do so, Rouhani withdrew $1 billion from Iran’s National Development Fund and is distributing the money through loans and credits to 23 million households.

Aid from a number of Iran’s parastatal agencies was also announced. Conversely, in his annual New Year’s speech the supreme leader securitized the crisis by laying blame on the United States for spreading the virus as a form of biological terrorism. Iran’s army chief of staff Major General Bagheri was tasked with building hospitals and the Islamic Revolution Guard Corps given authority to clear the streets.

The recent expulsion of Médecins Sans Frontières from Iran highlights the mix of paranoia and resistance culture still on display. US sanctions on Iran have significantly weakened Iran’s economy and limited Tehran’s ability to purchase much needed medical supplies and equipment. Unable to access its foreign reserves due to sanctions, the Rouhani government has applied for a $5 billion loan from the IMF.

European countries alongside a number of US members of congress have appealed to the Trump administration to ease sanctions on humanitarian grounds. While Washington continues to pursue its steadfast approach, referring to Iran’s campaign as a ‘sanctions relief scam’, Germany, France, and the UK have offered $5 million in aid and launched INSTEX – a trading mechanism designed to circumvent sanctions to allow non-sanctioned humanitarian trade.

The impact of coronavirus on Iranian society remains to be seen. But the impact of sanctions has placed heavy economic and psychological burden on the people. Feeling abandoned by the Iranian state and the United States could produce a mix of contradictory nationalistic and independent impulses.

The social contract – already fragile amid protests and government repression – reveals declining trust. Without national mobilization and calls for unity reminiscent of the war period, Iranians have stepped in, highlighting the continued resilience of civil society. Support for the medical establishment has been celebrated throughout the country and on social media. Charities, the private sector - through one initiative known as Campaign Nafas (Breathe) - and diaspora groups have initiated fundraising drives and assistance measures.

Iran’s relations with the international community, and specifically the United States, remain an unresolved consequence of the war. The 2015 Iranian nuclear agreement was the closest Tehran and Washington came to resolving decades of tensions, containment and sanctions.

COVID-19 has further heightened the trajectory of tensions between Tehran and Washington suggesting that any new deal, while necessary, is not on the cards. Tit-for-tat military exchanges have been on the rise in Iraq and Yemen while American and Iranian leaders issue threats and warnings of potential escalation.

Abdullah Nasseri, an advisor to Iran’s reformists, recently stated that in order to manage the coronavirus crisis, the Iranian government needed to make a decision akin to the 1988 United Nations resolution 598 that ended war hostilities. Ayatollah Khomeini famously commented on that ceasefire, stating: ‘Happy are those who have departed through martyrdom. Unhappy am I that I still survive.… Taking this decision is more deadly than drinking from a poisoned chalice. I submitted myself to Allah's will and took this drink for His satisfaction’. 

While a similar compromise today might appear deadly to the political establishment, it is clear that a paradigm shift away from the shadows of Iran’s last war is urgently needed to manage the challenges stemming from COVID-19.

Both Russia and China have mounted combined charm offensives and disinformation campaigns on the back of the pandemic. Shipments of ‘aid’ – reportedly of questionable utility and quality - have gone hand in hand with a concerted effort to deflect any blame from China for the early spread, and an ongoing drive by Russia to undermine states’ confidence and have sanctions lifted.

These concurrent operations have very different objectives, as Russia seeks to subvert international order while China is continuing its bid to demonstrate global leadership - but in both cases, they are seeking long-term gains by exploiting the inattention and distraction of their targets.

Both seek to present themselves as globally responsible stakeholders, but for divergent reasons – especially China which needs the rest of the world to recover and return to stability to ensure its own economic recovery. But despite this, the two campaigns appear superficially similar.

Fertile ground for disinformation

One reason lies in the unique nature of the current crisis. Unlike political issues that are local or regional in nature, COVID-19 affects everybody worldwide. The perceived lack of reliable information about the virus provides fertile ground for information and disinformation campaigns, especially feeding on fear, uncertainty and doubt. But Russia in particular would not be succeeding in its objectives without mis-steps and inattention by Western governments.

Confused reporting on Russia sending medical supplies to the United States showed Moscow taking advantage of a US administration in apparent disarray. Claims Russia was sending ’humanitarian aid’ were only belatedly countered by the US State Department pointing out it had been paid for. Meanwhile the earlier arrival of Russian military equipment in Italy also scored a propaganda victory for Russia, facilitated by curious passivity by the Italian government.

In both cases Russia also achieved secondary objectives. With the United States, Russia scored bonus points by shipping equipment produced by a subsidiary of a company under US sanctions. In the case of Italy, Russian state media made good use of misleading or heavily edited video clips to give the impression of widespread Italian acclaim for Russian aid, combined with disdain for the efforts of the EU.

Beijing’s external information campaigns have sought to deflect or defuse criticism of its early mishandling and misinformation on coronavirus and counter accusations of secrecy and falsifying data while also pursuing an opportunity to exercise soft power. For Moscow, current efforts boost a long-standing and intensive campaign to induce the lifting of sanctions, demonstrating if nothing else that sanctions are indeed an effective measure. Official and unofficial lobbying has intensified in numerous capital cities, and will inevitably find supporters.

But both the aid and the information campaigns are seriously flawed. While appropriate and useful aid for countries that are struggling should of course be welcomed, both Russian and Chinese equipment delivered to Europe has repeatedly been found to be inappropriate or defective. 

Russian photographs of cardboard boxes stacked loose and unsecured in a transport aircraft bound for the United States sparked alarm and disbelief among military and aviation experts - and there has still been no US statement on what exactly was purchased, and whether it was found to be fit for purpose when it arrived.

Reporting from Italy that the Russian equipment delivered there was ‘80% useless’ has not been contradicted by the Italian authorities. In fact, although the Italian sources criticizing Russia remain anonymous it is striking that - President Trump aside - no government has publicly endorsed materials and assistance received from Russia as actually being useful and helpful.

Even in Serbia, with its traditionally close ties with Russia, the only information forthcoming on the activities of the Russian Nuclear, Biological and Chemical Protection Troops and their equipment that arrived on April 3 was from Russian press releases.

Both countries’ strategic communications efforts are similarly fallible. China’s notoriously heavy-handed approach to its critics is of only limited use in the face of such a severe and immediate threat. One suggestion that the virus originated in the US – an early response to US criticism – has already been walked back by the Chinese diplomat who made it.

And Russia continues to be capable of spectacularly misjudging its targets. When investigative journalists looked more closely at the nature of the assistance to Italy, Russia’s official response was rage and personal threats, laying bare the real nature of the campaign and immediately alienating many of those whom Moscow had sought to win over.

Errors and deficiencies such as these provide opportunities to mitigate the worst side-effects of the campaigns. And actions by individuals can also mitigate much of the impact. The most effective disinformation plays on deeply emotional issues and triggers visceral rather than rational reactions.

Advocates of ’informational distancing’ as well as social distancing suggest a tactical pause to assess information calmly, instead of reacting or spreading it further unthinkingly. This approach would bolster not only calm dispassionate assessment of the real impact of Russian and Chinese actions, but also counter spreading of misinformation on the pandemic as a whole - especially when key sources of disinformation are national leaders seeking to politicize or profit from the crisis.

Limitations of Russian and Chinese altruism must be stated clearly and frankly to fill gaps in public understanding. Where help is genuine, it should of course be welcomed: but if it is the case that assistance received from Moscow or Beijing is not appropriate, not useful, or not fit for purpose, this should be acknowledged publicly.

Even without central direction or coordination with other Russian strategic communications efforts, the self-perpetuating Russian disinformation ecosystem continues to push narratives designed to undermine confidence in institutions and their ability to deal with the crisis. This too must continue to be monitored closely and countered where it matters.

In all cases, miscalculations by Russia or China that expose the true intent of their campaigns – no matter how different their objectives might be - should be watched for closely and highlighted where they occur.

Despite the enormity of the present emergency it is not a time for any government to relax its vigilance over longer-term threats. States must not lose sight of manoeuvres seeking to exploit weakness and distraction. If Russia and China emerge from the current crisis with enhanced authority and unjustifiably restored reputations, this will make it still harder to resist their respective challenges to the current rules-based international order in the future.

During this extraordinary global public health emergency, governments must strike the right balance between assertive measures to slow the spread of the virus and protect lives on the one hand, and respect for human autonomy, dignity and equality on the other.

International law already recognises the grave impact of pandemics and other catastrophic events on social order and provides criteria to guide states in their emergency action. The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights permits curbs on the right to ‘liberty of movement’ so long as restrictions are provided by law, deemed necessary to protect public health, and consistent with other rights in that treaty.

Freedom of expression and association, and the rights to privacy and family life are also qualified in these terms under international and regional human rights treaties. But, as emphasised in the Siracusa Principles, any limitations must not be applied in an arbitrary or discriminatory way, and must be of limited duration and subject to review.

International law also guarantees the right to the highest attainable standard of health, while states are specifically required to take steps to prevent, treat and control epidemics under the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights. Even in health emergencies, access to health services must be ensured on a non-discriminatory basis, especially for vulnerable or marginalised groups.

Abuse of coronavirus emergency measures

Many governments have taken pains to craft emergency laws that respect human rights, such as permitting reasonable exceptions to lockdowns for essential shopping and exercise, and making them subject to ongoing parliamentary review and sunset clauses. But even laws that appear to be human rights compliant can still easily be misapplied, as the recent debates about over-zealous policing of people walking and travelling in the UK illustrate.

And disturbing stories are emerging from states where police brutality is entrenched. In Kenya, a 13-year-old boy was reportedly shot on the balcony of his home by police enforcing a coronavirus curfew. Authorities in the Philippines' are allegedly locking those caught defying the curfew in dog cages.

As the recent history of counterterrorism demonstrates, emergency laws tend to be sticky, remaining on the statute books far longer than desirable.

The virus is also proving a powerful accelerant for the current global authoritarian drift which is so detrimental to progress on human rights. Many authoritarian leaders have seized the opportunity to further reduce constraints on their power.

Hungary's prime minister Viktor Orbán has used the pandemic as a pretext for new laws enabling him to rule by decree, completing the country's transition to an elected dictatorship. In Brazil, president Jair Bolsonaro has suspended deadlines for public bodies to reply to freedom of information requests. Iran is the latest of many repressive states in the Middle East to ban the printing and distribution of all newspapers. In China, the government brushed off criticism over ‘disappearances’ of whistleblowers and citizen journalists who questioned its response to the crisis.

Others have exploited the turmoil to undermine justice for human rights abuses - Sri Lanka's president Gotabaya Rajapaksa pardoned one of the only soldiers held accountable for crimes during the country's brutal civil war.

Coronavirus also places liberal values under further strain. Fear is a major driver in the appeal of populist authoritarians and the virus is stoking it. One poll showed 73% of British citizens agreed coronavirus is just the latest sign that the world we live in is increasingly dangerous. Extremists are exploiting these fears to spread hate by blaming the outbreak on ethnic or religious groups, and encouraging those infected to spread it to these groups.

The closure of borders helps reinforce xenophobic tendencies, and high public tolerance of emergency measures could easily spill into normalisation of intrusive digital surveillance and restrictions on liberty for other reasons well into the future.

Disadvantaged groups face a higher level of risk from the crisis. The health of aboriginal Australians is so poor that those aged 50 and above are being urged to stay home, advice otherwise given to those over 70 in the general population. The Moria refugee camp on Lesbos is reporting no soap and just one water tap for 1,300 refugees. In the UK, asylum seekers struggle to self-isolate in shared accommodation and have a daily allowance of just £5.40 for food, medicine and toiletries. Women's rights groups are reporting a spike in domestic violence.

For countries racked by war and extreme poverty, the impact is catastrophic. The virus is set to run rampant in slums, refugee camps and informal settlements where public health systems - if they exist at all - will struggle to cope. And detainees are among the most at risk, with the UN calling for release of political prisoners and anyone detained without sufficient legal basis.

But the crisis has galvanised debate around the right to health and universal health coverage. Many governments have quickly bankrolled generous relief packages which will actually safeguard the socio-economic rights of many, even if they are not being justified in those terms. Portugal and Ireland have rolled back barriers to accessing healthcare for asylum seekers and other marginalised migrants.

The pandemic strikes as many powerful governments have become increasingly nationalistic, undermining or retreating from international rules and institutions on human rights. But as the crisis spreads, the role of well-established international human rights standards in shaping and implementing effective - but also legitimate - measures is becoming ever clearer.

The virus has reminded us of our interconnectedness as human beings and the need for global cooperation to protect our lives and health. This may help to revive popular support for human rights, creating momentum for the efforts to tackle inequality and repression - factors which have made the global impact of coronavirus so much worse than it might have been.

As the COVID-19 crisis roars on, so have debates about China’s role in it. Based on what is known, it is clear that some Chinese officials made a major error in late December and early January, when they tried to prevent disclosures of the coronavirus outbreak in Wuhan, even silencing healthcare workers who tried to sound the alarm.

China’s leaders will have to live with these mistakes, even if they succeed in resolving the crisis and adopting adequate measures to prevent a future outbreak. What is less clear is why other countries think it is in their interest to keep referring to China’s initial errors, rather than working toward solutions.

For many governments, naming and shaming China appears to be a ploy to divert attention from their own lack of preparedness. Equally concerning is the growing criticism of the World Health Organization (WHO), not least by Donald Trump who has attacked the organization - and threatens to withdraw US funding - for supposedly failing to hold the Chinese government to account.

Unhelpful and dangerous

At a time when the top global priority should be to organize a comprehensive coordinated response to the dual health and economic crises unleashed by the coronavirus, this blame game is not just unhelpful but dangerous.

Globally and at the country level, we all desperately need to do everything possible to accelerate the development of a safe and effective vaccine, while in the meantime stepping up collective efforts to deploy the diagnostic and therapeutic tools necessary to keep the health crisis under control.

Given there is no other global health organization with the capacity to confront the pandemic, the WHO will remain at the center of the response, whether certain political leaders like it or not.

Having dealt with the WHO to a modest degree during my time as chairman of the UK’s independent Review on Antimicrobial Resistance (AMR), I can say that it is similar to most large, bureaucratic international organizations.

Like the International Monetary Fund (IMF), the World Bank, and the United Nations, it is not especially dynamic or inclined to think outside the box. But rather than sniping at these organizations from the sidelines, we should be working to improve them.

In the current crisis, we all should be doing everything we can to help both the WHO and the IMF to play an effective, leading role in the global response. As I have argued before, the IMF should expand the scope of its annual Article IV assessments to include national public-health systems, given that these are critical determinants in a country’s ability to prevent or at least manage a crisis like the one we are now experiencing.

I have even raised this idea with IMF officials themselves, only to be told that such reporting falls outside their remit because they lack the relevant expertise. That answer was not good enough then, and it definitely isn’t good enough now.

If the IMF lacks the expertise to assess public health systems, it should acquire it. As the COVID-19 crisis makes abundantly clear, there is no useful distinction to be made between health and finance. The two policy domains are deeply interconnected, and should be treated as such.

In thinking about an international response to today’s health and economic emergency, the obvious analogy is the 2008 global financial crisis which started with an unsustainable US housing bubble, fed by foreign savings owing to the lack of domestic savings in the United States.

When the bubble finally burst, many other countries sustained more harm than the US did, just as the COVID-19 pandemic has hit some countries much harder than it hit China.

And yet not many countries around the world sought to single out the US for presiding over a massively destructive housing bubble, even though the scars from that previous crisis are still visible. On the contrary, many welcomed the US economy’s return to sustained growth in recent years, because a strong US economy benefits the rest of the world.

So, rather than applying a double standard and fixating on China’s undoubtedly large errors, we would do better to consider what China can teach us. Specifically, we should be focused on better understanding the technologies and diagnostic techniques that China used to keep its - apparent - death toll so low compared to other countries, and to restart parts of its economy within weeks of the height of the outbreak.

And for our own sakes, we also should be considering what policies China could adopt to put itself back on a path toward 6% annual growth, because the Chinese economy inevitably will play a significant role in the global recovery.

If China’s post-pandemic growth model makes good on its leaders’ efforts in recent years to boost domestic consumption and imports from the rest of the world, we will all be better off.

This article was originally published in Project Syndicate

The world is currently witnessing how vulnerable existing production and consumption systems are, with the current global health crisis harshly exposing the magnitude of the risks associated with the global economy in its current form, grounded, as it is, in a linear system that uses a ‘take–make–throw away’ approach.

These ‘linear risks’ associated with the existing global supply chain system are extremely high for national economies overly dependent on natural resource extraction and exports of commodities like minerals and metals. Equally vulnerable are countries with large manufacturing sectors of ready-made garments and non-repairable consumer goods for western markets. Furthermore, workers and communities working in these sectors are vulnerable to these changes as a result of disruptive technologies and reduced demand.

In a recently published Chatham House research paper, ‘Promoting a Just Transition to an Inclusive Circular Economy’, we highlight why a circular economy approach presents the world with a solution to old and new global risks – from marine plastic pollution to climate change and resource scarcity.

Taking the long view

So far, action to transition to a circular economy has been slow compared to the current crisis which has mobilized rapid global action. For proponents of transitioning to a circular economy, this requires taking the long view. The pandemic has shown us that global emergencies can fast-forward processes that otherwise might take years, even decades, to play out or reverse achievements which have taken years to accomplish.

In this vein, there are three striking points of convergence between the COVID-19 pandemic and the need to transition to an inclusive circular economy.

Firstly, the current crisis is a stark reminder that the circular economy is not only necessary to ensure long-term resource security but also short-term supplies of important materials. In many cities across the US, the UK and Europe, councils have suspended recycling to focus on essential waste collection services. The UK Recycling Association, for example, has warned about carboard shortages due to disrupted recycling operations with possible shortages for food and medicine packaging on the horizon.

Similarly, in China, most recycling sites were shut during the country’s lockdown presenting implications for global recycling markets with additional concerns that there will be a fibre shortage across Europe and possibly around the world.

Furthermore, worldwide COVID-19 lockdowns are resulting in a resurgence in the use of single-use packaging creating a new wave of plastic waste especially from food deliveries – already seen in China – with illegal waste fly-tipping dramatically increasing in the UK since the lockdown.

In this vein, concerns over the current global health crisis is reversing previous positive trends where many cities had established recycling schemes and companies and consumers had switched to reusable alternatives.

Secondly, the need to improve the working conditions of the people working in the informal circular economy, such as waste pickers and recyclers, is imperative. Many waste materials and recyclables that are being handled and collected may be contaminated as a result of being mixed with medical waste.

Now, more than ever, key workers in waste management, collection and recycling require personal protective equipment and social protection to ensure their safety as well as the continuation of essential waste collection so as not to increase the potential for new risks associated with additional infectious diseases.

In India, almost 450 million workers including construction workers, street vendors and landless agricultural labourers, work in the informal sector. In the current climate, the poorest who are unable to work pose a great risk to the Indian economy which could find itself having to shut down.

Moreover, many informal workers live in make-shift settlements areas such as Asia’s largest slum, Dharavi in Mumbai, where health authorities are now facing serious challenges to contain the spread of the disease. Lack of access to handwashing and sanitation facilities, however, further increase these risks but circular, decentralized solutions could make important contributions to sustainable sanitation, health and improved community resilience.

Thirdly, it is anticipated that in the long term several global supply chains will be radically changed as a result of transformed demand patterns and the increase in circular practices such as urban mining for the recovery and recycling of metals or the reuse and recycling of textile fibres and localized additive manufacturing (e.g. 3D printing).

Many of these supply chains and trade flows have now been already severely disrupted due to the COVID-19 pandemic. For example, the global garment industry has been particularly hard-hit due to the closure of outlets amid falling demand for apparel.

It is important to note, workers at the bottom of these garment supply chains are among the most vulnerable and most affected by the crisis as global fashion brands, for example, have been cancelling orders – in the order of $6 billion in the case of Bangladesh alone. Only after intense negotiations are some brands assuming financial responsibility in the form of compensation wage funds to help suppliers in Myanmar, Cambodia and Bangladesh to pay workers during the ongoing crisis.

In addition, the current pandemic is damaging demand for raw materials thereby affecting mining countries. Demand for Africa’s commodities in China, for example, has declined significantly, with the impact on African economies expected to be serious, with 15 per cent of the world’s copper and 20 per cent of the world’s zinc mines currently going offline. 

A further threat is expected to come from falling commodity prices as a result of the curtailment of manufacturing activity in China particularly for crude oil, copper, iron ore and other industrial commodities which, in these cases, will have direct impacts on the Australian and Canadian mining sectors.

This is all being compounded by an associated decline in consumer demand worldwide. For example, many South African mining companies – leading producers of metals and minerals – have started closing their mining operations following the government’s announcement of a lockdown in order to prevent the transmission of the virus among miners who often work in confined spaces and in close proximity with one another. As workers are laid off due to COVID-19, there are indications that the mining industry will see fast-tracking towards automated mining operations. 

All of these linear risks that have been exposed through the COVID-19 pandemic reinforce the need for a just transition to a circular economy. But while the reduction in the consumption of resources is necessary to achieve sustainability, the social impacts on low- and middle- income countries and their workers requires international support mechanisms.

In addition, the current situation also highlights the need to find a new approach to globalized retail chains and a balance between local and global trade based on international cooperation across global value chains rather than implementation of trade protectionist measures.

In this vein, all of the recovery plans from the global COVID-19 pandemic need to be aligned with the principles of an inclusive circular economy in order to ensure both short-term and long-term resilience and preparedness for future challenges and disruptions.  

Historically, Iraq lay claim to one of the most abundant water supplies in the Middle East. But the flow of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers has reduced by up to 40% since the 1970s, due in part to the actions of neighbouring countries, in particular Turkey, upstream.

Rising temperatures and reduced rainfall due to climate change are also negatively impacting Iraq’s water reserves. Evaporation from dams and reservoirs is estimated to lose the country up to 8 billion cubic metres of water every year.

A threat to peace and stability

Shortages have dried up previously fertile land, increasing poverty in agricultural areas. Shortages have also served to fuel conflict: communities faced with successive droughts and government inertia proved to be easy targets for ISIS recruiters, who lured farmers into joining them by offering money and food to feed their families. Economic hardship for those whose livelihoods relied upon river water has also driven rural to urban migration, putting significant strain on already over-populated towns and cities, exacerbating housing, job and electricity shortages, and widening the gap between haves and have-nots.

But scarcity isn’t the most crucial element of Iraq’s water crisis – contamination is. Decades of local government mismanagement, corrupt practices and a lack of regulation of dumping (it is estimated up to 70% of Iraq’s industrial waste is dumped directly into water) has left approximately three in every five citizens without a reliable source of potable water.

In 2018, 118,000 residents of Basra province were hospitalised with symptoms brought on by drinking contaminated water, which not only put a spotlight on the inadequacies of a crumbling healthcare system but sparked mass protests and a subsequent violent crackdown.

The water crisis is also undermining the stability of the country’s federal governance model, by occasionally sparking disputes between Baghdad and the Kurdistan Regional Government, as well as between governorates in the south.

The crisis is both a symptom and a cause of poor governance. Iraq is stuck in a cycle whereby government inaction causes shortages and contamination, which result in economic losses, reduced food supply, increased prices and widespread poor health. This in turn leads to increasing levels of poverty, higher demand on services and civil unrest, increasing the pressure on a weak, dysfunctional system of government.

What can be done?

The first priority should be modernising existing water-management infrastructure - a relic of a time when the problem was an excess rather than a shortage of water (the last time Iraq’s flood defences were required was 1968). Bureaucratic hurdles, widespread corruption and an endless cycle of other crises taking precedent prevent good initiatives from being implemented or scaled up.

Diversifying energy sources to improve provision is crucial. Baghdad has a sewage treatment plant that originally ran on its own electricity source, but this capacity was destroyed in 1991 and was never replaced. The city continues to suffer from dangerous levels of water pollution because the electricity supply from the grid is insufficient to power the plant. Solar energy has great potential in sun-drenched Iraq to bridge the gaping hole in energy provision, but successive governments have chosen to focus on fossil fuels rather than promoting investment to grow the renewables sector.

Heightened tension with upstream Turkey could turn water into another cause of regional conflict. But, if approached differently, collaboration between Iraq and its neighbour could foster regional harmony.

Turkey’s elevated geography and cooler climate mean its water reserves suffer 75% less evaporation than Iraq’s. Given that Turkey’s top energy priority is the diversification of its supply of imported hydrocarbons, a win-win deal could see Turkey exchange access to its water-management infrastructure for delivery of reduced cost energy supplies from Iraq.

German-French cooperation on coal and steel in the 1950s and the evolution of economic integration that followed might provide a model for how bilateral cooperation over one issue could result in cooperation with other regional players (in this case Iran and Syria) on a range of other issues. This kind of model would need to consider the future of energy, whereby oil and gas would be replaced by solar-power exports.

These solutions have been open to policymakers for years and yet they have taken little tangible action. While there are leaders and bureaucrats with the will to act, effective action is invariably blocked by a complex and opaque political system replete with vested interests in maintaining power and wealth via a weak state and limited services from central government.

Breaking the cycle

To break this cycle, Iraq needs a group of professional and able actors outside of government to work with willing elements of the state bureaucracy as a taskforce to pressure for action and accountability. Publishing the recommendations from a hitherto withheld report produced in the aftermath of Basra’s 2018 heath crisis would be a great start.

In time, this taskforce could champion the prioritisation of water on the national agenda, the implementation of infrastructure upgrades, and hold more productive conversations with neighbour states.

With such a high degree of state fragmentation and dysfunction in Iraq, looking to the central government to provide leadership will not yield results. Engagement with a coalition of non-state actors can begin to address the water crisis and also open a dialogue around new models of governance for other critical issues. This might even be a starting point for rewriting the tattered social contract in Iraq.

This piece is based on insights and discussion at a roundtable event, Conflict and the Water Crisis in Iraq, held at Chatham House on March 9 as part of the Iraq Initiative.

Since the World Health Organisation (WHO) declared COVID-19 a pandemic, few countries have chosen to ignore social distancing recommendations. But, even among those states which have, the Belarusian official response to its epidemic remains unique.

President Aliaksandr Lukashenka’s statements that vodka, sauna and tractors are protecting Belarusians from coronavirus attracted amused attention in international media. Lukashenka also described other societies’ response to COVID-19 as ‘a massive psychosis’.

Although Lukashenka is notorious for his awkward style of public communication, the fact that Belarus is refusing to impose comprehensive confinement measures is of concern. Belarusians continue to work, play football and socialise.

Lukashenka, himself playing ice hockey in front of state cameras, claims it is the best way to stay healthy. Belarusian authorities clearly appear to be in denial – and this could have dire humanitarian consequences.

From denial to half measures

Belarus actually has one of the largest numbers of hospital beds in the world per 1,000 of the population. But in the absence of quarantine measures its health system, already crippled by corruption and embezzlement, is likely to be overwhelmed.

Patients being treated for pneumonia in hospitals have suggested medical staff are uninformed and inadequately equipped. It is claimed doctors are not reporting COVID-19 as the suspected cause of death, either through a lack of testing or for fear of reprisals.

Observers believe the real mortality rate is already well above official figures (40 deaths as of 16 April). Based on an Imperial College London model, between 15,000 and 32,000 people could die under the current mild confinement regime – and such a high death toll would hugely impact the country’s political stability. Citing personal data protection, the Ministry of Health has imposed a total news blackout; the only cluster officially acknowledged so far is the city of Vitsebsk.

Although specific Belarusian cities and some individuals started changing their approach – by extending school vacations or cancelling weddings – such measures remain half-hearted.

Clearly a major reason for such an apparently irresponsible reaction is that Belarus cannot afford a massive lockdown that would freeze its already underdeveloped economy and drive it deeper into recession. Unlike many other nations, Belarus lacks budgetary resources for a sizable stimulus package. But a delayed response might backfire on the economy.

Economic recession has been forecast to amount to at least 10% of GDP. For Lukashenka, who openly challenged conventional wisdom regarding the need for quarantine and isolation, such an economic downturn would harm his confidence rating in the eyes of Belarusian voters, mindful of the state’s mismanagement of the crisis. And it could create doubt within the ruling elite itself, with Lukashenka seeking re-election for a sixth mandate in late August.

Against this backdrop, a radicalization of the opposition-minded part of society is also to be expected, with greater reliance on social networks in the face of official secrecy and disinformation. The expected response of the regime is then likely to be pre-emptive repression. Evidence is emerging that law enforcement agencies have already stepped up judicial and paralegal harassment of dissenters, notably independent journalists and bloggers.

Russia’s initial reluctance to address the coronavirus crisis may also have influenced Belarus. Lukashenka and his administration often react to public health challenges by the Soviet rulebook, reminiscent of the Soviet authorities’ mismanagement of the Chernobyl disaster in 1986.

Russia has unilaterally closed its borders with Belarus and, as bilateral relations continue to deteriorate, this casts further doubt on the viability of the Union State of Belarus and Russia. Pro-Russian media forecast Moscow will be unwilling to alleviate the expected socio-economic crisis, as it continues to reject Minsk’s demands regarding subsidised oil deliveries. Yet the Kremlin might use the crisis as an opportunity to resume its integrationist pressure on Belarus.

China, with which Belarus engaged in a seemingly privileged strategic partnership in the 2010s, was actually the first country to dispatch humanitarian aid to beef up Belarusian capacity to fight the virus.

But Minsk should not expect Beijing to rescue its economy and, unless it commits to more internal reforms, Belarus is not likely to receive much from the EU either. The regime has already applied to the IMF for emergency financial support, but conditions are attached and, even if successful, the funds would amount to no more than $900m.

The government’s decision to take only half measures so far is rooted in the hope COVID-19 is not as bad as foreign experts fear. But, unless the leadership acknowledges the public health crisis and mitigates its economic impact, COVID-19 will accelerate Belarus’s slide back into international self-isolation. If combined with a humanitarian crisis, this will put the Belarusian regime under considerable stress.

This crisis does risk a new ‘Chernobyl moment’ for the authorities, but the population could react more vocally this time. As volunteers self-organise to fight the epidemic, it might become more difficult for the authorities to say that it is efficient in running the country. But the bottom line is Belarus desperately needs money. Whoever steps up to support Belarus financially will also be able to heavily influence its politics.

So far, there has been a noticeable worsening of relations that had already soured in recent years – the latest step being President Donald Trump’s suspension of US funding for the World Health Organization (WHO) in response to accusations of Chinese interference in its operations.

Should the world now simply prepare for a period of intense and extended hostility? As director of a policy institute founded 100 years ago in the shadow of the First World War, I believe we must do all in our power to avoid a return of the global strategic rivalries that blighted the 20th century.

Deepening suspicions

Of course, the outcome does not lie only in the hands of the US and Europe. In the 1930s, as much as they wanted to avoid another great war, British and French leaders were forced to respond to Germany’s aggression in central Europe. In the late 1940s, America’s instinct to disentangle itself from war-ravaged Europe was quickly tempered by the realization that the Soviet Union would impose or infiltrate Communist control as far into Europe as possible.

Today, those who warned that China - a one-party, surveillance state with a power-centralising leader - could never be treated as a global stakeholder feel vindicated. They see in COVID-19 an opportunity to harden policies towards China, starting by blocking all Chinese investment into 5G infrastructure and breaking international dependence on Chinese supply chains.

They can point to the fact that Chinese Communist Party officials in Wuhan initially prioritised sustaining economic growth and supressed reports about COVID-19’s capacity for human-to-human transmission, epitomised by their treatment of Dr Li Wenliang. They can highlight how Beijing’s obsession with denying Taiwan a voice in the WHO prevented Taiwanese input into the early analysis of the crisis. They can highlight the ways in which Beijing has instrumentalised its medical support for coronavirus-afflicted countries for diplomatic gain.

For their part, those in China who believed the US and Europe would never allow China’s return as a regional and world power see this criticism as further evidence. They can point to comments about this being the ‘Chinese virus’, a leaked biological weapon or China’s ‘Chernobyl moment’. ‘Wolf warrior’ Chinese diplomats have sought to outdo each other by challenging narratives about COVID-19, while propagating disinformation about the origins of the virus.

There are major risks if this blame game escalates, as it could in the lead-up to a fraught US presidential election. First, consciously uncoupling the US economically from China will make the post-coronavirus recovery that much harder. China already accounts for nearly 20% of world GDP but, unlike after the global financial crisis in 2008, it is fast becoming the world’s leading consumer market. Its financial stimulus measures need to be closely coordinated with the G7 and through the G20.

Second, Chinese scientists were the first to uncover the genetic code of the virus and shared it with the WHO as early as January 12, enabling the roll-out of effective testing around the world. They are now involved in the global search for a vaccine alongside American and European counterparts. While the Chinese government will remain a legitimate target for criticism, Chinese citizens and companies will contribute to many of the most important technical breakthroughs this century.

Third, if COVID-19 creates a long-term schism between China and the US, with Europeans caught on its edge, this could do deep damage to world order. China may become a less willing partner in lowering global greenhouse gas emissions and sharing renewable energy technologies; in helping African and other developing countries grow sustainably; and in helping to build a more resilient global health infrastructure.

Getting the balance right

But the COVID-19 crisis can also be the hinge point to a more coherent and self-interested transatlantic approach to China, one whose motto should be ‘beware but engage’. There should indeed be limits on state-backed Chinese investment in strategic US and European economic sectors, just as China limits Western access to its market. But the goal should be to lower barriers to trade and investment over time on a mutually beneficial and transparent basis, not to recreate an economic Cold War.

Chinese human rights violations, at home and abroad, should be called out. The dissemination of Chinese systems of citizen surveillance, which will be more popular in a post-coronavirus world, should be monitored and contested with US and European alternatives. And the extent of Chinese exports’ access to international markets should be conditional on China improving its phytosanitary standards - which protect humans, animals, and plants from diseases, pests, or contaminants - and strictly regulating unhygienic wet markets.

But to go further and try to make disengagement the dominant transatlantic policy as COVID-19 subsides will not only divide Europe and America. It will also contribute to a self-fulfilling prophecy; in which a resentful China grows apart from the US and Europe during a period where they must work together.

Given that it will likely be the world’s largest economy in 2030, how the US and Europe manage their relations with China after this crisis is a question at least as seminal as the one they faced after 1945 with the Soviet Union. In the ensuing years, the Soviet Union became a military superpower and competitor, but not an economic one. Containment was a viable, correct and, ultimately, successful strategy. The same options are not available this time. There will be no winners from a new Cold War with China.

Donald Trump is impulsive. His sudden decision to stop funding the World Health Organization (WHO) just days after calling it 'very China-centric” and 'wrong about a lot of things' is the latest example. And this in the midst of the worst pandemic since Spanish flu in 1918 and a looming economic crisis compared by some to the 1930s. 

But the decision is not really just about what WHO might or might not have done wrong. It is more about the ongoing geopolitical wrangle between the US and China, and about diverting attention from US failings in its own response to coronavirus in the run-up to the US presidential election.

It clearly also derives from Trump’s deep antipathy to almost any multilateral organization. WHO has been chosen as the fall guy in this political maelstrom in a way that might please Trump’s supporters who will have read or heard little about WHO’s role in tackling this crisis. And the decision has been widely condemned in almost all other countries and by many in the US.

What is it likely to mean in practice for WHO?

Calling a halt to funding for an unspecified time is an unsatisfactory halfway house. A so-called factsheet put out by the White House talks about the reforms it thinks necessary 'before the organization can be trusted again'. 

This rather implies that the US wants to remain a member of WHO if it can achieve the changes it wants. Whether those changes are feasible is another question — they include holding member states accountable for accurate data-sharing and countering what is referred to as 'China’s outsize influence on the organization'. Trump said the funding halt would last while WHO’s mismanagement of the coronavirus pandemic was investigated, which would take 60-90 days. 

The US is the single largest funder of WHO, providing about 16% of its budget. It provides funds to WHO in two ways. The first is the assessed contribution — the subscription each country pays to be a member. In 2018/19 the US contribution should have been $237 million but, as of January this year it was in arrears by about $200 million.

Much bigger are US voluntary contributions provided to WHO for specified activities amounting in the same period to another $650 million. These are for a wide variety of projects — more than one-quarter goes to polio eradication, but a significant portion also is for WHO’s emergency work. 

The US assessed contribution represents only 4% of WHO’s budget. Losing that would certainly be a blow to WHO but a manageable one. Given the arrears situation it is not certain that the US would have paid any of this in the next three months in any case. 

More serious would be losing the US voluntary contributions which account for about another 12% of WHO’s budget—but whether this could be halted all at once is very unclear. First Congress allocates funds in the US, not the president, raising questions about how a halt could be engineered domestically.

Secondly, US contributions to WHO come from about ten different US government agencies, such as the National Institutes of Health or USAID, each of whom have separate agreements with WHO. Will they be prepared to cut funding for ongoing projects with WHO? And does the US want to disrupt ongoing programmes such as polio eradication and, indeed, emergency response which contribute to saving lives? 

Given the president’s ability to do 180 degree U-turns we shall have to wait and see what will actually happen in the medium term. If it presages the US leaving WHO, this would only facilitate growing Chinese influence in the WHO and other UN bodies. Perhaps in the end wiser advice will be heeded and a viable solution found.

Most of President Trump’s criticisms of WHO do not bear close scrutiny. WHO may have made mistakes — it may have given too much credence to information coming from the Chinese. China has just announced that the death toll in Wuhan was 50% higher than previously revealed. It may have overpraised China’s performance and system, but this was part of a deliberate strategy to secure China’s active collaboration so that it could help other countries learn from China’s experience. 

The chief message from this sorry story is that two countries are using WHO as a pawn in pursuing their respective political agendas which encompass issues well beyond the pandemic. China has been very successful in gaining WHO’s seal of approval, in spite of concerns about events prior to it declaring the problem to the WHO and the world. This, in turn, has invited retaliation from the US. 

When this is over will be the time to learn lessons about what WHO should have done better. But China, the US, and the global community of nations also need to consider their own responsibility in contributing to this terrible unfolding tragedy.

This article was originally published in the British Medical Journal 

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.

A controversial debate during COVID-19 is the state of readiness within governments and health systems for a pandemic, with lines of the debate drawn on the issues of testing provision, personal protective equipment (PPE), and the speed of decision-making.

President Macron in a speech to the nation admitted French medical workers did not have enough PPE and that mistakes had been made: ‘Were we prepared for this crisis? We have to say that no, we weren’t, but we have to admit our errors … and we will learn from this’.

In reality few governments were fully prepared. In years to come, all will ask: ‘how could we have been better prepared, what did we do wrong, and what can we learn?’. But after every crisis, governments ask these same questions.

Most countries have put in place national risk assessments and established processes and systems to monitor and stress-test crisis-preparedness. So why have some countries been seemingly better prepared?

Comparing different approaches

Some have had more time and been able to watch the spread of the disease and learn from those countries that had it first. Others have taken their own routes, and there will be much to learn from comparing these different approaches in the longer run.

Governments in Asia have been strongly influenced by the experience of the SARS epidemic in 2002-3 and - South Korea in particular - the MERS-CoV outbreak in 2015 which was the largest outside the Middle East. Several carried out preparatory work in terms of risk assessment, preparedness measures and resilience planning for a wide range of threats.

And, at the international level, there are frameworks for preparedness for pandemics. The International Health Regulations (IHR) - adopted at the 2005 World Health Assembly and binding on member states - require countries to report certain disease outbreaks and public health events to the World Health Organization (WHO) and ‘prevent, protect against, control and provide a public health response to the international spread of disease in ways that are commensurate with and restricted to public health risks, and which avoid unnecessary interference with international traffic and trade’.

Under IHR, governments committed to a programme of building core capacities including coordination, surveillance, response and preparedness. The UN Sendai Framework for Disaster Risk highlights disaster preparedness for effective response as one of its main purposes and has already incorporated these measures into the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) and other Agenda 2030 initiatives. UN Secretary-General António Guterres has said COVID-19 ‘poses a significant threat to the maintenance of international peace and security’ and that ‘a signal of unity and resolve from the Council would count for a lot at this anxious time’.

This pandemic looks set to continue to be a grave threat to humanity. But there will also be future pandemics – whether another type of coronavirus or a new influenza virus – and our species will be threatened again, we just don’t know when.

Other disasters too will befall us – we already see the impacts of climate change arriving on our doorsteps characterised by increased numbers and intensity of floods, hurricanes, fires, crop failure and other manifestations of a warming, increasingly turbulent atmosphere and we will continue to suffer major volcanic eruptions, earthquakes and tsunamis. All high impact, unknown probability events.

Preparedness for an unknown future is expensive and requires a great deal of effort for events that may not happen within the preparers’ lifetimes. It is hard to imagine now, but people will forget this crisis, and revert to their imagined projections of the future where crises don’t occur, and progress follows progress. But history shows us otherwise.

Preparations for future crises always fall prey to financial cuts and austerity measures in lean times unless there is a mechanism to prevent that. Cost-benefit analyses will understandably tend to prioritise the urgent over the long-term. So governments should put in place legislation – or strengthen existing legislation – now to ensure their countries are as prepared as possible for whatever crisis is coming.

Such a legal requirement would require governments to report back to parliament every year on the state of their national preparations detailing such measures as:

• The exact levels of stocks of essential materials (including medical equipment)
• The ability of hospitals to cope with large influx of patients
• How many drills, exercises and simulations had been organised – and their findings
• What was being done to implement lessons learned & improve preparedness

In addition, further actions should be taken:

• Parliamentary committees such as the UK Joint Committee on the National Security Strategy should scrutinise the government’s readiness for the potential threats outlined in the National Risk register for Civil Emergencies in-depth on an annual basis.
• Parliamentarians, including ministers, with responsibility for national security and resilience should participate in drills, table-top exercises and simulations to see for themselves the problems inherent with dealing with crises.
• All governments should have a minister (or equivalent) with the sole responsibility for national crisis preparedness and resilience. The Minister would be empowered to liaise internationally and coordinate local responses such as local resilience groups.
• There should be ring-fenced budget lines in annual budgets specifically for preparedness and resilience measures, annually reported on and assessed by parliaments as part of the due diligence process.

And at the international level:

• The UN Security Council should establish a Crisis Preparedness Committee to bolster the ability of United Nations Member States to respond to international crisis such as pandemics, within their borders and across regions. The Committee would function in a similar fashion as the Counter Terrorism Committee that was established following the 9/11 terrorist attacks in the United States.
• States should present reports on their level of preparedness to the UN Security Council. The Crisis Preparedness Committee could establish a group of experts who would conduct expert assessments of each member state’s risks and preparedness and facilitate technical assistance as required.
• Regional bodies such as the OSCE, ASEAN and ARF, the AU, the OAS, the PIF etc could also request national reports on crisis preparedness for discussion and cooperation at the regional level.

COVID-19 has been referred to as the 9/11 of crisis preparedness and response. Just as that shocking terrorist attack shifted the world and created a series of measures to address terrorism, we now recognise our security frameworks need far more emphasis on being prepared and being resilient. Whatever has been done in the past, it is clear that was nowhere near enough and that has to change.

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. 

The pressure of the coronavirus pandemic is adding to a widely held misconception that trade in food products is bad for the environment due to the associated ‘food miles’ – the carbon footprint of agricultural products transported over long distances.

This concept, developed by large retailers a decade ago, is often invoked as a rationale for restricting trade and choosing locally-produced food over imports. Consuming local food may seem sensible at first glance as it reduces the carbon footprint of goods and generates local employment. 

However, this assumption ignores the emissions produced during the production, processing or storage stages which often dwarf transport emissions. Other avenues to address the climate change impact of trade are more promising.

Demystifying food emissions

In the US, for example, food items travel more than 8,000 km on average before reaching the consumer. Yet transport only accounts for 11 per cent of total emissions with 83 per cent – mostly nitrous oxide (N2O) and methane (CH4) emissions – occurring at the production stage.

US Department of Agriculture data on energy use in the American food system echoes this finding, showing that processing, packaging, and selling of food represent ten times the energy used to transport food.

In practice, it may be preferable from an environmental perspective to consume lamb, onion or dairy products transported by sea because the lower emissions generated at the production stage offset those resulting from transport. Similarly, growing tomatoes under heated greenhouses in Sweden is often more emissions-intensive than importing open-grown ones from Southern Europe.

Seasonality also matters. British apples placed in storage for ten months leads to twice the level of emissions as that of South American apples sea-freighted to the UK. And the type of transport is also important as, overall, maritime transport generates 25 to 250 times less emissions than trucks, and air freight generates on average five times more emissions than road transport.

Therefore, air-freighted Kenyan beans have a much larger carbon footprint than those produced in the UK, but crossing Europe by truck to import Italian wine might generate more emissions than transatlantic shipments.

Finally, one should take into account the last leg of transport. A consumer driving more than 10 km to purchase 1 kg of fresh produce will generate proportionately more greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions than air-freighting 1 kg of produce from Kenya.

Shifting consumption towards local foods may reduce GHG emissions in sectors with relatively low emissions intensities but, when non-carbon dioxide emissions are taken into account, this is more often the exception than the rule.

Under these circumstances, preventing trade is an inefficient and expensive way of reducing GHG emissions. Bureau et al. for example, calculate that a global tariff maintaining the volume of trade at current levels until 2030 may reduce global carbon dioxide emissions by 3.5 per cent. However, this would be roughly seven times less than the full implementation of the Paris Agreement and cost equivalent to the current GDP of Brazil or 1.8 per cent of world GDP.

By preventing an efficient use of resources, such restrictions would also undermine the role of trade in offsetting possible climate-induced production shortfalls in some parts of the world and allowing people to access food when they can’t produce it themselves.

Reducing the climate footprint of trade

This is not to say that nothing should be done to tackle transport emissions. The OECD estimates that international trade-related freight accounted for over 5 per cent of total global fuel emissions with shipping representing roughly half of it, trucks 40 per cent, air 6 per cent and rail 2 per cent. With the projected tripling of freight transport by 2050, emissions from shipping are expected to rise between 50 and 250 per cent.

Furthermore, because of their international nature, these emissions are not covered by the Paris Agreement. Instead the two UN agencies regulating these sectors – the International Civil Aviation Organization and the International Maritime Organization – are responsible for reducing these emissions and, so far, significant progress has proven elusive.

Regional or bilateral free trade agreements to further stimulate trade could address this problem by exploiting comparative advantages. Impact assessments of those agreements often point towards increases in GHG emissions due to a boost in trade flows. In the future, such agreements could incorporate – or develop in parallel – initiatives to ensure carbon neutrality by connecting carbon markets among contracting parties or by taxing international maritime and air transport emissions.

Such initiatives could be combined with providing additional preferences in the form of enhanced market access to low-carbon food and healthier food. The EU, as one of the chief proponents of bilateral and regional trade agreements and a leader in promoting a transition to a low-carbon economy could champion such an approach.

This article is part of a series from the Chatham House Global Trade Policy Forum, designed to promote research and policy recommendations on the future of global trade. It is adapted from the research paper, Delivering Sustainable Food and Land Use Systems: The Role of International Trade, authored by Christophe Bellmann, Bernice Lee and Jonathan Hepburn.

Nigeria is better placed than many to respond to the arrival of the coronavirus disease. In 2014, it successfully contained a deadly Ebola virus outbreak and the country’s current score on the Epidemic Preparedness Index (38.9 per cent) is higher than the African and global averages.

But the outbreak is compounding Nigeria’s numerous pre-existing crises. It was already grappling with a Lassa fever outbreak that has claimed more than one hundred lives in 2020, the aftermath of recession, and conflict and insecurity within its borders.

Effective leadership to build confidence will be vital. However, President Muhammadu Buhari has made few appearances, delivering his first speech on Nigeria’s response more than one month after the country’s first recorded case. And the indefinite suspension of meetings of the Federal Executive Council has raised questions on the efficacy of the response.

Extended lockdown imposed

The recent loss of President Buhari’s steadfast chief of staff Abba Kyari as a result of contracting COVID-19 is a further significant setback for the presidency. But the administration has established a presidential task force to develop a national strategy and an extended lockdown has been imposed on the most affected states – Lagos, Ogun and the Federal Capital Territory of Abuja. The country has also closed national borders and is expanding testing capacity to 1,500 per day.

However, when Nigeria’s first case was recorded on February 27 it was state governments that initially took action – shutting schools, closing state borders and imposing lockdowns. Going forwards, the 36 state governments will have a key role to play although their governance capacity and commitment varies widely.

The federal government has released $2.7 million to support the Nigeria Centre for Disease Control (NCDC), and promised an additional $18 million – but this falls well short of the estimated $330 million needed to tackle the coronavirus disease in Nigeria. The government is looking to its private sector to help make up the difference. The country’s finances are under severe pressure with Nigerian crude oil – the main source of government revenue and foreign exchange reserves – selling for as low as $12 or $13 a barrel (with production costs of around $22 per barrel), and a debt servicing to revenue ratio of more than 50 per cent even before the oil price crash.

Facing its second recession in four years, with -3.4 per cent GDP growth forecast by the IMF, the country has little economic resilience. Nigeria will not be able to sustain restrictions on its 81.15 million-strong workforce, 83.2 per cent of which operate in the informal sector. One area at particular risk is food security, as the pandemic is disrupting farming, supply chains and trade. By building on past benefit programmes, the federal government is providing cash and distributing food to vulnerable households, but this important effort is being hampered by poor communication, inefficiencies and a lack of transparency – longstanding challenges in many aspects of public service delivery in Nigeria.

In the absence of a reliable social safety net, Nigerians trust and rely on their families, communities and the informal economy to see them through difficult times. It is these informal mechanisms that lend Nigeria its oft-referenced resilience, which has enabled society to function and continue while a largely disconnected political class has focused on self-enrichment.

It is through these traditional channels that the government will need to deliver information, support, testing and treatment. But without high levels of trust, the administration may find it difficult to do so. Many Nigerians initially considered the pandemic a hoax, some describing it as a ‘rich man’s disease’, while others see it as another conspiracy by politicians to loot the treasury.

Lockdown measures have also heightened tensions across the country. Some citizens are rebelling and in one instance burned down a police station in response to the closure of mosques in Katsina state. Marking a further breakdown in the relationship between the population and its leaders, the Nigerian National Human Rights Commission (NHRC) recently reported security services enforcing the lockdown have extrajudicially killed 18 people, while, so far, COVID-19 has killed 25 people in Nigeria.

Mitigating the spread and worst consequences of the virus will depend on the state rebuilding trust with its citizens through effective communication and action. It is particularly important that the community mechanisms of support are protected as they come under growing pressure as communities become increasingly affected by the virus.

The stark choice facing most Nigerians – between risking starvation and risking contagion – means a sustained lockdown is not a tenable option. People will choose to go to work. This will especially be the case as people grow weary of measures imposed upon them by a state that the vast majority of the population believe does not serve or care for them.

Having largely ignored the needs of Nigeria’s citizens for decades, the political class face an uphill battle in building trust with the population. Earning this trust is not only crucial for the struggle against COVID-19 but also for Nigeria’s longer-term progress and system of political governance.

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

There were several notable achievements during last week’s Spring meetings. The Fund’s frank set of forecasts for world GDP growth are a grim but valuable reminder of the scale of the crisis we are facing, and the Fund’s richer members will finance a temporary suspension on payments to the IMF for 29 very poor countries.

Most importantly, a boost to the Fund’s main emergency facilities - the Rapid Credit Facility and the Rapid Financing Instrument - now makes $100bn of proper relief available to a wide range of countries. But the core problem is that the vast bulk of the Fund’s firepower is effectively inert.

This is because of the idea of 'conditionality', which underpins almost all of the IMF’s lending relationships with member states. Under normal circumstances, when the IMF is the last-resort lender to a country, it insists that the borrowing government tighten its belt and exercise restraint in public spending.

This helps to achieve three objectives. One is to stabilise the public debt burden, to ensure that the resources made available are not wasted. The second is to limit the whole economy’s need for foreign exchange, a shortage of which had prompted a country to seek IMF help in the first place. And the third is to ensure that the IMF can get repaid.

Role within the international monetary system

Since the IMF does not take any physical collateral from countries to whom it is lending, the belt-tightening helps to act as a kind of collateral for the IMF. It helps to maximise the probability that the IMF does not suffer losses on its own loan portfolio — losses that would have bad consequences for the Fund’s role within the international monetary system.

This is a perfectly respectable goal. Walter Bagehot, the legendary editor of The Economist, established modern conventional wisdom about managing panics. Relying on a medical metaphor that feels oddly relevant today, he said that a panic 'is a species of neuralgia, and according to the rules of science you must not starve it.' 

Managing a panic, therefore, requires lending to stricken borrowers 'whenever the security is good', as Bagehot put it. The IMF has had to invent its own form of collateral, and conditionality is the result. The problem, though, is that belt-tightening is a completely inappropriate approach to managing the current crisis.

Countries are stricken not because they have indulged in any irresponsible spending sprees that led to a shortage of foreign exchange, but because of a virus beyond their control. Indeed, it would seem almost grotesque for the Fund to ask countries to cut spending at a time when, if anything, more spending is needed to stop people dying or from falling into a permanent trap of unemployment.

The obvious solution to this problem would be to increase the amount of money that any country can access from the Fund’s emergency facilities well beyond the $100bn now available. But that kind of solution would quickly run up against the IMF’s collateral problem.

The more the IMF makes available as 'true' emergency financing with few or no strings attached, the more it begins to undermine the quality of its loan portfolio. And if the IMF’s senior creditor status is undermined, then an important building block of the international monetary system would be at risk.

One way out of this might have been an emergency allocation of Special Drawing Rights, a tool last used in 2009. This would credit member countries’ accounts with new, unconditional liquidity that could be exchanged for the five currencies that underpin the SDR: the dollar, the yen, the euro, sterling and the renminbi. That will not be happening, though, since the US is firmly opposed, for reasons bad and good.

So in the end the IMF and its shareholders face a huge problem. It either lends more money on easy terms without the 'collateral' of conditionality, at the expense of undermining its own balance sheet - or it remains, in systemic terms, on the sidelines of this crisis.

And since the legacy of this crisis will be some eye-watering increases in the public debt burdens of many emerging economies, the IMF’s struggle to find a way to administer its medicine will certainly outlive this round of the coronavirus outbreak.

This article is a version of a piece which was originally published in the Financial Times

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.

Despite face-to-face diplomatic meetings being increasingly rare during the current disruption, COVID-19 will ultimately force a redefinition of national security and defence spending priorities, and this could provide the possibility of an improved political climate at RevCon when it happens in 2021.

With US presidential elections due in November and a gradual engagement growing between the EU and Iran, there could be a new context for more cooperation between states by 2021. Two key areas of focus over the coming months will be the arms control talks between the United States and Russia, and Iran’s compliance with the 2015 Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA), also known as the Iran Nuclear Deal.

It is too early to discern the medium- and longer-term consequences of COVID-19 for defence ministries, but a greater focus on societal resilience and reinvigorating economic productivity will likely undercut the rationale for expensive nuclear modernization.

Therefore, extending the current New START (Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty) would be the best, most practical option to give both Russia and the United States time to explore more ambitious multilateral arms control measures, while allowing their current focus to remain on the pandemic and economic relief.

Continuing distrust

But with the current treaty — which limits nuclear warheads, missiles, bombers, and launchers — due to expire in February 2021, the continuing distrust between the United States and Russia makes this extension hard to achieve, and a follow-on treaty even less likely.

Prospects for future bilateral negotiations are hindered by President Donald Trump’s vision for a trilateral arms control initiative involving both China and Russia. But China opposes this on the grounds that its nuclear arsenal is far smaller than that of the two others.

While there appears to be agreement that the nuclear arsenals of China, France, and the UK (the NPT nuclear-weapons states) and those of the states outside the treaty (India, Pakistan, North Korea, and Israel) will all have to be taken into account going forward, a practical mechanism for doing so proves elusive.

If Joe Biden wins the US presidency he seems likely to pursue an extension of the New START treaty and could also prevent a withdrawal from the Open Skies treaty, the latest arms control agreement targeted by the Trump administration.

Under a Biden administration, the United States would also probably re-join the JCPOA, provided Tehran returned to strict compliance with the deal. Biden could even use the team that negotiated the Iran deal to advance the goal of denuclearization of the Korean peninsula.

For an NPT regime already confronted by a series of longstanding divergences, it is essential that Iran remains a signatory especially as tensions between Iran and the United States have escalated recently — due to the Qassim Suleimani assassination and the recent claim by Iran’s Revolutionary Guard Corps to have successfully placed the country’s first military satellite into orbit.

This announcement raised red flags among experts about whether Iran is developing intercontinental ballistic missiles due to the dual-use nature of space technology. The satellite launch — deeply troubling for Iran’s neighbours and the EU countries — may strengthen the US argument that it is a cover for the development of ballistic missiles capable of delivering nuclear weapons.

However, as with many other countries, Iran is struggling with a severe coronavirus crisis and will be pouring its scientific expertise and funds into that rather than other efforts — including the nuclear programme.

Those European countries supporting the trading mechanism INSTEX (Instrument in Support of Trade Exchanges) for sending humanitarian goods into Iran could use this crisis to encourage Iran to remain in compliance with the JCPOA and its NPT obligations.

France, Germany and the UK (the E3) have already successfully concluded the first transaction, which was to facilitate the export of medical goods from Europe to Iran. But the recent Iranian escalatory steps will most certainly place a strain on the preservation of this arrangement.

COVID-19 might have delayed Iran’s next breach of the 2015 nuclear agreement but Tehran will inevitably seek to strengthen its hand before any potential negotiations with the United States after the presidential elections.

As frosty US-Iranian relations — exacerbated by the coronavirus pandemic — prevent diplomatic negotiations, this constructive engagement between the E3 and Iran might prove instrumental in reviving the JCPOA and ensuring Iran stays committed to both nuclear non-proliferation and disarmament.

While countries focus their efforts on tackling the coronavirus pandemic, it is understandable resources may be limited for other global challenges, such as the increasing risk of nuclear weapons use across several regions.

But the potential ramifications of the COVID-19 crisis for the NPT regime are profound. Ongoing tensions between the nuclear-armed states must not be ignored while the world’s focus is elsewhere, and the nuclear community should continue to work together to progress nuclear non-proliferation and disarmament, building bridges of cooperation and trust that can long outlast the pandemic.

The COVID-19 pandemic has struck the Sahel and West Africa at a time when the region is already under severe pressure from violent insecurity and the effects of climate change on its land, food and water resources.

By the end of April, there had been 9,513 confirmed coronavirus cases across the 17 countries of the region, and some 231 deaths, with the highest overall numbers recorded in Nigeria, Ghana, Guinea, Côte d’Ivoire, Senegal, Niger and Burkina Faso. Low testing rates mean than these numbers give only a partial picture.

The Food Crisis Prevention Network (RPCA) forecast in early April that almost 17 million people in the Sahel and West Africa (7.1 million in Nigeria alone) will need food and nutritional assistance during the coming lean season in June–August, more than double the number in an average year. The combined impact of violent insecurity and COVID-19 could put more than 50 million other people across the region at risk of food and nutrition crisis.

Rippling across the region

The effects of the collapse in global commodity prices, currency depreciations, rising costs of consumer goods and disruptions to supply chains are rippling across the region. And for major oil-exporting countries such as Nigeria, Ghana, Chad and Cameroon, the wipe-out of foreign currency earnings will hammer government revenues just as the cost of food and other critical imports goes up. It is likely that the number of people who suffer the direct health impact of the coronavirus will be far outstripped by the number for whom there will be harsh social and economic costs.

In recent years, valuable protocols and capacities have been put in place by governments in West and Central Africa in response to Ebola and other infectious disease outbreaks.

But inadequate healthcare funding and infrastructure across this region compound the challenge of responding to the spread of the COVID-19 infection – which is testing the resources of even the world’s best-funded public health systems.

Over many years, however, the region has steadily built up structures to tackle humanitarian and development challenges, particularly as regards food security. It has an established system for assessing the risk of food crisis annually and coordinating emergency support to vulnerable communities. Each country monitors climate and weather patterns, transhumance, market systems and agricultural statistics, and terrorist disruption of agricultural productivity, from local community to national and regional level.

The system is coordinated and quality-controlled, using common technical data standards, by the Permanent Interstate Committee for Drought Control in the Sahel (CILSS), a regional intergovernmental body established in 1973 in response to a devastating drought. Collective risk assessments allow emergency support to be mobilized through the RPCA.

For almost three months already, countries in Sahelian West Africa have been working with the World Health Organization to prepare national COVID-19 response strategies and strengthen health controls at their borders. Almost all governments have also opted for domestic curfews, and variations of lockdown and market restrictions.

Senegal has been a leader in rapidly developing Africa’s diagnostic capacity, and plans are under way to speed up production of test kits. Niger was swift to develop a national response strategy, to which donors have pledged €194.5 million. While the IMF has agreed emergency financial assistance to help countries address the urgent balance-of-payments, health and social programme needs linked to the COVID-19 pandemic, signing off $3.4 billion for Nigeria, $442 million for Senegal and $130 million for Mauritania.

Steps are also now being taken towards the formulation of a more joined-up regional approach. Notably, Nigeria’s President Muhammadu Buhari has been chosen by an extraordinary session of the Economic Community of West African States to coordinate the regional response to COVID-19. As Africa’s biggest economy and home to its largest population, Nigeria is a critical hub for transnational flows of goods and people. Its controversial August 2019 land border closure, in a bid to address smuggling, has already painfully disrupted regional agri-food trade and value chains. The active engagement of the Buhari administration will thus be crucial to the success of a multifaceted regional response.

One of the first tough questions the region’s governments must collectively address is how long to maintain the border shutdowns that were imposed as an initial measure to curb the spread of the virus. Closed borders are detrimental to food security, and disruptive to supply chains and the livelihoods of micro, small and medium-sized entrepreneurs that rely on cross-border trade. The impact of prolonged closures will be all the more profound in a region where welfare systems are largely non-existent or, at best, highly precarious.

Nigeria, in particular, with more than 95 million people already living in extreme poverty, might do well to explore measures to avoid putting food further beyond the reach of people who are seeing their purchasing power evaporate.

In taking further actions to control the spread of the coronavirus, the region’s governments will need to show faith in the system that they have painstakingly developed to monitor and respond to the annual risk of food crisis across the Sahel. This system, and the critical data it offers, will be vital to informing interventions to strengthen the four components of food security – availability, access, stability and utilization – in the context of COVID-19, and for charting a post-pandemic path of recovery.

Above all, careful steps will need to be put in place to ensure that preventing the spread of the coronavirus does not come at the cost of even greater food insecurity for the people of the Sahel and West Africa. The region’s governments must prioritize the flow of food across borders and renew their commitment to strategic coordination and alignment.

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.

What is quantitative easing? How was it used after the 2008 financial crisis?

Quantitative easing (QE) has been in existence since the Japanese central bank introduced it at the turn of the millennium. The simplest way to think about it is this: when interest rates can't go down anymore and play their normal role of stimulating growth, central banks try to expand the money supply. So, they're expanding the quantitative amount of money they put into the system. 

Of course, after 2008 because of the scale of the financial and economic collapse, many Western countries resorted to QE. Some have never gotten rid of it. Others have started to, but as a result of this crisis, have gone straight back to that playbook.

33 million Americans have now filed for unemployment and one in five American workers have lost their jobs due to COVID-19. These are levels not seen since the Great Depression. You recently called for G20 countries to provide income support for all citizens. Why is this so urgent to implement now?

It is incredible to reflect back on the short time since I published that piece. I entitled it the need for a so-called people's QE, and in some ways a number of European countries, including the UK, have executed some aspects of what I was suggesting. 

The United States has not, even though the absolute amounts of money the US authorities have put through their fiscal system to try and support the economy is actually bigger as a percentage of GDP than many in Europe. 

What they haven't done is support ongoing employment through various schemes that many European countries have done, of which the UK has, to some degree, been one of the most ambitious.

That’s partly why you see such enormous filing for unemployment claims in the US. There’s no direct support to encourage employers to keep their employees on, in complete contrast to what you see in many Scandinavian countries who were the first to do it in Europe, and something the UK has since done. 

On a practical level, what might a smart people’s QE look like? 

We are living in an extraordinary time. Like many others in my generation, it’s nothing that any of us have gone through. Perhaps economically, the only parallel one can find is from the 1920s and 1930s.

It became obvious to me in early March that governments are going to have to essentially force as many of us as possible, if we weren't doing absolutely crucial necessities, to stop working or to work from home. It was pretty obvious that the consequences could be horrific. 

So, the idea of a people's QE that I suggested then, some would have regarded as quite audacious. The most dramatic thing that could be done was, to put it simply, governments effectively pay for every business and every employee to have a two month paid holiday. Obviously, this would cost a very large amount of money for governments, but it would be the least disruptive way of getting us all to stay home.

And when the time is right to start letting us get back to anything vaguely like normality, there wouldn't be as much permanent disruption. I think about six weeks have passed since I wrote that piece. Actually, given the policies many governments have announced, I'm not sure undertaking the audacity in generosity of what I suggested would have cost any more. Over the long term, it might have actually turned out to be less. 

Of course, there are ethics issues around whether the system could be gamed or not, amongst other issues. But six weeks later, I still believe that would have been the smartest thing to do. It certainly would have been much better than trying to encourage many businesses, particularly smaller ones, to take out loans.

A couple of countries got close to what I was suggesting – Germany and Switzerland were very quick to give 100% government guarantees to business, as well as generous wage support systems. But a number of other countries haven't, like the US, even though they wrote a $1200 check for each citizen. 

Should a people’s QE involve the purchase and write off of consumer debt and student debt by a central bank? 

I think these things might have to be considered. I remember being on a conference call to Chatham House members where we discussed what would be the likely economic consequences and what policymakers should do. One person on the call was talking about quite conventional forms of policy just through various forms of standard QE. 

During the Q&A, someone asked whether we thought the US Federal Reserve might end up buying equities. And I said, well, why not? Eventually, it might come to that. 

Actually, before that discussion was over, the Fed coincidentally announced they were going to buy high-yield corporate bonds, or very risky company debt. This is something that would have been unheard of even by the playbook of 2008. 

So, I don't think ideas like a kind of provision to help student debtors is entirely crazy. These are things that our policymakers are going to have to think about as we go forward in the challenging and unpredictable days and weeks ahead. 

Poorer countries like El Salvador have gone as far as cancelling rent and major utility bills for its citizens. Do you think countries like the US and UK have gone far enough to help people during the crisis?

Going one step further than a people’s QE and postponing major payments is a pretty interesting concept. I think in reality, it would be very disruptive to the medium to long-term mechanism of our societies. It could be very, very complicated. 

But, of course, some parts of the G20 nations, including the UK, have moved significantly in these areas as it relates to rent payments or mortgage payments. There have been significant mortgage holidays being introduced for many sectors of our community. I think the British government has been quite thoughtful about it without doing the whole hog of potentially getting rid of our transaction system for two months or beyond.

You know, this may well be something that has to be considered if, God forbid, there is a second peak of the virus. If countries come out of a lockdown and all that results in is a dramatic rise in infections and then death again, we're going to end up right back where we are. Policymakers may have to implement more generous versions of what we've done already, despite what the long term debt consequences could be.

The Coronavirus Aid, Relief, and Economic Security (CARES) Act in the US has been criticized as a corporate bailout while offering little to the American people. It was recently reported that hedge fund managers are applying for bailouts as ‘small businesses.’ Do you think more oversight is needed in how the stimulus funds are allocated? 

The speed at which many countries have responded and introduced policies means that there's going to be some gaping holes which allow people to unfairly benefit from the system. And if indeed, that were to be the case, I cannot see why a hedge fund should benefit from government generosity.

A true hedge fund is supposed to be a form of investment manager that thrives in times of great volatility, and knows how to better navigate such financial markets than more conventional funds. So this shouldn’t be an environment where hedge funds seek the same kind of help as small businesses. That is certainly something the government should be very careful about.

Some economists argue that central banks are not independent as they finance fiscal spending through purchase of government bonds. Do the strong measures taken by central banks in response to the crisis undermine the argument for central bank independence? 

In my view, an effective central bank has to do whatever is necessary, including doing very unconventional things, when the society in which that central bank operates needs it. 

Most of the time, central banks are pretty boring places, but they really become crucial organizations when we go through times like the 1920s, 1930s, 2008, and of course, this current crisis. If they want to maintain their legitimacy, whatever the true parliamentary or congressional legal standing is, they have to do things quickly and as we've seen in this case, differently than the convention in order to do what our societies need. 

Somebody was asking me just last week whether the Fed buying high grade debt was legal or not. I think that’s a pretty irrelevant conversation because if it’s not legal now, it will be made legal tomorrow. So, I think central banks have to keep their legitimacy and they have to do what is necessary when the time requires it. In that sense, I think most central banks have handled this crisis so far pretty well.

In August 2012, when the UN released its report Gaza in 2020: A liveable place?, they could not have imagined what the world would look like in 2020: cities under lockdown, restrictions on movement, border closures, widespread unemployment, economic collapse, fear and anxiety and, above all, uncertainty about what the future holds.

For Gaza’s population of 2 million people this reality is nothing new. The conditions that the rest of the world are currently experiencing as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic is similar to the tight blockade Gaza has been living under ever since Hamas took over in 2007. Israel has imposed severe restrictions on the movement of people and goods, youth unemployment has reached 60 per cent, and over 80 per cent of Gaza’s population are now dependent on international aid.

The people of Gaza are having to face the COVID-19 crisis already at a disadvantage, with poor infrastructure, limited resources and a shortage of the most basic services, such as water and power supply. It also has a fragile health system, with hospitals lacking essential medical supplies and equipment, as well as the capacity to deal with the outbreak as there are only 84 ICU beds and ventilators available.

Meanwhile, intra-Palestinian divisions have persisted and were evident in the initial reaction to the pandemic. When President Mahmoud Abbas announced a state of emergency, it took two days for the Hamas-led government in Gaza to follow suit and shut down schools and universities. They later made a separate emergency appeal to address the crisis and prepare for a COVID-19 response in Gaza. This lack of coordination is typical of the way the Palestinian Authority and Hamas approach crisis situations.

After the initial uncoordinated response, Hamas, as the de-facto ruler of Gaza, has asserted its ability to control Gaza’s borders by putting in place quarantine measures for everyone who enters the strip, whether through the Erez checkpoint with Israel or the Rafah border with Egypt. They have also assigned 21 hospitals, hotels, and schools as compulsory quarantine centres for all arrivals from abroad, who have to stay in quarantine for 21 days. In comparison, there are 20 quarantine centres in the West Bank.  These strict measures have prevented the spread of the virus in the community and confined it to the quarantine centres, with only 20 confirmed cases of COVID-19 as of 6 May. Gaza’s de-facto authorities have also been able to monitor markets and prices to ensure the availability of essential goods.

Faced with a major crisis, Al-Qassam Brigades – the armed wing of Hamas – have tried to play the role of a national army by participating in efforts to fight the pandemic. They have relatively good logistical capacity and have contributed to the construction of two quarantine facilities with a total capacity of 1,000 units to prepare for more arrivals into Gaza. At the local level, municipalities have been disinfecting public spaces and facilities in addition to disseminating information about the virus and related preventative and protective measures. Other precautionary measures put in place include closing the weekly open markets, and restricting social gatherings like weddings and funerals.

Despite COVID-19, it’s business as usual when it comes to international dealings with Gaza. The key parties in the conflict – Israel, Hamas and the Palestinian Authority – along with the main external actors – Egypt, the United Nations and Qatar – have continued to stick to their policies aimed at keeping the security situation under control and preventing further escalation. Although Israel has allowed entry of pharmaceutical supplies and medical equipment into Gaza during the pandemic, it has kept its restrictions on the movement of goods and people in place, while keeping a close eye on the development of the COVID-19 outbreak in Gaza – a major outbreak here would be a nightmare scenario for Israel.

Meanwhile, Qatar has continued to address the humanitarian and economic needs of Gaza in an attempt to ease the pressure and prevent further escalation. It has pledged $150 million over the next six months to help families in Gaza from poorer backgrounds. Gaza has also been discussed by the Middle East Quartet, as Nickolay Mladenov, the UN special coordinator for the Middle East Peace Process, expressed his concern about the risk of a disease outbreak in Gaza during a call with the members of the Quartet.

Amid the pandemic, threats are still being exchanged between Israel and Hamas. The Israeli defence minister, Naftali Bennett, requested that in return for providing humanitarian aid to Gaza, Hamas agrees to return the remains of two Israeli soldiers killed in the 2014 war. While openly rejecting Bennett's statement, the leader of Hamas in Gaza, Yahya Sinwar, has offered to move forward with a prisoner swap deal if Israel agrees to release elderly prisoners and detainees in addition to detained women and children. Though dealing with its own COVID-19 outbreak, Egypt has started to mediate between the two parties in an attempt to stabilize the situation and reach a prisoner swap deal.

In the wake of this pandemic, lessons should be learned and policies should be examined, by all parties. Firstly, Israel should re-evaluate its security measures towards Gaza by easing restrictions on movement and trade which would have a positive impact on living conditions for Gaza’s population. The current measures have proven to be unsustainable and have contributed to the endless cycle of violence. Secondly, the intra-Palestinian division should end, to save Palestinians from contradictory policies and insufficient capacity on both sides. In fact, all previous attempts have failed to end this self-destructive division and this is due to the absence of political will on both sides. Elections seem to be the only viable path towards unity. Finally, efforts by the international community should go beyond stabilizing the security situation and ongoing crisis inside Gaza, where disruption of normal life is the norm.

While the world has reacted to this pandemic with a whole host of new policies and emergency measures, it has remained business as usual when dealing with Gaza. Should COVID-19 spread in Gaza, its people – who have already paid the price of a continuous blockade and intra-Palestinian division for 13 years – will pay a heavy price yet again. However, this time it is not a crisis that they alone will have to face.

Although protests successfully ended Abdelaziz Bouteflika’s 20-year sultanistic rule a little over one year ago, demands have been continuing to dismantle the system, get rid of the old personnel, and institute democracy.

The controversial election in December of Abdelmadjid Tebboune — who has inherited a disastrous situation — has not tempered the determination of the Hirak protest movement. As a former minister and prime minister under Bouteflika, the new president has won little legitimacy, and protests have continued.

Now COVID-19 is worsening already dire economic conditions, such as a sharp drop in oil prices. By the beginning of May, statistics showed 10% of confirmed cases have ended in fatality, the highest percentage in the region.

Maintaining an authoritarian style

Hirak had already called for the suspension of the marches — mobilising online instead — before the government’s measures, which include curfews and lockdowns, demonstrating a high sense of duty. But instead of appeasing Hirak’s demands, the government has maintained the authoritarian style of its predecessors.

Tebboune released more than 5,000 prisoners on March 31 but kept prisoners of conscience and leaders of the hirak imprisoned, then subsequently imprisoned journalists and activists. It even passed a controversial penal law, that also covers fake news, and may be used to justify actions against journalists.

The regime wishes to see an end to the Hirak, and rejects accusations of totalitarianism by insisting freedom and a democratic climate exist in Algeria.

Tebboune’s actions contradict his praise for the ‘blessed’ hirak and his promises of instituting the rule of law. In proclaiming the measures, the government has shown disappointing leadership, acting in an authoritarian fashion.

Tebboune also declared proudly that Algeria was fully prepared to fight the coronavirus epidemic, an optimistic claim given the country has only 400 intensive care unit (ICU) beds, or one per 100,000 people. Despite hundreds of billions of hydrocarbon dollars accumulating during the Bouteflika-era, Algeria’s health system ranks 173 out of 195 countries.

Algerians often refer to hospitals as ‘mouroirs’, meaning ‘places for the dying’. Not only has the state failed to build modern hospitals but basic hygienic conditions are lacking, and government officials prefer being treated overseas. A 2014 project to build five university hospitals was abandoned, leaving the health sector in deplorable shape.

Before Chinese assistance arrived, the glaring lack of equipment to protect caregivers and care for the sick was evident. Prime Minister Abdelaziz Djerad admitted the health system required a ‘total overhaul’. The president recently stated Algeria’s doctors are among the 'best in the world' but didn't address why almost 15,000 Algerian doctors practice in France.

Strict containment measures are in sync with most countries but implementation is challenging when most people live in overcrowded urban dwellings (the average household consists of 5.9 members).

Water shortages in many areas makes good hygiene and decontamination impossible, while schools and universities find online teaching difficult when many students do not possess laptops or internet connections. And only 20% of Algerians have debit cards in a cash-dominated economy because of low trust in the public-dominated banking sector, making online shopping capability low.

An already declining macroeconomic situation is worsening due to COVID-19. The IMF revised its 2020 estimates for Algeria, forecasting a catastrophic contraction of -5.2% in a country where hydrocarbons account for 93% of export revenues and 60% of its budget.

Foreign currency reserves are now an estimated $55 billion (expected to fall to $44billion by the end of 2020), down from $200 billion in 2014, and Algerian crude has recently traded close to production costs, with the fiscal breakeven oil price at $157.

In line with its historic aversion to external borrowing, Tebboune recently ruled out seeking financial support from the ‘IMF or other foreign banks’, as he argued such borrowing undermines sovereign foreign policy because - when indebted - ‘we cannot talk about either Palestine or Western Sahara’, two causes dear to Algeria. ‘Friendly countries’ - most likely a reference to China - are said to have offered to grant loans which have been declined for now.

The government is forecasted to face a 20% budget shortfall this year, but Algeria’s fiscal response to COVID-19 is actually the largest among the regional hydrocarbon exporters at an estimated 8% of GDP, compared to an average of 3.2%. However, the government revised downwards its 2020 public spending by 50% (a second cut in a month, from an initial 30% reduction), halting state projects and slashing its $41 billion import bill by 25% while expanding agricultural production. National oil company SONATRACH will also cut planned investment by half to $7 billion but plans have been revealed to develop other natural resources including gold, uranium and phosphates.

But recent growth rates are insufficient to create jobs for those entering the labour market. Despite government attempts to support a rather anaemic ‘formal’ private sector, estimates are 700,000 jobs could be lost due to potential bankruptcies from reduced activity and a loss of markets abroad.

Facing potential social unrest and the quasi-preservation of a tired social contract, the government has committed to upholding public sector wages - including for 50% of the civil servants told to stay home - protecting sacrosanct, unsustainable subsidies, and increasing health expenditure to strengthen the capacity to combat COVID-19.

A supplementary finance law will include various measures that support businesses and the economic fallout. However, while the government is to be commended for its efforts to aid businesses, supporting large swathes of the population is challenging as approximately 50% of the workforce operate in the informal economy.

Weak administrative capacity and insufficient data to implement cash transfers makes the planned ‘solidarity allowance’ of 10,000 dinars ($80) for Ramadan difficult to allocate to those who most need it (especially those in the informal sector). Families, communities, and religious organisations continue to be a social safety net.

So COVID-19 has not created new problems, it has merely magnified and exacerbated the numerous inequalities and failures of the Bouteflika regime to sufficiently invest in human security (economic, food, health environmental, personal, community, and political). Typically, whenever oil prices and related earnings dwindle, the political system promises to reform and diversify the economy. Tebboune is repeating this same old tune.

There are positive elements, such as the government’s realization it must initiate genuine reforms. And local enterprises have been successfully producing artificial respirators, surgical masks, and other materials. Algerians, including the Hirak, are showing great social solidarity.

But the government must capitalize on these positive actions by introducing real change. Because, if not, Hirak will certainly be back in force once the crisis is over, and operating in an environment of worsening socioeconomic problems. The medicine of the past will not work.

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.