Malawi is only the second African country to annul a presidential election, after Kenya in 2017. It is the first in which the opposition has won the re-run.

The initial May 2019 vote had narrowly returned incumbent Peter Mutharika to the presidency. But in February 2020 a landmark ruling by Malawi’s constitutional court annulled the result citing ‘widespread, systematic and grave’ irregularities, including the now-infamous use of corrective fluid in vote tallying, and the Malawi Electoral Commission’s (MEC) failure to address complaints before announcing results. New elections were ordered within 150 days.

In a decisive contrast with the previous year, the fresh polls on 23 June saw the coming together of Lazarus Chakwera of the Malawi Congress Party (MCP) and running mate Saulos Chilima of the United Transformation Movement (UTM) to head a coalition of nine opposition parties - having fiercely competed as the leading challengers previously.

The constitutional court ruling had also changed Malawi’s electoral system, replacing a first-past-the-post model with one demanding an outright majority, which further encouraged the regional power bases of Malawi’s opposition to cast ego aside and work in alliance with each other.

In tandem with a slick digital campaign, the new alliance travelled widely to hold rallies across what is one of the world’s youngest countries, while the elderly Mutharika remained largely confined to the capital. It would be a strategy that ultimately delivered Chakwera to the presidency, polling 58 per cent of votes to Mutharika’s 39.

Political opposition elsewhere in Africa should take note from Malawi’s coalition - dialogue, not division, can offer a genuine path to change, especially in those countries with less favourable institutional conditions. Neighbouring Zambia would certainly do well to heed this example ahead of a pivotal election of its own in 2021.

A victory built on institutional precedent

Yet the story here is not only about throwing out an incumbent: Malawians had already done so twice before, rejecting sitting presidents at the polls in 1994 and 2014. It is also not unfamiliar to see public opinion and the judiciary work in parallel to uphold the constitution: former president Bakili Muluzi was twice blocked from abolishing term limits by popular demonstration during his second term, and again prevented from running for a third time in 2009 by the constitutional court.

The new result did not arise as the foregone conclusion of a judicial miracle. Rather, throughout the re-run process Malawi has had to repeatedly draw upon the strength of its broad-based institutional foundations. The image of the constitutional court judges arriving to deliver their annulment verdict in February wearing bulletproof vests under their robes was a stark reminder that this was never the easy route to take.

In contrast to many other African states, Mutharika was unable to call upon military support as the Malawi Defence Forces (MDF) had moved to shield protesting citizens and protect the judiciary since the 2019 election. The MDF also had previous form in this respect, having defended then-vice president Joyce Banda’s constitutional right to assume the presidency after the incumbent’s death in 2012.

And this institutional resilience from the army would facilitate a smooth and mostly peaceful election process during the re-run, despite Mutharika attempts to intervene by replacing the MDF’s commander and his deputy in March 2020.

Just ten days before the fresh vote the Mutharika government switched focus back to the country’s legal system by attempting to enforce the premature retirement of Malawi’s chief justice, only to be blocked by the high court. Even as unofficial tallies trickled in, Mutharika’s Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) demanded the MEC annul the result: claiming their monitors were intimidated in MCP strongholds, and requesting unlawful access to scrutinise null and void votes.

Headed by a new chairperson, this time the MEC displayed enormous patience in the verification process and openly tackled complaints, now mainly from the DPP. On social media, Malawians celebrated the contrast between images of tally sheets from 2019 and the re-run.

Writing a new chapter

There are lessons here too for international partners. UK diplomacy played a subtle role in encouraging Mutharika to accept the legal process - he was invited to appear at the UK-Africa Investment Summit in January - while also helping promoting early dialogue among opposition parties.

At a time of pressure for UK engagement to offer clear strategic value, the impact of less easily quantifiable forms of influence should not be overlooked, especially as international observer missions effectively went missing in the discredited 2019 election. Preliminary statements back then from the Commonwealth, European Union, African Union and Southern African Development Community (SADC) struck a mostly congratulatory tone and were non-committal on the issues that would prove decisive in the court ruling. None went on to release their final reports.

Malawi must now start to move beyond election mode. Though COVID-19 cases remain low by global standards, a budget already heavily dependent on foreign aid and hampered by 18 months of political uncertainty will be slashed further by the pandemic’s impact. The IMF has predicted GDP growth of just 1% in 2020, down from a pre-coronavirus projection of 5%.

As it inherits a major balance of payments crisis, mounting debt and with no tourism revenue to fall back on, the new government will need to use its political capital to push for immediate reform. But it must not forget the core tenet of its campaign. The coalition that defeated Mutharika united the MCP’s rural support base with the middle-class urban following of the UTM. This spirit of unity and inclusion must be expanded and focus on long-term recovery. On this undertaking – unlike the polls – there will be no opportunity for a re-run.

Many people are aware that the scourge of malnutrition affects a vast number of individuals and communities around the world. However, most tend to view it as a problem to be addressed by governments, charities or donors, rather than the corporate sector.

Certainly, when considered at a societal scale, malnutrition makes the complexities of delivering inclusive growth all the harder. It ratchets up the public health burden while restricting the potential for at-risk populations to take part in productive employment.  Economies are hindered, lives are blighted and the potential for people to reach their full potential can be severely limited.

A number of upcoming summits represent a window of opportunity to address nutrition in the context of resilience, particularly in the wake of COVID-19 and the much-referenced ambition for governments to ‘build back better’. The opportunity is there to foster a true partnership between governments, third sector organizations and businesses of all sizes, sectors and geographies to work for the betterment of society and deliver benefits to all participants in such a partnership. 

So what is the role of business in relation to nutrition - where does it sit on their list of priorities and why should it matter to them? A new Chatham House report represents an important contribution to the discussion about the role of business in addressing malnutrition. Through thorough research and direct engagement with businesses, it seeks to find out if malnutrition is on the corporate radar and the extent to which it is considered a material issue.

Surprisingly, whilst many large corporates recognize malnutrition as a matter for concern, this is typically defined only in the context of CSR programmes or related ambitions. These types of commitments have their limitations though; most notably the fact that the communities more severely affected by malnutrition typically sit outside of the sphere of influence of the multi-national companies with the greatest ability to mobilize resources and make an impact. Where populations are marginalized, operating within the informal economy and living in settings that are too fragile for large-scale business investment, corporate CSR programmes are unlikely to have a meaningful impact.

The report also asked businesses whether they considered malnutrition to have a material impact on their ability to create value, protect value and manage risk. In the majority of instances the answer was no. This may be surprising, particularly given the evidence provided by new modelling – done for this report using a purpose-built model by Vivid Economics – that illustrates the costs posed to business by malnutrition within a population. On an immediate and direct level, the impacts can be considerable due to lost or reduced productivity from the employee base. However, if even that immediate impact is addressed, the externalities associated with malnutrition can come back and have a negative effect on businesses and investors alike.

When reflecting on externalities and the landscape of risk within which business operates, it is worth considering climate change by way of comparison. Climate change is well embedded in the risk profiling of most progressive and well-managed corporates – although in some instances meaningful action may be well overdue. That said, it is recognized that the direct and indirect impacts have the potential to conspire and permanently reduce shareholder, stakeholder and societal value. 

Similarly, if left unchecked, the externalities associated with malnutrition will undoubtedly contribute to an increased level of risk in terms of both operating and investment environments. This is both an issue of social equity and enlightened self-interest given that good nutrition is key to the success of many of the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs), and is essential to driving sustainable economic growth. One of the lessons of the COVID-19 pandemic is the manner in which widespread malnutrition can significantly reduce the resilience of populations to external risks, including the outbreaks of infectious disease. We need only to look at the impact of climate stress and related events to understand how closely linked malnutrition is – or may become – to the incidence of social unrest and armed conflict in low-income countries.

Progressive companies and investors have already identified the ability to drive inclusive and sustainable growth as a compelling imperative for investment. In this context, the potential for improved nutrition – both in the workforce and amongst the communities upon which the firms depend – should be a true priority. As fund managers seek increasingly meaningful insight into the way that companies within their portfolio(s) create value, protect value and manage risk, the scope of environmental and social governance is expanding. Many recognize the link between delivering on the SDG agenda and protecting or enhancing shareholder value into the longer term. This is a powerful lever for change, particularly when considering that good nutrition is integral to the success of the ambitions laid out by the various SDGs. Successfully delivering against nutrition-focused targets could unlock growth in developing markets and create an enabling environment for achieving the broader SDG agenda. This may in turn help companies to deliver enduring shareholder value in a way that does not undermine their corporate sustainability commitments.

So, given the insights provided by this report, what can businesses do that have the potential to make a practical and effective impact? There are three main action points around which the private sector can galvanize its efforts and work in partnership to deliver a meaningful impact. 

The first action point is a basic requirement to be proactive and make supportive interventions with existing and future workforces, ensuring that staff are well fed and have appropriate facilities for breastfeeding and childcare. Beyond that foundational commitment, the second action point is to work to build impactful and well-governed partnerships to work within local communities and deliver outcomes at an appropriate scale. The third and final action point sets out the importance of reporting. Businesses should thoroughly assess the impacts of their operations, investments and influence. They should be transparent about those impacts and report both on the current situation and the commitments made to deliver on measurable targets.

Malnutrition is a scourge; it negatively impacts individuals, families, societies and economies. Now is the time to align corporate, government and third sector efforts to consign it to the past. We just need leaders to be bold enough to seize the opportunity.

The World Bank estimates that the magnitude of internal migration is about two‐and‐a‐half times that of international migration. Within India, an estimated 40 million internal migrant workers, largely in the informal economy, were severely impacted by the government’s COVID-19 lockdown.

With transportation systems initially shut down, many had no recourse to travel options back to homes and villages, resulting in harrowing journeys home. Those who were able to make it home found, in some instances, villages refusing entry because of fears of transmission.

The shocking images of migrants forced to walk in desperation showed the enormity of the crisis as well as some of the challenges posed by an extended lockdown in India where so many people live hand to mouth and cannot afford not to work.

Migrant workers and the informal economy

The complete failure of the government to anticipate the needs of this group, and the subsequent distress caused, has made visible a large workforce who experience precarity of work and often live hand to mouth.

One key challenge is the lack of robust data on the scale of internal migration. While estimates abound, there is no proper data collection system in place to accurately record temporary, seasonal and circular migration patterns. However, it is estimated that more than 90% of working people in India are engaged in the informal economy, with states such as Uttar Pradesh and Bihar accounting for more than 80% of workers in this sector.

A recent government labour force survey estimated that more than 71% of people with a regular salary working in non-agricultural industries had no written job contract. Nearly half of workers are not eligible for social security benefits.

Daily-wage workers are particularly vulnerable, with limited or no access to social security and most living in poverty. Living hand to mouth, their loss of livelihoods has led to a lack of money to pay rents or pay for food. Women are impacted whether because of their gender, responsibilities as caregivers, or as members of disadvantaged castes and communities.

COVID-19 has massively impacted this group of workers. Stranded Workers Action Network found that 50% of workers had rations left for less than one day; 74% had less than half their daily wages remaining to survive for the rest of the lockdown period; and 89% had not been paid by their employers at all during the lockdown.

According to Supreme Court proceedings, relief camps are housing some 660,000 workers; some 2.2 million people also rely on emergency food supplies. Job losses, and home and food insecurity have left this group highly vulnerable.

In March 2020, in response to COVID-19, the Indian government instituted the Pradhan Mantri Garib Kalyan Package (PMGKB), a $22.6 billion relief package. The World Bank announced $1 billion funding to accelerate social protection support, in part through the PMGKB.

This support would work alongside pre-existing initiatives such as the Public Distribution System (PDS), which covers 800 million people, and Direct Benefit Transfers (DBT). This cash injection could help address one of the key challenges facing India’s piecemeal and uneven social protection programmes – inadequate funding. India’s spending on public social protection excluding health is just 1.3% of the GDP.

However, there are still other challenges to overcome. One is how to ensure coordination and coverage within, and across, differing states. The second is how to transition multiple schemes into one integrated system that can be accessed anywhere within the country, particularly important when many workers are on the move. There is an urgent need for a comprehensive system, which is adaptive and flexible to needs and provides adequate social and income support.

Another coverage issue relates to the use of direct cash transfers (DCTs) to support people impacted by the loss of livelihoods, where funds are deposited within bank accounts. Such measures fail to consider the significant numbers of people who do not have access to banks and will not be able to access this support.

Wider impact on livelihoods and remittances

​There is a risk, with extended lockdown and risks of further waves of infection, that labour shortages could negatively impact the economy. There is a wider need to support re-entry back into the workforce and support livelihoods. National Survey Sample data shows that between 2007 and 2008, internal remittances amounted to US$10 billion. These domestic transfers financed over 30% of all household consumption in remittance-receiving households.

But future migration for work is likely to be severely impacted. As restrictions begin to ease, employers and businesses cannot necessarily rely on cheap available labour. Having faced destitution and hardship, many may wish to stay closer to families and local support networks.

As Irudaya Rajan notes in The New Humanitarian, it is likely ‘there will be a reduction in long-distance migration in India after this’, as many migrants will be wary of being stranded again. This would be hugely detrimental to stimulating the economy as reverse migration could push down wages and subsequently demand.

Another issue may be returning migrant workers, who have been working overseas, over half of whom work in the Gulf. It is unclear if, or when, migrants will be able to return to work, with the World Bank estimating that remittances from this group could fall by about 23%.

However, what is striking has been India’s support for this group - the Vande Bharat Mission has deployed flights and naval ships to help return migrant workers, especially vulnerable groups - in marked contrast to the lack of preparation and care for internal migrants.

One factor for this may be the volume of remittances these migrant workers bring to the Indian economy, but it overlooks the contribution of internal remittances, on which there is far less robust data.

But the current challenges can also be an opportunity. The scale of the migrant crisis has made visible an often-overlooked population of workers. With political will, and investment at federal and state levels, this could be an opportunity to transform livelihoods.

As thoughts will turn to how to stimulate economies and get people back to work, it is imperative that those in authority turn their minds to how to create a more just society, that invests in healthcare, and has a social protection system that supports the most vulnerable in society.

Migrants are not just objects of charity that need support. Internal migrants are key income generators that play a vital role in Indian society and should never be overlooked again.

This article was originally published in Routed Magazine.

Observers of the Israel-Palestine conflict have been anticipating Israeli Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu’s, announcement to annex parts of the West Bank. It has been a tumultuous year for Israeli politics which has seen three inconclusive elections and resulted in a sharing of power between Netanyahu and Benny Gantz of the Blue and White party. However, since the coalition government was sworn in, Netanyahu has appeared to not lose any time in moving forward with his plans.

Annexation has long been Netanyahu’s political aspiration and was part of his recent re-election platform but the anticipated announcement from the Israeli government didn’t come straight away. The determining factor in the delay was the inability to reach an agreement with Washington about the scope of the annexation while divisions within the Israeli government itself, in addition to international condemnation from the region and beyond, has also played a part.

Discussions around annexation have so far yielded one major outcome: it has introduced a different rhetoric by the Trump-Netanyahu axis even though things on the ground don’t necessarily follow. Ever since President Donald Trump took office in 2016, there has been a marked change in Washington’s language around the Israel-Palestine conflict. It has shifted towards legitimizing Israel’s expansionist ambitions in the West Bank while marginalizing, and considerably weakening, the Palestinian Authority (PA) through a series of punitive measures.

This has further damaged relations between Israel and Palestine and has resulted in a fundamental change in the public discourse around the conflict, from emphasizing a just solution based on self-determination for both sides, to focusing on a de-facto one-state solution.

But how has the discourse shifted so dramatically in less than four years? First came the announcement of the US embassy move to Jerusalem, and with it, recognition of the city as Israel’s capital. In his statement, President Trump avoided recognizing Palestinian claims over Jerusalem and did not acknowledge their historical connection with the city. When the PA rejected the move, the US administration then retaliated by cutting aid and development funding and closing the PLO mission in Washington stating: ‘We have permitted the PLO office to conduct operations that support the objective of achieving a lasting...peace between Israelis and the Palestinians … However, the PLO has not taken steps to advance the start of...meaningful negotiations with Israel.’

On the question of Israel’s settlements in the West Bank, the current US administration has shied away from calling them ‘illegal’ despite being deemed illegitimate under international law and condemned on numerous occasions by the UN Security Council, the UN General Assembly, the EU, the Arab League and the Palestinians themselves. US Secretary of State, Mike Pompeo, has even gone as far as saying that the establishment of Israeli settlements in the West Bank is not inconsistent with international law.

The culmination of US discourse in recent months has been the unveiling of the ‘Peace to Prosperity’ plan. The language of the proposal, once again, has shown partiality towards Israel by not mentioning the illegality of Israel’s occupation of the West Bank, or that of settlements, and entirely ignoring previous Palestinian positions or acknowledging their sensitivities. There is little doubt that the current US administration understands the power of rhetoric and has been using it to change the trajectory of discussions away from a two-state solution towards an outcome that would only serve Israeli interests.

Indeed, US rhetoric has empowered Netanyahu immensely too, ushering in a new reality that has rendered a Palestinian state nothing more than a hypothetical option. The language, combined with a multitude of unilateral actions, is helping to dismantle any efforts towards a two-state solution and the upholding of previous international agreements.

Many European and regional governments have condemned any move towards annexation. Indeed, 1,000 European parliamentarians from across political lines have urged Israel to abandon its plans. This has notably included, German Foreign Minister, Heiko Mass, whose first overseas visit during the coronavirus crisis was to Israel to reinforce Germany’s position against unilateral action.

But actions speak louder than words, and in the case of the US, its rhetoric has been matched by action unlike its EU counterparts whose statements of condemnation have rarely been followed by concrete action. For instance, the EU ratified a landmark aviation agreement with Israel just days before 1 July and economic, technological and scientific cooperation between Israel and Europe has never been stronger casting doubt on the strength of political will among EU countries to take action against Israel.

In the Middle East, the United Arab Emirates has been the most vociferous in disapproving Israel’s annexation plans. However, again, it is important to look beyond the rhetoric. Cooperation between the UAE and Israel has in fact increased in recent years mainly due to common opposition to Iran’s regional influence but also due to shared interests. In May, for instance, the first publicly acknowledged commercial flight between the UAE and Israel landed at Ben Gurion airport carrying aid aimed at mitigating the effects of COVID-19 in the Palestinian territories. But, to many, it looked like a stepping-stone towards a normalization of relations between Abu Dhabi and Jerusalem.

Similarly, Jordan and Egypt have also expressed their concern but it is difficult to imagine a scenario where either country would go as far as abrogating peace agreements that they currently have in place with Israel.

In spite of this, the global response has overwhelmingly been critical of Israel’s plans to annex parts of the West Bank. This has demonstrated some level of unity among world leaders which has not been seen for some time and may have played a significant role in delaying the Israeli government’s plans. In parallel, united international condemnation has also prevented the US from dominating the Israeli-Palestinian conflict entirely.

While the US approach has played a key role in the Israel-Palestine conflict so far, it remains to be seen how the international community will translate its voice into action to prevent the annexation of occupied Palestinian land.

Flaring is a significant source of economic and environmental waste. Except when safety-related, flared gas can often be captured and monetised using low-cost proven solutions.

In doing so, governments can improve health and safety, reduce emissions (of carbon dioxide, methane, and particulates) and add value by driving up revenue, increasing reserves and production, creating jobs and improving the industry’s ‘social license to operate’.

Flare capture also helps countries to deliver on the Paris Agreement and the UN’s Sustainable Development Goal #13 while, for example, providing affordable alternatives for heating and cooking.

The Middle East and North Africa (MENA) region accounts for 40% of the world’s flaring. In the region, flaring has increased year-on-year - apart from 2018 - to almost six billion cubic feet of gas per day, generating up to 300-500 million tonnes of CO2-equivalent emissions per year.

These emissions result not only from the combustion of gas, but also from the venting, from inefficient flares, of un-combusted methane, a more potent greenhouse gas. Yet much of this is avoidable.

There are many commercially attractive options to reduce flaring in MENA. The key is to use the right proven technology and to be agile in commercial structuring. And the prize could be a boost to MENA’s annual revenues by up to $200 per second (up to $6.4 billion per year) by delivering wasted gas to market by pipeline, as power or in liquid form.

The chart highlights the abundance of flaring across the MENA region, and in many cases, their proximity to population centres. While Iran, Iraq, and Algeria generate 75% of MENA’s flaring, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, UAE and Qatar are notable for their relatively low ‘flaring intensity’ i.e. flaring normalized to oil production.

In today’s world of lower energy prices, it makes sense to monetise every molecule. Even more so for national oil companies, which are responsible for most of the flaring, since they are not only the custodians of their countries’ natural resources, but they also generate a dominant source of government revenue.

Most oil producers in MENA have already made commitments to the World Bank’s flaring-reduction initiatives (e.g. ‘Zero Routine Flaring by 2030’), but to date, delivery is mostly lacking. Three main issues have hindered progress.

Firstly, operators, regulators, and governments highlight that flaring is often not ‘sufficiently on the radar’. Flaring is often underreported if not ignored or denied - although satellite detection gives unavoidable transparency. In MENA alone, more than 1,700 flare clusters are visible every day from space.

Secondly, flare capture is sometimes not perceived to be economically viable due to costs, taxes, or inappropriate technology. Thirdly, there are often issues around resources, especially concerning management bandwidth, delivery capabilities or financing.

Yet these issues can be solved if the right proven technologies are combined with the right commercial structures. To accelerate flare capture projects, stakeholders in the MENA hydrocarbons sector must consider several complementary, action-oriented initiatives.

In particular, they should:

• Promote transparency and disclosure to drive greater awareness of flaring. Governments, regulators and operators must understand the real scale of their gas flaring opportunity and be capable of acting, as a recent report for the EBRD on Egypt highlighted. Compliance with clear standards for measuring, monitoring and verification is critical.
• Advance policies and incentives which encourage action. Better commercial terms will incentivise and accelerate flare investments. Stronger penalties will help, but independent and capable regulators must actually enforce these penalties. Through the use of such clear anti-flaring policies, Norway’s flaring intensity is almost 20 times lower than the MENA region.
• Improve the investment climate, beyond economics and open access to a broader range of players. Local market failures can be avoided by reducing the complexity and cost of in-country operations and by removing excessive, rigid, or redundant regulations. By enabling greater ‘third-party’ access to gas and power projects and infrastructure, new players can accelerate change by deploying new technologies and new operating models. Better third-party access will also unlock ideas, capital, skills and project-specific financing options. Algeria is making steps towards such liberalisation through its new 2019 Hydrocarbon Law.
• Reduce subsidies and improve energy efficiency and reduce demand, increase gas exports and boost national revenues. Countries with large subsidies on transport fuels and power, such as Algeria and Iraq, stand to gain the most.
• Encourage collaboration between stakeholders in industry and government by creating working groups to radiate best practices, build capacity, deploy technology and local content, such as the flare minimization programme in Saudi Arabia or Iraq’s major flare-to-power project operated by the Basrah Gas Company.

The industry needs to prepare for a greener world after COVID-19 and investors and consumers are demanding cleaner fuels. Since gas is widely viewed as a transition fuel, MENA governments and stakeholders must work to eliminate its wastage and seize the revenue, production and environmental opportunities that flare capture projects offer.

There is much new leadership in the region in government and critical institutions with new mandates for change. The time to act is now.

Russia is one of the few countries in the region to have no legal definition of domestic violence and, as a result, there are no protective measures specific to domestic violence such as restraining orders or compulsory anger management training for abusers. In fact, the government has taken steps in recent years to remove any legal distinction between assault happening in one’s home, and elsewhere, with battery among family or household members for first-time offences decriminalized in 2017.

The Russian Ministry of Justice explicitly defended this position in its response to an enquiry into Russian domestic violence cases by the European Court of Human Rights (ECtHR) in November 2019. The ministry claimed existing legislation adequately protects citizens from domestic violence, ‘even though it has never been considered a separate offence’, reiterating that there is ‘no need’ for adopting specific legislation.

However, the four cases that led to the ECtHR’s enquiry demonstrate that current legislation is not sufficient. The most prominent case is that of Margarita Gracheva whose ex-husband severed her hands in 2017 despite her having made multiple complaints to the police ahead of the act being committed. If Russian legislation had mechanisms in place to isolate victims from their abusers, then Gracheva could have been protected by the law.

Instead, systemic impunity for abusers is supported by statements from people in power excusing domestic violence. The most recent of such statements came from the head of the Chechen Republic, Ramzan Kadyrov, in June 2020. When meeting with the family of a young woman allegedly murdered by her husband, Chechnya’s leader said, husbands beating their wives ‘happens’ and that the young woman should have tried harder to hold on to her marriage. These statements send clear signals to abusers that their actions are justified, and to the victims, that they won’t be protected if they were to come forward.

Similarly, to other parts of the world, civil society organizations in Russia have reported an increase in the number of cases of domestic violence during the COVID-19 pandemic. On a personal level, the pandemic has often exacerbated many of the factors that can lead to domestic violence such as stress, economic anxiety or social isolation.

On a systemic level, many of the provisions intended to protect victims of violence, which were already ineffective in Russia, have been worsened during the lockdown. Where police may not have rapidly responded to reports of domestic violence previously, under lockdown, they have become focused on  other priorities and, where shelters and support networks for the victims may have been scarce in the past, they have been further constrained.

Unsurprisingly, the strategy of the Russian state so far has been to deny that there is a problem of domestic violence, with the Ministry of Interior reporting that, according to their statistics, the number of domestic violence cases have gone down during the lockdown. Indeed, Chairwoman of the Federation Council, Valentina Matvienko, has said she does not believe lockdown has increased domestic violence because, on the contrary, families have been  ‘brought together’, reflecting wishful thinking at best and negligence at worst.

The pandemic has also been used as an excuse to postpone discussion of a federal law on domestic violence, drafted by civil society, that was submitted for review by the Duma last year. This bill would have introduced different types of domestic violence such as psychological and economic violence and transferred domestic violence offences from private to public prosecutions to make it easier for victims to seek justice.

The government’s disregard for domestic violence reflects, in part, the patriarchal mindsets of those in power but perhaps, more significantly, the Kremlin’s belief that conservative social groups constitute its main support base. This has been made evident by the politicization of Russia’s ‘traditional’ values in recent years which was vigorously deployed throughout the constitutional amendments campaign. While it is clear that the true purpose of amending the constitution has always been to allow Vladimir Putin to stay in power beyond 2024, amendments relating to this were absent from the government’s campaign. Instead, Russians were encouraged to vote by populist socially-conservative messages, hence why respect for traditional values has been added to the constitution.

Despite this, attitudes in Russian society are changing. A February 2020 survey by the Levada Centre showed that 61 per cent of Russians – and 74 per cent of Russian women – think domestic violence is a serious problem.

Moreover, the survey shows that women are much more aware of domestic violence than men – with every third woman in Russia admits being aware of domestic violence in their social circles while only every fifth man admits the same. This could be a sign that Russian men and women, on average, have a different understanding of what constitutes domestic violence. If so, adopting a law that defines domestic violence and holding a public awareness campaign is of paramount importance to eliminate any misunderstanding.

The difference could also be a sign that victims of domestic violence are more likely to confide in women hence making domestic violence less visible to men. This awareness gap perhaps explains the difference between men’s and women’s assessments of how serious the issue in Russia is.

The pandemic has provoked a new wave of discussions of domestic violence among Russia’s population with stories and statistics widely shared in the media and on the internet. As domestic violence becomes more visible, public perceptions are likely to shift further towards recognizing, and hopefully condemning, it. But, while legislation is crucial, the experience of other countries in the region, such as Armenia or Kazakhstan, shows that adopting laws on domestic violence is not enough. Measures are needed to ensure implementation of the law including training police officers and state officials and instituting disciplinary action for negligence of victims’ complaints.

Nevertheless, admitting there is a problem with domestic violence in Russia, and introducing laws, are an essential first step. The Russian government seems to have placed its bet on the support of conservative social groups but changing public opinion may prove this strategy unsustainable.

With all EU economies still reeling from COVID-19, the ongoing heated deliberations on the bloc’s next budget, which will determine the amount of money matching its priorities for the next seven years, have taken on an urgency rarely felt in Brussels.

Relying in part on an unprecedentedly large volume of jointly issued debt, the European Commission’s plan for a €750 billion coronavirus recovery instrument is embedded within a revamped proposal for the EU’s long-term budget, of €1.1 trillion for the 2021-27 period. 

Now the ball is in the member states’ court. All seem to agree that getting the EU budget right is crucial to fostering an economic recovery and ensuring the Union is on the right track towards its long-term pre-COVID objectives, from increasing its strategic autonomy to reaching climate neutrality by 2050. However, stark differences persist as to what that means in practice.

Most of the core divisions predate the pandemic’s outbreak. In a special European Council meeting in February, leaders failed to find common ground on the Union’s first post-Brexit budget. Net contributor countries, such as Austria, Denmark, Sweden and the Netherlands — the so-called ‘Frugal Four’— refused to agree to higher overall spending and instead advocated for cuts in the Common Agricultural Policy or cohesion funds, meeting the resistance of states like France and Portugal.

These early divisions foreshadowed the risk of a budget compromise that would leave little space for new policy priorities. The COVID-induced economic crisis has made a traditionally fraught political process even more difficult, putting the squeeze on what were previously priority areas of funding.

The Frugal Four agree on the need for the coronavirus recovery plan but vehemently oppose the volume of grants or the issuance of too much common debt in the proposed instrument, reflecting the unpopularity of these proposals with their domestic audiences. Hungary has also threatened to derail progress on the EU’s rescue plan if rule of law criteria are weaved into mechanisms for the allocation of EU funding.

As European leaders reconvene at the 17-18 July Council meeting, EU Council President Michel proposed a revised 'negotiating box' in preparation for the discussions. The document, which tries to bridge these intra-bloc divisions, bolts the demands for short-term recovery onto the EU’s longer-term ambitions. For instance, it sets an increased target of 30 per cent of funding to go toward climate-related projects, which is necessary for the Union’s green transformation. It also retains the link between the rule of law and EU funding — despite Budapest’s opposition — which is critical for the bloc’s internal accountability and transparency, and external credibility. Furthermore, it proposes a set of new mechanisms through which the EU can sustainably raise its own revenue, including a plastics levy as well as more controversial carbon border tax and digital levy.

Yet in several other critical ways, Michel’s proposals fall short. This is particularly true for some of the more ‘geopolitical’ goals of the Union, as previously expressed by Commission president Ursula von der Leyen, or the repeated calls by the Union’s high representative that the EU should learn to use the language of power.

For all the rhetoric around the EU’s need to boost its ability to act more autonomously in the field of security and defence, reductions in important thematic programmes in this domain could result in a critical loss of momentum, if confirmed. For instance, in Michel’s proposals, flagship defence initiatives such as the European defence fund and the military mobility plan are facing cuts of about 39 per cent and 74 per cent respectively (to some €7 billion for the former and €1.5 billion for the latter) compared with the initial Commission proposal of 2018.

Moreover, the tragic developments at the Greece-Turkey border in the beginning of the year might have brought migration back to the forefront of the EU’s attention, but the overall funding for migration and border management is also significantly lower compared to initial proposals. This serves as another example of a discrepancy between the figures on the table today and those that the EU commission had previously regarded as necessary to address the challenges the bloc faces.

Similarly, under the Council president’s latest proposal, the combined funding allocated for the EU’s external action (under the ‘Neighbourhood and the World’ heading) is lower than the figures in the Commission’s May announcements – from €118.2 billion to €113.9 billion overall. This represents an increase compared to the previous EU budget, but it is not in line with the elevated ambitions recognized by the Commission in May, which have only been made more compelling by the pandemic.

Brokering a deal in EU budget negotiations has always been a brutal affair, requiring sacrifices and compromise under the pressure of a ticking clock. 2020 was never likely to be an exception to this rule; but the pandemic has complicated the politics and raised the stakes.

The risk is that the budget negotiations lead to a compromise which, while delivering a historic coronavirus package, does not adequately support some of the key elements of the Union’s long-term agenda, especially its international ambitions.

The UK’s decision to ban its mobile providers from buying new Huawei 5G equipment after December 2020 and removing all the company’s 5G kit from their networks by 2027 is a blow to Huawei and China, but it is one battle in a long war that the West is currently losing.

5G’s significance for the next generation of technology is indisputable and so is its critical role in helping countries achieve digital transformation and economic success. Not only does it offer faster and better connection speeds and greater capacity, it also transforms the way people interact with online services. And it will allow industry to automate and optimize processes that are not possible today.

Due to its transformative importance, what is in essence a technological issue has turned into a contest over global technological leadership that extends beyond the US-China rivalry and has created tensions between the US and its long-time allies. Yet 5G is just one key technology in a more expansive landscape that will underpin the future of the world’s critical infrastructure, including in areas such as quantum computing, biotechnology, artificial intelligence, the internet of things and big data.

To achieve technological leadership in these domains requires governments to invest in a long-term, strategic and agile vision that is able to encompass the interdependencies between these areas and then leverage the resulting technological advances for economic progress. It also requires governments working with each other and with the private sector to support research and development and to create companies with leading-edge technologies that can compete globally.

China understands this and has a national and international vision to establish itself as a technological superpower. Re-balancing from a hub of labour-intensive manufacturing to a global innovation powerhouse is the absolute priority of the ruling Chinese Communist Party.

China’s state-led approach

In the earlier part of this journey, commercial espionage and IP theft of western R&D were at the heart of the Chinese way of competing. Now, Beijing is cultivating national champions that can drive China’s technological innovation, with the goal of using domestic suppliers to reduce reliance on foreign technology at home as well as extending its international outreach. 

In the 5G area, Beijing has introduced domestically the so-called ‘New Infrastructure Investments Fund’, which earmarks special loans to boost 5G technology applications in medical devices, electric vehicles and communication platforms. This Fund constitutes a major part of the stimulus package for China’s post-COVID economic recovery.

Apart from 5G, China's recent launch of a second state-funded semiconductor development fund valued at $29 billion, following an earlier $20 billion fund for the same purpose, shows the extent to which state financial resources are being utilized in China’s quest to become technologically self-sufficient.

It is too early to know if the Chinese government’s industrial policies will eventually achieve the technological self-sufficiency Beijing has long desired. But its growing national capabilities have stoked serious concerns across the West and led to the current US administration’s determined effort to dismantle Chinese high-tech companies.

China’s approach to macroeconomic management diverges significantly from that of the US and other market economies, particularly in its policy towards driving innovation.  Due to the legacy of a state-planned economy, China is certain that simply relying on market forces is insufficient.

While Beijing financially supports government-controlled technological enterprises, Washington takes  a laissez-faire, light-touch approach by the state to the business sector. The US believes that a politicized process of distributing public money is inherently susceptible to rent-seeking and corruption, and gets in the way of competitive innovation. In line with most liberal economists, many Western governments believe the government should refrain from market intervention. For its part, Beijing stresses a state-dominated economy as a necessary precondition both to the future growth of the Chinese economy and to the legitimization of one-party rule. 

If the pro-market economists’ view is correct, the US should have little to fear from Chinese industrial innovation policy in the long-term. Let Beijing waste money and distort resource allocation, while Washington follows its private sector-led principles, confident that this approach will produce a more competitive economy in the long run.

Using the leverage of technical standards

But one area that should concern the US and that illustrates the Chinese vision for global technological dominance is technical standard setting. Technical standards determine how technologies work with each other, enabling their interoperability around the world, meaning they can function irrespective of where they are being used.

The Chinese leadership has long understood the relationship between technical standards and economic power. Standards help to monetize technological innovation and research and can help shape new technologies. China has therefore been playing an increasingly active role in international standards organizations to legitimize Chinese technologies, whereas the US, which historically has been highly influential in this area, has not been participating as much or as effectively.

China has also been using its Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) as an opportunity to internationalize the distribution of its standards to countries signed up to the BRI. The so-called Digital Silk Road, which has been described as China’s most important global governance initiative, acts as a route to accelerate this process. Later this year, China is expected to launch its new ‘China Standards 2035’ plan, which aims to shape how the next generation of technologies will work together.

China’s preferred model and its recent actions have given Western leaders much to worry about.  But standing up to China’s growing global influence in high technology and re-establishing the West’s desired technological edge will take much more than achieving a common front on excluding China from their 5G networks. It requires a long-term vision built on the power of competitive markets, backed by solid investment in the next generation of technology. This will require, in turn, much greater cooperation between Western governments and between them and their private sectors.

And, whilst recent protective steps taken in Washington and other Western capitals may slow down China’s trailblazing in the technology sphere, it will only hasten China's determination to become tech self-sufficient in the long term. This will increase the probability of a splintered internet, which will have negative repercussions for all.

The virus of violence

During quarantine, the greater economic vulnerability of Ukrainian women has locked many of them with abusive partners. The uncertainty of personal finances, health and security in confinement has exacerbated domestic violence against women, in certain cases aggravated by the perpetrator’s war-related post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

In pre- pandemic times, only one third of domestic violence victims, 78% of whom are women, reported the abuse. During the pandemic, the calls to domestic violence helplines increased by 50% in the Donbas war zone and by 35% in other regions of Ukraine.

However, more precise estimates are hard to make. This is largely because some fractions of Ukrainian society still see domestic violence as a private family matter, which will get little assistance from the police. Also, reporting from a small confinement place permanently shared with a perpetrator during the lockdown can trigger more abuse.

The COVID-19-tested legal framework

The spike in domestic violence during lockdown has intensified the debate about the inadequacy of Ukraine’s approach.

Ukraine adopted the law on domestic violence in 2017 and made such behaviour punishable under administrative and criminal law. Importantly, the law does not limit domestic violence to physical abuse, but recognizes its sexual, psychological and economic variations. Domestic violence is further not limited to a married couple or close family members, but can be perpetrated against a distant relative or a cohabiting partner.

The extended definition of rape now includes rape of a spouse or a family member as an aggravating circumstance. A special police unit has been designated to deal with domestic abuse cases. Police can now issue protection orders in prompt reaction to an offence and immediately distance a perpetrator from a victim.

The victim can also spend time in a shelter - a system which the Ukrainian government has promised to create. A special registry of domestic violence cases has been set up for the exclusive use by the designated law enforcement and social security authorities to help them be more holistically informed in building a response.

However important, the introduced legal and institutional infrastructure was slow in proving its efficiency pre-COVID-19. It is struggling even more to stand the test of the coronavirus.

Changing the established mindset takes time. 38% of Ukraine’s judges and 39% of prosecutors still struggle to see domestic violence not as a household issue. Even though the police are becoming more reactive to home abuse complaints, getting emergency protection orders is still difficult. The court restraining orders are more effective, however they require the unnecessarily protracted and humiliating procedures of proving one’s own victimhood to different state authorities.

In response to the challenges of coronavirus for women, the police spread information posters and created a special chat-bot about the available help. However, while the domestic violence helplines of La Strada and other human rights NGOs are busier than ever, the police statistics suggest that the lockdown has not catalyzed home abuse.

This could indicate a higher trust to non-state institutions and the inability of a considerable group of women to use more sophisticated communication means such as chat-bots when they cannot call the police in the presence of an abuser. This problem is exacerbated by a current  lack of shelters in rural areas, as most are located in urban settings. Overcrowded in ordinary times, the shelters’ capacity to accept survivors during the lockdown is further limited by the social distancing rules.

Istanbul Convention – The bigger picture

Ukraine failed to ratify the Council of Europe Convention on preventing and combating violence against women, better known as the Istanbul Convention, largely due to the opposition of religious organizations. Concerned that the treaty’s terms ‘gender’ and ‘sexual orientation’ would contribute to the promotion of same-sex relationships in Ukraine, they argued that Ukraine’s current legislation provides adequate protection against domestic violence. However, this is not the case.

The Istanbul Convention does not ‘promote’ same-sex relationships, it only mentions sexual orientation among the non-exhaustive list of prohibited discrimination grounds. Remarkably, Ukraine’s domestic violence law itself is against such discrimination.

The Convention defines ‘gender’ as the socially constructed roles a society attributes to women and men. Ukraine’s overcautiousness about the term is ironic at least in two dimensions.

First, the 2017 domestic violence law restates its aim to eliminate discriminating beliefs about the social roles of each ‘sex’. In doing so, the law supports the rationale of what the Istanbul Convention denotes as ‘gender’ without using the term itself.

Second,  it is exactly the constraints of the rigidly defined niches for both sexes in Ukraine that have substantially contributed to the intensified domestic violence, whether it be  war or  coronavirus-related. The lack of sustainable psychological support for traumatized veterans and the stigma of mental health struggles, especially among men, mars their reintegration to peaceful life. This often results in alcohol abuse or even suicide.

As the economic uncertainty of the war and the virus prevents some men from fully living up to their traditional socially - and self-imposed - breadwinner role, this increases the risk of problematic behaviour and domestic violence.

By diverting the focus of the debate  to the term ‘gender’ used in the Istanbul Convention, conservative groups have ignored the fact that it describes the priority already enshrined in Ukraine’s 2017 law - to eliminate discriminatory beliefs about the socially constructed roles of men and women. This has drawn away time and resources needed to protect those vulnerable to domestic abuse.

Ukraine has not addressed the pigeonholing of women and men into gendered stereotypes. This has harmed men while further victimizing women and children, especially during the lockdown. Ironically, this is leading to the undermining of the very traditional family values certain opponents of the Istanbul Convention appealed to.

Fortunately, Ukraine’s ever-vigilant civil society,  dismayed at the wave of the lockdown domestic violence, petitioned President Zelenskyy to ratify the Convention. With a new draft law on ratification, the ball is now in the parliament’s court. It remains to be seen whether Ukraine’s policymakers will be up to the task.            

Violent unrest in Addis Ababa and the surrounding Oromia region has led to the loss of over 177 lives, with the detention of thousands and widespread destruction to property. The rise of identity-based conflict and related political tension is the most severe test of Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed’s leadership since he came to power two years ago.

Protests erupted after the assassination on the 29th of June of Hachalu Hundessa, a prominent Oromo singer and activist. They spiralled into widespread rioting, looting and arson which devastated some towns. Targeted attacks and killings, particularly against ethnic minorities in Oromia, have damaged communities’ social fabric and heightened regional tensions.

The motives behind Hachalu’s murder are not fully understood. Suspects linked to a militant faction of the Oromo Liberation Front (OLF) have been arrested, while the government has blamed the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF) and certain prominent activist-politicians for inciting ethnic violence and attempting to derail Ethiopia’s fragile political liberalization. With investigations not yet concluded, any exploitation of this tragedy for political gain and without adequate due process is likely to further erode trust in the government and public institutions. 

Ethiopia’s progress halting under Abiy Ahmed

The prime minister came to power with a vision of national unity – encapsulated in his ideology of Medemer – and implemented a raft of reforms aimed at strengthening institutions and increasing political space, inclusivity and freedoms. Abiy was awarded the 2019 Nobel Peace Prize for Ethiopia’s rapprochement with Eritrea, alongside domestic progress. He was lauded for mediating within the region, including in Sudan following the ouster of Omar al-Bashir.

However, Ethiopia’s simmering ethnic and political divisions have deep roots, with structural problems that have been insufficiently addressed under Abiy’s helm. These include conflicting narratives about Ethiopia’s history, an unfinished federal project and tensions over the division of power between the centre and the regions.

There is also the desire for better representation from various ethnic groups, linked to the pursuit of greater autonomy in many places, notably in the ethnically diverse southern region. Reforms have increased expectations among competing constituencies, heightening tensions further.

There are signs that Ethiopia is sliding dangerously backwards, particularly on security and democracy. The country has seen worsening levels of militant ethno-nationalism and inter-communal violence, a dangerous standoff between the federal government and Tigray region, and an increase in politically motivated deaths.

This has been compounded by the government turning to familiar, heavy-handed and securitized responses to law and order challenges, including intimidation and mass arrests of civilians, opposition politicians and journalists, and shutting off the internet. The Ethiopian Human Rights Commission called for security forces to refrain from punitive measures and pursue conciliatory approaches in implementing the state of emergency measures brought in to deal with COVID-19.

The country is also facing a triple economic shock caused by the pandemic, renewed instability and devastating desert locust swarms. The IMF recently reduced Ethiopia’s GDP growth projections for 2019/2020 to 3.2 percent down from 6.2 percent and the country has estimated that 1.4 million workers will be affected by the pandemic, particularly in the service and manufacturing sectors.

The impact on agriculture, which accounts for a third of GDP and on which most Ethiopian’s depend for their livelihoods, is expected to be severe. In addition to shaking investor confidence, the likely impact on livelihoods, food security and poverty levels makes it harder for the government to maintain public support and could add to instability.

Political turmoil caused by election delay

The situation has been exacerbated by the indefinite postponement of elections that were due in August 2020, as a result of COVID-19.

Efforts to avoid a crisis of legitimacy for the government caused by the end of parliament’s term in October 2020, led to a decision on the way forward being taken by the Council of Constitutional Inquiry (CCI). This group of legal experts led by the President of the Supreme Court, gave the ruling Prosperity Party (PP) an open-ended extension of their term, rubberstamped by the House of Federation, with no limits set on their powers during the interim period.

This decision sets a dangerous precedent and is a missed opportunity to achieve compromise and advance the democratic process. The lack of inclusion has angered opposition groups, with whom the government has had little genuine dialogue. Many in the opposition had advocated for a transitional or technocratic government during the interim, despite risks of further divisions and a vacuum of authority, and accuse the PP of manipulating institutions to stay in power.

Furthermore, the TPLF, the ruling party in the Tigray region and formerly the dominant national political force, is pushing forward with its intention to hold unilateral regional elections. It formed a new regional electoral commission, in spite of objections from the national electoral board and the government, which has implied it could use force to stop the elections. This rising enmity between the PP and the TPLF is extremely worrying and requires immediate de-escalation.

A pathway to genuine dialogue and reconciliation

Ethiopia’s problems can only be resolved through dialogue, compromise and reconciliation. Escalating tensions, particularly between the federal government, Tigray and Oromo opposition groups risk furthering instability and fragmentation. One way to establish confidence would be for a group of respected Ethiopian personalities (elders and religious leaders) to lead a political dialogue, with actors carefully chosen and vetted to ensure the buy-in of government, opposition parties and the public, and supported by Ethiopia’s regional and international partners.

Once established, an initial goal of such a platform would be to induce elites, populist leaders, activists and influential regional media to stop exploiting division and violence for narrow gain. Priority agenda issues include the election timetable and required institutional and legal reforms, the role of the opposition during the interim period, strengthening reconciliation efforts, and the need to carefully manage autonomous security forces within regional states.

The prime minister can still weather the storm and implement his vision of a unified multinational Ethiopia based on the values of democracy, rule of law and justice, but only if the government and other stakeholders do all they can to reduce tensions and preserve peace at this critical juncture. COVID-19 and the associated economic impacts have deepened the country’s multifaceted problems, which can only be resolved by political actors committing themselves towards inclusive dialogue and reconciliation, as they seek to forge a shared common future.

Days before the publication of last week’s report into Russian activity in the UK, and the subsequent call from several UK parliamentarians for a swift response to the ‘Russian threat’, Russia tested a new anti-satellite weapon capability releasing a small projectile from its Kosmos-2543 sub-satellite.

Kosmos-2543, a small satellite contained inside a larger satellite, Kosmos-2542, and 'birthed’ into orbit in late 2019, recently came under scrutiny in January 2020 when it was reportedly caught ‘buzzing’ US spy satellites in Low Earth Orbit.

By releasing a small projectile from the Kosmos-2543 sub-satellite, the US claims that Russia has launched a new projectile into orbit with relatively high speed – estimated at around 500 km per hour – leading to concerns about the potential of Russia to develop this technology as a weapon to target foreign satellites.

It is not the first time Moscow has relied on a Russian doll – or matryoshka – approach to launching satellites into outer space. In October 2017, a sub-satellite, Kosmos-2521, was ejected from its main satellite, Kosmos-2519, into a high-speed object in low orbit.

The Russian Ministry of Defence has declared that its latest activity is just for ‘routine’ inspections and surveillance of Russia’s other space assets, with the government’s official statement avoiding recognizing the existence of the new object while, at the same time, Kremlin spokesperson, Dmitry Peskov, recalling Russia’s commitment for the ‘complete demilitarization’ of space.

While it is possible that Russia’s matryoshka satellites have indeed been developed to carry out routine repairs of Russia’s space fleet, they also have the potential to interfere with, and destroy, other satellites with such action needing to be considered a threat until Russia demonstrates otherwise.

Russia’s use of outer space

Russia is not the only state investigating anti-satellite weaponry capabilities. There is a wider trend (e.g. China, India, US) to demonstrate advanced space capabilities with nefarious, if not directly offensive, intent. But, for the past few years, Russia in particular, has been provocative in testing its space weapon capabilities. 

For example, in April 2020, Russia launched and tested into low orbit the PL-19 Nudol direct-ascent anti-satellite (DA-ASAT) interceptor missile system from the Plesetsk Cosmodrome demonstrating its space assets with potential offensive capabilities, in particular, Russia’s capacity to destroy satellites in Low Earth Orbit.

In addition, the satellites, Kosmos-2535 and Kosmos-2536, launched in July 2019, are also suspected to be operating beyond their official mission of studying Russian orbital assets. It is reported that these satellites conducted a close proximity activity, coming within one kilometre from each other, which led to the creation of orbital debris.

Russia’s space strategy

By exploiting asymmetric advantages in space, Russia seeks to leverage its capabilities against competitors in space and in other domains, falling in line with its wider military strategy as well as its current Federal Space Programme for 2016 to 2025.

Russian space activities also have a cyber and electronic warfare angle. With the help of remote-sensing capabilities, Russian spy satellites potentially seek to disrupt military and civilian satellite communications and navigation systems. Indeed, in 2018, French authorities publicly accused Russia of seeking to intercept communication satellites for French and Italian armed forces putting data transmission through Western civilian and military satellites at risk of interception.

Furthermore, earlier this year, both Kosmos-2542 and 2543 came within 160 kilometres of a US spy satellite, US KH-11, similarly to Russia ‘buzzing’ around the British Isles or submarine surveillance that Norway and Sweden have been subjected to recently.

Shadowing and tailing in space is regarded as spying and this recent anti-satellite weapon test is part of a trend which demonstrates Russia’s persistent space strategy for close-proximity operations with foreign countries.

Orbital hypocrisy

Despite Russia’s calls for a treaty to prevent the placement of weapons in outer space, there remains little international trust in Russia’s behaviour in space so far with a US-Russia Space Security Exchange meeting scheduled to take place in Vienna on 27 July to discuss outer space stability and security.

This is amid a backdrop of bilateral nuclear arms control talks on the extension of the extant nuclear weapons reduction treaty, New START, which is scheduled to expire in February 2021. There is no guarantee, however, that the talks will achieve anything especially since the future of outer space requires a wider multilateral dialogue with all parties involved – including China.

Anti-satellite tests (ASATs) are a particularly dangerous form of weapon. Not only do they create major vulnerabilities in a domain where so much of humanity depends on for navigation, communications and environmental monitoring, they are also primarily a target for destabilization and undermining global positioning information in times of crisis.

And, perhaps most significantly, they possess the highly destructive potential to create even more space debris in Earth’s orbits that endanger the peaceful use of satellites and could do serious damage to large parts of the economies of developed and developing countries.

Avoiding space warfare

Space is for all but there is a risk that it is being hijacked by a few. It is time to re-assert and reinforce the rules, principles and norms of responsible state behaviour in outer space enshrined in the 1967 Outer Space Treaty and its associated international agreements.

And, because the treaty specifically prohibits stationing nuclear weapons and other weapons of mass destruction in orbit or on celestial bodies, it is necessary to build on it to ban other types of weapons in space.

Space has been militarized since 1957 with the launch of Soviet satellite Sputnik. But the increasing weaponization of space adds more uncertainty, and unveils more vulnerabilities, that states need to address before space warfare becomes a reality.

Gon Coulibaly, an economic technocrat and Ouattara loyalist since the 1990s, was earmarked in March as the candidate for the ruling Rassemblement des Houphouëtistes pour la Démocratie et la Paix (RHDP) party in the elections due in October, and represented a handpicked heir, trusted to sustain the strategy established during Ouattara’s nine years in power.

Many RDHP parliamentarians and local mayors are now pressing the 78-year-old Ouattara to run again. This was not what he had planned. He hoped to go out on a high – ‘par la grande porte’ – and set a statesmanlike example of retirement by choice, making way for the next generation. His leadership of reform of the regional currency that will see the end of the West African CFA franc would have been the crowning achievement of a presidency that had taken his country from post-war stagnation to sustained growth GDP growth rates around seven per cent before COVID-19 forced a slowdown, as it has worldwide.

A profound strategic dilemma

Gon Coulibaly had undergone a heart transplant in 2012, and when he hurried to Paris in early May and was fitted with a stent, some wondered whether he would have the energy required for an election campaign. Yet he returned home on 2 July, with his formal nomination by the RHDP pencilled in for early the next month. His sudden death on 8 July, at the age of just 61, was a terrible personal blow for Ouattara, who had regarded him almost as a son, and much more than a purely political protégé. But it also left the president facing a profound strategic dilemma.

Names of alternative potential RHDP candidates have been floated – notably the defence minister, and now interim premier, Hamed Bakayoko and the secretary general of the presidency Patrick Achi. Both have solid electoral track records and ample experience of government. But over recent days the impression has grown that they do not command the ultimate confidence of Alassane Ouattara to take on the leadership of the nation.

Speculation has grown that the president will conclude that he has no choice but to go back on his promise to retire and stand for yet another term. Although some respected legal experts disagree, he has always made a point of insisting that the constitutional reform of 2016 allows him to run again. And many influential voices within the RHDP are now pressing him to do so.

This is not ‘rentacrowd’ fawning. Many members of the governing party have always felt that Ouattara offers the strongest blend of political appeal, governing capability and international profile required to lead a country that likes to see itself as West Africa’s ‘elephant’.

A weak opposition, but third term challenges

In electoral terms, Ouattara’s greatest campaign asset might be the unconvincing state of the opposition figures who are actually free to stand, after the Ivorian authorities’ strong-armed the judicial system into blocking the hopes of the of the smooth-talking former parliamentary speaker Guillame Soro, who had great appeal for Cote D’Ivoire’s growing young population. Soro is now exiled in France after conviction in absentia for corruption. Ex-president Laurent Gbagbo remains in Brussels, while the International Criminal Court considers the prosecution appeal against his acquittal on charges of human rights crimes. He is now allowed to travel and has applied for a passport to come home, but it is unclear if this will be granted. That leaves another former head of state, the 86-year old Henri Konan Bédié, as the main opposition challenger.

However, even if the RHDP party machine delivers victory for Ouattara, a third term risks hard questions from those who dispute its legitimacy and it may generate other significant political challenges too. Some 60 per cent of Ivorians are under the age of 25, and many young people are impatient for leaders more in tune with their concerns and outlook. Some 51 per cent now live in towns and cities.

The sprawling Abidjan conurbation, in particular, weighs heavily in the political culture and national mood. Street protest and urban frustrations are a real factor, and something that fuels vocal grassroots support for both the Soro and Gbagbo camps.

Moreover, despite the government’s capable management, the COVID-19 crisis has struck a severe economic and social blow that is sure to impose painful legacy pressures. Even when real GDP was rising by seven per cent per annum, increasingly evident inequality was brewing popular resentment. Corruption appeared to be on the rise, and the obvious prosperity, construction and consumption in parts of Abidjan were not reflected nationwide nor in all sections of society.

In the latter years of his second term, Ouattara recognized this and launched an ambitious programme to broaden the reach of development and nudge growth towards a more ‘inclusive’ model. But selling this as the core of an election agenda would be harder for a political veteran who has been in power since 2011 and who now went back on his rhetoric about making way for a younger generation.

A third term Ouattara would also face challenges internationally, and particularly in West Africa. He has always presented himself as a statesmanlike figure with restraint and respect for institutional values, setting a tone that has helped in the management of numerous regional crises – exemplified by his participation in a five-president mission to Bamako last week, an effort to broker a solution to Mali’s political and protest deadlock. If a third term run sparks mass domestic protest or accusations of constitutional manipulation, the diplomatic standing and influence so associated with Ouattara will be jeopardized.

So Côte d’Ivoire’s president faces profoundly awkward questions as he ponders the third term bid that he had forsworn less than five months ago. And yet he may well conclude that, from his political perspective, there is no viable alternative.

Belarusian president Aliaksandr Lukashenka deserves sanctions. This election campaign in Belarus, which culminated in a vote on Sunday is the most brutal and dirty in its history. But, so far, the EU, the UK and the US have only issued familiar-sounding and futile appeals to the Belarusian authorities condemning their actions. Not imposing sanctions is a de facto licence to continue with repression.

Despite all this, the West is unlikely to impose significant sanctions afterwards. There are several questionable reasons for this. First, Western policymakers fear sanctions against Lukashenko will make him more likely to genuflect to Russia. However, relations with Russia have already deteriorated as Belarus accuses Russia of trying to interfere with its domestic affairs.

Sanctions serve as a wake-up call. The Belarusian authorities then might seek - once again - to repair relations with the West and reduce repression for greater assistance in any direct confrontation with Russia.

Second, the West is reluctant to implement sanctions because it has already invested somewhat in warming relations with Belarusian authorities. Punishing Lukashenko could mean burying the - admittedly modest - achievements of a Belarus-West dialogue that started in 2014 after the conflict in Ukraine began.

Even US secretary of state Mike Pompeo met with Lukashenko in Minsk this year, after which Belarus replaced a small but symbolic amount of Russian oil for American. All the same, the West has its conscience to answer to if dialogue is won but repressions continue.

The third reason why the West may not resort to targeted economic sanctions and visa restrictions is a latent concern whether such measures have any effect on democratization processes at all. They may be appropriate punishment, but there is little evidence they ever change the nature of a regime.

According to this logic, if the West imposes sanctions, the Belarusian authorities will continue to crack down with repression because they will have nothing to lose. That said, in previous years, the Belarusian authorities have released political prisoners in response to sticks and carrots brandished by the West. If Belarusian political prisoners did not have a price tag, the authorities would most likely keep everyone in jail.

To be fair, there are reasonable arguments in favour of and against sanctions. But if the West fails to impose them - be it through lack of political will or out of genuine concern about their effectiveness - at least it should focus on helping ordinary Belarusians withstand Lukashenko’s repressions. After the vote, arrested and jailed Belarusian citizens might lack money for lawyers and arbitrarily imposed fines.

If repression spreads further, independent media and human rights organizations will need funds to keep their structures running in the heat of the crackdown. Many entrepreneurs might lose their companies for openly supporting free elections. Thus, if the West will not sanction Lukashenko, it should at least show solidarity with these Belarusians in peril.

This article was originally published in The Telegraph.

In the aftermath of the devastating Beirut port explosion last week, it is not just the role of the Lebanese political class that has come under scrutiny, but that of their international peers too.

Sunday’s international donor conference led by the French president, Emmanuel Macron, raised €253m (£228m) in relief funds, but it also signalled an important change in rhetoric. For the first time, donors affirmed that relief funds would directly go to the Lebanese people, and that longer-term economic assistance would be dependent on Lebanon implementing structural reforms.

This affirmation came hot on the heels of growing international attention on rampant corruption among Lebanon’s ruling political class, which is widely blamed for the port explosion. It sends the message to Lebanon’s rulers that, while their country desperately needs foreign assistance to stand on its feet, no one can help Lebanon if it does not also help itself.

But the communique issued following the conference glossed over the international community’s own role in sustaining Lebanon’s corrupt political class over a period of decades. At the aid conference, Macron said that Lebanon’s future is at stake. What donors need to recognise is that this future is a shared responsibility for them and Lebanon’s leaders alike.

With Lebanon’s debt greater than 170% of its GDP, and with the port explosion costing an estimated $15bn of damage, Lebanon needs foreign assistance to prevent it becoming a failed state. But what it needs even more desperately are reforms that would counter the corruption and lack of accountability that led it to this sorry state of affairs in the first place.

It is Lebanon’s existing political system – a power-sharing pact between different sects rather than a system of governance on the basis of competence – that facilitates its leaders’ reckless behaviour.

The international community is partly responsible for sustaining this system through cascading patronage. For decades, Lebanese leaders grew accustomed to neglecting the national interest and eventually being bailed out by international assistance. Dollar deposits would land in the central bank from Gulf donors, loans would be offered by European countries and foreign aid packages would flow to Lebanese state institutions – only for the majority of this money to end up lining the pockets of the country’s rulers, who frequently overcame their political differences to share state resources between them. The Lebanese state came to exist as a shell in the eyes of its citizens.

Lebanon’s rulers benefited from citizens’ low expectations from the state and the lack of measures ensuring transparency and accountability in the country. They brokered a social contract that cast the leaders as patrons and the people as clients rather than citizens. Foreign powers were well aware of this dynamic but they often turned a blind eye to it, and even nurtured it, because they believed the Lebanese political system brought stability and predictability following the tumultuous civil war.

With time the leaders’ greed grew, and with that the economic situation worsened. Leaders who behaved as de facto local authorities, granting constituents civil service jobs or minor privileges, provided them less and less. There was some international recognition that this dynamic was becoming unsustainable – international donors pledged $11bn during the CEDRE conference of 2018 on condition that Lebanon implemented structural reforms.

And in the wake of Lebanon’s recent economic deterioration, the International Monetary Fund said in April that any discussion of a loan to Lebanon would be subject to more reforms. On both occasions, Lebanon’s rulers ignored the calls for reform, counting on foreign support eventually coming in unconditionally as it used to in the past. International donor follow-up was sluggish.

The port explosion needs to be a wake-up call for any international entity seeking a stable Lebanon. The blast is ultimately the result of the decades during which political classes in Lebanon and outside it fostered the country’s dysfunctional political system. No long-term assistance should flow into Lebanon without strong conditions on transparency and accountability in how this assistance would be employed.

Foreign support is not the problem per se, but rather when it is handed on a plate unconditionally, maintaining the patronage cascade, exacerbating the weakness of state institutions, and further impoverishing Lebanese citizens.

With Lebanon’s economy almost crumbling in the aftermath of the explosion, there is an opportunity for the international community to exert leverage over Lebanese leaders – whose personal wealth grew partially from legal and illegal transactions through the devastated port – so that necessary reforms are implemented. Such leverage would not remove Lebanon’s defective political system, but would pressure its leaders to accept at least some basic reforms.

But for Lebanon to really turn a new page, it needs a new social contract and a new political system based on fairness, transparency and accountability. This is a change that can only start from within Lebanon, but it also depends on the international community abandoning their tacit support of a disastrous political status quo.

This article was originally published in The Guardian.

For decades, the mantra of ‘economic diversification’ characterized attempts to reverse Nigeria’s dependence on oil with little real progress. Despite numerous reforms, international loans and restructuring programmes, 85 million Nigerians live in deteriorating conditions of poverty. The current coronavirus pandemic combined with mounting debt obligations and declining GDP gives new urgency to this issue.

The fall in international oil prices, which led government to slash its oil benchmark price from $57 to $30 a barrel and cut 20% of the capital budget, worsens these problems, but it is far from the only factor. Biomass, which drives household pollution and contributed to the death of 114,000 people in Nigeria in 2017, is the most dominant source of energy in Nigeria, amounting to more than 80% of the total energy mix, followed by fossil fuels (18%), and a negligible amount of renewable energy.

Although a diversified energy sector with a strong emphasis on renewables is known to reduce health and economic risks of combustion, there has been little emphasis on the role a diversified energy mix could play in ensuring sustainable development – even though the estimated potential of 427,000MW of solar power and photovoltaic generation means Nigeria has enormous renewable energy opportunities.

The global economy is also undergoing tectonic structural changes that will affect demand for Nigeria’s oil, leaving a fossil fuel-dependent economy more vulnerable. Improvements in global fuel efficiency, the ascent of electricity as a substitute for oil in the transport sector, and the falling prices of renewables and storage technologies all lead to a reduction in demand for fossil fuel products.

Creating structures for transition

This is not a ‘get out of oil’ prescription, and energy transition is complex. But it is inevitable. There are no universal strategies applicable to all countries; local contexts and political realities inform what is possible. Nigeria can take advantage of its abundant natural gas deposit as a ‘transition fuel’ to buy it time for putting the appropriate transition structures in place. The country has made progress in reducing the amount of gas flared, but much remains to be done for Nigeria to meet the 2030 global deadline to end flaring, after failing to meet its 2020 national target.

The first step to proper transition is to align Nigeria’s international obligations with its domestic policies and legislations - the distance between words and action must be bridged and the institutional capacity to implement raised. And, while they contain symbolic green gestures, the economic recovery and growth plan developed in response to the 2016 recession, and the post-COVID-19 economic sustainability plan, do not espouse green growth as a fundamental objective.

Nigeria must start looking inwards, investing its resources in designing and funding a green transition strategy. Its leadership role in floating Africa’s first Sovereign Green Bonds should be followed with non-debt funding options. Faced with a pandemic that has shattered the boundaries of what is politically possible, the Buhari government has overcome initial inertia to announce a halt in oil subsidy payments, although whether it will see through that policy is yet to be seen.

If it does, how it uses the savings will be significant. The money could provide support for Nigeria’s renewable sector to counteract the price disparity with fossil fuels and encourage rapid research and development. The Nigerian Ecological Fund — which is 3% of the Federation Account — should be reformed and expanded beyond its current scope of addressing ‘serious ecological problems’ to cover climate change with a strong emphasis on mitigation and resilience. That would increase Nigeria’s climate finance and minimize reliance on multilateral climate funds.

Beyond public investments in green infrastructure, the government can also incentivize the private sector to drive a green economy. As the largest purchaser of goods and services in the country, it can leverage purchasing power to green the procurement process. With the release of about $421 million to the Ministry of Works, the 2020 budgetary allocation for road projects has been fully disbursed to the Ministry, making procurement in the construction sector ripe for green reforms. The application of sustainable building techniques and materials could reduce Nigeria’s 17 million housing deficit and create more jobs.

But the task of greening the Nigerian economy is too important to be left to the federal government alone. It also requires mainstreaming climate change and sustainable development into the operations, governance, and budgets of government ministries, departments, and private entities at the sub-national and national levels.

There has been much focus on reviving agriculture, which is laudable, but agrarian practices have radically changed from the 1970s when the sector accounted for 57% of Nigeria’s GDP and generated 64.5% of export earnings. Beset by a loss of biodiversity, drought, and desertification, extreme weather events, rise in sea levels and variable rainfall, it is no longer smart for Nigeria to invest in this area without due regard for the significant climate risks. Any effort to revive agriculture and its export potential must be green-centred and integrate regenerative and climate-smart practices.

The right policy mix combined with aggressive funding can position the country as a renewable energy leader, both on the African continent and globally. And it will reap the benefits in technology development, foreign investment, decreased emissions, poverty reduction, and energy for the 80 million people currently without access to the national grid – all of which could ripple into millions of clean energy jobs in manufacturing and installation across the country.

The road to a green future must be paved with deliberate and consistent policies. Reforms hatched because oil prices have plunged should not be ditched when there is a boom. On the brink of a second recession in four years, Nigeria has learnt that the economic turmoil caused by COVID-19 is only the latest warning that pinning economic growth on a boom-bust market and the generosity of foreign donors and creditors is a failing strategy. There is another way and there is an opportunity for Nigeria to lead.

The virus of violence

According to the UN (para. 7) and the International Criminal Court (ICC, para. 279), conflict-related sexual violence (CRSV) is quite prevalent in hostilities-affected eastern Ukraine. Both sexes are subjected to sexualized torture, rape, forced nudity, prolonged detention in unsanitary conditions with members of the other sex and threats of sexual violence towards detainees or their relatives to force confessions. Men are castrated. Women additionally suffer from sexual slavery, enforced and survival prostitution, and other forms of sexual abuse. Women are more exposed to CRSV: in the hostilities-affected area, every third woman has experienced or witnessed CRSV as opposed to every fourth man.

COVID-19 has redirected funding priorities, affecting the availability of medical and psychological help for CRSV survivors worldwide. In Ukraine, the very reporting of such violence, stigmatized even before the pandemic, has been further undermined by the country-wide quarantine-induced restrictions on movement and the closure of checkpoints between the government-controlled and temporarily uncontrolled areas.

Addressing CRSV in Ukraine

The stigma of CRSV, the patchy domestic legislation, and the unpreparedness of the criminal justice system to deal with such cases prevent the authorities from properly helping those harmed in the ongoing Russia-Ukraine armed conflict.

CRSV is equally traumatizing yet different in nuance for men and women. Female victims often choose not to report the violence. Women avoid protracted proceedings likely to cause re-traumatization and the disclosure of their experience, which could be particularly excruciating in small communities where everybody knows everyone.

Men also struggle to provide their accounts of CRSV. Their suppressed pain and shame of genital mutilation and other CRSV result in sexual and other health disfunctions. Combined with the post-conflict mental health struggles, this has been shown to lead to increased domestic violence and even suicide.

The very investigation of CRSV in Ukraine is challenging. Certain tests and examinations need to be done straight after an assault, which in the context of detention and grey zones of hostilities is often impossible. Specialized medical and psychological support is lacking. Investigators and prosecutors are hardly trained to deal with CRSV to the point that they do not ask questions about it during the interviews. Burdened by trauma and stigma, survivors are inclined to report torture or inhuman treatment, but not the sexualized aspects thereof.

Seven years into the conflict, the state still has not criminalized the full spectrum of CRSV in its domestic law. Ukraine’s Criminal Code contains a brief list of the violations of the rules and customs of warfare in article 438. It prohibits the inhuman treatment of civilians and POWs but does not list any types of CRSV.

The article has an open-ended reference to Ukraine’s ratified international treaties, from which the responsibility for other armed conflict violations may be derived. For the more detailed norms on CRSV, Ukraine should refer at least to Geneva Convention IV protecting civilians and two additional protocols to the Geneva Conventions, to which it is a party.

However, the novelty of the war context for Ukrainian investigators, prosecutors and judges and their overcautiousness about the direct application of international conventions mean that in practice, observing the treaty or jurisprudential instruction on CRSV has been slow.

Use of the Criminal Code’s articles on sexual violence not related to an armed conflict is not viable. Such provisions fail to reflect the horrible variety and complexity of CRSV committed in hostilities. They also envisage lesser punishment than a war crime of sexual violence would entail. Cumulatively, this fails to account for the intention of a perpetrator, the gravity of the crime and the trauma of its victims.

The lack of public debate and state action on CRSV understates its magnitude. Ukraine should break its silence about CRSV in Donbas and make addressing this violence part of its actionable agenda - in law and in implementation.

Ukraine should incorporate all war crimes and crimes against humanity of CRSV in its domestic legislation; ensure a more gendered psychological and medical support for both sexes; establish rehabilitation and compensation programmes for CRSV survivors; create special victims and witness protection schemes; consider the different stigmatizing effects of CRSV on men and women in criminal proceedings and engage the professionals of the same sex as the victim; map CRSV in the bigger picture of other crimes in Donbas to better understand the motives of the perpetrators; submit more information about CRSV to the ICC and educate the public to destigmatize the CRSV survivors.

The drafters of Ukraine’s transitional justice roadmap should ensure that it highlights CRSV, adopts a gendered approach to it and endorses female participation as a crucial component of reconciliation and broader policymaking.

Embracive policymaking

Although ‘the discriminatory line almost inevitably hurts women,’ 'every gender discrimination is a two-edged sword’, Ruth Bader Ginsburg famously argued before the US Supreme Court. This could not be more relevant for Ukraine. The conflict - and lockdown-related violence has reverberated deeper within Ukrainian society, raising fundamental questions about the roles of both sexes and gender equality.

The failure to address CRSV and its different stigmas for both sexes mirrors the general lack of sustainable gender lenses in Ukraine's policymaking. It is no coincidence that a June 2020 proposal for gender parity in political parties coincided with another spike of sexist remarks by top officials. While women get access to more positions in the army, sexual harassment in the military is investigated slowly. Despite all the impressive female professionals, no woman made it to the first four-member consultative civic group in the Minsk process. Such lack of diversity sends an unfortunate message that women are not important for Ukraine’s peace process.

Ginsburg said, ‘women belong in all places where decisions are being made.’ CRSV against either sex won’t be addressed properly until both sexes contribute with their talents and their grievances to all pillars of Ukraine’s state governance and strategy. Ukraine should look to engage professional women - and there are plenty - to join its public service not just in numbers, but as the indispensable equal voices of a powerful choir.

It’s easy to take a look at the array of economic and diplomatic punitive policies that the sanctions-happy Trump administration has slapped on individuals and countries from Argentina to Iran and conclude that they have failed to achieve their objectives. With US oil sanctions on Venezuela, trade sanctions on select Argentine, Brazilian and Canadian exports and the tightening of the US embargo on Cuba, sanctions have become a go-to tool of the current administration.

Have they worked so far? Some have. Some haven’t. All of this leads to a legitimate question: when do they? The most extreme example, the US embargo on Cuba – first imposed by executive order under the Trading with the Enemy Act in 1961 and then codified into law by the Cuba Democracy Act (1992) and Libertad Act (1996) passed by Congress – has failed miserably, but remains an article of faith among its advocates, the bulk of them in southern Florida. The 1992 Democracy Act and 1996 Libertad Act have failed to produce either democracy or liberty in Cuba… yet their potential efficacy persists in the collective imaginations of their supporters. Why?

Conditions on Cuba

Any policy needs to have an explicit goal and with it an implicit or explicit theory of change. Whether it’s advertising that smoking kills on cigarette packages or trade negotiations, these efforts have behind them an explicit idea of the change they seek to foster and the causal relationships to achieve them. These are testable and, in theory, subject to course correction if they are not meeting their intended goals. Has advertising reduced the incidence of smoking?  Are workers better paid and receiving better health benefits and labour protections under the trade agreement several years on?

None of those has applied on the US’s embargo on Cuba. First, the policy goals have changed. In some cases, it has been stated that the limitations on US commerce and travel to the island is to reduce the regime’s international support for autocratic regimes. But Cuba’s to-the-death support of the Nicolas Maduro government in Venezuela has demonstrated this isn’t working. 

Arguably it has had the opposite effect: by impoverishing the state-centered Cuban economy, the embargo has made the regime more dependent on the decreasing oil that Venezuela supplies the island nation. In other cases, the stated goal has been regime change as the titles of the 1992 and 1996 act titles reveal.

The latter even lays out a set of conditions that must be present in Cuba before the Congress can lift the trade and diplomatic isolation the US has imposed on the island unilaterally. Those include the release of political prisoners, the absence of any Castro family members from decision-making, and credible steps toward free and fair elections. 24 years after the passage of the Libertad Act, Cuba is no closer to achieving not just one but any of those goals despite the putative incentive of a full and complete lifting of the embargo.   

The question here is the implicit theory of change for the embargo. Here, embargo supporters have never been clear about this link. First, there is the implied hope that sanctions will impose such costs and suffering on the general population that the masses will rise up and shake off autocratic rule of their overlords.

There are several problems with this. One is that general sanctions that reduce access to foodstuffs and finances – as has been the case in the US embargo on Cuba and sanctions on Venezuela – lowers the incentives for protest. It concentrates the government’s political and economic control over the population rather than weakening it. More, people who are hungry living under a repressive government simply aren’t that likely to rise up; they are often more concerned with the day-to-day struggles of getting by.

Second, there is a naïve notion that either those in power or those around them will see the light of day and decide to step down. Promoters of sanctions often have a cold-eyed reality of the nature of evil of autocratic governments. So why do they believe in some hidden decency among its inner circles? In truth, the purveyors of this view deny the basic and laudable basis for their hatred of autocrats: their bottomless cruelty and disregard for their own people. 

Do sanctions work? 

There is also a growing body of research on the efficacy of sanctions. Comparative research has revealed a number of conclusions, none of which appear to have been considered by current policymakers in the White House or State Department.  

The first of these is that sanctions work when they are implemented broadly by a wide coalition of governments. Most of the sanctions that have succeeded in their intentions have been along those lines including the UN sanctions on Iran to push the country to a nuclear deal.  

The second is that the goals of sanctions should be narrow and clearly defined. Successful cases, as Daniel Drezner who wrote a book on the topic has detailed, have been tied to specific goals. Regime change is not one of those. It is too broad and amorphous – though as I say above also unrealistic in its logic between intended effect and the targeted individual. 

A third element of successful sanctions is keeping them flexible and credible. As detailed in a Council on Foreign Relations backgrounder ‘the target must believe that sanctions will be increased or reduced based on its behaviour.’ 

That’s never been the case with Cuba sanctions under the Democracy or Libertad acts. Instead, sanctions relief is presented as a binary choice: democracy or nothing. There are no provisions for intermediate steps that could potentially incentivize changes of behaviour toward loosening state control and reducing human rights abuses.  

The recent tightening of the US embargo that included restrictions on US travel to Cuba and financial transactions under the Trump White House has been disconnected from any specific policy changes in the island. In this case, human rights conditions that the changes were linked to or intended to punish had not taken a dramatic turn for the worse. They were instead intended to simply ratchet up pressure for an embargo which advocates felt was too leaky and hope for a collapse that would weaken the Maduro regime.

That is precisely the problem for many of the most strident advocates of the US-Cuba embargo: the policy has become the objective, divorced from on-the-ground realities and incentives to move them forward.  There is the legitimate concern that the sanctions hurt the very people that the policy claims to defend. They also serve as a rallying point for the Castro regime and a way to cover up for its own economic failures.  But the most damning indictment of the embargo is that in its almost 50-year history it has failed to achieve its objectives.

If the matter is the efficacy of sanctions, then the US embargo on Cuba does not meet the test. It’s not limited to Cuba. None of the cases of regime change that many of the embargo advocates love to cite, communist Eastern Europe, the Soviet Union and South Africa had embargos as tight or isolating as those imposed on Cuba for nearly half a century. There’s a reason for that. It’s basic logic.

A version of this article will also appear in Spanish in the journal Foro Cubano in September.  

If sanctions imposed by the UN Security Council, the EU, or states unilaterally, are not sufficiently targeted, and do not include adequate safeguards for humanitarian action, they can adversely affect the very populations for whose well-being they were imposed in the first place.  This is not a new concern, but one brought starkly to the fore by their impact on responses to COVID-19.

The detrimental impact of sanctions, which can prevent the supply of medical or personal protective equipment (PPE), or the provision of technical support or training to local health authorities is evident. Sanctions can also affect remote learning if support cannot be provided to local education authorities, export licences cannot be obtained for the necessary equipment and software, or if the companies providing reliable internet coverage are designated under the sanctions.

A comparison of US and EU sanctions on Syria reveals key challenges, but also opportunities for improving current arrangements for the imposition and implementation of sanctions so as to minimize adverse consequences in Syria and more generally.

The US has imposed broad sanctions, such as restrictions on the provision of funds, goods or services – even charitable contributions – to the Syrian government, including the health and education ministries, now playing a central role in the COVID-19 response.

UN agencies are exempted from these restrictions. A general license authorizes NGOs to conduct activities to meet basic needs, but it excludes those involving the government. So NGOs wishing to provide medical devices, PPE, training or other support to ministry of health staff have to apply for a specific licence.

But procedures for applying for licences are complicated, and the approval process notoriously slow.  No accommodation has been made to facilitate the COVID-19 response: no interpretative guidance – that would be valuable for all NGOs – has been issued, and no procedures established for reviewing applications more quickly.  There is no statement of policy indicating the circumstances under which specific licences might be granted.

Transactions with designated entities other than the government, such as internet providers whose services are necessary for remote learning, remain prohibited, and regulations expressly preclude applying for specific licences.

US sanctions frequently have a broad scope, both in direct and indirect application.  NGOs registered in the US, and staff who are US nationals, are directly bound by them, and grant agreements between the US government and non-US NGOs require the latter to comply with US sanctions.

This leaves the non-US NGOs in a Catch-22 situation – as they are not ‘US persons’ they cannot apply for specific licenses, but if they operate without such licences they may be violating grant requirements. This lack of clarity contributes to banks’ unwillingness to provide services, and may lead NGOs to curtail their activities.  This situation is regrettable in Syria, where the US is the first donor to humanitarian action, and also arises in other contexts where the US has imposed similar sanctions.

The EU’s sanctions for Syria are far more targeted. Of relevance to the COVID-19 response, they do not include prohibitions on the provision of support to the government that could impede assistance in the medical field.  There are, however, restrictions on the provision of certain types of PPE or substances used for disinfection, and also on transactions with designated telecommunications providers that affect continuity of education during lockdowns.  Although not prohibited, these activities must be authorized by member states’ competent authorities. Similar concerns arise about the complexity and delays of the processes.

The EU sanctions framework is complex, so the recent European Commission Guidance Note on Syria providing official clarification of how it applies to humanitarian action is welcome.  Although the note only explains the existing rules rather than amending them to facilitate the COVID-19 response, it does include a number of important elements relevant not just to Syria, but to the interplay between sanctions and humanitarian action more broadly.

First, it notes that ‘in accordance with International Humanitarian Law where no other option is available, the provision of humanitarian aid should not be prevented by EU restrictive measures’.  This recognizes that humanitarian assistance takes priority over any inconsistent restrictions in sanctions, and it also applies both to UN sanctions and unilateral measures. It is a starting premise that is frequently overlooked in discussions of whether sanctions should include exceptions for humanitarian action.  Its reaffirmation is timely, and it must guide states in drawing up future sanctions.

Second, the note states that sanctions do not require the screening of final beneficiaries of humanitarian programmes.  This means that once someone has been identified as an individual in need on the basis of humanitarian principles, no further screening is required.  This is extremely important to COVID-19 responses as it reflects a foundational principle of IHL that, to the fullest extent practicable, everyone is entitled to the medical care required by their condition without distinction.

Third, while responsibility for the implementation of sanctions, including the granting of authorizations, lies with member states, the note nudges them to adopt a number of measures to expedite and streamline such processes.  These include the suggestion that states could issue a single authorization for the provision of humanitarian aid in response to the pandemic.

The European Commission is to be commended for this initiative, which should be replicated for other contexts where the COVID-19 response may be undermined by sanctions.  These include Gaza, where it would be important to highlight that the designation of Hamas under EU counterterrorism sanctions must not prevent the provision of assistance to relevant ministries.

Failing to draw a distinction between the designated political party and the structures of civil administration risks turning targeted financial sanctions into measures akin to comprehensive sanctions.

The pandemic should serve as a catalyst for improving the system for the adoption and implementation of sanctions by the UN, the EU and individual states, including the UK as it elaborates its sanctions policy post-Brexit. The principles are clear: without prejudicing the aims for which sanctions have been imposed, humanitarian needs must always be prioritized, and met.

Making the case

The recent election results in Belarus have triggered revolution in yet another post-Soviet country and Aliaksandr Lukashenka’s response has been devastatingly brutal. However, the Belarusian people’s resilience and Western sanctions – adopted on 14 August – have proved effective. As some of the 6,700 jailed protesters were released, accounts of horrific treatment by law enforcement emerged: overcrowded cells, no food, torture, forced confessions, severe beatings , and threats of rape.

With reports of mounting violence, Polish MEP Radosław Sikorski warned Lukashenka to expect not just sanctions but also the possible intervention of the International Criminal Court (ICC), an idea supported by the opposition-led Belarus’ National Salvation. While there are significant impediments to the Court’s involvement, the impact of such an initiative could be ground-breaking.

Legal framework

The ICC considers criminal responsibility of top civilian or military leaders for only the most serious atrocities - war crimes, genocide, crimes against humanity and, in certain cases, the crime of aggression. In the context of Belarus, the Court’s jurisdiction over crimes against humanity might be relevant. According to the Rome Statute, the ICC’s founding treaty, crimes against humanity include widespread or systematic abuses directed against a civilian population. Atrocities relevant to Belarus include arbitrary imprisonment, torture, inhuman treatment, sexual violence, and enforced disappearances.

The ICC is a last resort. It can intervene only if states are unable or unwilling to properly investigate and prosecute serious crimes themselves. Although Belarus’s Criminal Code punishes crimes against humanity, as Lukashenka himself is implicated, impartial trials in the country are impossible while he is still in power. Other countries may investigate specific atrocities in Belarus under the universal jurisdiction principle. Universal jurisdiction greenlights investigations into the most serious crimes regardless of where they are perpetrated. German, Swedish and French proceedings on Syria are illustrative examples of this. Protesters may also file individual complaints of abuse to UN bodies under the protocols of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights and the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women. The European Court of Human Rights is not an option for the protesters because Belarus is not a member of the Council of Europe.

As the UN mechanisms are yet to be triggered and there has not yet been any talk of universal jurisdiction proceedings, the question of recourse to the ICC remains. But as Belarus is not party to the Rome Statute, the only way to trigger the Court’s jurisdiction is a referral by the UN Security Council (UNSC). Even though it would be vetoed by Russia –  and, almost certainly, China – it could be worth pursuing.

The importance of symbolism

So far, the UNSC has referred to the ICC two situations in non-party states – Sudan and Libya. But for cases that do not end up being referred to the Court, the UNSC debates are as significant for what they manage to agree upon as they are for what they do not. Regarding Belarus, two impeded UNSC accountability initiatives are relevant: on Syria and MH17.

In 2014, Russia and China vetoed the referral of cases of violence in Syria to the ICC. In 2015, Russia was the only country to block the creation by the UNSC of a special tribunal to investigate Malaysian Airlines flight MH17, downed by a Russian missile over war-affected eastern Ukraine. In both cases, the vetoes delayed justice, but they did not prevent it. For Syria, special independent mechanisms to collect evidence for adjudication were developed. Although justice has yet to be done, except in states like Germany, the evidence is ready for any future court. For MH17, a proceeding at a domestic Dutch court became an alternative. Parallel to that, new evidence of Russia’s role in both Syria and the downing of MH17 emerged - contextualising its UNSC vetoes.

Russia’s stakes in the Belarusian elections are probably even higher: the victory of democracy in Belarus will deprive it of one of its closest and most dependent post-Soviet allies.

Even if Russia destroys any chance of Belarusian citizens using the ICC, the attempted ICC-Belarus discussion will not have been in vain. Russia’s opposition to the respective UNSC resolution would be a self-defeating validation of Lukashenka’s atrocities against his own people, unashamedly restated at one of the world’s top diplomatic negotiation tables. Similar to Syria and MH17, the UNSC would reconfirm its self-imposed impotency to defend basic human rights amid political conjuncture. This would bring more attention to the issue and catalyse action through other platforms, including the discussions across UN bodies and the consideration of Belarusians’ individual complaints of abuse, and could lead to tougher sanctions. It could also further make the case for universal jurisdiction proceedings in other countries.