Despite a summer of protests, African leaders are doubling down on the status quo.
The spring and summer of 2024 have given a number of African governments a case of the jitters. First, the African National Congress lost its parliamentary majority in South Africa, a result informed by popular dissatisfaction with the status quo and internal party rifts that spilled out into open political warfare. Just weeks later, Kenya's government was rocked by massive, nationwide protests in which a large portion of the country's youthful population mobilized to resist new taxes and condemn government corruption. The idea that dominant parties--parties nearly synonymous with the state itself--could fall, and that popular discontent could leave the most powerful political elites scrambling to save their jobs, has clearly been weighing on leaders elsewhere on the continent.
In Tanzania, where the Chama Cha Mapinduzi (CCM) has been in power since independence, President Samia Suluhu Hassan has swerved away from presenting herself as a reformer methodically rolling back the authoritarian excesses of her predecessor and instead has focused on tamping down factions of the party disloyal to her. She appears to have calculated that consolidating her authority requires a demonstrable closing of the political space she once opened --particularly given the risk that Tanzania's young population would flex their political muscles like their Kenyan neighbors. The results, including restricting internet access for Tanzanians, and last month's arrests of opposition leaders, their youthful supporters, and the journalists covering them hardly bode well for a level playing field.
In Mozambique, the lead-up to October's elections has featured plenty of backroom maneuvering within the long-dominant FRELIMO party, which selected a relatively junior member as its candidate for the presidency, the first to have been born after the country achieved independence. Outrageous corruption scandals involving hidden loans and billions in debt have tarnished the party's image and several of its most prominent leaders, perhaps contributing to the selection of a relatively fresh face. But on social media, savvy young Mozambicans point out the obvious co-option of the longtime opposition party RENAMO. Many express enthusiasm for Venancio Mondlane, who is running under the banner of a new entity, the Democratic Alliance Coalition, and advocates "an end to a partisan state once and for all," but they also have no expectation of a free and fair process, accustomed to foregone conclusions. Their assessment is backed up by the Center for Public Integrity, which notes, among other irregularities, that there are 1.2 million more registered voters in the country than there are voting age citizens.
In Uganda, the government has eschewed subtlety entirely, threatening those planning to demonstrate against corruption that they were "playing with fire" and arresting protesters who sought to emulate the Kenyan movement. Most recently, security forces once again physically attacked the most potent political opposition figure in the country, Bobi Wine, reportedly shooting at him and seriously injuring him with a tear gas canister at close range. The government veers from treating citizens who voice their dissatisfaction as grave threats to national security to brushing them off as insignificant, pesky irritants, as when the State Minister of Kampala City and Metropolitan Affairs told striking urban traders to "go to the village and plant pineapples. . . . Don't disturb me."
Nervous and insecure leaders will continue turning to manipulation and repression and may eventually overplay their hands. But the wisest political actors may begin to imagine a new political dispensation, in which the country, not party, comes first, and the demands of young populations are more important than the comforts of the ruling class.
Alexandra Dent contributed to the research of this article.