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Faulty Towers: Why Uhuru’s Housing Plan Is Dead on Arrival

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91 percent of Nairobians are tenants. WIth perhaps the best intentions – to turn slum dwellers and others into homeowners – Jubilee’s affordable low-cost housing agenda ignores a huge body of authoritative research that clearly demonstrates that for urban dwellers, home ownership at ‘home’ is eminently preferable to a house in the big city. By RASNA WARAH. 

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Faulty Towers: Why Uhuru’s Housing Plan Is Dead on Arrival
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The eviction of nearly 30,000 people from Kibera, Nairobi’s largest slum, in the coldest month of the year has left many wondering whether the Jubilee administration is serious about its “Big Four” agenda, whose key pillar is affordable housing, along with manufacturing, universal healthcare and food security. The evictions, which have been taking place to pave way for a road, have left more than 2,000 families homeless and have led to the destruction of eight schools and a children’s home, according to the Star newspaper. The heartless demolitions have laid bare the government’s lack of understanding of the nature of informal settlements and low-income housing in the city, and why solutions to the housing problem must be found within the beneficiary communities, and not in private sector-led initiatives.

As part of its Big Four agenda, the government says it has allocated Sh.6.5 billion to building 500,000 housing units for low-income households across the country; 100,000 of these units are categorised as “social housing” for households earning less than Sh14,499 a month and another 400,000 units are categorised as “affordable housing” for those earning between Sh15,000 and Sh49,999 a month. Housing for households in the Sh.50,000 to Sh99,999 income bracket will supposedly fall under some kind of mortgage scheme. Ten per cent of the funding for the programme is expected to come from the government, 30 per cent is expected to come from the National Social Security Fund and the rest (60 per cent) is expected to come from the private sector.

One of the fundamental problems with this ambitious programme is that it assumes that owning a home is a priority among low-income households in cities such as Nairobi. This has proved to be a wrong assumption time and again. Studies have shown that home ownership is usually at the bottom of the list of priorities among Kenya’s urban poor: most low-income city dwellers are more concerned about getting and keeping a job, and having enough money to pay for food, water, electricity, school fees and other necessities.

Besides, since a large number of low-income people living in Nairobi and other large urban centres are migrants from rural areas, their priority is not owning a home in the city but improving their homes and farms in their villages. Because of lack of adequate affordable housing for the poorest of the urban poor, a large majority of these migrants end up renting shacks (many of which are owned by middle class Kenyans or powerful individuals) in places like Kibera, where they pay rents ranging from between Sh500 to Sh3000 a month. Urban dwellers who view their stay in the city as temporary will not want to get into long-term repayment/mortgage plans that tie their income for lengthy periods.

One of the fundamental problems with this ambitious programme is that it assumes that owning a home is a priority among low-income households in cities such as Nairobi. This has proved to be a wrong assumption time and again. Studies have shown that home ownership is usually at the bottom of the list of priorities among Kenya’s urban poor: most low-income city dwellers are more concerned about getting and keeping a job, and having enough money to pay for food, water, electricity, school fees and other necessities.

While slum life presents several daunting challenges (Nairobi has even gained the dubious distinction of having among the worst slums in the world, with residents having access to few, if any, basic services, such as sanitation and water supply), it allows new migrants and older residents to pay less for housing than they would in an apartment in other low-income neighbourhoods where rents can range upwards of Sh15,000 a month. For a casual labourer earning less than Sh15,000 a month, the latter option is completely out of reach. Slums, therefore, fill a housing need that the government is unable to meet.

Moreover, as a recent World Bank study revealed, the majority of urban dwellers in Kenya rent their housing, and have neither the means nor the inclination to buy or build houses, especially in urban areas. In Nairobi, for instance, where the average monthly income is in the range of Sh26,000, the average household can only afford to pay a monthly rent of about Sh8,000 or about one-third of its income, which is way below what a mortgage would cost for a low-cost house costing, say Sh2 million. In Mathare, for example, ownership schemes have failed because the residents simply didn’t have the means to make the repayments.

The study, published in 2016, found that 91 percent of households in Nairobi are tenants and only 8 per cent of them either own the structure (but not the land) they live in or own both the land and the structure. The same study also revealed that about 60 percent of urban dwellers in Kenya live in one-room units that could qualify as a slum household as they lack one of more of the following: running water in the unit or building; permanent walls; a toilet shared by fewer than 20 people; and sufficient sleeping space. From a policy perspective, it is clear that what is needed is not more home ownership (which is in any case beyond the reach of the majority of people living in the city) but more affordable rental units that allow these people to move out of slum conditions.

Moreover, as a recent World Bank study revealed, the majority of urban dwellers in Kenya rent their housing, and have neither the means nor the inclination to buy or build houses, especially in urban areas. In Nairobi, for instance, where the average monthly income is in the range of Sh26,000, the average household can only afford to pay a monthly rent of about Sh8,000 or about one-third of its income, which is way below what a mortgage would cost for a low-cost house…

In most advanced industrialised countries, the shortfall in affordable housing is usually met by what is known as social or public housing, which is subsidised housing that is targeted at those low-income or vulnerable groups that cannot afford housing at market rates. In most European countries, social housing is subsidised and managed by the government or the local authority, which collects the below-market rents from tenants and which is also responsible for things like maintenance and cleanliness.

Although high-rise social housing in places such as London has often been referred to as “vertical slums” because of its poor quality and human-unfriendly designs – epitomised by the 24-storey Glenfell Towers in London, which burnt down in June 2017, killing 72 people and injuring several others – this type of housing has helped prevent many families from sinking into homelessness.

In the 1960s and ‘70s there were many such City Council housing units in Nairobi: the advantages of living in such accommodation included affordable rents and access to essential services, such as garbage collection and water. Security of tenure was also assured as the authorities had to make a strong case for evicting the occupants. Low or middle cadre civil servants, among others, were usually the main beneficiaries of such housing.

With the move towards privatisation and public-private partnerships (PPPs) in the 1980s and ‘90s, such housing lost favour in policy circles worldwide, mainly because of the costs involved and a general trend within international development agencies to promote free markets and liberalisation. Governments were encouraged to create “an enabling environment” to allow people to build and own their own homes by putting in place the policy and legal frameworks that would “enable” people to own houses with the help of the private sector – a concept encapsulated by Public-Private-Partnerships.

However, as a report commissioned and published this year by the NGO Hakijamii has noted, public-private partnerships carry enormous risks in a country like Kenya as they could ultimately end up benefiting the middle classes, not those who are most in need of low-cost housing. Corruption is another factor to consider in Kenya, where tenders for such large-scale government projects end up benefiting politically-connected individuals and their godfathers and where cutting corners is part of the deal. It is not hard to imagine a scenario where the proposed low-cost housing units will be allocated to politically influential individuals or will be “sold” to undeserving cousins, sisters and uncles of government officials in charge of the programme.

The 1980s also saw a rise in so-called “sites and services” and “slum upgrading” projects, most of which have a record of failure because they did not consider the priorities of the beneficiaries or because their designs were flawed. In Kibera, for instance, the Kenya Slum Upgrading Programme, a joint project of the Government of Kenya and UN-Habitat, saw beneficiaries selling off their units and moving back to the shacks they came from. If the new home owners had been encouraged to form a cooperative that prevented them from selling off the units, this scenario might not have emerged. Those who are familiar with the project have also reported that many services, such as water, are not regular. It has also been reported that the Kibera slum upgrading project did not solve the problem of overcrowding as beneficiaries rented out some of the rooms in their apartments in order to afford the repayments – a practice that the project’s designers apparently encouraged.

Moreover, the design and construction of these high rise multi-storey apartment buildings did not consider that home-based enterprises are the livelihoods of a majority slum dwellers, so open areas and street-level stalls should have been part of the design and architecture. In cities such as Mumbai, beneficiaries of housing projects have been known to move out because they cannot sell their wares, such as cooked food, vegetables and other items, from the third floor of a building. (This is why a high-rise market proposed for hawkers and petty traders in Nairobi is likely to fail.) Slum upgrading programmes in other countries have also not been successful because they failed to consider that residents want to live near where they work – if they are moved to peri-urban areas that are far from where they work, they tend to move back to slums that are near their place of employment.

Many urban poor communities, especially in low-income countries, prefer housing that allows them to conduct business as well. Single-storey housing with shared courtyards are, therefore, preferred. This type of housing was very prevalent in Asian-dominated neighbourhoods such as Pangani in Nairobi decades ago. Several families would rent rooms situated around a common yard where all the families could cook, wash clothes and carry out other household chores. Open spaces are also important to reduce indoor air pollution caused by the use of charcoal or kerosene for cooking – a common practice among low-income families in Kenya. This is why community participation and involvement is critical before such projects are initiated.

Slum upgrading in places such as Kibera and other slums in Nairobi is further complicated by the fact that the majority of the residents are tenants, not squatters i.e. they did not invade public or private land and did not build the structures they live in. In Kibera, most of the land is public and the structure owners are private individuals who obtained permission to build on the land through patronage networks involving local chiefs. In such cases, the question arises of who should benefit from the slum upgrading project: the government (which could recoup its slum upgrading investments through rental income), the structure owner (who should ideally be compensated for the loss of the structure, even if it is just a mud-and-tin shack) or the tenant (who may or may not want to own a home in the slum because he or she has aspirations to move out of the slum eventually or to go back to his or her rural home)?

In Kibera, most of the land is public and the structure owners are private individuals who obtained permission to build on the land through patronage networks involving local chiefs. In such cases, the question arises of who should benefit from the slum upgrading project…

A study in the UK in the 1990s found that “cooperatives provide more effective housing management services with usually better value for money and deliver wider non-quantifiable social and community benefits”. Cooperatives also foster consultation and public participation, core values of Kenya’s constitution.

One of the reasons put forward by international development experts for encouraging home ownership is that it is the most reliable way of ensuring security of tenure, and encourages home owners to invest in and improve their houses. (Yet, it is important to note that even in the most advanced countries, such as Germany and Sweden, the majority of people rent rather than own their housing.) In his book The Mystery of Capital: Why Capitalism Triumphs in the West and Fails Everywhere Else, Hernando de Soto argues that because property ownership is the foundation upon which capitalism thrives, the poor must be encouraged to own their assets (namely, property) which they can then use to invest in businesses (for example by obtaining a loan against the title deed). This thinking is what has probably propelled the government of Kenya to take the home ownership route to affordable housing.

To bring down the cost of such housing for both rent and ownership, housing units could be made of low-cost materials rather than the expensive stone and concrete that is demanded by Kenya’s ridiculously high housing standards. People could be encouraged to form cooperatives so that the costs are shared and to ensure that the housing benefits the real beneficiaries, not others.

But, as I have tried to argue, home ownership is not the top priority among low-income urban households. Social housing provided by county governments could be an option but the cost of subsidising such housing could prove to be unsustainable in the long term. However, if properly managed, this option is practical if rental income from it can bring in steady and substantial revenue for county governments – and if corruption is not allowed to derail the project. But for this to happen, the right policy and legal frameworks need to be in place, both for county and national governments.

On the other hand, if public-private partnerships remain the most viable option, then the emphasis should be on low-cost rental housing or cooperative housing, not individual ownership. The longer term aim, of course, should be to improve the incomes of all Kenyans so that city dwellers are able to afford the the kind of housing they choose to live in, and are not forced to move into shantytowns because there are no other affordable options.

We must also consider that the government’s ambitious housing project may become a victim of Kenya’s deadliest disease – corruption – which could stall or distort efforts to make affordable housing available to those who need it most.

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Rasna Warah
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Rasna Warah is a Kenyan writer and journalist. In a previous incarnation, she was an editor at the United Nations Human Settlements Programme (UN-Habitat). She has published two books on Somalia – War Crimes (2014) and Mogadishu Then and Now (2012) – and is the author UNsilenced (2016), and Triple Heritage (1998).

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Haiti: The Struggle for Democracy, Justice, Reparations and the Black Soul

Only the Haitian people can decide their own future. The dictatorship imposed by former president Jovenel Moïse and its imperialist enablers need to go – and make space for a people’s transition government.

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Haiti: The Struggle for Democracy, Justice, Reparations and the Black Soul
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Haiti is once again going through a profound crisis. Central to this is the struggle against the dictatorship imposed by former president Jovenel Moïse. Since last year Mr. Moise, after decreeing the dismissal of Parliament, has been ruling through decrees, permanently violating Haiti’s constitution. He has refused to leave power after his mandate ended on February 7, 2021, claiming that it ends on February 7 of next year, without any legal basis.

This disregard of the constitution is taking place despite multiple statements by the country’s main judicial bodies, such as the CSPJ (Superior Council of Judicial Power) and the Association of Haitian Lawyers. Numerous religious groups and numerous institutions that are representative of society have also spoken. At this time, there is a strike by the judiciary, which leaves the country without any public body of political power.

At the same time, this institutional crisis is framed in the insecurity that affects practically all sectors of Haitian society. An insecurity expressed through savage repressions of popular mobilizations by the PNH (Haitian National Police), which at the service of the executive power. They have attacked journalists and committed various massacres in poor neighborhoods. Throughout the country, there have been assassinations and arbitrary arrests of opponents.

Most recently, a judge of the High Court was detained under the pretext of promoting an alleged plot against the security of the State and to assassinate the president leading to the illegal and arbitrary revocation of three judges of this Court. This last period has also seen the creation of hundreds of armed groups that spread terror over the entire country and that respond to power, transforming kidnapping into a fairly prosperous industry for these criminals.

The 13 years of military occupation by United Nations troops through MINUSTAH and the operations of prolongation of guardianship through MINUJUSTH and BINUH have aggravated the Haitian crisis. They supported retrograde and undemocratic sectors who, along with gangsters, committed serious crimes against the Haitian people and their fundamental rights.

For this, the people of Haiti deserve a process of justice and reparations. They have paid dearly for the intervention of MINUSTAH: 30 THOUSAND DEAD from cholera transmitted by the soldiers, thousands of women raped, who now raise orphaned children. Nothing has changed in 13 years, more social inequality, poverty, more difficulties for the people. The absence of democracy stays the same.

The poor’s living conditions have worsened dramatically as a result of more than 30 years of neoliberal policies imposed by the International Financial Institutions (IFIs), a severe exchange rate crisis, the freezing of the minimum wage, and inflation above 20% during the last three years.

It should be emphasized that, despite this dramatic situation, the Haitian people remain firm and are constantly mobilizing to prevent the consolidation of a dictatorship by demanding the immediate leave of office by former President Jovenel Moïse.

Taking into account the importance of this struggle and that this dictatorial regime still has the support of imperialist governments such as the United States of America, Canada, France, and international organizations such as the UN, the OAS, and the EU, the IPA calls its members to contribute their full and active solidarity to the struggle of the Haitian people, and to sign this Petition that demands the end of the dictatorship as well as respect for the sovereignty and self-determination of the Haitian people, the establishment of a transition government led by Haitians to launch a process of authentic national reconstruction.

In addition to expressing our solidarity with the Haitian people’s resistance, we call for our organisations to demonstrate in front of the embassies of the imperialist countries and before the United Nations. Only the Haitian people can decide their future. Down with Moise and yes to a people’s transition government, until a constituent is democratically elected.

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Deconstructing the Whiteness of Christ

While many African Christians can only imagine a white Jesus, others have actively promoted a vision of a brown or black Jesus, both in art and in ideology.

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When images of a white preacher and actor going around Kenya playing Jesus turned up on social media in July 2019, people were rightly stunned by the white supremacist undertone of the images. They suggested that Africans were prone to seeing Jesus as white, promoting the white saviour narrative in the process. While it is true that the idea of a white Jesus has been prevalent in African Christianity even without a white actor, and many African Christians and churches still entertain images of Jesus as white because of the missionary legacy, many others have actively promoted a vision of Jesus as brown or black both in art an in ideology.

Images of a brown or black Jesus is as old as Christianity in Africa, especially finding a prominent place in Ethiopian Orthodox Church, which has been in existence for over sixteen hundred years. Eyob Derillo, a librarian at the British Library, recently brought up a steady diet of these images on Twitter. The image of Jesus as black has also been popularised through the artistic project known as Vie de Jesus Mafa (Life of Jesus Mafa) that was conducted in Cameroon.

The most radical expression of Jesus as a black person was however put forth by a young Kongolese woman called Kimpa Vita, who lived in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth century. Through the missionary work of the Portuguese, Kimpa Vita, who was a nganga or medicine woman, became a Christian. She taught that Jesus and his apostles were black and were in fact born in São Salvador, which was the capital of the Kongo at the time. Not only was Jesus transposed from Palestine to São Salvador, Jerusalem, which is a holy site for Christians, was also transposed to São Salvador, so that São Salvador became a holy site. Kimpa Vita was accused of preaching heresy by Portuguese missionaries and burnt at the stake in 1706.

It was not until the 20th century that another movement similar to Vita’s emerged in the Kongo. This younger movement was led by Simon Kimbangu, a preacher who went about healing and raising the dead, portraying himself as an emissary of Jesus. His followers sometimes see him as the Holy Spirit who was to come after Jesus, as prophesied in John 14:16. Just as Kimpa Vita saw São Salvador as the new Jerusalem, Kimbangu’s village of Nkamba became, and still is known as, the new Jerusalem. His followers still flock there for pilgrimage. Kimbangu was accused of threatening Belgian colonial rule and thrown in jail, where he died. Some have complained that Kimbangu seems to have eclipsed Jesus in the imagination of his followers for he is said to have been resurrected from the dead, like Jesus.

Kimbangu’s status among his followers is however similar to that of some of the leaders of what has been described as African Independent Churches or African Initiated Churches (AICs). These churches include the Zionist churches of Southern Africa, among which is the amaNazaretha of Isaiah Shembe. Shembe’s followers see him as a divine figure, similar to Jesus, and rather than going to Jerusalem for pilgrimage, his followers go to the holy city of Ekuphakameni in South Africa. The Cameroonian theologian, Fabien Eboussi Boulaga, in his Christianity Without Fetish, see leaders like Kimbangu and Shembe as doing for their people in our own time what Jesus did for his people in their own time—providing means of healing and deliverance in contexts of grinding oppression. Thus, rather than replacing Jesus, as they are often accused of doing, they are making Jesus relevant to their people. For many Christians in Africa, therefore, Jesus is already brown or black. Other Christians still need to catch up with this development if we are to avoid painful spectacles like the one that took place Kenya.

This post is from a partnership between Africa Is a Country and The Elephant. We will be publishing a series of posts from their site once a week.

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In Magufuli’s Shadow: The Stark Choices Facing Tanzania’s New President

One immediate concern is what steps Hassan will take on the pandemic, and whether she will change direction.

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In Magufuli’s Shadow: The Stark Choices Facing Tanzania’s New President
Photo: Flickr/Gospel Kitaa
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The sudden death of Tanzania’s President John Pombe Magufuli has thrown the East African nation into a period of political uncertainty.

Vice-president, Samia Suluhu Hassan, has been sworn in as his successor, making her Tanzania’s first woman president.

The transition is all the more challenging given the major rupture – both political and economic – caused by Magufuli’s presidency. Magufuli, who won a second term in October 2020, dramatically centralised power and pursued an interventionist economic policy agenda. He courted controversy on a number of fronts, most recently, by claiming that Tanzania – contrary to mounting evidence – was Covid-free.

Hassan has called for unity and counselled that now is not the time to look at what has passed but rather to look at what is to come.

Despite the 61-year-old leader’s forward-looking stance, questions remain about how Magufuli’s legacy will shape her time in office.

The authoritarian turn

Magufuli oversaw the marginalisation of opposition parties and a decline in civil liberties. His first term was defined by heightened intimidation and violence against opposition leaders, including disappearances and physical attacks.

Thanks to five years of repression, the October 2020 general elections saw the opposition all but wiped out of elected office. The ruling Chama Cha Mapinduzi now controls all local government councils. It also holds 97% of directly elected legislative seats, up from 73% in 2015.

In addition, media freedom and civil liberties were also restricted. A law passed in 2018 imposed jail terms for questioning the accuracy of official statistics.

But Magufuli’s authoritarian tendencies were not unprecedented in Tanzania. For instance, the rule of his predecessor Jakaya Kikwete was also marred by human rights abuses as well civil society and media repression. Kikwete also cancelled Zanzibar’s 2015 election due to a likely opposition victory.

It remains to be seen whether Hassan will adopt a more liberal approach, loosening restrictions on opposition parties, the media and civil society. Even if she does, the damage will take time to repair. Opposition parties, for instance, may well struggle to regain their strength. Among other setbacks, they have lost almost all local elected representatives – a core element of their organisational infrastructure built up painstakingly over decades.

Centralising power in the party

Another key pillar to Magufuli’s legacy is the centralisation of power within the Chama Cha Mapinduzi.

In the early years under founding president Julius Nyerere, Tanzania’s ruling party was dominated by the president and a hierarchy of appointed state and party officials. But, following economic liberalisation in the 1980s and Nyerere’s retirement from politics, the party became steeped in factional rivalries. These were spurred by new political alliances and an emerging private sector business elite.

This factionalism reached its height under Kikwete amid accusations of widespread corruption. Magufuli’s nomination as party presidential candidate only occurred because the rivalry among these factions left him as the unexpected compromise candidate.

Once in office, though, Magufuli quickly signalled he would be nobody’s puppet. He used his position as ruling party chairman to create a “new” Chama Cha Mapinduzi. This involved breaking with party heavyweights, including Kikwete, suppressing factional organising, and consolidating his own support base.

Magufuli’s new base was a cohort of freshly appointed party officials as well as civil servants and cabinet ministers. His loyalists likened these changes to a revival of Nyerere’s Chama Cha Mapinduzi. But, in our view, the comparison is misleading.

Like Magufuli before her, Hassan will be taking office – and party leadership – without her own political base. She will also have to contend with revived factional manoeuvring as sidelined groups try to regain an upper hand.

Hassan could align with a loyal Magufuli faction, which includes influential figures within the party. But, early indications suggest she intends to follow the advice of “party elders”, notably Kikwete. The former president reportedly attended the party’s most recent central committee meeting on Hassan’s invitation.

Aligning herself with Kikwete will likely lead to the reemergence of the internal factional rivalries that characterised the former president’s tenure.

Implications for economic policy

If president Hassan does continue to take a political steer from Kikwete, one likely outcome is that there will be a change in economic policy. In particular, a return to growth that’s led by a more business-friendly approach to the private sector.

Calls are already being made for such a course of action..

The danger for Hassan, however, is that under Kikwete this model was associated with high levels of corruption and unproductive rent-seeking.

A careful reassessment of the Magufuli era is needed to guide future policymaking.

Magufuli used his control over the ruling party to pursue an ambitious policy agenda. This was also linked to his political project of centralising power.

Although this trend actually began under Kikwete, Magufuli accelelrated a move towards more state-led investment. Under his leadership, both state-owned and, increasingly, military-owned enterprises were offered strategic contracts.

This ambitious programme initially won him praise. But over time, his authoritarian decision-making, mismanagement, and lack of transparency prompted a more critical response.

Many state enterprises remained cash-starved, relied on government financial support, and registered losses.

When the government’s controller and auditor general called for more scrutiny of public finances, his budget was slashed. And he was ultimately forced to retire and replaced by a Magufuli loyalist.

Alongside state investment, the president also sought to discipline private sector actors. Some observers suggest that this led to more productive investment, notably by domestic investors. But others point to renewed crony capitalist ties.

Magufuli’s most high profile corporate battle was against Canadian-owned Barrick Gold and its former subsidiary, Acacia Mining. From the two, he demanded USD$190 billion in tax arrears and a renegotiation of operating terms.

Many saw this resource-nationalist approach as an inspiration and a model for African countries seeking to take greater control of their mineral wealth. But in the end – partly due to externally imposed legal and economic constraints – Magufuli walked back on some of his demands. Instead he opted for cooperation rather than confrontation.

He negotiated a joint venture in which Barrick took a majority stake of 84% and Tanzania the remaining 16%. Key elements of the nationalistic mining legislation passed in 2017 were also reversed.

On the plus side gold overtook tourism as Tanzania’s biggest foreign-exchange earner. In addition, some small-scale miners saw their livelihoods improve. Results were more mixed elsewhere, especially for Tanzanite miners in the country’s north.

Ultimately, Magufuli leaves behind a mixed economic legacy. It combines misdirected authoritarian decision-making with positive efforts to pursue an active industrial policy. Reining in unproductive domestic investors and renegotiating adverse contracts with foreign investors were part of this agenda.

There is a risk, given this complex mix, that Tanzania’s policymakers may learn the wrong lessons from his presidency, leading back to the flawed model existing before.

Significantly, neither Magufuli nor his predecessors managed to achieve more inclusive growth. For this reason poverty levels have remained stubbornly high.

The pandemic and beyond

One immediate concern is what steps Hassan will take on the pandemic, and whether she will change direction.

Whatever she does, the health emergency and associated economic crisis will likely define her presidency. It could indeed define the economic trajectory of the African region in years to come.

Both Kikwete and Magufuli ruled through an economic boom period. Commodity prices were high and access to international finance was fairly easy. This gave them latitude to choose between various development approaches.

If Tanzania reverts to the status quo of the Kikwete years, the risk is a reemergence of rent-seeking but without the same highly favourable economic growth conditions. Indeed, as external conditions worsen, Hassan may find her options far more limited.The Conversation

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

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