Angola

CFR Senior Fellow for Africa Studies Michelle Gavin interviews Founder and President of the African Center for Economic Transformation Dr. K.Y. Amoako.

From the dismal domestic disarray that continues to sicken and kill Americans across the country to the dysfunction at the UN Security Council and brittle fractures in international cooperation, it is easy to get discouraged about the state of the world and America’s place in it. But the future provides an opportunity to rethink tired approaches, reimagine international relationships, and pivot toward a policy agenda that meets the challenges of climate change, democratic erosion, widening inequality and metastasizing violence. That rethink requires a reckoning with the African continent, not as a venue for competition with China or proxy conflict, but as an increasingly consequential force in shaping the future. By 2050, a quarter of the world’s population will be African. The continent’s youthful and growing labor force will stand in stark contrast to the aging populations of other regions, and they will be rightly skeptical of international institutions and agreements that deny the region the same agency and voice that others enjoy. The United States should welcome rather than resist a more assertive Africa, because ultimately we confront global challenges that we cannot address alone. There are new partnerships to be forged on the continent in service of shared interests, but one prerequisite to maximizing the potential of U.S.-Africa relations is a concerted effort to support the transformative transitions currently underway on the continent. The United States cannot afford to be a bystander to these dynamics. Nowhere is this more true than in the greater Horn, where Sudan and Ethiopia are both in the throes of high-stakes, fragile transitions. For decades, Sudan was a force for instability, undermining the region’s norms and institutions. But a stable, inclusive, and democratic Sudan, with its links to the Middle East and the rest of the Sahel, could be a bulwark against a transactional model of international relations that undermines the links between the governing and the governed. That promise will never be realized if the civilians fighting for leverage in its transition cannot deliver the kind of international support needed to ease the shock of structural reform.  In Ethiopia, where the next few years were always going to be messier than some of the rose-tinted analysis suggested early in Prime Minister Abiy’s tenure, the continent's second-largest population is rewriting its national narrative in search of greater political and economic freedoms and a new method of managing its diversity. That project, which could drive growth and promote stability far beyond Ethiopia's borders, cannot succeed if it is entirely personalized. Support for a reform agenda that is inextricably linked to an inclusive politics is an investment that is needed today to yield critical opportunities in the future.  Too often overlooked is Angola, where the transition underway since President Lourenço assumed power after José Eduardo dos Santos’s 38 year tenure has been far less dramatic but no less important. Angola faces formidable headwinds, having built its economy around an oil industry now in decline and its political system around patronage that benefits only a narrow slice of the population. But the will to curb corruption, diversify the economy, and build internal strength to match the external heft that Angola can bring to the region is precious; it should be met with a serious commitment to ensure that the Angolan people see concrete benefits of reform as the long process of structural transformation unfolds. Supporting transitions that bring more stability, prosperity, and justice to the region is a long-term and labor-intensive undertaking. It will require sustained support from Congress (which fortunately has demonstrated leadership on some of these issues), energized and consistent high-level diplomacy, and thoughtful coordination with other actors interested in the region’s future, particularly other lenders, who are essential to ensuring that debt burdens do not strangle critical reform efforts. It will also require innovation and a concerted effort to engage a broad range of voices and perspectives. The United States must heighten its sensitivity to the aspirations and concerns of young Africans, not just political elites, in order to genuinely understand where interests are shared and where they diverge, and to improve our understanding of what sustainable stability requires.

Accompanying the misery of the coronavirus pandemic has been an ongoing crisis in the oil industry. While the scale and tragedy of the coronavirus is front and center in our minds, the collapse of oil is more abstract, and its long term consequences will be serious. In the United States, the oil industry is already collapsing, but oil does not play the central role in the American economy that it does elsewhere, such as the Middle East sand Russia. Especially in Africa, the collapse of oil is likely to devastate government revenue at exactly the same time the continent faces the astronomical costs of responding to the coronavirus and looming famine. The trade war between Saudi Arabia and Russia over oil production levels, and therefore the world price of oil, destabilized markets at the very moment that the seriousness of the pandemic was starting to hit home. Now, the oil crisis is dramatically worse. For a day or so, the price of oil fell into negative territory. That is, sellers were paying buyers to take the oil off their hands, in part because they have run out of storage capacity. While there has been some slight recovery, there is a worldwide glut of oil-producing capacity. At the same time, the shutdown of much of the world's economic activity has all but dried up demand. It is recognized that oil is crucial to Nigeria, which usually produces 2 million barrels per day, and Angola, which produces about 1.8 million barrels. Less well known is that over the past decade other African countries have entered the oil market. So much so that oil now accounts for more than half of sub-Sahara Africa's exports. Further, African governments are often overly dependent on oil revenue, even when their oil industry is playing a declining role in their national economies. In Nigeria, for example oil accounts for less than 10 percent of GDP, but accounts for more than 90 percent of the country's foreign exchange and can account for as much as 70 percent of the government revenue. Yet, faced with the costs of responding to the virus and the possibility, even likelihood, of famine, African governments will desperately need revenue and foreign exchange, both of which are disappearing. Governments will need to turn to the international financial institutions and foreign governments.  Eventually, oil will stabilize and the virus will be controlled. But it is hard to see oil prices ever again achieving their former levels; as recently as 2011, oil sold on the international market for over $110 a barrel, and many African governments were flush with cash. Those days are unlikely to ever return. This may force a reckoning in how African economies develop in the future.

The new coronavirus has led to a slowdown in economic activity in China and East Asia more broadly. The global price of oil has now fallen to $53 a barrel. This is beginning to affect the oil-exporting countries of Africa. According to Africa Confidential, three-quarters of Nigeria’s and Angola’s oil production ear-marked for export in April is unsold. Similar deficits are reported from Chad, Republic of Congo, and Gabon. Though oil is a declining percentage of African economic activity, many governments remain overly dependent on it for their revenue. In Nigeria, oil accounts for as much as 70 percent of total government revenue (federal, state, and local) and 90 percent of export earnings; in Angola, oil accounts for around 75 percent of total government revenue and 90 percent of export earnings. The budget of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, however, is based on an oil price of $57 per barrel. The Nigerian finance minister, Zainab Ahmed, is accordingly conducting a review of the national budget.  Thus far, Africa appears to be less directly affected by the coronavirus than other parts of the world. Sub-Saharan Africa has only eight reported cases as of March 5. (Including North Africa brings the total to forty-three.) But it is not clear whether the weakness of public health systems means that the disease is present to a greater extent than statistics would indicate. Still, the experience of West Africa and Democratic Republic of Congo with Ebola may have left those health systems more prepared to prevent coronavirus from spreading.  Governments in Africa overall remain weaker and less developed than in other parts of the world. Countries there, particularly where governments are heavily reliant on commodities for revenue, are likely to suffer more from the general global economic slowdown, even if they avoid a major local coronavirus outbreak.

Secretary of State Mike Pompeo recently completed his first trip in his current role to Africa. Over three days, he visited Dakar in Senegal, Luanda in Angola, and Addis Ababa in Ethiopia, where he also visited the head of the African Union. During the trip, Secretary Pompeo advocated for a stronger U.S.-Africa relationship amidst China’s growing role on the continent.  Though President Trump appears to have no interest in Africa beyond seemingly unfiltered insults, some in his administration have visited, thought not to the same extent as previous administrations. His wife Melania, his daughter Ivanka, Secretary of Commerce Wilbur Ross, and former Secretary of State Rex Tillerson have all visited the continent, though the latter was fired by Trump during his trip. Unlike past administrations, the Trump administration has no high profile, signature Africa policy initiative, such as President Bill Clinton’s Africa Growth and Opportunity Act (AGOA), President George W. Bush’s campaign against HIV/AID (the President’s Emergency Plan for Aids Relief, or PEPFAR), or President Barack Obama’s electric power initiative (Power Africa).  The Trump administration’s Africa strategy, Prosper Africa, envisages facilitating greater American private sector investment and trade with Africa. Its Development Finance Corporation has significant potential, building on and ultimately replacing the Overseas Private Investment Corporation, but it is underfunded and is only just now becoming operational. Prosper Africa’s roll-out rhetoric by then National Security Advisor John Bolton seemed more concerned with countering China’s political and security influence on the continent than on political, social, or economic development. Meanwhile the Trump administration’s new “travel ban,” suspending immigration to the United States from Eritrea, Nigeria, Sudan, and Tanzania because of alleged security shortcomings, is unlikely to encourage American private sector involvement with Africa.  But in general, American policy toward Africa—encouraging democracy and the rule of law, facilitating economic development, and supporting the development of African security initiatives and capabilities—remains consistent with that of previous administrations, driven below the cabinet level and from outside the White House. Assistant Secretary of State for Africa Tibor Nagy and USAID Administrator Mark Green get high marks for management, and Congress has blocked Trump administration efforts to eviscerate the various assistance programs from which Africa benefits.  Moreover, American soft power endures, going from strength to strength. China may have peppered the continent with Confucius Institutes designed to expand its influence through the study of Chinese language and culture, but the National Basketball Association’s (NBA) Africa league and the enduring power of Hollywood promote American mass culture to a much larger popular audience. Aubrey Hruby observes that the movie “Black Panther” and the NBA do more to build American influence than cabinet visits. And that is even leaving aside Oprah! It is always worth keeping in mind that the American relationship with Africa is much more than presidential administrations.

2020 is off to a rough start for “Africa’s richest woman,” Isabel dos Santos, the jet-setting daughter of former Angolan President José Eduardo dos Santos, who led his country for 38 years until being succeeded in 2017 by current President João Lourenço. Ms. Dos Santos is at the center of the Luanda Leaks, a series of investigative reports developed by the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists and informed by a voluminous amount of documentation that a Portuguese hacker provided to the Platform to Protect Whistleblowers in Africa. The reports detail how Ms. Dos Santos used access to the state’s resources for private gain, including by transferring funds from state-owned enterprises to offshore private companies that she and her allies controlled. Angolan authorities have frozen her bank accounts, and last week the Angolan attorney general announced that she had been indicted for money laundering, mismanagement, and other economic crimes, largely committed during her tenure as head of the state-owned oil company Sonangol from June 2016 to November 2017.  In considering these reports, it’s worth remembering just how poor many Angolans are and how battered the infrastructure of the state remains 18 years after the end of the brutal civil war. Angola’s human development indicators are distressing, from infant mortality to access to education to the overall portion of citizens living in poverty. 44% of Angolan citizens don’t even have access to clean water. It is certainly not the case that grand corruption in Angola is a victimless crime. In one sense, the Luanda Leaks are explosive. They provide an evidentiary basis for legal action, and pull back the curtain on the mechanics of looting the Angolan state and the network of enablers that benefited along the way. But at the same time, they are hardly breaking news. Angolan activists and journalists have pointed out the grotesque nature of corruption in the country for decades, often at great personal risk. In financial and political capitals around the world, no one who has any familiarity with Angola is genuinely surprised by these revelations. Of course, one hopes that the fallout from the Luanda Leaks will deter others from using public positions of trust for private gain, and that it will shame those glossy international service providers who facilitated graft into a better faith effort at compliance and diligence. But it should also prompt some soul-searching in a wider circle. How is it that, collectively, people around the world had resigned themselves to the notion that stealing from the public was simply business as usual in Angola? What passed for world-weary sophistication was something much more insidious—an easy tolerance for injustice and a cynicism that enrages the people who suffer while elites congratulate themselves for being in the know.

Several southern African states are in the news for anti-corruption efforts. In South Africa, President Cyril Ramaphosa has established a special tribunal to expedite state efforts to track down ill-gotten gains. In Mozambique, the former chief of the intelligence service and the former president’s son have been arrested in connection with a multi-billion dollar corruption scandal. In Angola, which also witnessed the arrest of a former president’s son last year, two sitting members of National Assembly from the ruling party were recently indicted on charges relating to corruption. These headlines are cheering to good governance advocates. However, in all three cases, the same party that held the reins of government when alleged corrupt practices occurred remains in power today. Southern Africa’s ruling parties are contorted in knots as they try to simultaneously protect their privileged position in the political and economic landscape while addressing the corruption that has corroded their popularity and integrity. The balancing act falls heavily on the shoulders of the region’s presidents, who must constantly calibrate how far to go in holding senior members of their own party to account, and to anticipate the invisible lines that, if crossed, would split the party or loosen their own grips on the party’s top spot. Thus, President Ramaphosa’s special tribunal will deal with cases brought by the Special Investigating Unit, which in turn investigates those cases referred by the president. It is all part of a web of authorities that allows the president considerable discretion in determining who will and will not be held accountable for past misdeeds. It remains to be seen whether the Mozambique arrests were merely responses to international pressure, useful theater before October’s elections, or whether they will lead to convictions and, finally, a full accounting for the hidden loan scandal first exposed in 2016. Many of Angolan President João Lourenço’s reforms can be understood as moves to consolidate his power and break the hold of former President José Eduardo dos Santos’s old guard—whether the state will operate in a fundamentally more transparent way going forward remains an open question—although there are some encouraging signs. Because the internal balancing act is so difficult, and so urgent, it is likely to consume most of the energy, attention, and political will of these leaders and their governments, with potentially far-reaching implications. Managing an anti-corruption drive as an internal party affair may mean missing an opportunity to strengthen democratic accountability in a country overall. Equally, as the Southern African Development Community (SADC)'s tepid response to crisis in Zimbabwe and fraudulent elections in the Democratic Republic of Congo suggests, this delicate internal work leaves little appetite for bold strokes or clear regional leadership in foreign affairs.

Recent news out of Angola has raised the stakes in new President Joao Lourenco’s push to differentiate his tenure from that of his predecessor. Though he became president in September 2017, it was not until a year later that Lourenco assumed control of the ruling party, the Popular Movement for the Liberation of Angola (MPLA), significantly bolstering his authority in a country where the distinction between the party and the government has never been entirely clear. The world got a hint of how he intends to use his newly consolidated power last month with the arrest of Jose Filomeno dos Santos, son of former President Jose Eduardo dos Santos, whose tenure in office lasted thirty-eight years.  The younger dos Santos had served as the chair of Angola’s sovereign wealth fund until January, when he was removed in the wake of reports regarding inappropriate payments to the fund’s asset manager. (His sister, Isabel dos Santos, was removed from her position at the head of the state oil company, Sonagol, last year as well.) By March he was facing criminal charges, stemming from allegations of an illicit transfer of half-a-billion dollars from Angola’s central bank to an account in the UK. His arrest, along with others in recent days including that of a former transportation minister and the head of the Eduardo dos Santos Foundation, suggest that Lourenco is committed to a public and dramatic break from the past.  But it remains to be seen what kind of change is in store for Angola. For many years, the dos Santos family seemed inseparable from the MPLA, which derived its legitimacy not just from the party’s history of resistance to Portuguese colonialism, but also its ultimate victory in the long civil war that ended in 2002. That the MPLA drove out the oppressors and ended the war was enough for a time. It is not enough anymore.  With a majority of Angolans too young to remember personal experiences of the war, President Lourenco may be working on a new narrative about legitimacy in Angola, one in which leadership is based on taking on some of the country’s endemic corruption and lifting more Angolans out of poverty. But he must contend with a party and governing structures that were not created for these purposes, and with elites threatened by change. Whether he will undertake a transformational project or simply replace the old guard with his own loyalists will be determined not simply by his intentions, but also by the capacity of the MPLA to reform, and the degree to which Angolans themselves demand fundamental change.

Rachael Sullivan is a Master of Public Administration candidate at Columbia University School of International and Public Affairs. She is currently a Franklin Williams intern at the Council on Foreign Relations.  After almost thirty-eight years of rule by President José Eduardo dos Santos, Angolans went to the polls today to elect a new president. This change in leadership should be closely watched by not only the continent, but by the United States as well. President Trump still has yet to formulate a coherent policy toward Africa, and many key Africa policy positions remain conspicuously unfilled. Publicly, U.S. policy in Africa seems nonexistent. Toward Angola, however, some continuity can be found within the Department of Defense. In line with previous administrations, the Trump administration announced plans to maintain strong ties with the southern African nation. Under the Bush administration in 2006, the U.S. military created the Africa Partnership Station (APS), in an effort to promote security cooperation. APS offers training and assistance to African nations, like Angola, combatting smugglers, traffickers, and extremist groups in the Gulf of Guinea, a critical maritime energy corridor and naval passage for U.S. trade. In 2009 the Obama administration declared Angola to be one of three strategic African partners (along with Nigeria and South Africa) to the United States. Over the years, Angola has emerged as one of the key players on the continent and a crucial partner for the U.S. It is the second largest producer of crude oil in sub-Saharan Africa, and the third-largest trading partner from the region to the United States. Angola is also a partner to Power Africa, and has signed trade and investment agreements with the U.S.  Under the Obama administration in June 2010, the United States and Angola signed the U.S.-Angola Strategic Partnership Dialogue, renewing focus on bilateral relations and cementing efforts to foster strategic cooperation in energy, trade, democracy promotion, and security. The two countries subsequently established a cooperative working group to focus on Angola’s growing role in African regional security, combatting human trafficking, the destruction of excess munitions, and joint efforts to improve air and maritime security, particularly in the Gulf of Guinea.    U.S. defense policy toward Angola for the Trump administration seems no different. In May 2017, Angola’s defense minister, João Lourenço, and now the leading presidential candidate, visited the U.S. to meet with his American counterpart, Secretary of Defense Jim Mattis. The two signed a Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) acknowledging the strategic security partnership between their respective countries. During the meeting, Secretary Mattis praised Angola for its leadership in central Africa, especially the Democratic Republic of Congo and Burundi. He also recognized Angola for its role as a non-permanent member on the UN Security Council and host of the 2015 International Maritime and Energy Security conference. He identified the MOU as the beginning of a long-term partnership with Angola, particularly on combating piracy in the Gulf of Guinea. The MOU supports the continued training of Angolan security service members in the U.S., as well as English language training and addressing HIV/AIDS within its military.  Lourenço, in an interview with the Washington Post, emphasized the continued importance of the U.S. to Angola. In turn, he says, the U.S. has much to gain from Angola—military cooperation, investment opportunities, and the export of natural resources. Lourenço is likely to become Angola’s next president. His election would maintain the country's defense policy. As Angola undergoes a change in leadership it will be interesting to see just how the Trump administration plans to develop this strategic partnership, especially as its Africa policy begins to materialize.   

Gabriella Meltzer is a research associate in the Council on Foreign Relations Global Health program. From Ebola to Zika, recent global health crises have been defined by unpredictable outbreaks of mysterious pathogens. However, the yellow fever epidemic currently sweeping across Angola and the Democratic Republic of the Congo was not only predictable, but could have been stopped by the World Health Organization (WHO) with the necessary political will and logistical organization. Like Zika, yellow fever is carried by the Aedes mosquito, and is endemic to tropical parts of Sub-Saharan Africa, along with South and Central America. Most cases are asymptomatic or mild with fever, chills, nausea, and fatigue, but roughly 15 percent become more severe. About half of these cases prove fatal. Similar to other mosquito-borne diseases, yellow fever is typically transmitted between infected mosquitos and non-human primates in jungle environments. However, deforestation and general climate change often create more hospitable breeding grounds closer to human populations. Yellow fever then enters an urban cycle, whereby people and mosquitos infect each other. Unlike in the jungle, the virus is no longer naturally contained—transmission occurs quickly in overcrowded environments ripe for mosquitos where people are constantly in motion. The Central African cities of Luanda, Angola and Kinshasa, Congo have been at the epicenter of the most recent outbreak. Since December 2015, there have been 3,818 suspected cases and 369 deaths in Angola, and 2,051 suspected cases and 95 reported deaths throughout Congo. Both of these nations are plagued by weak health systems with average life expectancies of fifty-three and sixty, respectively. The collapse of global oil prices has forced Angola to cut public spending by 40 percent over the past two years, allowing Luanda’s trash collection and water sanitation services to fall by the wayside and mosquitos to proliferate. Meanwhile, Congo has only one lab with diagnostic capabilities for a country with a population of nearly sixty-eight million, ten million of whom are located in densely populated Kinshasa. It is shocking and disappointing that this epidemic continues to escalate while a yellow fever vaccine exists—one that not only provides lifelong immunity, but is safe and inexpensive to produce. There are five manufacturers worldwide, and production costs are just over one dollar. The WHO-led International Coordinating Group for Yellow Fever Vaccine Provision (ICG) only maintains a small emergency vaccine stockpile of six million in the event of an outbreak. In 2015, UNICEF reported a 42 percent shortage of supply relative to global demand before this epidemic even began. The WHO, plagued by mismanagement and lack of accountability, has once again found itself scrambling to contain a quickly spreading virus in Sub-Saharan Africa. Not only have administered doses been diluted by 80 percent to maximize emergency coverage, but of the six million emergency doses sent to Angola in February, one million disappeared entirely—a claim the agency has publicly denied. Many of the shipments that did reach the region were sent to areas with no cases, arrived without proper materials, or were not kept cold enough to ensure effectiveness. Angola, Congo, and many other at-risk countries throughout Sub-Saharan Africa must take proactive measures to strengthen their weak health systems to counter the growing threat of mosquito-borne and other viruses. But in the interim, these nations must rely upon the support of a WHO that is failing them.

This is a guest post by Allen Grane, research associate for the Council on Foreign Relations Africa Studies program. In recent years, southern Africa has been the last bastion for elephant protection. Countries such as Botswana, Namibia, South Africa, Zambia, and Zimbabwe have been regarded as the leaders of elephant conservation in Africa. While countries like the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Tanzania have seen substantial decreases in their elephant populations, many southern African countries have seen an increase in their numbers. In this light, it is all the more worrying that certain areas of southern Africa are being targeted by elephant poachers. The first sign was in South Africa’s famed Kruger National Park in May 2014. For the first time in over ten years, poachers entered the park with the intent of killing an elephant for its tusks and succeeded. (While South Africa’s elephants have been relatively safe over recent years, its rhinoceros population is under serious threat.) By the end of 2015, the number of elephants poached in Kruger had reached twenty. Compared to the thousands killed in Tanzania this number is small, but it is worrying, nevertheless. Perhaps more alarming is a recent study conducted by the Great Elephant Census in Zambia. While the elephant population across that country is stable, the southern regions of Zambia have witnessed declining numbers due to poaching. Sioma Ngwezi National Park in particular has seen a catastrophic decline in its elephants. In fact, the survey only identified 48 live elephants compared to 280 elephant carcasses. Sioma Ngwezi is in the southwestern corner of Zambia, bordering Angola and Namibia, and just over forty miles from Botswana. The potential for poachers to move between countries and parks is very high, which could place populations in all four countries at risk. The southern African country of Mozambique, which has seen high levels of poaching, has faced its greatest threat of poaching in Niassa National Park, a park that has a common border with Tanzania. Until now the great success of southern African countries has been due to their willingness to prioritize conservation and protect their elephant populations. Unfortunately, these countries don’t have the resources to train and equip their park services and rangers to cover all of their territory, meaning that there will always be ‘safe zones’ where poachers can operate with near impunity. Until the market for illicit elephant ivory is eliminated, it is likely that we will continue to see these poaching hotspots, despite the hard work of local governments and conservationists.

This is a guest post by Thomas Zuber, intern for the Council on Foreign Relations Africa Studies program. He is currently pursuing a Master’s in International Political Economy and Development at Fordham University.  The Ebola crisis in West Africa has distracted international attention from developments in other parts of Africa, notably in the Central African Republic (CAR). On September 15, the UN Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in Central African Republic (MINUSCA) initiated peacekeeping operations in a country divided by civil war. It began working alongside two thousand French soldiers already on the ground and is integrating African Union troops into what will be a twelve thousand strong peacekeeping mission. Since October 7, violence has escalated in CAR’s capital, Bangui. This most recent renewal of hostilities has already displaced 6,500 people. On October 9, a UN convoy was attacked on the outskirts of Bangui. The mission repelled an attack on the interim president’s house on October 11. These developments serve as reminders of the obstacles facing MINUSCA: continued sectarian violence between two main factions, the Selaka and anti-balakas (anti-machete), the weakness of the current interim government, and one of the worst food crises in the country’s history. As of September 12, Associated Press estimated that 5,186 people had died from the violence since late 2012. In December 2012, a loose coalition of rebels, the Seleka, marched on Bangui and overthrew the government in March 2013. In the following months, self-proclaimed president Michel Djotodia lost control of Seleka factions, which perpetuated violence throughout the country. In response, anti-balaka militias formed, resulting in extreme violence between the two groups. In January 2014, Djotodia resigned due to pressure from regional leaders; in his place, Catherine Samba-Panza, a non-partisan, was installed as interim president. She inherited a country torn by a conflict that was taking on religious-ethnic dimensions and a catastrophic humanitarian crisis. MINUSCA starts at a time when the government is faced with a crisis of legitimacy, compounded by the recent allegations that president Samba-Panza mis-used aid from Angola. Seleka and anti-balaka factions exhibit no faith in the government. On October 8, Bangui experienced violent demonstrations by anti-balaka forces demanding Samba-Panza step down. These demands were subsequently withdrawn, though violence in the country seems to be increasing. Despite reticence to present this conflict in religious terms, religion has been used to foment division among the population. Earlier this week, a faction of the anti-balaka beheaded a Muslim man in Bangui. Many Muslims (the religion of most Seleka) are fleeing as they are often targeted by the anti-balaka. The violence of this year has created a partition between Muslims and Christians within the country on a scale not seen before. These political developments are exacerbated by a serious humanitarian crisis. According to the World Food Program (WFP), as of May 2014, more than 600,000 people have been internally displaced and 1.6 million people (over half of CAR’s population) are food insecure. Despite these realities, WFP’s restricted budget has not been able to focus on CAR’s humanitarian crisis, instead concentrating on Syria, DRC, and South Sudan. Furthermore, persistent threats to aid organizations by in-fighting constrict their ability to provide basic services to the population. Within this context, MINUSCA and the Central African government face a great deal of challenges. Despite foreign governments reestablishing full embassy missions in Bangui, conflict persists. The Seleka have refused to recognize Samba-Panza’s government. The vast numbers of internally displaced people and refugees add a further strain to the country and the region’s numerous challenges. MINUSCA faces great challenges and great responsibilities, in what has been dubbed the UN’s most ambitious mission. The months ahead will be a test for the Samba-Panza government and the international community’s responsiveness in stabilizing a country already too ravaged by war.

First, a primer. The UN Security Council consists of fifteen members. Five are permanent and have the power to veto all resolutions. These member states are China, France, Russia, the United Kingdom, and the United States. In addition, there are ten non-permanent members that are elected for two-year terms by the UN membership in the General Assembly. To be elected as a non-permanent member, a candidate country must receive a two-thirds vote in the General Assembly. Countries are divided into regional groups, and, by an agreement of some years standing, each group is assigned a specific number of non-permanent seats. The groups and the number of non-permanent Security Council seats they are assigned as follows: Africa, three; Asia-Pacific, two; Eastern Europe, one; Latin America and the Caribbean, two; and Western Europe and Others, two. If there are closely matched rivals for a regional non-permanent seat it is possible to have prolonged deadlock in the voting due to the two-thirds requirement. There have been cases of more than a hundred votes before a compromise was reached. At present, the three African seats are held by Nigeria, Chad, and Rwanda. The terms of Nigeria and Chad expire in December 2015; Rwanda’s term expires in December 2014. Angola is the only African country to have declared its candidacy for the seat now held by Rwanda. Angola’s candidacy is strong. It has served before as a non-permanent member, in 2003-2004. It enjoys the support of the South African Development Community and the Portuguese Speaking Countries Community. The Angolan government claims the endorsement of permanent members of the Security Council. Angola as a non-permanent Council member would provide linguistic balance in the Africa group: Nigeria is Anglophone, Chad is Francophone, and Angola is Lusophone: English, French, and Portuguese are the principle European languages spoken in Africa. The Security Council is especially important to Africa. It is responsible for UN peacekeeping missions, more of which are located in Africa than on any other continent. Support for reform of the Security Council is widespread in Africa. Nigeria and South Africa have campaigned for permanent seats on the Council, and each advances its candidacy for a permanent ‘African’ seat. Most Africans who follow the United Nations also advocate for the abolition of the veto power by permanent members. Other states urging for reform of the Security Council include Brazil, Germany, India, and Japan. However, reform of the Security Council is a long way off. Reform would require the approval of all five of the permanent members, and that is not in the cards. Reform of the Council would, in effect, reduce the present power of the permanent members.