Food and Water Security

Advances in emerging technologies hold the promise to both alleviate the food crisis and amplify American influence abroad.

Nigeria's Vice President Yemi Osinbajo addressed on February 23 a UN Food Systems Summit organized by the Nigerian government in Abuja, the national capital. He was blunt about the country's food insecurity problem. He noted that Nigeria's population is growing much faster than the economy, limiting its ability to build resilient, sustainable food systems. The conference considered a variety of possible approaches to increasing food production. Their relevance to Nigeria's realities remains to be seen. But Osinbajo addressed an important driver of food insecurity—Nigeria's rapidly growing population. Already an estimated 219 million, the population is projected to reach more than 400 million by mid-century, by which time it would displace the United States as the third largest country in the world. Nigeria is also, at the same time, quickly urbanizing. More than half of the population already lives in cities, most of which lack the necessary infrastructure to accommodate their residents. Nigerians often cite an abundance of good farmland and lament a lack of investment in agriculture. Certainly, agricultural investment has suffered from the diversion of investment capital to the oil industry and also from misguided public policy in the years before and after independence. But the abundance of good agricultural land is overstated: desertification affects as much as 60 percent of Nigeria's land, with drought and climate change exacerbating land deterioration. The Sahara Desert is creeping south while a rising Gulf of Guinea, coupled with a sinking continental shelf, threatens coastal areas. If increasing agricultural production will be a challenge, so, too, is reducing the birthrate. The statistically average Nigerian woman bears more than five children. But the rate varies across ethnic, religious, and local government lines, with a high of 7.3 births per woman in Katsina State and a low of 3.4 births per woman in Lagos State. In addition, among many “Big Men,” fathering large numbers of children is viewed as a dimension of their power. The government has tried to impose a population policy but failed to achieve its aims due to weak political will and hard-to-overcome cultural factors favoring a high birth rate. Nevertheless, Osinbajo's straight talk about an awkward issue is to be commended. In 2022, the ruling party is likely to nominate a southern Christian for the presidency, preserving the alternation of the office between the Muslim north and the Christian south. Osinbajo is a Christian, a Pentecostal preacher. However, he has described himself as "on loan" from the church to the government, and it is unclear that he will actively seek the nomination.

Kaduna is increasingly the epicenter of violence in Nigeria, rivaling Borno state, the home turf of Boko Haram. In rural areas, conflicts over water and land use are escalating, and Ansaru, a less prominent Islamist group, is active. Over the past year, some four hundred people were abducted for ransom in the state by criminal gangs; more than two hundred violent events resulted in nearly one thousand fatalities, and some fifty thousand are internally displaced. These estimates apply to the state as a whole, including the city of Kaduna, the capital of the state. The city of Kaduna has long been a center of political, ethnic, and religious violence. The city has undergone ethnic "cleansing," with Christians now concentrated in south Kaduna city and the Muslims in the north. Since the end of military rule in 1998–99, Kaduna city saw election-related violence that soon turned into bloodshed along ethnic and religious lines. Like the Nigerian state, the city of Kaduna is a British colonial creation orchestrated by Lord Frederick Lugard, first governor general of an amalgamated Nigeria. He established Kaduna as the British administrative capital of the northern half of the country, to be situated on the railway that linked Lagos and Kano—then, as now, Nigeria's largest cities. As the administrative capital of the north, Kaduna acquired some of the accoutrements of British colonialism, including a race track, polo, and expat club. A number of foreign governments, including the United States, established consulates in Kaduna, an "artificial," planned city reminiscent of the current capital, Abuja. The British encouraged Muslims incomers to settle in the north and Christians in the south. In part because of the railway connections, Kaduna became an important manufacturing center, especially for textiles. An international airport was eventually built. But the last half-century has not been kind. Nigeria moved from four regions, of which Kaduna was the capital of the largest, to thirty-six states. The establishment of a new national capital at Abuja led to the departure of consulates and many international business links, and, while the airport survives, most regional air traffic goes to Abuja. The textile industry and most heavy manufacturing have also collapsed, the consequence of erratic economic policy, underinvestment, and foreign competition. The national railway network became moribund and is only now being restored by the Chinese. Yet Kaduna's urban population has exploded. In the 2006 census [PDF], the state capital's population was 760,084; now, the estimate is closer to 1.8 million. Agricultural output has collapsed, the result of climate change and the breakdown of security, resulting in waves of migrants into a city that does not have the infrastructure to accommodate them. Very high levels of unemployment (nobody really knows how high), a youth bulge, and shortage of housing makes the city a veritable petri dish for violence that acquires an ethnic and religious coloration. Further, the traditional Islamic institutions to be found elsewhere in the north were either never present in the British-founded city or have been weak.  Hence, in the city of Kaduna, violence is multifaceted in origin, and no one strategy is likely to bring it under control. At best, small steps to improve services to the population could buy some time for the larger political, economic, and social changes that will be necessary to restore the health of the city.

Herman J. Cohen is the former assistant secretary of state for African affairs (1989–93), the former U.S. ambassador to the Gambia and Senegal (1977–80), and was a member of the U.S. Foreign Service for thirty-eight years. Climate change is both one of the greatest threats to Africa and an area in which Biden administration policy is most likely to differ from President Trump's. Through his leadership on this issue, the president-elect has a chance to make a difference for millions of Africans while setting a global example for urgent action. The science of climate change in Africa is undeniable. It is already destroying crops, causing floods and droughts, and subjecting impoverished people to severe heat waves. Climate change is not a hypothetical for Africans: it is spreading hunger and desperation while helping violent extremists gain a foothold. For instance, in the Sahel—perhaps the world's most vulnerable region —militants are taking advantage of near-famine, competition for resources, and diminishing agricultural yields to bolster their ranks and stoke conflict. The U.S. Department of Defense has warned that counterterrorism efforts there are "not getting the job done," and that the territory could serve as the basis for another Islamic State-style caliphate, menacing both Africans and the West. Violent conflict has also emerged between pastoralist ethnic groups seeking new pasture for their livestock and agricultural tribes to the south guarding their land. These localized conflicts, exacerbated by climate change, are a basis for exploitation by Islamist extremists with international ambitions. The United Nations is raising billions in aid to try and prevent the region from sinking into famine, but international efforts can do better to address the fundamental role of climate change in the Sahel's instability, and its threat to Africa writ large. The Biden administration could lead on this issue. There are several existing opportunities for a Biden climate change policy in Africa. Africa relies heavily on agriculture for revenue and sustenance. Climate change is afflicting both food production and freshwater availability in Africa, which already struggles to provide these basic necessities. Fortunately, Africa has nearly 60 percent of the world's arable land, and with support, it could feed people on both the continent and around the world. The Biden administration should vigorously focus on food production and agricultural modernization, and consider building capacity for desalination to protect Africans from the effects of worsening water shortages. Power generation and delivery is nearly as important. Reliable electricity is a prerequisite for the prosperity which has so far eluded African economies. Only 43 percent of Africans have any access to electricity, and even in the continent's most developed economies, the grid is often erratic and impossible to rely on for business. The United States’ Power Africa program, which began under President Obama and continued under President Trump, has successfully added tens of thousands of megawatts in new power generation through public-private partnerships. Much of this investment has been in renewable energy generation, including solar, wind, hydroelectric, and biomass. But others have been in oil and gas. The Biden administration can expand this existing program to help Africa build reliable green power infrastructure, a process that will create jobs and investment both in the United States and on the continent. To advance sustainable prosperity, President-elect Biden should ensure the program is moving the continent towards renewable energy, instead of power generation modes that will make Africa's problems worse. Power Africa could also promote changes to existing "dirty" infrastructure. Flaring from offshore oil platforms is a key source of greenhouse gas emissions—Power Africa could provide technical expertise to reduce them while encouraging African states to move away from fossil fuels. Mobile money transactions are the root of informal African commerce, and many portable transmission towers are powered with diesel fuel generators—Power Africa could work to replace these with solar microgrids. One of President Trump's best ideas was to plant one trillion trees by 2030. The Biden administration should sustain this initiative, with a focus on the Sahel and in the Congo Basin, the world's second-largest rain forest and an enormous carbon sponge. Slash-and-burn logging is creating a global threat by decimating the ecosystem there. The president-elect's foreign aid could preserve and rehabilitate these forests, which can provide an employment opportunity for at-risk youth while augmenting carbon absorption. Climate change also threatens Africa's fisheries, adding to the existing menace of foreign fleets, primarily from China, plundering its fish stocks with impunity and depriving Africans of revenue and protein. African fisherman have increasingly resorted to piracy—the West African coast has perhaps the world's most dangerous waters. American foreign aid could provide equipment and training to protect African fisheries from climate change and foreign adversaries, creating a sustainable source of food and profit. Every recent U.S. president has had a signature Africa program of some kind. President-elect Biden may find that existing foreign aid frameworks are insufficient to meet Africa's need for help, and ability to provide solutions, on climate change. This is a ripe opportunity for Biden to make a lasting difference on the continent.

Recent events are straining the global watercourse governance system. Countries need to articulate and abide by universal norms and standards on sustainable and equitable water resource use to secure safe access to water.

Stephanie Hanson is the senior vice president of policy and partnerships at One Acre Fund, an agriculture organization serving one million farmers in Africa. The COVID-19 pandemic poses challenges for African agriculture. Farming is the dominant way people in sub-Saharan Africa earn their living and feed their families. But government restrictions on movement designed to slow the spread of COVID-19 have made the daily activities of African farmers more difficult and may well lead to a reduction in the production and availability of food in markets. For example, purchasing seed and fertilizer is more difficult when many agrodealer shops are closed. Obtaining financing to purchase that seed and fertilizer is harder when microfinance organizations are not making new loans. Selling vegetable crops at market can be impossible when markets are closed or curfews limit transportation options to reach markets. In addition, East African farmers are also dealing with a second plague of locusts, a once-in-a-generation scourge that could decimates crops across the region. Though it is still early, the anecdotal evidence is worrisome. There are signs that local food prices are increasing in some countries and reports from farmers that lockdown measures have reduced their ability to grow and sell their produce. In Nigeria, for example, rice farmers are having trouble getting rice to market because of increased transport prices and unclear security regulations further inhibit the movement of food to urban markets. African governments in many countries, including Rwanda and Kenya, have made encouraging steps to allow the agriculture sector to continue to operate during lockdowns and movement restrictions, including recognizing agriculture as an “essential service.” But even in countries where agriculture has been designated an essential service, farmers and other actors in the agriculture sector find themselves uncertain of what’s allowed and what isn’t. In particular, more clarity is urgently needed for transport linkages that bring farm inputs to the last mile and farm production to consumers. Once African governments clearly define these rules, they need to work effectively with local government and local security officials to make sure those rules are implemented correctly. If national government gives farmers an exemption from a curfew to transport crops to market early in the morning, local police need to understand that exemption and allow farmers to reach those markets. International donors should prioritize support for African farmers because African governments have a limited ability to cushion the economic shock of COVID-19 on them. As a result, donors and governments should work together to keep financing flowing to farmers over the next twelve to eighteen months, a critical period for the next two growing seasons. As the Rural and Agriculture Finance Learning Lab suggests, bridge loans and first-loss guarantees can help incentivize financial institutions that provide credit to farmers to continue doing so through the pandemic. Focusing COVID-19 emergency aid on farmers now will reduce the amount of humanitarian food aid required as the pandemic continues, and help to prevent a health crisis from becoming a food security crisis.

Steve Schmida is the chief innovation officer of Resonance, a global development and corporate sustainability consulting firm, and author of Partner with Purpose. Emily Clayton is a senior manager for sustainability at Resonance. The UN is sounding the alarm on a looming disaster in Malawi brought on by the global coronavirus pandemic. Last week, Maria Jose Torres, the UN resident coordinator in Malawi, warned, “Even a fairly low number of cases could overwhelm the health system, cause food shortages, and reverse the progress the country has seen in recent years.” Malawi will need to focus on weathering the current storm with the help of international donors, but it should not return to the fragile status quo afterwards. One of the poorest countries in the world, Malawi is vulnerable to the COVID-19 pandemic on a number of fronts. It has a high population density and many of its citizens have underlying health conditions, which will likely increase rates of transmission and lethality. Its health system is weak and faces critical shortages of frontline health workers and personal protective gear. Worse still, the pandemic is poised to exacerbate Malawi’s already severe food security challenges. About 80 percent of the country’s population is engaged in subsistence farming, and the changing climate is making growing seasons less predictable. Severe flooding last year caused by Cyclone Idai wiped out crops and left 90,000 homeless, while decades of deforestation have degraded the soil and worsened droughts. Adding to the challenges, the country’s economy is heavily dependent upon a single cash crop—raw tobacco—which makes up nearly 71 percent of agricultural export earnings. A majority of tobacco growers are smallholder farmers who also face food insecurity, most commonly the result of drought. As tobacco use declines globally—a trend that the COVID-19 pandemic may well accelerate—Malawi faces the loss of a critical source of export earnings. To manage the immediate impact of COVID-19 amid the already fragile state of affairs, Malawi will need significant international assistance. While the World Bank has already pledged $37 million to support the COVID-19 response, more will be needed to ensure that the pandemic does not lead to a food security crisis. COVID-19 will not be the last disaster to come to Malawi, so the country should endeavor to build back better, rather than revert to the status quo ante. The agriculture sector that underpins the economy should be the starting point for this effort. First and foremost, the country needs to move away from tobacco as its primary cash crop. Promising alternatives include paprika, chili, groundnuts, and soybean. This transition can build on the robust tobacco supply chain that already exists, utilizing its agricultural extension services and access to market for other commodities. Much needed agriculture diversification will help increase farmer incomes and improve nutritional outcomes as well as help Malawi become more resilient to external shocks. Such a transition will not be easy and it is not something Malawi can tackle on its own. International donors as well as agricultural companies and investors must partner with the Malawian government to promote a systems-level change across the farming sector to improve the policy and regulatory environment, increase access to finance, and assist farmers in the transition from tobacco contract farming to high value horticulture and other crops. In responding to the COVID-19 pandemic, donors and Malawi’s leaders should look to the future. By building a more robust agricultural system post-COVID-19, Malawi can grow its economy and be better prepared for future crises.

The coronavirus pandemic is a major setback for efforts to achieve the Sustainable Development Goals.

In many African states, food insecurity is a serious problem getting worse by the day. This week, international experts sounded the alarm about acute food shortages affecting some 135 million people, more than half of them Africans. The coronavirus crisis, with its effect on livelihoods, productivity, and agricultural supply chains, could nearly double that already staggering number of people threatened with starvation. In East Africa, a plague of locusts is adding to the misery, decimating crops at a shocking pace. In the Sahel, insecurity and displacement contribute to the problem.  The intersection of the pandemic and hunger sets the stage for the politicization of urgent humanitarian assistance, particularly food. Around the world, leaders who are insecure about their own popularity and legitimacy often compensate by placing a high priority on projecting strength and control. These leaders may be particularly anxious about responding to COVID-19. The threat is difficult to counter and it resists permanent solutions, foreclosing opportunities to bask in the glow of victory. Worse still, the devastating economic fallout is inescapable. The temptation to project and consolidate power by controlling the very means of survival, access to food, may well be too powerful to resist. Already, NGOs on the ground in Zimbabwe have brought attention to food aid distribution being controlled by the ruling ZANU-PF party, which has a history of using food to shore up support. The past week also saw the arrest of a member of Parliament from the country’s main opposition party for violating the lockdown to distribute food. Zimbabweans were already struggling with negative growth and hyperinflation. Nearly 90% of Zimbabweans work in the informal economy, and they are now being cut off from their means of survival by lockdown policies intended to stop the spread of the virus. In this context of desperation, the ruling party may well be able to strengthen its hand, despite the ample evidence of its mismanagement and internal disarray, simply by positioning itself as a gatekeeper to food. Similarly in Uganda, an independent member of Parliament was recently arrested for distributing food to his constituents in contravention of presidential directives to channel all food aid through a national taskforce formed by President Museveni. While it is easy to see how uncoordinated distribution of critical supplies can lead to risky social proximity and undermine efforts to tamp down disease transmission, it is equally easy to see the political upside to President Museveni and his party of ensuring that no one associated with the growing opposition can help Ugandans cope with hunger. Of course, the politicization of assistance is not a new phenomenon. But the combination of draconian social controls associated with the COVID-19 response and the urgency of food insecurity in the region may foster particularly egregious examples going forward.

For a precarious global agricultural system with powerful feedback loops, business as usual means widespread hunger and embedded systemic risk.

Long-standing financial troubles and drought in Zimbabwe have pushed millions to the brink of starvation.

There are new reports of violence, characterized as farmer-herder conflict, in Chad. According to Agence France Presse and Voice of America, thirty-five have died [French] since May 16 in separate incidents across the Sila and Ouaddai provinces of eastern Chad. A Chadian prosecutor reported arresting thirty alleged perpetrators of the violence.  The media reports do not cite religious differences between the herders and farmer—the region in which the clashes took place is predominantly Muslim—though they may exist. Chad itself is about 60 percent Muslim, while the remainder is split between Christians and those of traditional beliefs. However, herders and farmers historically have been from different ethnic groups, and in this case it appears that the herders are Arab and the farmers are black Africans. Hence, an apparent conflict over land use may also have or develop an ethnic dimension.  In Nigeria, Chad’s more populous and more crowded neighbor to the southwest, farmer-herder conflict over water and land is a major source of instability and death tolls are far higher than those reported from Chad. Though concentrated in Nigeria’s middle belt states, such conflict it to be found elsewhere, and it is growing in intensity and geographic spread. Recently, the greatest number of deaths from farmer-herder conflict has been in Zamfara state, north of the middle belt. Ethnic and religious boundaries can coincide with those of conflicts over land and water use. For example, in some parts of Nigeria, Muslim Fulani herdsmen clash with Christian Berom farmers. Too often, a largely absent media reports these conflicts in the context of a struggle between “Muslims” and “Christians,” downplaying or ignoring ethnic rivalries and the competition for land and water, as well as the growing criminal dimension manifest in banditry and cattle rustling. But elsewhere, religious difference play little role, like in Zamfara, whose population is almost entirely Muslim. Chad’s Arabs and Nigeria’s Fulani have similarities: both groups traditionally are herders, both are predominately Muslim, and both historically preyed on smaller ethnic groups to feed the trans-Sahara slave trade, but the two are otherwise distinct. Chad has a small number of its own Fulanis, a semi-nomadic group spanning West Africa and the Sahel and numbering an estimated 40 million. In Nigeria, climate change drives desertification, pushing herders further south, where they compete with farmers for land and water, while a demographic boom puts further stress on these dwindling resources. Reports cited those factors as at play in farmer-herder conflicts in Chad. The Chadian and Nigerian governments are weak, with N'Djamena and Abuja unable to maintain security over large areas of their territory. Hence, cycles of attacks, cattle rustling, and other criminal activity are often a factor in ongoing conflicts between herders and farmers.