We can be sure that the 2016 presidential candidates, whoever they are, will be in favor of promoting opportunity and cutting poverty. The question is: how? In our contribution to a new volume published today, “Campaign 2016: Eight big issues the presidential candidates should address,” we show that people who clear three hurdles—graduating high school, working full-time, and delaying parenthood until they in a stable, two-parent family—are very much more likely to climb to middle class than fall into poverty:

But what specific policies would help people achieve these three benchmarks of success?  Our paper contains a number of ideas that candidates might want to adopt. Here are a few examples: 

1. To improve high school graduation rates, expand “Small Schools of Choice,” a program in New York City, which replaced large, existing schools with more numerous, smaller schools that had a theme or focus (like STEM or the arts). The program increased graduation rates by about 10 percentage points and also led to higher college enrollment with no increase in costs.

2. To support work, make the Child and Dependent Care Tax Credit (CDCTC) refundable and cap it at $100,000 in household income. Because the credit is currently non-refundable, low-income families receive little or no benefit, while those with incomes above $100,000 receive generous tax deductions. This proposal would make the program more equitable and facilitate low-income parents’ labor force participation, at no additional cost.

3. To strengthen families, make the most effective forms of birth control (IUDs and implants) more widely available at no cost to women, along with good counselling and a choice of all FDA-approved methods. Programs that have done this in selected cities and states have reduced unplanned pregnancies, saved money, and given women better ability to delay parenthood until they and their partners are ready to be parents. Delayed childbearing reduces poverty rates and leads to better prospects for the children in these families.

These are just a few examples of good ideas, based on the evidence, of what a candidate might want to propose and implement if elected. Additional ideas and analysis will be found in our longer paper on this topic.

In their recent blog for Social Mobility Memos, Brad Wilcox, Robert Lerman, and Joseph Price make a convincing case that a stable family structure is an important factor in increased social mobility, higher economic growth, and less poverty over time.

The interesting question is: what lies behind this relationship? Why is a rise (or a smaller decline) in the proportion of married families associated, for example, with higher growth in average family incomes or a decline in poverty? The authors suggest a number of reasons, including the positive effects of marriage for children, less crime, men’s engagement in work, and income pooling. Of these, however, income pooling is by far the most important. Individual earnings have increased very little, if at all, over the past three or four decades, so the only way for families to get ahead was to add a second earner to the household. This is only possible within marriage or some other type of income pooling arrangement like cohabitation. Marriage here is the means: income pooling is the end.

How do we encourage more people to share incomes and expenses? There are no easy answers. Wilcox and his co-authors favor reducing marriage penalties in tax and benefit programs, expanding training and apprenticeship programs, limiting divorces in cases where reconciliation is still possible, and civic efforts to convince young people to follow what I and others have called the “success sequence.” All of these ideas are fine in principle. The question is how much difference they can make in practice. Previous efforts have had at best modest results, as a number of articles in the recent issue of the Brookings-Princeton journal The Future of Children point out.      

Our success sequence, which Wilcox wants to use as the basis for a pro-marriage civic campaign, requires teens and young adults to complete their education, get established in a job, and to delay childbearing until after they are married. The message is the right one.

The problem is that many young adults are having children before marriage. Why? Early marriage is not compatible, in their view, with the need for extended education and training. They also want to spend longer finding the best life partner. These are good reasons to delay marriage. But pregnancies and births still occur, with or without marriage. For better or worse, our culture now tolerates, and often glamorizes, multiple relationships, including premarital sex and unwed parenting. This makes bringing back the success sequence difficult.

Our best bet is to help teens and young adults avoid having a child until they have completed their education, found a steady job, and most importantly, a stable partner with whom they want to raise children, and with whom they can pool their income. In many cases this means marriage; but not in all. The bottom line: teens and young adults need more access and better education and counselling on birth control, especially little-used but highly effective forms as the IUD and the implant. Contraception, not marriage, is where we should be focusing our attention.

Employment among lower-income men has declined by 11 percent since 1980 and has remained flat among lower-income women. Men and women in the top and middle of the income distribution, on the other hand, have been working as much or more since 1980, creating a growing “work gap” in labor market income between haves and have-nots.   

This paper simulates the effect of five labor market interventions (higher high school graduation rate, minimum wage increases, maintaining full employment, seeing all household heads work full time, and virtual marriages between single mothers and unattached men) on the average incomes of the poorest one-third of American households. They find that the most effective way to increase average incomes of the poorest Americans would be for household heads to work full time, whereas the least effective intervention would be increasing education.

In terms of actual impact on incomes, the simulation of all household heads working full time at their expected wage increased average household earnings by 54 percent from a baseline of $12,415 to $19,163. The research also suggests that even if all household heads worked just some—at expected wages or hours—average earnings would still increase by 16 percent.

The least effective simulation was increasing the high school graduation rate to 90 percent and having half of those “newly” graduated go on to receive some form of post-secondary education. The authors note that the low impact of increasing education on mobility is likely because only one in six of bottom-third adults live in a household in which someone gains a high school degree via the intervention.

Because single parents are disproportionately represented among low-income families, Sawhill and coauthors also explored the impact of adding a second earner to single-parent families through a simulation that pairs low-income, single-mother household heads with demographically similar but unrelated men. That simulation increased the average household earnings of the bottom-third only modestly, by $508, or about 4 percent.

Efforts to increase employment among heads of the poorest households must take into consideration why those household heads aren’t working, they note. According to data from the 2015 Census, the most cited reason for women not working is “taking care of home and family” and for men it is being “ill or disabled.”  

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As a rhetorical ideal, greater opportunity is hard to beat. Just about all candidates for high elected office declare their commitments to promoting opportunity – who, after all, could be against it? But opportunity is, to borrow a term from the philosopher and political theorist Isaiah Berlin, a "protean" word, with different meanings for different people at different times.

Typically, opportunity is closely entwined with an idea of upward mobility, especially between generations. The American Dream is couched in terms of a daughter or son of bartenders or farm workers becoming a lawyer, or perhaps even a U.S. senator. But even here, there are competing definitions of upward mobility.

It might mean being better off than your parents were at a similar age. This is what researchers call "absolute mobility," and largely relies on economic growth – the proverbial rising tide that raises most boats.

Or it could mean moving to a higher rung of the ladder within society, and so ending up in a better relative position than one's parents.

Scholars label this movement "relative mobility." And while there are many ways to think about status or standard of living – education, wealth, health, occupation – the most common yardstick is household income at or near middle age (which, somewhat depressingly, tends to be defined as 40).

As a basic principle, we ought to care about both kinds of mobility as proxies for opportunity. We want children to have the chance to do absolutely and relatively well in comparison to their parents.

On the One Hand…

So how are we doing? The good news is that economic standards of living have improved over time. Most children are therefore better off than their parents. Among children born in the 1970s and 1980s, 84 percent had higher incomes (even after adjusting for inflation) than their parents did at a similar age, according to a Pew study. Absolute upward income mobility, then, has been strong, and has helped children from every income class, especially those nearer the bottom of the ladder. More than 9 in 10 of those born into families in the bottom fifth of the income distribution have been upwardly mobile in this absolute sense.

There's a catch, though. Strong absolute mobility goes hand in hand with strong economic growth. So it is quite likely that these rates of generational progress will slow, since the potential growth rate of the economy has probably diminished. This risk is heightened by an increasingly unequal division of the proceeds of growth in recent years. Today's parents are certainly worried. Surveys show that they are far less certain than earlier cohorts that their children will be better off than they are.

If the story on absolute mobility may be about to turn for the worse, the picture for relative mobility is already pretty bad. The basic message here: pick your parents carefully. If you are born to parents in the poorest fifth of the income distribution, your chance of remaining stuck in that income group is around 35 to 40 percent. If you manage to be born into a higher-income family, the chances are similarly good that you will remain there in adulthood.

It would be wrong, however, to say that class positions are fixed. There is still a fair amount of fluidity or social mobility in America – just not as much as most people seem to believe or want. Relative mobility is especially sticky in the tails at the high and low end of the distribution. Mobility is also considerably lower for blacks than for whites, with blacks much less likely to escape from the bottom rungs of the ladder. Equally ominously, they are much more likely to fall down from the middle quintile.

Relative mobility rates in the United States are lower than the rhetoric about equal opportunity might suggest and lower than people believe. But are they getting worse? Current evidence suggests not. In fact, the trend line for relative mobility has been quite flat for the past few decades, according to work by Raj Chetty of Stanford and his co-researchers. It is simply not the case that the amount of intergenerational relative mobility has declined over time.

Whether this will remain the case as the generations of children exposed to growing income inequality mature is not yet clear, though. As one of us (Sawhill) has noted, when the rungs on the ladder of opportunity grow further apart, it becomes more difficult to climb the ladder. To the same point, in his latest book, Our Kids – The American Dream in Crisis, Robert Putnam of Harvard argues that the growing gaps not just in income but also in neighborhood conditions, family structure, parenting styles and educational opportunities will almost inevitably lead to less social mobility in the future. Indeed, these multiple disadvantages or advantages are increasingly clustered, making it harder for children growing up in disadvantaged circumstances to achieve the dream of becoming middle class.

The Geography of Opportunity

Another way to assess the amount of mobility in the United States is to compare it to that found in other high-income nations. Mobility rates are highest in Scandinavia and lowest in the United States, Britain and Italy, with Australia, Western Europe and Canada lying somewhere in between, according to analyses by Jo Blanden, of the University of Surrey and Miles Corak of the University of Ottawa. Interestingly, the most recent research suggests that the United States stands out most for its lack of downward mobility from the top. Or, to paraphrase Billie Holiday, God blesses the child that's got his own.

Any differences among countries, while notable, are more than matched by differences within Pioneering work (again by Raj Chetty and his colleagues) shows that some cities have much higher rates of upward mobility than others. From a mobility perspective, it is better to grow up in San Francisco, Seattle or Boston than in Atlanta, Baltimore or Detroit. Families that move to these high-mobility communities when their children are still relatively young enhance the chances that the children will have more education and higher incomes in early adulthood. Greater mobility can be found in places with better schools, fewer single parents, greater social capital, lower income inequality and less residential segregation. However, the extent to which these factors are causes rather than simply correlates of higher or lower mobility is not yet known. Scholarly efforts to establish why it is that some children move up the ladder and others don't are still in their infancy.

Models of Mobility

What is it about their families, their communities and their own characteristics that determine why they do or do not achieve some measure of success later in life?

To help get at this vital question, the Brookings Institution has created a life-cycle model of children's trajectories, using data from the National Longitudinal Survey of Youth on about 5,000 children from birth to age 40. (The resulting Social Genome Model is now a partnership among three institutions: Brookings, the Urban Institute and Child Trends). Our model tracks children's progress through multiple life stages with a corresponding set of success measures at the end of each. For example, children are considered successful at the end of elementary school if they have mastered basic reading and math skills and have acquired the behavioral or non-cognitive competencies that have been shown to predict later success. At the end of adolescence, success is measured by whether the young person has completed high school with a GPA average of 2.5 or better and has not been convicted of a crime or had a baby as a teenager.

These metrics capture common-sense intuition about what drives success. But they are also aligned with the empirical evidence on life trajectories. Educational achievement, for example, has a strong effect on later earnings and income, and this well-known linkage is reflected in the model. We have worked hard to adjust for confounding variables but cannot be sure that all such effects are truly causal. We do know that the model does a good job of predicting or projecting later outcomes.

Three findings from the model stand out. First, it's clear that success is a cumulative process. According to our measures, a child who is ready for school at age 5 is almost twice as likely to be successful at the end of elementary school as one who is not.

This doesn't mean that a life course is set in stone this early, however.

Children who get off track at an early age frequently get back on track at a later age; it's just that their chances are not nearly as good. So this is a powerful argument for intervening early in life. But it is not an argument for giving up on older youth.

Second, the chances of clearing our last hurdle – being middle class by middle age (specifically, having an income of around $68,000 for a family of four by age 40) – vary quite significantly. A little over half of all children born in the 1980s and 1990s achieved this goal. But those who are black or born into low-income families were very much less likely than others to achieve this benchmark.

Third, the effect of a child's circumstances at birth is strong. We use a multidimensional measure here, including not just the family's income but also the mother's education, the marital status of the parents and the birth weight of the child. Together, these factors have substantial effects on a child's subsequent success. Maternal education seems especially important.

The Social Genome Model, then, is a useful tool for looking under the hood at why some children succeed and others don't. But it can also be used to assess the likely impact of a variety of interventions designed to improve upward mobility. For one illustrative simulation, we hand-picked a battery of programs shown to be effective at different life stages – a parenting program, a high-quality early-edcation program, a reading and socio-emotional learning program in elementary school, a comprehensive high school reform model – and assessed the possible impact for low-income children benefiting from each of them, or all of them.

No single program does very much to close the gap between children from lower- and higher-income families. But the combined effects of multiple programs – that is, from intervening early and often in a child's life – has a surprisingly big impact. The gap of almost 20 percentage points in the chances of low-income and high-income children reaching the middle class shrinks to six percentage points. In other words, we are able to close about two-thirds of the initial gap in the life chances of these two groups of children. The black-white gap narrows, too.

Looking at the cumulative impact on adult incomes over a working life (all appropriately discounted with time) and comparing these lifetime income benefits to the costs of the programs, we believe that such investments would pass a cost-benefit test from the perspective of society as a whole and even from the narrower prospective of the taxpayers who fund the programs.

What Now?

Understanding the processes that lie beneath the patterns of social mobility is critical. It is not enough to know how good the odds of escaping are for a child born into poverty. We want to know why. We can never eliminate the effects of family background on an individual's life chances. But the wide variation among countries and among cities in the U.S. suggests that we could do better – and that public policy may have an important role to play. Models like the Social Genome are intended to assist in that endeavor, in part by allowing policymakers to bench- test competing initiatives based on the statistical evidence.

America's presumed exceptionalism is rooted in part on a belief that class-based distinctions are less important than in Western Europe. From this perspective, it is distressing to learn that American children do not have exceptional opportunities to get ahead – and that the consequences of gaps in children's initial circumstances might embed themselves in the social fabric over time, leading to even less social mobility in the future.

But there is also some cause for optimism. Programs that compensate at least to some degree for disadvantages earlier in life really can close opportunity gaps and increase rates of social mobility. Moreover, by most any reasonable reckoning, the return on the public investment is high.

Editor's note: This piece originally appeared in the Milken Institute Review.

Event Information

On April 10 and 11, 2015, the Seventh Summit of the Americas will bring together the heads of state and government of every country in the Western Hemisphere for the first time. Recent efforts by the United States to reform immigration policy, re-establish diplomatic relations with Cuba, and reform our approach to drug policies at home and abroad have generated greater optimism about the future of inter-American relations. This Summit provides an opportunity to spark greater collaboration on development, social inclusion, democracy, education, and energy security.

However, this Summit of the Americas is also convening at a time when the hemisphere is characterized by competing visions for economic development, democracy and human rights, and regional cooperation through various institutions such as the Organization of American States, the Union of South American Nations, and the Community of Latin American and Caribbean States.

On Friday, April 3, the Latin America Initiative at Brookings hosted Assistant Secretary of State Roberta S. Jacobson for a discussion on the Seventh Summit of the Americas and what it portends for the future of hemispheric relations.

Join the conversation on Twitter using #VIISummit

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Last week’s Seventh Summit of the Americas in Panama will be remembered for the historic handshakes and broad smiles shared by Presidents Barack Obama and Raúl Castro—the first sit-down meeting of leaders from the two nations since Fidel Castro marched triumphantly into Havana in early 1959. But this memorable encounter was merely the most visible piece of a much broader Cuban strategy at the Panama Summit.

The large Cuban delegation took full advantage of the several forums that comprise the complex Summit process. These periodic inter-American conclaves feature meetings among heads of state and foreign ministers, a CEO Summit for corporate executives, and a Civil Society Forum for representatives of nongovernmental organizations (NGOs). The Cubans seized all three opportunities and fielded strong teams to advance their interests: to engage with the multi-level inter-American system, and to send clear signals back home of where government policy is headed.

Face-to-face diplomacy

In addition to the Obama-Castro encounter, foreign ministers John Kerry and Bruno Rodriguez held a lengthy bilateral. Since Obama and Castro publicly announced their intention to renew relations on December 17 of last year, negotiations have dragged on. Cuba is reluctant to grant American diplomats unrestricted travel throughout the island to engage with Cuban citizens, including political dissidents. This is the norm in international diplomacy, the United States argues, whereas the Cubans remain fearful that U.S. diplomats will provide encouragement and assistance to activists advocating for political pluralism. The Cubans want to be removed from the U.S. list of state sponsors of terrorism, a designation which automatically invokes economic sanctions. The White House is withholding that relief as a bargaining chip in the negotiations.

In his opening plenary remarks, President Castro spoke passionately and at length, impressing the audience with his heartfelt remarks even as he came across as an elder statesman indulging in the memories and glories of his youth. Yet, Castro was also sending signals to the stalwarts in the Communist Party back home that he had not forgotten their sacrifices and was not abandoning their values. His engagement with the United States would not be allowed to endanger their tight control of Cuban society. Still, most significantly, Castro kept the door open to engagement with the United States by dramatically addressing President Obama, tossing him compliments: “President Obama is an honest man…I have read his two memoirs and I believe he is a man who has remained faithful to his humble origins.”

By lauding Obama, holding a private bilateral, and appearing with a broad smile at a press opportunity, Castro reaffirmed his commitment to improving relations with the United States. He also may have been nudging his negotiators to wrap up the talks to allow the mutual re-opening of embassies. The Cubans are aware that not all of Washington favors improved relations, and that they must consolidate the process of diplomatic normalization while Obama commands the White House.

The CEO and Civil Society Forums

Presumably, the main Cuban motivation for engaging the United States is economic: to attract more tourists, financial remittances, and eventually productive investments from the United States and the rest of the world, and to extract a relaxation of sanctions, particularly those impeding international financial transactions. Cuban Minister of Trade and Investment Rodrigo Malmierca led a commercial delegation that included top executives from state-owned enterprises, as well as leadership from the new Mariel Development Zone. At the CEO Summit, Malmierca was granted one of the few time slots for a keynote address. But rather than take advantage of this unique opportunity, the Cuban minister rushed through an uninspired text, offering nothing that could not be found in previous government press releases and official documents. More than two years after the passage of a much-heralded foreign investment law and over a year after the official opening of the Mariel Development Zone, very few new investments have earned official authorization.  

While potentially interested in Cuban markets, executives I spoke with remain cautious, skeptical that the government has yet created a sufficiently business-friendly environment to warrant the risk. They speculate as to why so few new foreign ventures are underway: is it opposition from well-placed hard-liners, bureaucratic inertia, or lack of financing or other necessary business inputs? In private conversations, Malmierca hinted at a political obstacle: many Cubans identify the revolution with nationalizations of private property, so it will be difficult to explain to them why foreign investment is now so welcome.

The Cubans also fielded a significant presence at the Civil Society Forum. The dominant group represented government-affiliated “non-governmental” organizations (GONGOS) such as the official trade union or Confederation of Cuban Women, while opposition NGOs marshalled about a dozen persons. At a pre-Summit speech in Caracas, Castro had ominously labelled these opposition NGOs “mercenaries” in the pay of foreign intelligence services. Following that lead, the government-affiliated group staged aggressive, noisy demonstrations denouncing the opposition representatives and accusing them of harboring infamous terrorists. The GONGOS threatened to boycott the Forum (although some did eventually participate), and disrupted the Forum’s working group on democratic governance. Here again, the message being telegraphed back home was clear: the Cuban government does not consider these opposition voices to be legitimate actors and loyal Cuban citizens should not associate with them.

Discernable signals

Altogether, at the three forums the Cubans demonstrated their strong interest in participating actively in hemispheric affairs and institutions. The Cubans are capable of fielding smart, disciplined delegations with well-scripted strategies and messages. Once again, the high-quality Cuban diplomacy demonstrated that it has few peers in Latin America and the Caribbean.

The messages transmitted at the Panama Summit were subtle but decodable. In the diplomatic sphere, Castro wants to move forward, to take advantage of Obama’s tenure to relax U.S.-Cuban tensions and gain some economic advantages. In the business sphere, Malmierca reaffirmed Castro’s oft-repeated admonitions that economic change on the island will be very gradual and socialist planning will not be discarded under his watch. In the political sphere, the Cuban Communist Party intends to maintain its absolute hegemony—political pluralism outside the Party is definitely not yet on the policy agenda.

Read more about the Summit with Richard Feinberg's post on how the United States came out of the Panama Summit of the Americas.

At the previous Summit of the Americas in Cartagena, Colombia in April 2012, President Barack Obama was badly roughed up by his Latin American counterparts (and embarrassed by his Secret Service for entertaining sex workers). Happily, the president and his entourage did much better at last week’s Summit in Panama, but the United States still has a way to go before the Summits once again become the productive vehicle for U.S. foreign policy that they once were, at their founding in Miami in 1994.

In Cartagena, leader after leader criticized the United States for allegedly heavy-handed counter-narcotics policies; oppressive treatment of immigrants; a weak response to crime and poverty in Central America; and monetary policies that supposedly harmed their economies. Most pointedly, speakers denounced the decades-old economic sanctions against Cuba. But given the upcoming Congressional elections, Obama and his Secretary of State Hillary Clinton did not want to do anything to endanger their Democratic Party’s chances. Obama was reduced to affirming, uncharacteristically, “I am here to listen, but our policies will not change.”

Once the November 2012 mid-term elections were over, policies did, in fact, change as the United States took a more relaxed approach to counternarcotics; the administration announced immigration policy reforms, including negotiating agreements with Central American nations to reduce the outflow of children and promote economic growth and jobs at home; and Vice President Joseph Biden met repeatedly with Central American leaders, and offered $1 billion in economic and security assistance.

In Cartagena, the Latin Americans threatened to boycott the Panama Summit if Cuba was not invited. But last December 17, President Obama and Cuban President Raúl Castro announced their agreement to negotiate the normalization of diplomatic relations, and in one blow, the United States transformed a thorn in relations with Latin America into a triumph of inter-American diplomacy that significantly enhanced U.S. prestige in the region.

So in Panama, most of the Latin American and Caribbean leaders, rather than berate the U.S. president, praised him for his courage and generally treated him with courtesy and respect. The three leaders of Central America’s Northern Tier (Guatemala, Honduras, and El Salvador—whose president is a former guerrilla commander) were effusive in their praise. The president of Brazil, Dilma Rousseff, who in Cartagena had sharply criticized U.S. monetary policies and had cancelled a visit to the White House to protest NSA spying, was pleased to announce that her visit had been rescheduled for this June. 

Obama’s own performance was more spirited than it had been in Cartagena. In response to a harsh polemic by Ecuadorean President Rafael Correa, Obama shot back: “The U.S. may be a handy excuse for diverting attention from domestic political problems, but it won’t solve those problems.” After listening politely through Raúl Castro’s extended remarks—during which Castro praised him as a man of honesty and authenticity—Obama departed to avoid having to sit through the predictable harangues of Argentine President Cristina Kirchner and Bolivian leader Evo Morales. Few could blame him.

At the parallel CEO Summit of business executives, Obama delivered thoughtful responses to questions posed by several entrepreneurs including Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg, distinguishing himself from the facile rhetorical answers of the other presidents on the panel. At a Civil Society Forum where delegates affiliated with Cuban government organizations engaged in disruptive tactics, Obama lectured firmly on the virtues of civility and tolerance. Together with two other presidents (Tabaré Vasquez of Uruguay and Guillermo Solis of Costa Rica), Obama met privately with a dozen leaders of nongovernmental organizations, took notes, and incorporated at least one of their suggestions into his later public remarks.

But Obama’s Panama experience was marred by an inexplicable misstep by his White House aides a month earlier—the very public sanctioning of seven Venezuelan officials for alleged human rights violation and corruption, and the declaration that Venezuela was a “threat to U.S. national security.” To Latin American ears, that language recalled Cold War-era justifications for CIA plots and military coups. The State Department claims it warned the White House against Latin American blowback, but perhaps not forcefully enough. Once Latin American anger become apparent, the White House tried to walk the “national security” language back, saying it was just a formality required by U.S. legislation, but the damage was done. Speaker after speaker condemned the “unilateral sanctions” and called for their repeal.

The ill-timed sanctions announcement provided Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro and his populist allies with a ready stick to beat the United States. For whileObama’s diplomacy had managed to peel off most of the Central Americans and win over or at least diminish the antagonism of other leaders, it had not found a way to tranquilize the rejectionist states (Ecuador, Bolivia, Nicaragua, Argentina) tied to Venezuela in an “anti-imperialist” alliance. Although a relatively small minority, these spoilers seriously disrupt plenary meetings with long and vituperative monologues, and small minorities of “veto” players can block the signing of otherwise consensus documents such that in Panama, as in Cartagena, no consensus declaration was issued; rather the host leader signed brief “mandates for action” that lacked full legitimacy.

The problem of the rejectionist minority will be partially alleviated when Kirchner is shortly replaced, likely by a more moderate government in Argentina, and political turnover will eventually come in Venezuela, but the hemisphere needs new rules that protect majority rights to get things done. Some simple procedural innovations, such as a more forceful chair, or even the simple system of red-yellow-green lights that alert speakers to their time limits, would help.

Notwithstanding the misstep on Venezuela sanctions and the disruptive tactics of the rejectionist minority, the overall mood in Panama was upbeat, even celebratory. Leaders made reference to the xenophobic violence and religious intolerance plaguing other continents, and remarked with some pride that, in comparison, Latin America was a zone of peace that was also making progress, however inadequate, on human rights, poverty alleviation, and clean energy. With some procedural fixes, favorable political winds, and continued progress on concrete issues of mutual interest, inter-American relations could well continue their upward trajectory.

Read more about the Summit with Richard Feinberg's post on Cuba's multi-level strategy at the Seventh Summit of the Americas.

In advance of President Obama’s historic trip to Cuba and Argentina, three Brookings scholars participated in a media roundtable to offer context and outline their expectations for the outcomes of the trip. Richard Feinberg and Ted Piccone discussed Cuba–including developments in the U.S.-Cuba relationship, the Cuban economy, and human rights on the island–and Harold Trinkunas offered insight on Argentina, inter-American relations, and the timing of the visit.

Read the transcript (PDF) »

Richard Feinberg:

The idea is to promote a gradual incremental transition to a more open, pluralistic and prosperous Cuba integrated into global markets of goods, capital, and ideas. It is a long-term strategy. It cannot be measured by quarterly reports.

Ted Piccone:

...the key [is] to unlock a whole set of future changes that I think will be net positive for the United States, but it is going to take time, and it is not going to happen overnight.

Harold Trinkunas:

Cuba is really about moving, among other things, a stumbling block to better relations with Latin America, and Argentina is about restoring a positive relationship with a key swing state in the region that was once one of our most important allies in the region.

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In recent years, relations between the International Criminal Court (ICC) and the African Union have been crumbling. Relations between the two were once solid with strong support from AU member countries.  The ICC has had support from African countries because of the court’s ability to prevent Rwandan genocide-type atrocities and ease power differentials between small and large African nations in international trial situations. 

Brookings nonresident scholar, John Mukum Mbaku, discusses the rising tensions between the ICC and African countries in his contribution to Foresight Africa, a collection of short briefs on the top challenges and opportunities for Africa in 2014.

Read the related paper »

According to John Mbaku, some African countries see the ICC as quite problematic because of the perceived bias that the court brings mostly African criminal cases to trial.  Other countries feel their sovereignty is threatened by the court.  The African Union has gone so far as to ask member countries not to comply or cooperate with the ICC and has attempted (unsuccessfully) to withdraw from The Hague.  A major trigger for these the recent issues with the ICC and African countries was the election of Uhuru Kenyatta as president of Kenya. Kenyatta was indicted by the ICC for crimes against humanity and for allegedly inciting ethnic violence following the highly disputed 2007 elections in Kenya.  

John argues that repairing the ties between African countries and the ICC will be difficult, but might be possible through reforms to the ICC process and commitment to stronger judicial systems in African nations.

Read Foresight Africa 2014, which details the top priorities for Africa in the coming year, to learn more about the prospects for strengthening  international justice in Africa, and other critical issues for the region.

For many years, Africans have complained that the International Criminal Court (ICC) has concentrated its efforts exclusively in Africa, a process that has made a mockery of the court’s claims to bring about an end to global impunity. Some Africans have even argued that the ICC’s claims that it is helping bring about justice in Africa are not unlike those made by proponents of the colonial order established by the Berlin Conference in 1884-1885.

On Tuesday, March 11, I participated in a panel discussion entitled, “The International Criminal Court in Africa: Bias, Legitimate Objections, or Excuses for Impunity?” co-hosted by New York University’s School of Continuing and Professional Studies (SCPS), Center for Global Affairs and the International Center for Transitional Justice (ICTJ).  The program brought together experts interested in justice and peaceful coexistence in Africa to examine the role that the International Criminal Court (ICC) can play in minimizing impunity in the continent.

I was joined by Ambassador Tiina Intelmann, president of the Assembly of States Parties of the International Criminal Court; Richard Dicker, director of the International Justice Program at Human Rights Watch; and Jennifer Trahan, clinical associate professor at the New York University’s School of Continuing and Professional Studies (SCPS), Center for Global Affairs.  David Tolbert, president of the International Center for Transitional Justice, moderated the discussion.

The most important conclusions from what was a robust dialogue were that (i) it is very important that African countries develop the legal and institutional capacity to deal effectively and fully with impunity and other extra-legal activities that impede human development and peaceful coexistence; (ii) the international community should help African countries develop that capacity; (iii) the ICC should make a concerted effort to open dialogue with the African Union in particular and Africans generally in order for the court to gain a better insight into African problems, while, at the same time, help Africans understand and appreciate the nature of the ICC’s work, how it functions, and why it is a critical international body in the fight against impunity; and (iv) the ICC needs to improve openness and transparency in its activities. To make the ICC a truly international court, important countries such as the United States, India, the People’s Republic of China and the Russian Federation need to be brought aboard. Obviously, more dialogue is needed and it is my hope that soon, we will be able to undertake a discussion of this type somewhere in Africa.

During my presentation, I argued that an important part of improving relations between Africa and the ICC is that Africans must take ownership of their problems and find ways to resolve them themselves. For one thing, justice is most effectively delivered locally. Hence, the first line of business is for each African country to develop the legal and institutional capacity to deal with impunity and other governance problems. External actors, notably the ICC, should only be considered conflict-resolution instruments of last resort.

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On Tuesday, October 28, 2014, tens of thousands of citizens of Burkina Faso gathered in its capital city, Ouagadougou, and its second biggest city, Bobo Dioulasso, to protest proposed changes to its constitution regarding term limits. A vote was planned for Thursday, on whether to extend the current limit of two terms to three. This vote is extremely controversial:  Current President Blaise Compaoré, who came to power in a coup in 1987, has ruled the country for 27 years. Allowing him to run for election in November 2015 could extend his reign for another five years. In Ouagadougou on Wednesday, citizens angry over the possibility that parliament might make it possible for Campaoré to stay in power indefinitely set fire to the parliament and forced legislators to postpone the vote that had been set for Thursday, October 30, 2014 to decide the constitutional issue.

The West African country has been plagued by dictators, autocracies and coups in the past. At independence on August 5, 1960, Maurice Yaméogo, leader of the Voltaic Democratic Union (Union démocratique voltaïque), became the country’s first president. Shortly after assuming power, Yaméogo banned all political opposition, forcing mass riots and demonstrations that only came to an end after the military intervened in 1966. Lt. Col. Sangoulé Lamizana and a collection of military elites took control of the government and subsequently dissolved the National Assembly as well as suspended the constitution. Lamizana stayed in power until November 1980 when the military overthrew the government and installed Col. Saye Zerbo as the new president. Two years later, Col. Zerbo’s government was overthrown by Maj. Dr. Jean-Baptiste Ouédraogo and the Council of Popular Salvation (CSP—Conseil du salut du peuple). Although it promised to transition the country to civilian rule and provide a new constitution, the Ouédraogo regime banned all political organizations, including opposition parties. There soon arose a political struggle within the CSP. The radicals, led by Captain Thomas Sankara, eventually overthrew the government in August 1983, and Capt. Sankara emerged as the country’s new leader. In 1984, the Sankara government changed the country’s name from Upper Volta to Burkina Faso and introduced many institutional reforms that effectively aligned the country with Marxist ideals.

On October 15, 1987, Capt. Blaise Compaoré, a former colleague of Sankara’s, killed Sankara and several of his confidants in a successful coup d’état. In 1991, Campaoré was elected president in an election in which only 25 percent of the electorate participated because of a boycott movement organized and carried out by opposition parties. In 1998, he won reelection for another seven-year term. As president, Campaoré reversed all the progressive policies that Sankara had implemented.

In 2000, the country’s post-Cold War 1991 constitution was amended to impose a limit of two five-year consecutive terms on the presidency. However, Campaoré’s supporters argued that because he was in office when the amendments went into effect, they did not apply to him and, hence, he was qualified to run for re-election in 2005. Despite the fact that the opposition fielded several candidates, Campoaré won 80.35 percent of the votes cast in the 2005 presidential election. And, in the presidential elections held in November 2010, he captured 80.2 percent of votes.

Over more than a quarter century in power, Campaoré has used an unusual formula to achieve relative stability in Burkina Faso—authoritarianism mixed with traces of democracy. The complex governance system has relied primarily on Campaoré’s dominant and charismatic political power and has failed to build sustainable institutions—specifically, those capable of maintaining the rule of law and enhancing peaceful coexistence in his absence.

Constitutionally mandated presidential term limits strengthen the rule of law and provide a significant level of stability and predictability to the country’s governance institutions. In response to the efforts by Burkinabé members of parliament to change the constitution to enable Compaoré to secure another term in office, U.S. government officials have recently stated that “democratic institutions are strengthened when established rules are adhered to with consistency.” On his part, Campaoré has proclaimed that his main and immediate concern “is not to build a future for myself—but to see how the future of this country will take shape.” If this is indeed true, then he should exit gracefully from the Burkinabé political scene and henceforth serve as an elder statesman, providing his country’s new leadership with the advice and support that they need to deepen and institutionalize democracy, as well as enhance economic, social, political and human development.

Insisting, as President Campoaré has done, that the constitution be changed so that he can seek an additional term in power not only destroys the country’s fragile stability but also sends the wrong message to citizens about the rule of law—while citizens must be law-abiding, the president does not have to abide by the country’s settled law; if the law stands in the way of the president’s personal ambitions, he can simply change the law to provide him with the wherewithal to achieve those objectives. Such behavior from the country’s chief executive does not augur well for deepening the country’s democracy, an objective that is dear to many Burkinabé. The question to ask President Campoaré is: How do you want history to remember you? As a self-serving political opportunist who used his public position to accumulate personal power and wealth, at the expense of fellow citizens, or as a public servant who led and directed his country’s transformation into a peaceful, safe and productive society?

On Friday, October 31, 2014, President Blaise Campaoré, who had ruled Burkina Faso for the last 27 years, was forced out of office. The resignation and subsequent military takeover of the government has created instability and questions over leadership in the country—especially since the constitutional line of succession has been broken by the insertion of military leaders. The power of the military is clear, especially since it has already influenced a second change in leadership. This interruption, subsequent transition and suspension of the constitution, then, have seriously threatened the strength of the rule of law and the future of the Burkinabé government.

The violent demonstrations that eventually forced President Campaoré to flee with his family into exile in Côte d’Ivoire could have been avoided had he not considered himself above the law. The impetus for the mass demonstrations was his attempt to change the country’s constitution in order to secure for himself another five-year term in office. Campaoré’s initial reaction to the violent demonstrations was to dissolve the government but retain his position as president until new elections were carried out to select a new government. He also agreed not to seek another term in office. The opposition, however, insisted that he resign. Interestingly, in his resignation statement, issued shortly before he fled the country, President Campaoré called for “free and transparent” elections to be held in 90 days to form a new government.

Shortly after the president’s resignation, General Honoré Traoré, Campaoré’s aide de camp, proclaimed himself president of the republic. This immediate military intervention into Burkinabé politics betrays either a lack of appreciation for constitutional democracy or a willful attempt by the military to take advantage of the instability occasioned by the planned constitutional changes to maximize their corporate interests. But, could someone who had risen to the head of the Burkinabé military have such little understanding of and appreciation for the constitutional order? In announcing that he had assumed the office of head of state, Traoré actually stated as follows: “In line with constitutional measures, and given the power vacuum . . . I will assume as of today my responsibilities as head of state.”

Importantly, there is no provision in the constitution of Burkina Faso for the head of the military or some other military officer to assume the powers of the president in case of a vacancy in the office. Succession, in the case of a vacancy in the presidency of the republic, is governed by Article 43 of the Constitution of Burkina Faso, 1991, which states that, in a case like this, the functions of the presidency should be performed by the president of the senate. [1]

After Traoré’s quick takeover, the leaders of the protests rejected the government headed by such a close and trusted advisor of the ousted president, claiming it would not represent a full and effective break with the painful past, especially the attempted constitutional changes. In fact, according to Al Jazeera, many of the protesters proclaimed that “[t]he general is linked to Campoaré, and they don’t want anyone linked to Campaoré to lead the country.”

Thus, early on Saturday, November 1, 2014, Colonel Isaac Zida declared that the army had taken control of the state to prevent further violence and that he had assumed the functions of head of state, leading what he referred to as a “peaceful transition”—one that would guarantee the “continuity of the [Burkinabé] state.” He, however, was extremely vague, providing few details, especially regarding how long this transitional government would stay in power or if the elections planned for 2015 will be held. Again, it is difficult to imagine that Zida, like Traoré, was not aware that the resignation and subsequent exit of the president from the political scene did not call for military intervention in the political system. In fact, a military officer of his standing should have had enough familiarity with the constitution to be aware of Article 43.

Oddly, the protesters appeared to have accepted the leadership of Zida, who is said to have been the deputy head of Campaoré’s elite presidential guard. It appears that the deciding factor in the struggle between the two men to assume the position of head of state was acceptance by the military: In a statement issued early on Saturday, November 1, 2014, the military indicated that Zida had been unanimously elected by military chiefs to lead the post-Campaoré transitional government. But, again, in making this decision, were these military leaders not aware of Article 43 of the constitution, which sets out the succession procedures in case of a temporary or permanent vacancy in the presidency? If, indeed, they had knowledge of the provisions of Article 43, then why did they interfere with what should have been a constitutionally mandated succession?

The international community has called on all sides in the Burkinabé political crisis to follow “constitutionally mandated” procedures for the transfer of power. The international community (especially the African Union) is asking the Burkina Faso military not to exploit the constitutional crisis for its own benefit but to respect the desire of the majority of Burkinabé for democracy and peaceful coexistence. That, of course, calls for respect by all Burkinabé, including the military, for the constitution.

The president’s resignation in itself did not create a constitutional crisis in Burkina Faso. The Constitution of 1991 specifically anticipates the resignation or incapacitation of the president and prescribes procedures for succession. According to Article 43, if the president is temporarily incapacitated and is incapable of carrying out his or her duties, “his powers shall be provisionally exercised by the Prime Minister.” As noted above, in this particular case, where the president has resigned and created a permanent vacancy in the presidency, the constitution states that the functions of the presidency should be performed by the president of the senate. [2] The military should not have intervened—military intervention in the country’s political system actually created what is fast becoming a major constitutional crisis. The military has suspended the constitution and, without the guidance provided by it, the military is now governing the country extra-constitutionally through decrees. The military can end this unfolding crisis by restoring the constitution and handing power back to a civilian regime, led, as prescribed by their constitution, by the president of the senate. The latter will, of course, serve as a transitional head of state until elections are completed in 2015 to select a permanent president. International organizations, including especially the African Union, support this approach—on November 3, 2014, the AU issued a statement asking the Burkinabé military to exit the political system and hand power to a civilian ruler.

But what about the riots and violence that had enveloped the city of Ouagadougou and were gradually spreading to other cities? Should the army not have been called upon to quell the riots and bring about peace? In virtually all countries, including Burkina Faso, the police—not the army—should be the institution enforcing the law and maintaining order. There is no indication that military intervention was necessary to bring the rioting under control or that it actually did. Most of the people participating in the riots voluntarily stopped their activities after the president resigned and left the country.

However, what the army did was interfere with the constitutional process and in doing so, actually created this constitutional crisis—shortly after declaring himself head of state and leader of the transition, Zida suspended the constitution, as noted above. Although Zida has assured the people that the military will strive to quickly return Burkina Faso to democratic governance, such guarantees appear hollow, especially given the military’s past history of intervention—every time the Burkinabé military has intervened in politics, it has remained in power for a very long time, 27 years in the case of the Campaoré-led intervention of 1987.

Article 43 of the Constitution of Burkina Faso also states that elections should be held between 60 and 90 days after a vacancy has been declared in the presidency. Zida, who is now the de facto head of state in Burkina Faso, has stated that his would be a transitional government and that it would seek input from all stakeholders to organize and undertake democratic elections to choose a new government. However, the constitution, which would have provided the necessary guidelines for carrying out such elections, has been suspended. In addition, he has closed the country’s borders and imposed a general curfew, which severely restricts the right of citizens to live freely. Such restrictions could have a significant impact on economic activities and negatively affect what is already a relatively fragile economy. These initial draconian and extra-constitutional measures do not augur well for an early exit of the military from politics and the return of constitutional rule to the country. If history teaches us anything about the military and Burkinabé politics, it is that this military, like the one that intervened in 1987, is likely to stay in politics much longer than the 90 days needed to elect a new civilian government.

[1], [2] This is in line with the constitutional amendment of June 11, 2012 (Loi No. 033-2012/AN du 1 juin 2012).

On Monday, March 23, 2015, leaders of Egypt, Ethiopia, and Sudan met in the Sudanese capital Khartoum to sign an agreement that is expected to resolve various issues arising out of the decision by Ethiopia to construct a dam on the Blue Nile. The Khartoum declaration, which was signed by the heads of state of the three countries—Abdel Fattah al-Sisi (Egypt), Omar al-Bashir (Sudan), and Halemariam Desalegn (Ethiopia), has been referred to  as a “Nile Agreement,” and one that helps resolve conflicts over the sharing of the waters of the Nile River. However, this view is misleading because the agreement, as far we know, only deals with the Blue Nile’s Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam project (GERDP) and does not tackle the broader, still contentious issues of sharing of the Nile River waters among all riparian states. Thus, the new agreement does leave the conflict over the equitable, fair, and reasonable allocation and utilization of the waters of the Nile River unresolved.

As we celebrated Earth Day recently, it is important that we reflect upon the importance of natural resources such as the Nile and gain an understanding of why they are so important, especially for Africa and its long-term development. In fact, 160 million people rely on the waters of this important river for their livelihoods. Thus, preserving, maintaining, and using the waters and resources of the Nile River efficiently and sustainably is a goal shared by all.

These disagreements over the use of the Nile are not recent and, in fact, have a long history because of these countries’ high dependence on the waters of the Nile. In 1929, an agreement was concluded between Egypt and Great Britain regarding the utilization of the waters of the Nile River—Britain was supposedly representing its colonies in the Nile River Basin. [1] The Anglo-Egyptian Treaty covered many issues related to the Nile River and its tributaries. Of particular relevance to the present discussion is that it granted Egypt an annual water allocation of 48 billion cubic meters and Sudan 4 billion cubic meters out of an estimated average annual yield of 84 billion cubic meters. In addition, the 1929 agreement granted Egypt veto power over construction projects on the Nile River or any of its tributaries in an effort to minimize any interference with the flow of water into the Nile.

In 1959, Egypt and an independent Sudan signed a bilateral agreement, which effectively reinforced the provisions of the 1929 Anglo-Egyptian Treaty. The 1959 agreement increased water allocations to both Egypt and Sudan—Egypt’s water allocation was raised from 48 billion cubic meters to 55.5 billion cubic meters and Sudan’s from 4 billion cubic meters to 18.5 billion cubic meters, leaving 10 billion cubic meters to account for seepage and evaporation. Finally, the agreement stipulated that in the case of an increase in average water yield, the increased yield should be shared equally between the two downstream riparian states (i.e., Egypt and Sudan). The 1959 agreement, like the 1929 Anglo-Egyptian Treaty, did not make any allowance for the water needs of the other riparian states, including even Ethiopia, whose highlands supply more than 80 percent of the water that flows into the Nile River.

Over the years, especially as the populations of the other countries of the Nile River Basin have increased, and these countries have developed the capacity to more effectively harvest the waters of the Nile River for national development, disagreements have arisen over the fact that Egypt has insisted that the water rights it acquired through the 1929 and 1959 agreements (collectively referred to as the Nile Waters Agreements) be honored and that no construction project be undertaken on the Nile River or any of its tributaries without prior approval from Cairo. In fact, various Egyptian leaders have threatened to go to war to protect these so-called “acquired rights.” Upstream riparian states such as Kenya, Tanzania, Uganda, and Ethiopia, have argued that they are not bound by these agreements because they were never parties to them. In fact, shortly after independence from Great Britain in 1961, Tanganyika’s (now Tanzania, after union with Zanzibar in 1964) new leader, Julius Nyerere, argued that the Nile Waters Agreements placed his country and other upstream riparian states at Egypt’s mercy, forced them to subject their national development plans to the scrutiny and supervision of Cairo, and that such an approach to public policy would not be compatible with the country’s status as a sovereign independent state. All the upstream riparian states have since argued in favor of a new, more inclusive legal framework for governing the Nile River Basin.

In 1999, the Nile River riparian states, [1] except Eritrea, signed the Nile Basin Initiative (NBI) in an effort to enhance cooperation on the use of the “common Nile Basin water resources.” Under the auspices of the NBI, the riparian states began work on developing what they believed would be a permanent legal and institutional framework for governing the Nile River Basin. The Cooperative Framework Agreement (CFA), as this agreement is called, formally introduced the concept of equitable water allocation into discussions about Nile governance, as well as a complicating concept called “water security.”

The CFA was ready for signature beginning May 10, 2010; Burundi, Ethiopia, Kenya, Rwanda, Tanzania, and Uganda have signed it; and the Ethiopian parliament has ratified it. However, arguing that their “acquired rights” to the waters of the Nile River would not be protected, Egypt and Sudan immediately registered their intention not to sign the agreement because they objected to the wording of Article 14(b): “Nile Basin States therefore agree, in a spirit of cooperation: . . . (b) not to significantly affect the water security of any other Nile Basin State.” They then proposed an alternative wording for Article 14(b): “Nile Basin States therefore agree, in a spirit of cooperation: . . . (b) not to significantly affect the water security and current uses and rights of any other Nile Basin State,” (emphasis added). This wording was rejected by the upstream riparian states, who argue that “the current uses and rights” phrasing would entrench the concept of prior rights, including those created by the Nile Waters Agreements and effectively retain the inequity and unfairness that has characterized the allocation and utilization of water in the Nile River Basin since the 1920s.

On April 2, 2011, then-prime minister of Ethiopia, Meles Zenawi, laid the foundation for the construction of the Grand Ethiopia Renaissance Dam. The dam is located on the Blue Nile, in the Benishangul-Gumuz region of the country. Shortly after the announcement, authorities in Cairo immediately launched a campaign of words against what they believed was an attempt by Addis Ababa to interfere with Egypt’s water needs. Then Egyptian president, Mohamed Morsi, angrily stated that while he was not “calling for war” with Ethiopia, “Egypt’s water security cannot be violated at all,” that “all options are open,” and that Egyptians would not accept any projects on the Nile River that threatened their livelihood.

The 2015 agreement between Egypt, Ethiopia, and Sudan—with Sudan acting as an intermediary—represents an important but predictable shift in Cairo’s approach to the Nile River—that those colonial agreements are unsustainable. About 85 percent of the water that flows into the Nile River comes from the Ethiopian highlands through the Blue Nile; the rest comes from the White Nile. It was simply unrealistic and untenable for Egypt to believe that it could continue to prevent Ethiopia from using water resources located within its boundaries to meet the needs of its people. While it is true that Egyptians rely totally on the waters of the Nile River for all their needs, they must be sensitive to the development needs of the upstream riparian states, especially given the fact that the latter, particularly Ethiopia, are in a position to cause significant harm to the quantity and quality of water that flows into the Nile. Hence, the practical and more accommodating attitude taken by Egyptian leaders in their decision to endorse Addis Ababa’s Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam project (GERDP), should be welcomed. However, Cairo needs to go further and sign and ratify the CFA without insisting on changes to Article 14(b) to guarantee Egypt the rights created by the Nile Waters agreements. With the CFA in place, all 11 riparian states can negotiate in good faith to agree an allocation formula that is acceptable to all of them and considered fair, equitable, and reasonable. As Africa becomes more and more affected by climate change, the continent’s various groups must agree to cooperate in the development of institutional structures that can enhance their ability to live together peacefully and allocate their natural resources, including water, in a fair and sustainable manner.

Further reading

Mwangi S. Kimenyi & John Mukum Mbaku, Governing the Nile River Basin: The Search for a New Legal Regime (Washington, D.C.: The Brookings Institution, 2015).

[1] Ethiopia was not one of those colonies. The British colonies then included Kenya, Uganda, Tanganyika, and what was known as Anglo-Egyptian Sudan (a condominium under the control of Britain).

[2] The Nile River riparian states are Burundi, Democratic Republic of Congo, Egypt, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Kenya, Rwanda, South Sudan, Sudan (Republic of), Tanzania, and Uganda. Egypt, Sudan, and South Sudan are downstream riparian states. South Sudan, however, has indicated that it does not recognize the 1959 bilateral agreement between Egypt and Sudan.

The African Union (AU) will hold its 27th Heads of State Assembly in Kigali from July 17-18, 2016, as part of its ongoing annual meetings, during which time it will elect individuals to lead the AU Commission for the next four years. Given the fierce battle for the chairperson position in 2012; and  as the AU has increasingly been called upon to assume more responsibility for various issues that affect the continent—from the Ebola pandemic that ravaged West Africa in 2013-14 to civil wars in several countries, including Libya, Central African Republic, and South Sudan, both the AU Commission and its leadership have become very important and extremely prestigious actors. The upcoming elections are not symbolic: They are about choosing trusted and competent leaders to guide the continent in good times and bad.

The African Union (AU) [1] came into being on July 9, 2002 and was established to replace the Organization of African Unity (OAU). The AU’s highest decisionmaking body is the Assembly of the African Union, which consists of all the heads of state and government of the member states of the AU. The chairperson of the assembly is the ceremonial head of the AU and is elected by the Assembly of Heads of State to serve a one-year term. This assembly is currently chaired by President Idriss Déby of Chad.

The AU’s secretariat is called the African Union Commission [2] and is based in Addis Ababa. The chairperson of the AU Commission is the chief executive officer, the AU’s legal representative, and the accounting officer of the commission. The chairperson is directly responsible to the AU’s Executive Council. The current chairperson of the AU Commission is Dr. Nkosazana Dlamini Zuma of South Africa and is assisted by a deputy chairperson, who currently is Erastus Mwencha of Kenya.

Dr. Zuma has decided not to seek a second term in office and, hence, this position is open for contest. The position of deputy chairperson will also become vacant, since Mwencha is not eligible to serve in the new commission.

Notably, the position of chairperson of the AU Commission does not only bring prestige and continental recognition to the person that is elected to serve but also to the country and region from which that person hails. Already, the Southern African Development Community (SADC), Dr. Zuma’s region, is arguing that it is entitled to another term since she has decided not to stand for a second. Other regions, such as eastern and central Africa, have already identified their nominees. It is also rumored that some regions have already initiated diplomatic efforts to gather votes for their preferred candidates.

In April 2016, SADC chose Botswana’s minister of foreign affairs, Dr. Pelonomi Venson-Moitoi, as its preferred candidate. Nevertheless, experts believe that even if South Africa flexes its muscles to support Venson-Moitoi’s candidacy (which it is most likely to do), it is not likely to succeed this time because Botswana has not always supported the AU on critical issues, such as the International Criminal Court, and hence, does not have the goodwill necessary to garner the support for its candidate among the various heads of state.

Venson-Moitoi is expected to face two other candidates—Dr. Specioza Naigaga Wandira Kazibwe of Uganda (representing east Africa) and Agapito Mba Mokuy of Equatorial Guinea (representing central Africa). Although Mokuy is relatively unknown, his candidacy could be buoyed by the argument that a Spanish-speaking national has never held the chairperson position, as well as the fact that, despite its relatively small size, Equatorial Guinea—and its president, Teodoro Obiang Nguema—has given significant assistance to the AU over the years. Obiang Nguema’s many financial and in-kind contributions to the AU could endear his country and its candidate to the other members of the AU.

In fact, during his long tenure as president of Equatorial Guinea, Obiang Nguema has shown significant interest in the AU, has attended all assemblies, and has made major contributions to the organization. In addition to the fact that Equatorial Guinea hosted AU summits in 2011 and 2014, Obiang Nguema served as AU chairperson in 2011. Thus, a Mokuy candidacy for the chairperson of the AU Commission could find favor among those who believe it would give voice to small and often marginalized countries, as well as members of the continent’s Spanish-speaking community. Finally, the opinion held by South Africa, one of the continent’s most important and influential countries, on several issues (from the political situation in Burundi to the International Criminal Court and its relations with Africa) appears closer to that of Equatorial Guinea’s than Botswana’s.

Of course, both Venson-Moitoi and Kazibwe are seasoned civil servants with international and administrative experience and have the potential to function as an effective chairperson. However, the need to give voice within the AU to the continent’s historically marginalized regions could push Mokuy’s candidacy to the top.

Nevertheless, supporters of a Mokuy candidacy may be worried that accusations of corruption and repression labeled on Equatorial Guinea by the international community could negatively affect how their candidate is perceived by voters.

Also important to voters is their relationship with former colonial powers. In fact, during the last election, one argument that helped defeat then-Chairperson Jean Ping was that both he and his (Gabonese) government were too pro-France. This issue may not be a factor in the 2016 elections, though: Equatorial Guinea, Uganda, and Botswana are not considered to be extremely close to their former colonizers.

Finally, gender and regional representation should be important considerations for the voters who will be called upon to choose a chairperson for the AU Commission. Both Venson-Moitoi and Kazibwe are women, and the election of either of them would continue to support diversity within African leadership. Then again, Mr. Mokuy’s election would enhance regional and small-state representation.

Also open for contest are the portfolios of Peace and Security, Political Affairs, Infrastructure and Energy, Rural Economy and Agriculture, Human Resources, and Science and Technology. Many countries are vying for these positions on the commission in an effort to ensure that their status within the AU is not marginalized. For example, Nigeria and Algeria, both of which are major regional leaders, are competing to capture the position of commissioner of Peace and Security. Algeria is keen to keep this position: It has held this post over the last decade, and, if it loses this position, it would not have any representation on the next commission—significantly diminishing the country’s influence in the AU.

Nigeria’s decision to contest the position of commissioner of Peace and Security is based on the decision by the administration of President Muhammadu Buhari to give up the leadership of Political Affairs. Historically, Nigeria has been unwilling to compete openly against regional powers for leadership positions in the continent’s peace and security area. Buhari’s decision to contest the portfolio of Peace and Security is very risky, since a loss to Algeria and the other contesting countries will leave Nigeria without a position on the commission and would be quite humiliating to the president and his administration.

Since the AU came into being in 2002, there has been an unwritten rule that regional powers (e.g., Algeria, Kenya, Nigeria, South Africa) should not lead or occupy key positions in the AU’s major institutions. Thus, when Dr. Zuma was elected in 2012, South Africa was severely criticized, especially by some smaller African countries, for breaking that rule. The hope, especially of the non-regional leaders, is that the 2016 election will represent a return to the status quo ante since most of the candidates for the chairperson position hail from small- and medium-sized countries.

While professional skills and international experience are critical for an individual to serve on the commission, the AU is quite concerned about the geographical distribution of leadership positions, as well as the representation of women on the commission, as noted above. In fact, the commission’s statutes mandate that each region present two candidates (one female and the other male) for every portfolio. Article 6(3) of the commission’s statutes states that “[a]t least one Commissioner from each region shall be a woman.” Unfortunately, women currently make up only a very small proportion of those contesting positions in the next commission. Thus, participants must keep in mind the need to create a commission that reflects the continent’s diversity, especially in terms of gender and geography.

Individuals that have served in government and/or worked for an international organization dominate leadership positions in the commission. Unfortunately, individuals representing civil society organizations are poorly represented on the nominee lists; unsurprisingly, given the fact that the selection process is controlled by civil servants from states and regional organizations. Although this approach to the staffing of the commission guarantees the selection of skilled and experienced administrators, it could burden the commission with the types of bureaucratic problems that are common throughout the civil services of the African countries, notably, rigidity, tunnel vision, and the inability, or unwillingness to undertake bold and progressive initiatives.

The AU currently faces many challenges, some of which require urgent and immediate action and others, which can only be resolved through long-term planning. For example, the fight against terrorism and violent extremism, and securing the peace in South Sudan, Burundi, Libya, and other states and regions consumed by violent ethno-cultural conflict require urgent and immediate action from the AU. Issues requiring long-term planning by the AU include helping African countries improve their governance systems, strengthening the African Court of Justice and Human Rights, facilitating economic integration, effectively addressing issues of extreme poverty and inequality in the distribution of income and wealth, responding effectively and fully to pandemics, and working towards the equitable allocation of water, especially in urban areas.

Finally, there is the AU’s dependence on foreign aid for its financing. When Dr. Dlamini Zuma took over as chairperson of the AU Commission in 2012, she was quite surprised by the extent to which the AU depends on budget subventions from international donors and feared that such dependence could interfere with the organization’s operations. The AU budget for 2016 is $416,867,326, of which $169,833,340 (40 percent) is assessed on Member States and $247,033,986 (59 percent) is to be secured from international partners.  The main foreign donors are the United States, Canada, China, and the European Union.

Within Africa, South Africa, Angola, Nigeria, and Algeria are the best paying rich countries. Other relatively rich countries, Egypt, Libya, Sudan, and Cameroon, are struggling to pay. Libya’s civil war and its inability to form a permanent government is interfering with its ability to meet its financial obligations, even to its citizens. Nevertheless, it is hoped that South Africa, Nigeria, Angola, Egypt, and Libya, the continent’s richest countries, are expected to eventually meet as much as 60% of the AU’s budget and help reduce the organization’s continued dependence on international donors. While these major continental and international donors are not expected to have significant influence on the elections for leadership positions on the AU Commission, they are likely to remain a determining factor on the types of programs that the AU can undertake.

Dealing fully and effectively with the multifarious issues that plague the continent requires AU Commission leadership that is not only well-educated and skilled, but that has the foresight to help the continent develop into an effective competitor in the global market and a full participant in international affairs. In addition to helping the continent secure the peace and provide the enabling environment for economic growth and the creation of wealth, this crop of leaders should provide the continent with the leadership necessary to help states develop and adopt institutional arrangements and governing systems that guarantee the rule of law, promote the protection of human rights, and advance inclusive economic growth and development.

[1] The AU consists of all the countries on the continent and in the United Nations, except the Kingdom of Morocco, which left the AU after the latter recognized the Sahrawi Arab Democratic Republic (Western Sahara). Morocco claims that the Western Sahara is part of its territory.

[2] The AU Commission is made up of a number of commissioners who deal with various policy areas, including peace and security, political affairs, infrastructure and energy, social affairs, trade and industry, rural economy and agriculture, human resources, science and technology, and economic affairs. According to Article 3 of its Statutes, the Commission is empowered to “represent the Union and defend its interests under the guidance of and as mandated by the Assembly and Executive Council.”

A 2010 publication of the U.S. Geological Survey caused major excitement in Cyprus, an island that at the time was suffering from the economic collapse of its neighbor and major trading partner, Greece. According to the publication, the seabed of the Eastern Mediterranean could contain up to 120 trillion cubic feet (tcf) of natural gas.3 Three years later, the Cypriot administration has high hopes that natural gas exports may get Cyprus—the third smallest European Union member state—back on its feet, after its own financial collapse in 2012. Unfortunately for the Cypriots, the reality on the ground is sobering, and it is currently unclear whether Cyprus will become a producer, or an exporter, of natural gas. Around Cyprus, other countries hope to benefit from the energy potential as well, including Israel, Lebanon and the Palestinian Authority. In the Israeli Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ), in particular, substantial reserves of natural gas have been found, though the verdict is out whether these will in fact all be produced.

Exploration of Cyprus’s offshore concessions is at an early stage. Energy majors such as ENI and Total are among the first to explore possible gas (and oil) reserves and they expect results not before 2015. To date, only two test wells have been drilled by Houston-based Noble Energy. Proven reserves have been downgraded since and are currently estimated to be between 3 and 5 tcf. At this level of reserves, investing in a natural gas liquefaction terminal, which the Cypriot administration has supported, is not economically viable. A better alternative would be to construct a pipeline to Turkey, which has a large and rapidly growing market for natural gas.

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• Politics Trump Economics in the Complex Game of Eastern Mediterranean Hydrocarbons

Turkish Foreign Minister Mevlut Cavusolu’s decision earlier this month to decline to participate in the Munich Security Conference due to Israeli ministerial participation marks a new low in the troubled Turkish-Israeli relationship.

And yet, the latest statistics released this week by the Israeli government document an overall volume of $5.44 billion dollars in Turkish-Israeli trade during 2014. This marks an all-time high point in Turkish-Israeli economic relations, up 11.5 percent from 2013, including $2.75 billion in Israeli exports to Turkey (a 10 percent year-to-year increase) and $2.68 billion in Turkish imports to Israel (13 percent higher than 2013).

This pattern of an almost non-existent political dialogue at the senior levels accompanied by robust bilateral trade has characterized the Turkish-Israeli relationship since 2011. Short of unexpected dramatic changes, the relations between the two former allies will likely continue in this pattern for the foreseeable future. 

Almost two years after Israel’s official apology to Turkey over the Mavi Marmara incident (which I wrote about in depth here), the two countries continue to move in different directions, despite sharing similar strategic concerns on a range of regional issues – the civil war in Syria, instability in Iraq and Iran’s nuclear program.

The main bone of contention between the AKP-led Turkish government and the Likud-led government in Israel remains the Palestinian issue. Turkey continues to speak out against Israeli occupation and settlement activity in the West Bank, as well as on Israeli human rights violations towards the Palestinian population. In addition, Turkey remains one of the main (very few) patrons of Hamas, providing the group with political and economic support and allowing the organization to maintain representation in Istanbul. Israel viewed with disdain Turkish attempts, together with Qatar, to facilitate a ceasefire with Hamas during the summer 2014 war. Anti-Turkish sentiments in Israeli public opinion skyrocketed in response to President Erdogan’s allegations that Israeli policies on Gaza are genocidal. 

Amidst rising tensions in the relationship, President Erdogan publicly vowed after his August 2014 election that as long as he’s in power, Turkey’s approach to Israel will not change. As a result, there are no serious expectations that any senior-level political dialogue will resume, and mutual representation is likely to remain at a junior diplomatic level (after ambassadors were withdrawn from Tel Aviv and Ankara in 2011).

The interesting aspect of the relationship continues to be the booming trade between the two countries, which despite political tensions continues to grow at a rapid pace. Clearly there is an interest on both sides to insulate the economic sphere from the political sphere. Robust trade serves both countries’ economic interests and during a very unstable period keeps the relationship afloat. Nevertheless, an Israeli – Turkish natural gas deal which was considered in the past as a likely scenario and possibly a regional and bilateral “game changer” seems at present to be “off the table.” Potential energy cooperation between Turkey and Israel around the Eastern Mediterranean natural gas discoveries may be possible only in the context of political rapprochement.