Heads of State and Government

Nolan Quinn contributed to this post. Twitter and other social media platforms have suspended or restricted President Donald J. Trump's access, mostly because of his and his followers’ use of them to incite violence, though their stated, precise reasons vary from one to another. They are all private companies, and thus are subject to few restrictions [PDF] on what content they choose to moderate or remove. Mainstream American opinion is outraged over the assault on the U.S. Capitol in Washington, D.C. on January 6 and many Americans are incensed by related efforts to suborn the Constitution in blocking the certification of President-Elect Joseph Biden’s electoral victory. Barring the president from social media platforms has not been seen as an infringement on his constitutional right to free speech. The legal argument runs that companies are free to enforce their own standards and policies regarding the content they host. Further, President Trump remains free to make his views known by the myriad other means of mass communication that exist in the United States such as the press, television, radio, and other social media sites. Polling data shows [PDF] that a majority of Americans do indeed favor increased regulation of social media. But reactions to the moves by Twitter, Facebook, Snapchat, and others to limit Trump’s social media access have followed a familiar partisan split. An ongoing debate about how much governments should regulate social media and what the boundaries are (or should be) between free speech and incitement to hatred and violence has been made more pressing by the events of January 6. This same debate is underway in sub-Saharan Africa, where social media is of growing importance and other types of media are weak or even absent. In some states trending toward authoritarianism or worse—Uganda, Tanzania, and Ethiopia, for example—regimes seek to limit social media to enhance their power by muzzling the opposition. But in others, especially those riven by ethnic and religious conflict, there is legitimate concern that media, now including social media, are a means to incite violence.  Nigeria is a case in point. The country is besieged by an Islamist revolt in the northeast, conflict over land and water in the middle of the country that often acquires an ethnic and religious coloration, and a low-level insurrection in the oil patch. The government is weak and commands little popular support. Under these circumstances, Nigeria is ripe for social media incitement to violence. Weak African governments are often heavy-handed and resort to draconian punishments which are difficult to carry out in practice; their responses to incendiary social media posts have been no different. In Nigeria, the government has introduced legislation to regulate social media that includes the death penalty for certain types of violations. Human rights organizations, many of which are suspicious the administration of Muhammadu Buhari is moving towards authoritarianism, see the legislation as infringing on free speech and stifling the ability to criticize the government. In Nigeria, as elsewhere in Africa, while social media is strong, more conventional media is less so. Hence restrictions on access to social media would, indeed, impede the flow of news and information to a greater extent than in the United States. Though it remains to be seen, major social media platforms’ barring of Donald Trump is likely to be cited in the Nigerian debate by those that favor the proposed legislation. In commentary by outside friends of Nigeria, it will be important not to impose on Nigeria the circumstances of the United States, which are not necessarily parallel.

Ten people who passed away this year who shaped world affairs for better or worse.

As 2020 comes to a close, here are ten influential U.S. foreign policy figures who passed away this year. 

Amadou Touré, coup maker, coup victim, military ruler, and eventually civilian chief of state in Mali, died last week in Istanbul at the age of seventy-two. Touré dominated Mali's governance for some twenty years and, in death, is being praised as a "soldier of democracy." Following his successful 1991 coup against Moussa Traoré, military ruler for thirteen years, Touré orchestrated a transition to elections and civilian government. In 2002 he was elected president and, in 2007, reelected. In 2012, he was overthrown by a military coup. Since then, the country has been in turmoil, with Tuareg and jihadi insurrections seeming to gain strength. It was during Touré's civilian presidency that Mali was the darling of many Western commentators. After all, the country had a civilian government and regular elections. Mali's outstanding achievements in music and the arts lent a glow. Overlooked was flourishing corruption, narcotics trafficking, and the continued alienation of the northern part of the country. Too many observers mistook the forms of democracy and good governance for its substance. Outside observers viewed Mali as a conventional nation-state, just as they often do with other postcolonial countries. Hence their exaggerated emphasis on elections and, later, their failure to see the role played by corruption (including narcotics trafficking) in the body politic—as well as the limits to what Touré could do about it, even if he wanted to. Accordingly, the current criticism of Touré reflects the assumption that he should have been like the leader of a nation-state rather than what he was, the head of a highly unstable coalition of forces and interests artificially amalgamated by the colonial power into a single entity.

Though still not certain, Joseph Biden and Kamala Harris will likely be elected president and vice president of the United States. A Biden administration's approach to Africa will depend on policy but also on who the president appoints to his cabinet and senior positions. Important will be the secretary of state, the assistant secretary of state for Africa, and the administrator of U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID). In some administrations, the National Security Council (NSC) has played a central role, though not under President Trump. The NSC will likely revert to the prominent role it played under President Obama. If it does, the NSC director for Africa will be important. As for policy, the campaign published "The Biden-Harris Agenda for the Diaspora." It provides a broad outline of the likely African preoccupations of a Biden administration. The document is specifically addressed to those Africans and of African descent living in the United States. As such, it begins with an affirmation of diaspora values: family, opportunity, and a desire to contribute to American growth and prosperity. The document includes familiar policy prescriptions with respect to the economy, health, and education. But it also includes specifics on issues of particular concern to Africans in the United States: immigration and U.S. policy toward Africa. On immigration, the document promises a rollback of Trump's initiatives and a renewed commitment to family unification and diversity. It also promises the reestablishment of the United States as a place of refuge and advocates a roadmap to citizenship for the undocumented. With the exception of the citizenship roadmap, these goals can be achieved by the president through his executive authority, and a President Biden is likely to do so. They could not be blocked by a hostile Republican majority in the Senate, if one were to emerge.  As for U.S. relations with Africa, the campaign document promises a change in tone, the restoration of "mutually respectful engagement,” and the revival and reinvigoration of diplomacy. The implication is no more disparaging presidential tweets. It reaffirms American support for African democracy and economic growth. It specifically endorses a continuation of President Obama's Young African Leaders Initiative and looks for diversity in the U.S. diplomatic service. These goals, too, can be largely achieved through presidential executive authority. This is a short, concise campaign document addressed to a specific group of actual or potential voters. Nevertheless, the campaign was careful not to over-promise. There is no reference to an increase in U.S. federal spending on African aid and development. Nor are there commitments to deeper U.S. involvement in Africa's security challenges. Still, the broad goals outlined in this admittedly campaign document—combined with high-quality personnel appointments—have the potential to transform for the better the tone of Washington's relations with Africa.

Western media is reporting that violence in Lagos—initially connected to protests against the Special Anti-Robbery Squad (SARS), a police unit—is intensifying. Lagos is under a twenty-four-hour curfew, and, for the first time, a state in the oil patch, Delta, has also imposed a curfew. Media also reports that in Lagos the violence has spread to Victoria Island and Ikoyi, upmarket neighborhoods. President Muhammadu Buhari addressed the nation on October 22, calling for protesters to consider “the various well-thought-out initiatives” his administration has put forth as an alternative to protests “being used by some subversive elements to cause chaos.” He, however, made no mention of those killed thus far—Amnesty International has documented at least twelve deaths in Lagos and fifty-six nationwide, but there really is no definitive number. On social media, fears are being expressed that the Buhari administration could move to severe repression. Many Lagosians, in particular, recall Buhari's brutality when he was military chief of state in the 1980s. Learn more about John Campbell's upcoming book, Nigeria and the Nation-State: Rethinking Diplomacy with the Postcolonial World, out in early December 2020.

The United States must finally translate its longstanding rhetoric about pandemic preparedness into concrete action.

French President Emmanuel Macron, in a September 22 UN General Assembly (UNGA) speech, made continued French military involvement contingent upon Mali's restoration of civilian rule. He was blunt: "They (the junta) must put Mali on the irreversible path of returning to civilian power and organize rapid elections." And, "France [...] can only remain engaged on this condition." As he has in the past, Macron was also clear that France has a low tolerance level for popular demonstrations against France, or francophone West African states that might be tempted by anti-French rhetoric: "The second these states want us to leave or consider that they can fight terrorism on their own, we will withdraw." The same day Macron was speaking at UNGA, there was a small anti-French demonstration in Bamako. The Mali junta appears impervious to pressures from the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) and the African Union (AU) to restore civilian government. Pressure from France might be different. France deploys more than 5,000 well-trained, well-equipped troops against jihadist extremist groups that seek to overthrow the government and destroy the political class in Mali and in its neighboring states. The French are assisted by some EU partners, and the United States provides logistical and intelligence support. Were France to withdraw, so, too, would its EU partners, and the continued U.S. presence, small though it is, would be called into question.  The jihadist operations in the Sahel have intensified and spread. French withdrawal might well lead to their destruction of Mali and some of its neighboring states. If the Mali junta remains intransigent, would the French really withdraw? West Africa is the French equivalent of the Russian "near abroad." For many French, close ties with francophone Africa makes their country more than simply a large state in the European Union. On the other hand, there is opposition in France to unending military engagement in the Sahel: some characterize the Sahel as France's Afghanistan.  A possible, even likely, outcome will be that the junta will adopt more civilian trappings, such as a genuinely civilian head of state that is acceptable to the Macron government, even if it must hold its noose. 

Opposition supporters, fed up with a corrupt political system, lack of economic opportunity, and continued violence, are demanding the president’s resignation.

Iraq’s new prime minister has formed a government in the hope of uniting the country’s factions, but challenges in combating corruption, powerful militias, and foreign influence loom.

Black Lives Matter protests in France and the United Kingdom have intensified the domestic debate over their countries’ past colonialism and present racism. Demonstrators, numbering in the thousands, have toppled memorials to historical figures associated with the slave trade and with colonial empires. In June, the protests spread to Belgium, with a crowd of about 10,000 in Brussels demonstrating against racism. On June 30, Belgian King Philippe, in a letter to Felix Tshisekedi, president of Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), expressed his "regret" over his country’s exploitation of DRC. King Philippe stopped short of an apology. Under Belgium's system of governance, an apology would be deemed a "political act" and could be done only by parliament. However, in a statement following the King’s letter, the new prime minister, Sophie Wilmes, urged Belgians "to look its past in the face." For his part, President Tshisekedi, in remarks commemorating the sixtieth anniversary of DRC’s independence, called for closer ties between the two countries, but based on a common understanding of history: "I consider it necessary that our common history with Belgium and its people be told to our children in the Democratic Republic of Congo as well as in Belgium on the basis of scientific work carried out by historians of the two countries." Unlike his predecessors, King Philippe has never visited Congo. He had expected to attend the commemoration, but COVID-19 precluded travel. A rapprochement with its former colonizer has been part of DRC’s foreign policy since Tshisekedi was sworn in on January 24, 2019. In his first official trip to Europe, Tshisekedi traveled to Belgium in September 2019 for a four-day visit to turn the page on the poor relations between the two countries that existed under his predecessor, Joseph Kabila. The Belgians and other Europeans at the 1885 Congress of Berlin have much to regret. The Congress, in effect, allocated Congo to King Philippe’s ancestor, Belgian King Leopold II, who began ruling Congo as his personal property that year, without reference to the constitutional government in Brussels. His harsh labor policies were designed to maximize the production of natural rubber. His brutality and waves of lethal disease led to the deaths of up to 20 million people (though some estimates are far lower). His numerous, well-documented atrocities led to Europe-wide pressure to end his personal regime, and in 1908, Belgium annexed Congo, and thereafter ruled it as a colony. Nevertheless, Leopold II still has admirers in Belgium, especially among the older generation. He had long been seen as having brought "civilization" to Africa. A parliamentary vote on a formal apology to the DRC might prove controversial for the country's fragile politics.

As Putin tries to manage Russia’s coronavirus outbreak, the national security bureaucracy faces challenges and opportunities of its own.

On April 18, President Muhammadu Buhari announced that his chief of staff, Abba Kyari, died from COVID-19 on the previous day. This is a tragedy for Nigeria and for the administration of President Buhari. Nigeria is facing challenges on multiple fronts as severe as in any time in its post-independence history. Kyari had played the central, technocratic role in the functioning of the office of the presidency. Kyari died after a month-long long struggle with COVID-19. Credible speculation is that he contracted the disease during a trip to Germany. At sixty-seven, he appeared healthy, and during the early stages of his hospitalization he was reported to be cheerful and optimistic. However, since his death, reference has appeared in the media to the presence of "underlying health issues," sometimes identified as diabetes. The health issues of senior political figures are almost never made public in Nigeria.  President Buhari had complete confidence in Kyari. He was formally chief of staff, but apparently much more. He was the gatekeeper, but also a "whisperer," a confidential advisor to the president. Kyari came to be a presence at nearly all of the president's meetings. He avoided the limelight but slowly increased his power; Nigerian politicians and business people, not known for retiring personalities, learned that it was necessary to work with him and through him. A pillar of the northern Nigeria’s traditional, tolerant Muslim establishment, a person with such power is rarely popular with his rivals. But, in Nigeria's over-centralized system, only the president's view mattered. Governance in Nigeria is largely personal rather than institutional, and Kyari had the ear of the president, the one that mattered.  Kyari was born in Borno state, now a center of the Boko Haram insurrection. In many ways, he was a familiar, modern figure. Media references refer to a single wife and four children. He was extensively educated in the West, including the universities of Warwick and Cambridge. In a country with a weak sense of national identity and stronger ethnic and religious ones, he self-identified as a Nigerian, and standard references make no mention of his ethnic origins. Like other senior establishment figures, he had multiple careers, working in law, banking, journalism, and business.  Nigeria badly needs technocratic skills at the center. With falling oil prices, Nigeria appears already to be slipping into an economic recession. Jihadi militants are accelerating their attacks in the north, and "farmer-herder" violence in the Middle Belt is on the upswing. COVID-19 appears to be at the beginning of its trajectory in Nigeria. With only under seven hundred reported cases as of April 21, Nigeria, with a population around 200 million, has fewer cases than Washington, DC, which has three thousand cases and a population of about 700 thousand. But already a number of governors and other high officials are reported to be under quarantine. Some estimate that as much as 60 percent of the country's economy is informal, which means face-to-face contact and limits of the applicability of social distancing. For all of Africa, that figure is estimated to be about 71 percent. It is difficult to see how conventional means of confronting the disease—social distancing, quarantine, contact tracing—can long be sustained.  An earlier version of this post mistakenly referred to Abba Kyari as a former brigadier general. 

Amir Asmar is a Department of Defense analyst and CFR’s national intelligence fellow. Throughout his intelligence career, his primary area of focus has been the Middle East. He held a wide range of analytic, senior analytic, and leadership positions for the Department of the Army, the Defense Intelligence Agency, and the National Intelligence Council. The statements of fact, opinion, or analysis expressed in this blog post are strictly those of the author and do not reflect the official policy or position of the Department of Defense (DoD) or the U.S. government. Review of the material does not imply DoD or U.S. government endorsement of factual accuracy or opinion. Jacob Ware is a research associate for CFR's counterterrorism and studies program. Even as the world grapples with the effects of the novel coronavirus, tensions between the United States and Iran continue to simmer. Prospects of renewed negotiations over Iran’s nuclear program and regional behavior have grown increasingly distant. After the United States withdrew from the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA) in 2018, Iran began to violate terms of the 2015 nuclear deal last year and appears now to have enriched enough uranium to produce a single nuclear weapon. Despite significant damage to the Iranian economy from U.S. sanctions, there is little evidence of the Iranian regime changing its behavior sufficiently to satisfy U.S. concerns or being willing to make significant concessions in any negotiations. The regime can afford to delay negotiations with the West because it is more resilient than generally assumed. Although some will point to protests as evidence of regime weakness, there are three reasons why the regime in Tehran will remain in power and in control: first, pride of Persian nationhood, which the regime effectively manipulates to promote domestic support for its activities; second, sanctions that are less impactful than presumed and Tehran’s past experience in managing sanctions; and third, Tehran’s use of violence to pursue foreign policy objectives abroad and ensure its survival against internal dissidents. Iran has been under almost uninterrupted U.S. sanctions since the 1979 seizure of the last U.S. Embassy in Tehran by student supporters of the Islamic Revolution. When Tehran began to promote Shia militant movements in the Middle East in the early 1980s, the United States designated Iran a state sponsor of terrorism. In the last few years, the United States has ramped up a campaign of maximum pressure, with Secretary of State Mike Pompeo outlining U.S. demands in a speech at the Heritage Foundation in May 2018. These twelve demands included an end to processing of nuclear material and missile development, and for Iran to end its support for militia groups in the region. The Iranian regime has been able to resist this pressure in part by drawing on the country’s fierce national pride to promote Iranian nationalism and garner domestic support for the regime’s actions. As journalist Robin Wright explained of the strength of national pride in Iran, “the best way to understand Persians is to think of the most chauvinistic Texan you know and add 5,000 years [of history] and then you begin to understand just how proud they are." Nationalist chauvinism prevails in the Iranian regime’s rhetoric about the United States and its allies. President Hassan Rouhani claimed that “the United States has always sought to sow intrigue against Iran but has never succeeded in the face of Iran’s greatness." Drawing on national pride, Tehran has made the domestic case for not engaging in any negotiations where Iranians are asked to “subject” themselves to the will of a foreign power. This has allowed Iran to more forcefully resist U.S. demands, including starting renewed negotiations. Tehran has also proven resilient and well-versed in blunting the net effect of U.S. sanctions. The sanctions have been, by all objective measures, painful. The rial has lost half its value in just under two years, oil exports are down nearly 90 percent from 2018, and the economy shrank 7.1 percent in 2019. Sanctions have negatively affected public health and living standards across the country, and black market prices of everything from fuel to chemotherapy drugs are steadily rising. The European signatories to the JCPOA, despite their desire to preserve the deal, have failed to attenuate the effect of sanctions. European states set up a mechanism to maintain economic and humanitarian relief offered by the JCPOA, but it has only recently facilitated its first export of humanitarian goods from Europe to Iran, despite the instrument being in place for over a year. One analyst explains how Iran manages this economic adversity: “the Iranians really do have alternative industries to fall back on and a significant domestic capacity, as well as the ability to leverage their relationships with several of their neighboring states." U.S. sanctions primarily focus on a few key sectors—banking, energy, and politics—so Iran has been able to fall back on other parts of its diversifying economy, including a growing manufacturing sector. Iran is also able to receive compensation for its exports through informal payment mechanisms, which allow Iranian trading partners to sidestep U.S. secondary sanctions. Moreover, Tehran is increasing trade with China and Russia, both of which reject U.S. sanctions, and has implemented tough austerity measures to cut domestic spending. The Iranian regime also remains willing to use violence to secure its interests abroad—and at home—despite U.S. sanctions and demands. Iran cannot compete in an all-out conventional military conflict with any Western power, but it still projects strength to assert influence and pursue foreign policy interests throughout the broader Middle East, including by signaling ambiguity regarding its nuclear weapons intentions, supporting subnational armed groups, and developing an increasingly large and sophisticated missile inventory. Tehran continues to encourage proxy attacks against U.S. targets, including a missile attack in Iraq in mid-March that killed one UK and two U.S. citizens, and retains the capacity to attack the United States or allies in the region. At home, too, the regime continues to use force to protect its interests. At times, popular anger—triggered by economic hardships, such as rising fuel prices or cuts in state subsidies—has spilled onto the streets, as it did in the form of widespread demonstrations in November and December of last year. The Iranian regime, however, had no compunction about using violence to repress popular demonstrations and has successfully done so numerous times. Tehran showcased its disregard for public well-being by killing more than one thousand protesters during the demonstrations last year, suggesting it will have little reluctance to continue to crack down on dissent within its borders. The recent demonstrations do not seem to represent a sufficiently widespread popular mobilization to threaten the regime. The global spread of coronavirus has led some to speculate that the effects of the pandemic in Iran present an existential threat to the clerical regime. If reports about the rate of COVID-19 infections and deaths in Iran are accurate—several senior officials have been infected, and the country is experiencing serious shortages in essential medical supplies—the regime may face challenges deflecting blame for a growing human catastrophe. However, even in this context, Iran has shown that it is willing and able to resist U.S. demands, and continues to employ violence via its proxies in the Middle East. The United States might view the additional pressure that COVID-19 has placed on the Iranian regime as an opportunity to take initial steps to reduce tensions and regain a measure of trust from the Iranian public, which polling indicates Washington has lost. It could do this by offering unconditional medical assistance or communicating that other states could do so without being subjected to secondary sanctions. The United States' allies in Europe have begun shipping humanitarian aid to Iran, perhaps opening the door to some U.S. action. Tehran will most likely wait for the results of U.S. presidential elections in November 2020 before deciding on the desired timing and strategy for renewed nuclear negotiations with the United States. Iran’s priority in the face of sanctions has been to maintain its posture and activity, resuming key aspects of its nuclear program, continuing to develop its missile arsenal, and—despite reports that sanctions have forced Tehran to cut some of its support to subnational armed groups—providing financial and military support to regional proxies. The Iranian regime has demonstrated resilience and durability in the face of sanctions on numerous previous occasions, and, rather than position itself for negotiations, continues to pursue domestic and regional policy goals opposed by the West despite economic challenges. The appearance of external hyperlinks do not constitute endorsement by the United States Department of Defense (DoD) for the linked websites, the information, the products, or the services contained therein. The DoD does not exercise any editorial, security, or other control over the information you may find in these locations.