This chapter empirically analyzes how portfolios of external finance impact aid agreements. The chapter integrates data on external debt and foreign aid to establish a comprehensive picture of developing countries' portfolios of external finance, demonstrating that these have become less reliant on traditional donors over time. The analysis tests if a greater share of finance from Chinese or private sources is associated with favorable terms from traditional donors, using measures of aid volume, infrastructure project share, and conditions attached to World Bank projects. The findings indicate that as countries draw a greater share of their external finance from nontraditional sources, they are more likely to receive aid on preferred terms. The relationship is stronger for countries of strategic significance to donors and, especially, those with higher donor trust.

Identified by Immanuel Wallerstein as the first true hegemon, the Dutch Empire dominated maritime commerce in the seventeenth century. Amsterdam emerged as the world’s alpha city, the site of the first true global multinational corporations. In tandem with corporate activities including the founding of New York City, Cape Town, and Jakarta, Amsterdam established the first modern stock market. It also solidified the North–South power imbalance. European powers extracted the labor and raw materials of far-flung colonies, refining them at higher value. The under-populated Dutch Empire relied on forced migration and slave labor to produce valuable goods such as sugar, tobacco, and spices. This chapter traces the emergence of a city network in the Low Countries that prefigured its independence from Spain, and the construction of its own imperial network. The Dutch city network expanded globally, establishing critical nodes in West Africa, the Americas, the Caribbean, and Asia to manage the flow of resources and labor. Amsterdam’s place at the top of the world city hierarchy led to rising inequality, prefiguring modern urban “command centers.”

Although no comparable preoccupation with freedom developed in any other part of the world, each region had its own experiences of it. This was true of Africa, but the difficult conditions of survival promoted a reliance on other values, such as courage, honor, and loyalty. The widespread presence of slavery, only rarely as harsh as in the West, and sometimes entered into voluntarily to ward off some crisis, impeded the diffusion of liberty as a value for society as a whole. Islamic society was pervaded by an egalitarian spirit based on the universal submission of everyone to God, but political rule was absolute once established, and only justice, not liberty, set limits to what rulers could do. Formally an empire, Mughal India displayed many forms of local independence, but those who exercised local authority regarded themselves as channels of sovereign power rather than as barriers to it. In China imperial authority was formally absolute but in practice people enjoyed much freedom of action, even against state officials. As in India, however, these limits on imperial authority were not conceived as liberties, chiefly because the state was regarded as essential to providing the moral order on which stable civilized life depended.

The introduction previews the argument that developing countries can use borrowing relationships to their advantage. It situates this argument about the financial statecraft of borrowers within the literature on sovereign debt, foreign aid, and African politics. It explains the specific focus on sub-Saharan Africa by outlining three dynamics that enabled African governments to diversify their portfolios of external finance in the early twenty-first century: debt relief, Chinese lending, and liquidity in international bond markets. The chapter describes the book's mixed-methods research design, combining statistical analysis of the terms of aid agreements with three case studies of Ethiopia, Kenya, and Ghana. Finally, the chapter highlights how the financial statecraft of borrowers contributes to debates on financial interdependence, multipolarity, and the agency of developing countries.

This chapter summarizes the maximum sentences available to domestic courts around the world for the perpetration of acts of terrorism. In more than one-quarter of all States this includes the death penalty. The chapter then describes the prosecution of terrorism suspects in selected domestic courts across the Americas, Africa, Asia and the Pacific, and Europe. It considers the reasonableness of the charges laid, the fairness of the trials, and the legitimacy of the sentences imposed upon conviction. Some of those prosecuted for terrorism offences are children or women. The overwhelming majority, though, are men between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five years.

The chapter discusses constitutional rules on political and electoral systems and political parties. While constitutions in Anglophone African countries are maximalist, Francophone Africa countries tend to be constitutionally minimalist on electoral and political party regulation, leaving key aspects of electoral systems for presidents, legislature and election management bodies to statutory regulation, which has led to instances of controversial and regressive reforms. Despite the differences, however, the relevant constitutional rules have remained relatively stable, and democratic backsliding often happens through irregular processes and legal reform, rarely through constitutional change, except presidential term limits. Fundamentally, the chapter argues that the winner-takes-all nature of politics constitutes the principal scourge of democratization in Africa, incentivizing attempts to manipulate and violate electoral and party rules. Accordingly, to enable progress in constitutional democracy, ensure stability of the rules of the game, and preclude abusive changes, constitution makers should recognize the manifestations of and tackle winner-takes-all politics, including through the recognition and empowerment of opposition groups.

As has been the case outsideAfrica, African countries have experienced multiple consequences from the COVID-19 pandemic that extend beyond its immediate impact on human health. In Africa, much like elsewhere in the world, the pandemic has had a significant economic impact, leading to profound global economic distress. African countries have also experienced consequences that are unlike those of much of the rest of the world. For example, the pandemic has contributed to a sovereign debt crisis that led to sovereign defaults by Zambia in late 2020, Mali in early 2022, and Ghana in late 2022, and might lead to additional defaults. Travel bans and COVID-19 vaccine exclusion are key policies that have also had a particular impact in Africa. These and other COVID-19 policies in African contexts reflect patterns of exclusion that are at least in part a consequence of continuing colonial hangover.

Africa’s unique vulnerability to climate change has become entrenched as a central theme in international climate politics and has precipitated a transformation in climate policy on the continent from relative disorganisation to effective and unified cooperation in the span of barely 30 years. In the same period, Africa has also emerged as one of the fastest growing and most promising regions in the world economy. In light of these developments, and spurred by an international discourse of ‘energy transition’, a new wave of European foreign direct investment headlined by renewable energy has crested – with Africa in its sights. This contribution will explore the efficacy of such investments as a vehicle for ‘exporting’ European climate policy, and the extent to which these policy aims are compatible with similarly massive investments into Africa from the People’s Republic of China (PRC). By interrogating the focus of energy investments from Europe and the PRC, both in terms of stated aims and actual outcomes, it will posit that the success of Africa’s energy transition will depend in large part on the PRC’s sincerity about its domestic and international climate ambition.

The protection of intellectual property (IP) is a question of life and death. COVID-19 vaccines, partially incentivized by IP, are estimated to have saved nearly 20 million lives worldwide during the first year of their availability in 2021. The vast majority of the benefit of this lifesaving technology, however, went to high- and upper-middle-income countries. Despite 10 billion vaccines having been produced by the end of 2021, only 4 percent of people in low-income countries were fully vaccinated. Paradoxically, IP may also be partly responsible for hundreds of thousands of lives lost in 2021, due to insufficient supply of vaccines and inequitable access during the critical first year of vaccine rollout, most notably in low-income countries that lacked the ability to buy or manufacture vaccines to save their populations. The contributors to this book diagnose a number of causes for the inequitable distribution of life-saving COVID-19 vaccines, from misguided reliance on intellectual property rights and voluntary mechanisms to share knowledge and vaccines, to the rise of vaccine nationalism and vaccine diplomacy, to unequal global intellectual property institutions that disenfranchise low-income countries and continue to reproduce colonial era dependency by poor countries on high income nations for life-saving technologies. Global experts herein suggest several reforms to prevent such inequity in the next pandemic, including delinking vaccine development from monopoly rights in technology, enhanced legal requirements to share publicly-funded technologies in pandemic times, and investment in technology transfer hubs and local vaccine manufacturing capacity in low and middle-income countries.

This chapter describes international maize-breeding research at the International Maize and Wheat Improvement Center (CIMMYT) across its first fifty years. Initially, breeders used landraces to create varieties whose seed, freely distributed through an international testing network, could be saved by farmers. A second phase in which CIMMYT forged partnerships with local and regional seed companies reflected the shift toward “market-led development.” This moderated free access to seed and fostered a gradual switch to hybrid technology. A trend among donors towards increased accountability and shorter funding cycles concurrently restricted CIMMYT’s investment in long-run research goals and accelerated a change of focus to Africa. Nonetheless, the development of germplasm tolerating drought and low soil fertility continued for decades, with eventual payoffs. Meanwhile, a long-running program to improve protein nutrition through high lysine maize varieties stalled due to lack of demand. In the twenty-first century, partnerships with global private seed companies allowed access to new technologies such as advanced screening methods, genomic selection, doubled haploids and gene editing.

Chapter 10 begins by summarising the conclusions from the case studies in terms of the model of ruler conversion, but its main aim is to adopt a global perspective on ruler conversions and on conversion more generally at times. It first underscores how vanishingly rare ruler conversions between Islam and Christianity are in the historical record and yet how open to monotheism immanentist regions, such as the Pacific and, to a lesser extent, Africa have been. Some scholars have already noticed the resilience of Buddhist, Hindu and Confucian societies to the proselytising drives of Christianity and Islam. The chapter summarises why this makes sense in terms of the mechanism of transcendentalist intransigence. It then offers a brief overview of how this affected Eurasian history by reference to the Ottoman, Mughal, Manchu and Mongol empires. The second half of the chapter offers a more detailed appraisal of the fortunes of Christianity and Islam in attempting to secure ruler conversions in South Asia, East Asia and both maritime and mainland Southeast Asia. Even though missionaries developed some of their most sophisticated strategies in these regions, the result was largely a failure. The conclusion to the chapter, and the book, reflects on the role of culture and the question of scale in historical analysis.

How does one speak of “African” state traditions, when they have been so deeply marked by outside intervention? Colonial traditions informed virtually all independent African states’ language policies. This chapter expands the STLR framework to postcolonial Africa, suggesting that continent-wide traditions include states oriented outwardly, with minimal accountability to citizens, whose populations are treated as possessing fixed linguistic identities. Beneath these macro traditions are more divergent paths deriving from historical and institutional differences, namely experiences with varying types of colonial rule and construction as either federal or unitary states. This chapter explores the case of Burkina Faso, which displays both the continent-wide traditions as well as a francophone, unitary path, situating it within an analysis of language regimes across Africa. It juxtaposes the constraints of tradition with the critical juncture and policy feedback that produced change across Africa in the last few decades. Finally, it argues that Africa’s language regimes will likely not fit comfortably into existing monolingual or fixed multilingual templates, since they are interacting with precolonial traditions. Rather, the policies that emerge will reflect people’s evolving language use, particularly relating to African lingua francas.

This chapter discusses the overlooked and often ignored historiography of the history of international law in Africa. It argues that this absence is a symptom of the myth of African ahistoricity before the coming of European imperialism and the idea that the advent of intellectual independence only came after decolonisation. In order to overcome this exclusion scholars should abandon the disciplinary tools and markers of nineteenth- and twentieth-century Western international law that are usually employed when establishing the canon of the history of international law. Instead, the chapter proposes that pan-Africanism can offer a lens through which to view African and Black authors’ historical engagement with histories of international law on the continent. Unlike their European contemporaries, most pan-African authors were not interested in analysing detailed state practice, but had a far more ambitious project: to construct a new world order based on racial equality and self-determination. In that sense, what they were interested in was forging anew the very foundations on which international law and international relations had been built.