Machine translation. Read the original
The AfriNIC case, named after the dispute between the African Network Information Centre (AfriNIC), a regional internet registry responsible for allocating IP addresses in Africa, and Cloud Innovation Ltd, is more than just a commercial matter. Admittedly, it hasn’t garnered much attention. Is it under-reported? Even more so, African public opinion doesn’t seem interested. At least, not enough, clearly unaware of the multifaceted issues at stake in this dispute.
The AfriNIC case, named after the dispute between the African Network Information Centre (AfriNIC), a regional internet registry responsible for distributing IP addresses in Africa, and Cloud Innovation Ltd, is more than just a commercial dispute. Admittedly, it hasn’t received much attention. Is it under-reported? Even worse, African public opinion doesn’t seem interested. At least, not enough, clearly unaware of the multifaceted issues surrounding this dispute. In the beginning, there was AfriNIC, a project full of hope.
At the turn of the millennium, Africa found itself at a crossroads. As the World Summit on the Information Society was being prepared, discussions about the digital divide intertwined with the more assertive voices of a continent eager to have a say in global Internet governance. In this climate of ferment, a structuring idea emerged: to create a regional Internet registry capable of managing IP addresses locally and ensuring the continent’s long-term technical sovereignty.
The idea took root in 1997 in Kuala Lumpur, during a workshop organized on the sidelines of an INET meeting. Driven by a handful of African pioneers, it gradually established itself as a response to the lack of truly African governance infrastructure. In December 1998, a pivotal meeting took place in Cotonou. Organized at the initiative of Pierre Dandjinou, then UNDP Regional ICT Advisor, this meeting became a foundational moment, bringing together technical and diplomatic figures from across Africa to lay the groundwork for a regional registry. A steering committee was established to propose a structure, define a business model, and ensure the political coherence of the future AfriNIC.
This collective project is based on an ecosystem of committed stakeholders from diverse disciplines and regions, united by a shared conviction. Professor Nii Quaynor, a respected Ghanaian computer scientist, already hailed by his peers as the father of the African Internet, embodies a discreet yet decisive leadership. He combines technical expertise, strategic advocacy, and a long-term vision. Alongside him, Pierre Ouédraogo, a leading figure in the digital Francophonie, skillfully connects the worlds of development, language, and technical standards. He brings a structured voice, grounded in African realities, to international debates.
Among the figures who form the core of the project, Mohamed Diop stands out for his clarity of analysis and his rigorous engineering approach. Involved in technical processes and regional coordination forums, he was later nominated to represent Africa within the Address Supporting Organization. Alain Aina, a Beninese engineer trained in the school of high standards, acts as a builder. He participated in the founding of AfNOG in 2000, training generations of operators there. Co-founder of AfriNIC, he held key positions, including Technical Director, Interim Director General, and then Director of Research and Innovation. His commitment extends beyond this role, as he remains an essential resource for the African DNS community, in conjunction with AFTLD and ICANN.
Other contributors are enriching this dynamic. Mr. DOKOUE Kossivi, an experienced Togolese engineer, leveraged his time at Togo Telecom to lead the introduction of the internet in his country. He then joined the national regulator, overseeing issues related to numbering, frequencies, and quality of service. Alan Barrett, a seasoned South African engineer, co-founded South Africa’s first commercial internet service provider in the 1990s. A member of AfriNIC’s first board of directors, and later its managing director from 2015 to 2019, he played a key role in the institutional consolidation of the registry.
These women and men work tirelessly, often behind the scenes, even though many African governments still fail to grasp the strategic importance of the internet. IP address management is then perceived as a purely technical matter. Yet, the founders of AfriNIC know that this control is one of the pillars of sovereignty in an increasingly digital world. Long before the term “digital sovereignty” became a common political phrase, they were laying its concrete foundations.
The year 2000 marked a new milestone. AfNOG was established to strengthen technical cooperation among African operators. That same year, Africa obtained its first seat on the ICANN ASO Council. The following year, the first AfriNIC Board of Directors was formed. It reflected the continent’s geographical diversity with balanced representation from the six sub-regions. Professor Nii Quaynor assumed the chairmanship and began work on formalization, regional integration, and gaining recognition from global institutions.
Pierre Dandjinou’s role became particularly central. It was not limited to organizing the founding meeting in Cotonou. As the first chairman of AfriNIC’s board of directors upon its official recognition by ICANN in 2005, he signed the document establishing the registry in Mauritius. He appointed the very first director general. Through his strategic and diplomatic acumen, he guided the transition from the pioneers’ vision to the institutionalization of the project. His ability to foster dialogue between cultures, regions, and technical requirements made him a pivotal figure.
At the heart of this transformation, Adiel Akplogan stands out. A Togolese engineer trained in both Africa and Europe, he embodies a new generation of African technical leaders. He was appointed the first Director General of AfriNIC and took charge of the registry’s practical implementation. His mandate included building a skilled team, managing relationships with global ecosystem bodies, particularly ICANN, and ensuring that African priorities were fully integrated into digital resource governance.
In 2004, after several years of consultation and methodical work, AfriNIC was officially incorporated in Mauritius. This choice of location resulted from a well-considered compromise, combining geographical neutrality, a stable legal environment, and international connectivity. Africa finally had its regional registry. This institutional birth, long awaited and patiently built, marked the continent’s entry into the era of digital autonomy. AfriNIC became much more than a simple manager of technical resources. It symbolized Africa’s capacity to equip itself with its own tools, to assert its voice, and to build digital governance that was both rooted in its realities and open to the world.
The founding decade, between Port Louis and Johannesburg
The choice of AfriNIC as the location was the culmination of a process that was as much technical as it was diplomatic. Several countries had expressed interest, including South Africa, Egypt, Ghana, Senegal, Uganda, and Mauritius. A state was needed that could offer a stable environment, a clear legal framework, robust digital infrastructure, and a firm commitment to hosting this continental institution. Mauritius, a discreet archipelago in the Indian Ocean, confidently ticked all these boxes.
This choice was not merely symbolic. It reflected a desired balance between the major regions of the continent and a degree of political neutrality. The country offered free accommodation for two years, a bilingual environment, legal stability, an international outlook, and above all, a reassuring diplomatic stance at a time when Africa was seeking to avoid excessive centralization. The compromise took shape. While Mauritius was to host the registry’s administrative and legal headquarters, South Africa was tasked with hosting the technical infrastructure, Egypt became the backup and redundancy site, and Ghana coordinated the training.
In February 2005, AfriNIC officially began operations. Eight weeks later, ICANN granted it the status of the fifth regional Internet registry. The registry started with two employees. In less than a decade, the staff grew to around sixty, distributed across technical operations, training, government relations, security, public policy, and administration. At its helm, Adiel Akplogan set the tone. The Togolese embodied methodical rigor, a collaborative approach, and a deep commitment to the idea of an Internet managed by its communities.
Under his leadership, AfriNIC structured its internal mechanisms, consolidated its partnerships, established its procedures, and gradually gained the trust of international stakeholders. The registry is neither an intergovernmental institution nor a continental agency. It falls under Mauritian law and operates as a non-profit organization. It is not protected by any treaty, is not affiliated with any regional organization such as the African Union or ECOWAS, and does not benefit from any institutional immunity. On the surface, Africa has its registry. But in reality, the structure rests on a precarious balance, without a solid political foundation.
This legal weakness becomes increasingly apparent as the registry’s responsibilities grow. While the mission remains noble, the burden becomes heavy. Internal tensions gradually emerge. The lack of rigorous control mechanisms over IP allocations, flaws in verification procedures, the limited capacity to respond to abuses, and latent conflicts of interest all fuel growing distrust.
The WHOIS database, intended to be a tool for transparency, is gradually becoming an object of suspicion. Members of the community are questioning the clarity of the processes, resource management, and the governance of the board. The departure of Adiel Akplogan, who has been appointed to a senior position at ICANN, leaves a void. His unifying style, his knowledge of the technical workings, and his commitment to a service ethic have not immediately found a suitable replacement.
AfriNIC then entered a period of turbulence. The safeguard mechanisms proved insufficient. The internal rules, still in their infancy, sometimes lacked precision. The ambiguity in certain decisions opened the door to conflicting interpretations. Mistrust took hold, slowly at first, then more structurally. The project, born from the desire to equip Africa with a tool for digital sovereignty, began to show its fault lines.
A colossus with feet of clay?
A single flaw, initially discreet and invisible to many, was enough to cause the edifice to collapse. The methodical rigor that had characterized AfriNIC’s glorious decade gradually faded, giving way to a murky system, silent misappropriations, and a progressive loss of control. What was meant to be a model of technical governance for the African continent suddenly revealed its deepest flaws. The AfriNIC v. Cloud Innovation Ltd case became a stark symbol of this. Not only did it expose the continent’s inability to protect one of its most strategic assets, but it also demonstrated how an infrastructure designed for longevity can falter from within when safeguards are lacking.
The first warning signs emerged in 2019, fueled by the meticulous analyses of Ron Guilmette, an independent researcher and activist against internet abuse. By tracking unusual flows of spam and suspicious activity, he identified African IP addresses, supposedly serving local operators, being used from data centers in China, the United States, and other foreign jurisdictions. Tracing the transactions back, he uncovered a troubling pattern. Some allocations appeared never to have benefited the continent. They were granted to shell companies and then resold or leased internationally in complete secrecy.
At the heart of this system, one name keeps recurring: Ernest Byaruhanga, policy coordinator at AfriNIC and a former pillar of the organization. He was one of the first two employees recruited when the registry was created, trained in the Netherlands, and respected for his technical expertise. For years, he held a central position in managing allocation policies, overseeing procedures, checks, and validations. It is precisely this strategic position that, according to the investigation, was allegedly exploited to orchestrate one of the largest embezzlements the registry has ever experienced.
Millions of IP addresses, officially allocated to inactive companies, were redirected to private commercial entities. Two names appear in the documents reviewed by investigators: Amiek Holdings, used as a hub to receive and transfer resources, and IPv4Leasing, a company specializing in reselling IP blocks on secondary markets. In several cases, direct or indirect links connect these entities to Ernest Byaruhanga or close associates. The WHOIS database, a tool meant to guarantee transparency in allocations, had been manipulated to conceal these transactions.
The figures are staggering. More than four million IPv4 addresses are believed to have been misappropriated. Their value on the secondary market, where resources fetch exorbitant prices, exceeded fifty million dollars. Entire blocks, allocated to companies based in Cameroon, Zambia, or Nigeria, ended up circulating in the hands of resellers in Asia or South Africa. One example in particular illustrates the extent of the problem. A block officially allocated to a now-defunct Cameroonian company was allegedly resold via Amiek Holdings to a South African marketing firm for the paltry sum of 2,500 dollars. No notification, no audit, no transparency. Everything had been validated internally.
But the scandal doesn’t end there. It takes on a new dimension with the emergence of Cloud Innovation Ltd. Initially, it was simply a standard request for IP address allocation, submitted to AfriNIC according to the rules. The legally registered company had a service contract. But the organization quickly discovered that the allocated resources were being used for commercial purposes, far removed from the mission of providing local connectivity. The addresses were hosted abroad, monetized through opaque services, sometimes linked to illegal streaming or problematic content.
The scale is staggering. In total, 6.2 million IP addresses were allegedly used. Intended to support the continent’s digital transformation, they were redirected to foreign markets in China, Europe, and the United States. This was no longer a one-off diversion, but a veritable resale system, a parallel market, estimated at over $250 million. At the helm was a discreet man, little known to the general African public. Heng Lu, a Chinese national and global entrepreneur, managed to capture strategic resources without the African ecosystem being able to stop him. This is where the heart of the digital heist is revealed: a methodical exploitation of vulnerabilities, carried out in the shadows of legal proceedings, right under the nose of an entire continent. AfriNIC then attempts to regain control. Audits are launched, funding suspended, accounts deactivated. But it is already too late. The battle takes a legal turn. Cloud Innovation retaliates. What could have been handled internally becomes a public matter, brought before the Mauritian courts. Thus begins a long, winding legal saga, marked by constant twists and turns, contradictory injunctions, and cross-accusations. The registry enters a zone of turbulence from which it will not emerge unscathed.
AfriNIC then attempted to regain control. Audits were launched, funding suspended, and accounts deactivated. But it was already too late. The battle took a legal turn. Cloud Innovation retaliated. What could have been handled internally became a public matter, brought before the Mauritian courts. Thus began a long and convoluted legal saga, marked by constant twists and turns, contradictory injunctions, and cross-accusations. The registry entered a period of turbulence from which it would not emerge unscathed.A legal saga…
Registered in a country (the Seychelles) known for being flexible, if not very tolerant, in its application of laws and the imposition of sanctions, Cloud Innovation has, to everyone’s surprise, launched an unprecedented legal battle.
More than 50 legal proceedings in Mauritius, some of them summary proceedings, freezing of AfriNIC’s bank accounts, blocking of General Assemblies, injunctions against the Board of Directors, threats against voters. The objective is not only to defend a legal position, but to render the registry inoperative. This is evidenced by Cloud Innovation’s relentless attacks as AfriNIC strives to rectify the situation, under the bewildered gaze of a Mauritian justice system that has become the seat of perpetual delaying tactics, where the slightest legal loophole observed at AfriNIC is transformed into a new argument for judicial harassment.
Cloud Innovation doesn’t just dictate its rules in the courtroom. In the public sphere as well, the company extends its power to cause harm. Journalists, analysts, and technical experts who venture to comment on the matter receive letters from lawyers, sometimes even cease-and-desist letters, or even threats of defamation lawsuits. Anyone who publishes or dares to raise the issue is systematically silenced. By any means necessary. In the corridors of African tech forums, the concern is palpable. Several long-standing contributors to the internet community have chosen to remain silent. General self-censorship has taken hold. Only the most daring still dare to speak out. The others simply wait, watch, and sometimes sigh.
The Cloud Innovation case should be taught in all business and digital governance schools. It embodies how an actor can methodically seize control of a technical infrastructure through strictly legal, yet morally devastating, means. It demonstrates how the absence of a regional legal framework, the lack of intergovernmental support mechanisms, and the slowness of institutional responses can create a massive breach in Africa’s digital infrastructure.
Because Cloud Innovation is not simply a defaulting service provider. It is a sprawling, complexly organized structure that is difficult to trace. Upstream, it presents itself as a compliant company, enjoying contractual rights. Downstream, it acts as a paralyzing power, manipulating statutes, orchestrating postponements, and defying any attempt at regulation. It becomes a hybrid entity, simultaneously a member of the system and an agent of its destabilization. A legal and financial nebula, untranslatable into the classical categories of law.
Perhaps the most worrying aspect is the apparent impunity enjoyed by this strategy. No convictions, no diplomatic backlash, no commission of inquiry. African governments remain silent. The African Union has not spoken out. Major digital development agencies are nowhere to be seen. The field is wide open.
Meanwhile, AfriNIC, the last guardian of a critical common good, is sinking into paralysis. Deprived of a budget, elections, and governance, it survives on life support while Cloud Innovation advances its agenda.
Eddy Kayihura, a counterattack at the heart of the legal storm
The story begins in December 2019 with an internal shock that was to shatter the credibility of the African registry. Ernest Byaruhanga, one of AfriNIC’s first employees, was dismissed for gross misconduct following revelations of a vast IPv4 address hijacking scheme. This scandal confirmed what many already feared: that blocks of addresses had left the official registry and were circulating in parallel networks, sometimes resold on the international secondary market. The case was handed over to the Mauritian police and the prosecutor’s office, but from that moment on, the weakness of the system became glaringly apparent. Contrary to popular belief, an internet registry cannot simply reclaim addresses by unilateral decision.
All regional registries worldwide, whether RIPE in Europe, ARIN in North America, APNIC in Asia-Pacific, or LACNIC in Latin America, follow an identical and highly codified procedure when they discover fraud. An official notification is sent to the member in question, giving them thirty days to comply. If nothing is corrected, a further formal notice is sent after sixty days. After ninety days, the registry can terminate the contract. The resources are then frozen in the WHOIS database, and the member loses all rights to use them. The addresses then enter a quarantine period of several months, sometimes up to a year, before being put back into circulation. This slowness is intentional, as it protects the stability of global routing, but it prevents any rapid recovery in the event of widespread fraud.
AfriNIC applies this procedure. A comprehensive audit, conducted with the support of APNIC, identifies more than two million hijacked email addresses. More than one million are quarantined for twelve months, but many others remain unreachable for various legal reasons.
In November 2019, against this backdrop, Eddy Kayihura was appointed Director General. An engineer trained at universities in Rwanda and the United States, with an MBA in international business, he had worked for over twenty years in information technology, notably at the Bank of Kigali where he contributed to the institution’s digital transformation, and then at Broadband System Corporation, Rwanda’s internet service provider. At the helm of AfriNIC, he inherited a weakened organization, but his mission was clear: to restore the organization’s legitimacy and defend the continent’s digital sovereignty. Starting in 2022, he attempted to embark on a tour of some twenty African countries to bring the registry closer to its members, promote the adoption of IPv6, and strengthen trust. But before that, he had to manage an existential crisis.
On July 7, 2021, the Supreme Court of Mauritius rejected an injunction application filed by Cloud Innovation, a member accused of breaching its contractual obligations. The following day, AfriNIC issued a statement announcing that its board of directors had decided to terminate Cloud Innovation’s membership and reclaim its addresses. The resources were immediately frozen in the WHOIS database, preventing the company from making any changes, but an exceptional ninety-day grace period was granted to allow customers to migrate without service interruption, due to the COVID-19 pandemic. This decision demonstrates AfriNIC’s commitment to acting firmly yet responsibly, protecting end users despite the seriousness of the situation.
Cloud Innovation is not just any member. The company holds massive blocks from AfriNIC, allocated between 2013 and 2016, including 154.80.0.0/12, 45.192.0.0/12, 156.224.0.0/11, and 154.192.0.0/11. This represents more than six million IPv4 addresses, valued at several hundred million dollars on the secondary market. Cloud Innovation is also a member of the RIPE NCC in Europe, where it holds other resources, such as the 45.133.76.0/22 block and even a colossal IPv6 delegation (2a14:9a00::/29). Significantly, it does not have an Autonomous Subnet Number (ASN), which proves that it does not operate its own network but acts primarily as an intermediary and speculator.
In theory, AfriNIC had made an exemplary decision. The registry was based on a court ruling, respected the grace periods, and protected users. But this decision would mark the beginning of a chain of events that would overwhelm the institution.
The decision of July 8, 2021, which was supposed to be a victory in principle for AfriNIC, actually paved the way for one of the most relentless legal offensives in the history of internet governance. Cloud Innovation, led by Lu Heng, did not simply contest the termination. It chose a strategy of all-out war, exploiting every procedural loophole and every institutional delay to transform a contractual dispute into a protracted legal battle.
Just a few days after the publication of AfriNIC’s press release, the company again appealed to the Supreme Court of Mauritius. Having claimed colossal damages, estimated at $1.8 billion, for harm to its reputation a few weeks earlier, the Court, in a move that surprised many observers, ordered the provisional freezing of $50 million in AfriNIC’s bank accounts as a down payment on the $1.8 billion, a decision with far-reaching consequences. Suddenly, the registry could no longer access its funds. Its daily operations were paralyzed: salary payments and contracts with service providers were jeopardized, and technical investments were halted. It was tantamount to a financial hostage situation.
From that moment on, the balance of power shifted dramatically. Cloud Innovation was no longer acting as a mere member contesting a sanction. It was acting as a determined actor, intent on strangling the institution. Its lawyers filed numerous lawsuits, sought a cascade of injunctions, and initiated a dozen parallel proceedings. Every board meeting is threatened, every attempt to hold an election is challenged in court, every management decision is contested in the courts. AfriNIC finds itself caught in a legal spiral that prevents it not only from functioning normally, but also from reforming.
For Eddy Kayihura, the new director general, it’s the start of a living hell. He, who had been recruited to stabilize and modernize the registry, has become the main target of the offensive. He is personally accused in certain proceedings, targeted by attempts to publicly discredit him, confronted with an avalanche of hostile correspondence, and subjected to constant pressure from opposing lawyers. His initial mission, which was to strengthen technical governance, has turned into a daily struggle for survival.
The context only makes matters worse. We are in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, the courts are operating at a reduced capacity, travel is restricted, and providing documents such as powers of attorney has become complicated. Cloud Innovation is skillfully exploiting this context to advance its agenda. It complains of being unable to provide certain documents due to lockdowns, cites logistical difficulties to delay or cancel hearings, all while multiplying its actions against AfriNIC. It’s a scorched-earth strategy: saturating the court’s procedural register, exhausting it financially, and discrediting it politically.
In this atmosphere, Eddy Kayihura finds himself in the eye of the storm. His room for maneuver is shrinking day by day. Every decision he makes is immediately scrutinized, attacked, and manipulated. His press release of July 8, in which he announced the termination of Cloud Innovation “reasonably and in good faith,” has become a key piece of evidence in the opposing proceedings, used to demonstrate an alleged abuse of power. Where he intended to demonstrate AfriNIC’s firmness and responsibility, his words have been turned against him.
The following months were a series of setbacks. Elections were repeatedly blocked by court orders. Bank accounts were at risk of being frozen again, depriving the registry of any means of action. The board of directors fragmented, some members resigned, others withdrew. The African community, discouraged and threatened, remained silent. Major international organizations observed, worried, but did not get directly involved. AfriNIC was isolated, and its director general was on the front line, exposed to all kinds of pressure.
Yet AfriNIC waged the battle with remarkable energy. It continued to advocate for the adoption of IPv6, increased diplomatic contacts, and traveled the continent as often as possible to mobilize stakeholders. But each advance was met with a new legal ambush. Cloud Innovation was employing a strategy of attrition: no decisive victory, but a series of blockages that kept the institution on life support, unable to recover.
As the years went by, Eddy understood that his mandate would not be that of a builder, but that of a resister. He would remain in the eye of the storm until the end of his contract, facing almost single-handedly an adversary who had managed to transform a contractual conflict into a legal trench war. And if AfriNIC did not disappear, it was largely because he held firm, at the cost of constant tension, in an environment where every mistake could be fatal.
This was the beginning of the legal strangulation, methodically orchestrated by Lu Heng, which embodied a true scorched-earth policy. Not only was AfriNIC paralyzed, but the entire African community was held hostage, deprived of the stability it needed to develop its networks. A legal battle had replaced technical cooperation, and behind the walls of the courts, the future of African digital sovereignty was at stake.
Chronicle of a Judicial Asphyxiation and Silent Shipwreck
As the legal machinery set in motion by Cloud Innovation extends its reach, AfriNIC sinks into unprecedented institutional paralysis. What was conceived as a technical compass for digital Africa becomes the scene of administrative chaos. Deprived of stable governance and disoriented in its primary mission, the organization struggles to breathe. Simple day-to-day management becomes an achievement. Holding a statutory meeting is an ordeal. No one knows who actually runs AfriNIC or with what legitimacy.
Through successive legal proceedings, injunctions, and court decisions, the regional registry is progressively rendered incapacitated. Its accounts are frozen. Its assemblies are suspended. Its elections are blocked. Its board of directors, decimated or incapacitated, can no longer function. In this calculated stifling of activity, everything seems designed to prevent AfriNIC from regaining control. The Mauritian justice system has become a permanent battleground. Every attempt at reform or reorganization is met with a counter-offensive. Every initiative encounters judicial opposition, often skillfully argued, almost always destabilizing.
In the digital corridors of the continent, a pervasive anxiety is taking hold. No one truly understands what is happening in Port Louis, the organization’s headquarters. Members are waiting for clarification. In vain. International partners are adopting a cautious stance. The usually vibrant and passionate technical community has adopted a more subdued tone. The fear of lawsuits, legal reprimands, and intimidation by bailiffs silences voices. Self-censorship settles in with the quiet force of a leaden weight. People watch, they sigh, but they remain silent.
In this stagnant landscape, the danger no longer comes solely from the outside. AfriNIC’s internal fragmentation is becoming a source of self-sabotage. Factions are forming. Rivalries are intensifying. Motions are being filed hastily, without consensus. Accusations, always destabilizing, are flying from all sides, often without evidence. The weakened institution becomes vulnerable to its own internal conflicts. The void left by formal governance is gradually filled by personal stances, isolated initiatives, and uncontrolled leaks.
This toxic climate has significant consequences for the entire ecosystem. African internet service providers, which rely on AfriNIC’s services to obtain or renew their IP address blocks, are facing unprecedented delays. Some network expansion projects are stalled. Public tenders fail due to a lack of available IP resources. In a context where connectivity is central to national development strategies, this paralysis slows digital inclusion on several fronts.
But perhaps the most worrying aspect is not the bureaucratic delays. It is the loss of trust. What the AfriNIC crisis reveals is that Africa currently lacks an effective protection mechanism for its technical institutions. No safety net. No continental rapid intervention mechanism. No formalized solidarity. When the registry collapses, it collapses on its own. The African Union does not intervene. Member states seem preoccupied with other matters. Cooperation agencies remain silent. Civil society, though alert, cannot find the leverage to influence the course of events.
The registry then becomes the symbol of a broader fragility: that of a continent still hesitant about its capacity to protect its strategic resources. Because IP addresses are not simply technical data. They are the invisible backbone of the Internet. The building blocks that allow a continent to exist in cyberspace. And when their management is misused, captured, or paralyzed, the entire digital architecture falters.
In other parts of the world, a crisis of this magnitude would have triggered a coordinated mobilization. Ministries would have met, agencies would have coordinated, and emergency funds would have been released. Experts would have been summoned, audits commissioned, and mediation efforts launched. The African continent, as a whole, seems to have stood by and done nothing. As if AfriNIC were a separate entity, detached from sovereignty issues. As if its fate concerned only a few distant technical experts. This relative indifference is in itself a warning sign.
And yet, some have been sounding the alarm for months. Open letters have been published. Op-eds have been written. Meetings have been organized. Without much response. The general public doesn’t grasp the scale of the disaster. The mainstream media only timidly address the issue. The matter is considered too technical, too complex, too obscure. A nebula, once again, difficult to decipher.
This story must be told. Not as a mere technical anecdote, but as a political crisis. A crisis that reveals the cost of inaction, the weakness of legal structures, and the urgent need to rethink the architecture of African digital sovereignty. AfriNIC cannot remain indefinitely in a state of institutional death. It needs to be awakened. It needs to surge forward. It needs reform.
This case must become a practical case study, taught in schools of governance, law faculties, and digital diplomacy programs. We must understand how a technical institution can be captured, stifled, and then marginalized, without any safeguards being triggered. Above all, we must draw concrete lessons from it, so that other shadowy entities never again find the same fertile ground of opacity and silence to thrive or achieve their goals.
All things considered, the paralysis of AfriNIC is not an exception, but rather the logical consequence of a strategic vacuum. And as long as this vacuum persists, other structures will unfortunately suffer the same fate. Other registers, other institutions, other critical resources. Burying, in effect, the dream and the promises—clearly lacking a backbone—of an Africa in control of its digital destiny.
The discreet and resolute diplomacy of Smart Africa
When discussing the strategic shift taken by Africa in its quest for digital sovereignty, one will inevitably talk about Smart Africa and its Director General, Lacina Koné. He alone embodies this stance of a continent that, far from being subjected to the digital revolution, intends to shape it—a strategy guided by firm, almost military convictions, calmly but resolutely presented to international institutions and at major diplomatic gatherings. At every meeting, at every workshop, he instills a clear message: Africa first, and digital transformation as the foundation of its sovereignty. This new, firm, and uncompromising tone marks a significant shift after years of consensus-driven rhetoric.
The 81st ICANN Summit in Turkey saw Lacina Koné take the lead in African consultations, calling on states to step out of the shadows and actively commit to safeguarding and developing the continent’s digital resources. In March 2025, a ministerial meeting in Seattle brought together, among others, Ghanaian Minister Samuel Nartey George and his Beninese counterpart—a rare pairing at a single event—alongside strong delegations from AfriNIC and some forty participants, including technical experts, diplomats, and political leaders. Everyone observed, at this meeting, that the tone had hardened and that African diplomacy was going on the offensive. Such gatherings paved the way for a discreet but concrete mobilization.
This hardening of positions took another form at ICANN 83 in June, where Smart Africa, in close coordination with certain member countries, had strong recommendations from ICANN 82 and the African Regulatory Council validated. Already presented in Istanbul, these recommendations call for increased transparency, the definition of a continental legal framework, and the mobilization of member states before the crucial AfriNIC election, scheduled for June 23. Consultations in Prague continued this work, before an extraordinary meeting announced by Smart Africa on April 22, centered on an explicit mandate:restore AfriNIC’s credibility”.
Behind the scenes in diplomatic circles, several African capitals, Kigali chief among them, have mobilized, seizing upon the issue to impose a serious electoral calendar and establish ways out of the crisis. Kigali has notably called for citizen participation, meaning technical participation, while also working on mechanisms to break the institutional deadlock. The objective: to avoid any form of political or judicial paralysis and prevent the AfriNIC crisis from plunging the continent back into a kind of digital stagnation.
Lacin Koné’s style is precise, assertive, but never flashy. He proceeds step by step: meeting after meeting, workshop after workshop, diplomatic gesture after diplomatic gesture. His method is inspired by military strategy: gaining support through persuasion, securing governance areas, and then imposing a timetable. Faced with the threat of legal paralysis hanging over AfriNIC, he successfully mobilized heads of state, ministers, and regulators to demand concrete action.
This discreet yet authoritative strategy, as seen in Seattle where African representatives confronted external actors, has been a game-changer. It is no longer merely a technical matter; it is a component of the sovereignty of African states. Consequently, the demands endorsed in Geneva and then Prague have become a roadmap. It is now up to the member states to embrace this plan, defend it in all forums, and extricate AfriNIC from its institutional quagmire.
At the heart of this strategy lies a common list of candidates for the election. This is not simply a casting call, but a rigorous selection process based on two criteria: recognized technical expertise and a firm commitment to transparency. Together, these profiles form a cross-border team that aspires to embody a new image for AfriNIC: professional, united, and resolutely pan-African. This collective project aims to break with clannish practices and place the governance of the registry in the hands of credible and legitimate actors.
This list brings together Abdelaziz Hilali, a professor in Morocco and president of ISOC Morocco, a leading figure in infrastructure and digital diplomacy. It also includes Emmanuel Adewale Adedokun, a former member of the AfriNIC Council and a professor in Nigeria, an advocate for transparency and best practices. Kaleem Ahmed Usmani, head of CERT-MU in Mauritius and architect of the cybercrime law, brings his rigorous security expertise. Laurent Ntumba Kayemba, a pioneer of the IXP in the DRC, embodies inclusive digital sovereignty. Carla Sanderson, a marketing strategist at Teraco/NAPAfrica, represents a link with the technical communities of the Global South. Fiona Asonga, a leading figure in multi-stakeholder governance in East Africa, ensures institutional balance. Rodrigue Guiguemde, formerly with ICANN and Smart Africa, advocates for open standards. Finally, Ben Roberts, a builder at Liquid Intelligent Technologies, brings an independent voice and a vision for continental infrastructure.
From Expected Reconstruction to Widespread Distrust
After more than a year of institutional paralysis, the launch of AfriNIC’s electoral process in the first quarter of 2025 was meant to symbolize a return to legitimacy and normalcy. Placed under the supervision of Judicial Receiver Gowtamsingh Dabee, appointed by the Supreme Court of Mauritius, the process aimed to re-establish an operational board of directors, in accordance with AfriNIC’s statutes and a court decision dated September 12, 2023.
The timeline was structured: a nomination period, the formation of an electoral committee, the deployment of an electronic voting platform, and then the online vote scheduled from June 16 to 23. But from the outset, the atmosphere soured. On June 6, ICANN issued an official alert highlighting two major risks: the questionable registration of a company as a voting member and the presence, within the electoral committee, of individuals linked to the membership of that same entity. ICANN demanded a restructuring of the committee, transparency regarding the voter lists, and full documentation of the corrective measures.
An initial letter, dated March 7, 2025, had already reiterated the very foundation of AfriNIC: to ensure the impartial distribution of digital resources, without holding ownership, in accordance with African community policies. Yet, these warning signs were ignored. The process continued until a legal challenge filed by the Tanzanian association TISPA triggered a Supreme Court order on June 13, suspending both the electronic vote scheduled for June 16 and the final ballot on June 23. Justice C. Green-Jokho ordered the parties to comply with the statutes of AfriNIC and to provide formal explanations by June 30. The process came to an abrupt halt, plunged into institutional uncertainty.
From Electoral Chaos to Diplomatic Threat
The judicial freeze, however, did not prevent chaos. On June 23, an in-person vote was held in Mauritius, in apparent violation of the existing order. On that day, several members discovered that their right to vote had been exercised without their knowledge. Individuals are showing up with dozens of proxies, seemingly without limit, in blatant contradiction to AfriNIC’s bylaws, which restrict this type of delegation to five proxies per person. Images circulating on YouTube show participants handling bundles of proxies, while others report being approached by individuals linked to the Numbers Resource Society. Election material circulating in the name of the NRS even displays AfriNIC’s official logo, suggesting unauthorized access to the membership database.
Faced with this avalanche of reports, ICANN is abandoning diplomatic restraint. On June 25, in an eight-page public letter addressed to Mr. Dabee and copied to the highest authorities in Mauritius, it expresses its “grave concern” over allegations it deems “shocking.” The organization reiterates the requirements of the ICP-2 standard for maintaining regional registry status and announces that a compliance audit could be initiated at any time. Fifteen specific questions are posed, ranging from the fraudulent use of proxies to the certification of results, including unauthorized access to member files. ICANN demands a response within twenty-four hours, threatens to oppose any proclamation of the results, and reserves the right to publish the entire exchange.
But the real bombshell comes from within. The Mauritian Ministry of Information and Communication Technologies publicly intervenes. In an official statement, it denounces organized electoral fraud involving falsified proxies distributed to foreign nationals, particularly from Rwanda and Kenya. Some are said to have left the country on the night of June 24. Complaints are filed with the police, including by ministry officials and the company Emtel. The ministry also contacts the police commissioner to strengthen border controls.
While a criminal investigation is underway, the Receiver discreetly begins the vote count in his offices, without public communication or independent oversight. The Ministry protests this hasty action and engages in consultations with the Attorney General to consider legal action aimed at suspending all vote counting or the proclamation of results. The Mauritian state, host of AfriNIC, is for the first time openly breaking with the Receiver, whom it considers negligent.
The situation is no longer a simple electoral malfunction. It embodies an institutional shift, where all legal, community, and diplomatic safeguards appear to have collapsed. What was supposed to restore stability has, in reality, revealed the depth of the crisis: a captured ecosystem, a trampled neutrality, and a technical governance now discredited in the eyes of its own members.
Take back control. For good.
I am not writing these lines from an ivory tower. I am writing them from the margins and centers of the continent, where Africa’s digital destiny has been unfolding for the past fifteen years. From NetMundial in 2014 to the most local community assemblies, I have participated, advised, trained, sometimes warned, always with the conviction that an African internet is possible, an internet governed by us, for us.
The AfriNIC saga will now play out on three simultaneous stages: in the courtrooms of Port Louis, in the offices of ICANN, and in the diplomatic corridors of Kigali, where Smart Africa is leading an unprecedented strategic offensive. From the hushed halls of the Internet Governance Forum in Oslo to the red phones of African ministries, all eyes are now on Lacina Koné and his team, bearers of a last hope for revival.
But one thing is clear: the AfriNIC of yesterday will not return. The crisis facing the registry is not simply a governance breakdown or a legal quagmire. It reveals the erosion of African institutional models when they are neither supported, protected, nor strengthened. ICANN has announced an audit. It will determine whether AfriNIC can weather the storm or not. But whatever the future holds, this is a milestone that must be reached, a collective maturity that must be achieved.
Ms. Cina Lawson, Togo’s Minister of Digital Economy and an influential voice within Smart Africa, stated it frankly: “Even if Africa were to establish a new registry, we must learn all the lessons from this crisis. We must build strong institutions, with clear rules, effective checks and balances, and driven by truly responsible continental governance.” “Because it’s not enough to think outside the box. It must be done methodically. And above all, with courage. As long as African institutions remain dependent on external recognition, as long as they lack clear strategic support, they will remain vulnerable. States, regional organizations, and technical communities must stand together, no longer with half-measures, but with ambition and coherence.
Because it’s not enough to simply think outside the box. It must be done methodically. And above all, with courage. As long as African institutions remain dependent on external recognition, as long as they lack clear strategic support, they will remain vulnerable. States, regional organizations, and technical communities must stand together, not with half-measures, but with ambition and coherence.
If a new registry is to emerge, it must meet the requirements of ICP-2, be community-based, transparent, non-profit, and structured as a critical resource. Above all, it must be considered as such, not symbolically, but politically. For the future of digital technology in Africa will not be decided in private discussions or through weak directives, but in the ability to defend its infrastructure with the same vigor with which it defends its borders.
The younger generation, for its part, already swears by nothing but code, networks, and IP resources. It dreams not just of a connected continent, but of a sovereign one. It doesn’t kneel before miracles, but before protocols. And in this new digital gospel, many now invoke salvation in the name of the Father, the Son… and IP addresses.
AfriNIC may die, its name may disappear into the shifting sands of history, but the dream of its founding fathers cannot be buried.