In May 2017, delegations from a wide and diverse array of international stakeholders with interests in Somalia gathered in London to attend a high-level multilateral conference, the third major conference to be held on Somalia since 2012. Hosted by the British Government in conjunction with the United Nations Secretary-General, more than forty organisations and nations ultimately met to outline the relationship between the international community and the Federal Government of Somalia (FGS) over the next four years.
To this end, the conference participants unveiled a New Partnership for Somalia (NPS) and a Security Pact (SP) whose objectives -the continuing pursuit of a stable and secure Somalia- did not really differ from the outcomes of the two previous high-level conferences. Indeed, they were very much in accordance with all such gatherings held since the overthrow of Siad Barre in 1991. From the points of view of the conference organisers, international and local media and the newly elected FGS President Mohamed Abdullahi “Farmajo” Mohamed, the conference was deemed a success, attracting as it did pledges of additional financial assistance, training and material support, as well as deadlines for achieving the full realisation of national security architecture within a federalised governance structure.
For Kenyans, however, news coming out of the actual conference, as well as in the days preceding and after the event, was much less positive and considerably more ominous. The Head of State, President Uhuru Kenyatta, facing a tough campaign for re-election in August 2017, seemed to commit the Kenya Defence Force (KDF) to remaining in Somalia until the objectives of Operation Linda Nchi, the invasion of Somalia launched in October 2011, and which had since been folded into the African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM), had been achieved. Mr. Kenyatta was quoted as saying that “Our ultimate objective is to ensure the country’s (i.e. Somalia’s?) security is guaranteed. We cannot exit without accomplishing our goal of bringing stability and have a secure nation.” President Kenyatta was reported as asking the international community to significantly enhance its support to AMISOM; alternatively it was suggested that the UN take on much more of the funding responsibility for AMISOM. It was unclear whether KDF assigned to AMISOM would be withdrawn along with other troop- contributing nations’ military and police units as of 2020, as previously announced by the African Union; President Kenyatta was reported as stating that greater UN support would accelerate the planned draw down of AMISOM soldiers.
Back home neither the Kenyan media nor any of the opposition leaders took much notice of the president’s declarations that the KDF would stay in Somalia to pacify and stabilise Somalia; editors were happy to express patriotic sentiments supporting continued KDF presence because, as the Sunday Standard stated, “Al Shabaab strikes when we relax and retreats when we advance, the idea being to wear down the KDF to desperation and withdrawal. This is why President Uhuru Kenyatta has made it clear that the army is in Somalia for the long haul. Withdrawal would mean loss of national face and a propaganda coup for the Al Shabaab.” And that was that as everyone turned all their attention to politics and the price of ugali.
Operation Linda Nchi
On Sunday, 16 October 2011, a column of approximately 1,800 Kenya Army troops crossed into Somalia from their bases in Mandera, Wajir and Garissa. Although supported – when weather permitted – by helicopter gunships and Kenya Air Force F-5s, this was essentially a conventional motorised assault against Al Shabaab terrorists. During the five weeks prior to the cross-border assault, suspected Al Shabaab militants had allegedly attacked Western tourists in Lamu and had also abducted two Spanish Médecins Sans Frontières volunteers from the vicinity of the Dadaab refugee camps. Throughout 2011, there had also been an upsurge in-fighting inside Somalia between AMISOM, Somali government forces and the Al Qaeda affiliated Al Shabaab militia. The latter had been pushed out of the Somali capital, Mogadishu, and was relinquishing control over towns in central Somalia where much of the population was experiencing serious famine. Further south, Al Shabaab had retained control of Kismayu with its strategic functioning port facilities and, in the areas adjacent to the Kenya border, held increasing sway over the population.
Although I initially viewed Operation Linda Nchi as a legally permissible punitive strike against Al Shabaab’s cross-border incursions, the longevity and development of the operation, as well as evidence that Al Shabaab terrorists were not involved in attacks on tourists in Lamu or in the kidnapping of the two Spanish MSF employees in Dadaab, caused my views to shift to more prosaic and indefensible reasons.
This cross-border incursion had limited objectives and the columns’ various combat elements – armoured fighting vehicles, towed artillery, troop transports, donated American Humvees, lorries, British supplied tanks, Land Rovers – were not accompanied by ambulances, fuel trucks, combat support engineers, water bowsers, mobile kitchens, specialised command-and-control armour-proofed vehicles or heavier artillery pieces. The numbers of troops initially committed and the configuration of the attack column gave no indication that the KDF had planned a campaign to last beyond Christmas 2011.
The very limited objectives of Operation Linda Nchi included recovery of those kidnapped ostensibly by Al Shabaab terrorists, pushing the group’s units away from the international border and retaliating for previous terrorist attacks against targets within Kenya, however infrequent and sporadic they may have been; in fact Kenya had largely escaped the sort of Al Shabaab terrorism unleashed against civilians in Uganda in 2010, which had troops actively engaged in combat with Al Shabaab on behalf of the Mogadishu authorities.
Within two weeks of the Kenyan troops crossing into Somalia, Al Shabaab launched a still ongoing, albeit intermittent, campaign of terrorist attacks on mainly civilian targets in and around Nairobi and Mombasa, as well as throughout the counties of the former North Eastern, Eastern and Coast Provinces. Al Shabaab also increased recruitment within Kenya and a local branch developed, seemingly focused on exploiting domestic alienation and historical anti-government grievances among Muslim communities who viewed themselves as being largely marginalised and discriminated against by successive post-independence governments. Attacks against soft targets inside Kenya have waxed and waned. Though Nairobi has been spared similar attacks to that on the Westgate Mall in 2013, which killed at least 68 people, Al Shabaab has since 2012 massacred students, civil servants and workers across Mandera, Wajir, Garissa and Lamu counties. Continuing assassinations of chiefs and subchiefs, as well as occasional successful attacks on isolated police posts and ambushes within Kenya of KDF convoys and police patrols, are clear evidence that Al Shabaab’s somewhat minimal presence in 2010 inside the four counties bordering Somalia has developed into a self-sustaining domestic insurgency.
The situation in Mombasa has also become increasingly confused since 2011, mainly because of heavy-handed government repression and extrajudicial executions targeting radical Imams and alleged Jihadist recruits, apparently with the tacit support of foreign intelligence agencies.
Operation Linda Nchi – A Confluence of Interests?
During the thirty-six years since I first arrived in Kenya, the security relationship between Washington and Nairobi has undergone substantial changes in scope, in activities undertaken and in financial support given, as well as in the expectations and motivations of all participants and stakeholders. Between independence in 1963 and the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, Kenya had been a reliable, albeit not terribly strategically important, ally of the West against the spread of communism, whether in East Africa or throughout the Greater Horn of Africa region. All Kenya had the port of Mombasa and its relatively stable and peaceful political environment in which a host of service industries (i.e. finances, logistics, education, communications, light manufacturing built on import substitution, and export-oriented agricultural enterprises) seemed to operate reliably and efficiently, especially when compared to the rest of the region. Kenya had also attracted the only UN Headquarters located in Africa, numerous foreign correspondents and both major and minor international media institutions. During the late 1970s and throughout the 1980s, international NGOs and development agencies established regional offices and substantially increased the inflow of donor dollars, whether for project support or simply to conduct daily operations. The country also experienced a genuine tourism boom which benefited from – by African standards – her superior infrastructure (i.e. all-weather roads, international and domestic air connections, seaport, etc.) and a well-developed hospitality industry. Despite her one-party government, price and exchange controls, and a growing movement advocating greater democracy, increased economic opportunities and an end to rising levels of government corruption, Kenya was a haven of stability and pragmatic African nationalism.
None of the foregoing should be dismissed as a somewhat irrelevant backstory. The same factors that made Kenya a moderately useful ally during the Cold War can still be found today. Kenya remains an essential hub for major humanitarian and relief operations in the Horn of Africa, South Sudan, the eastern part of the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC)and Burundi, and is a vital component in international antipiracy operations. She has become increasingly important to the conduct of US counterterrorism operations focusing on the Al Qaeda leadership co-located with Al Shabaab elements within Somalia and elsewhere in the region.
Although I initially viewed Operation Linda Nchi as a legally permissible punitive strike against Al Shabaab’s cross-border incursions, the longevity and development of the operation, as well as evidence that Al Shabaab terrorists were not involved in attacks on tourists in Lamu or in the kidnapping of the two Spanish MSF employees in Dadaab, caused my views to shift to more prosaic and indefensible reasons.
The launch of Operation Linda Nchi substantially altered the relationship between the Kenyan and US governments.
Just as Operation Linda Nchi effectively constituted a “declaration of war” on Al Shabaab and other radical Islamic terrorists – and changed Kenya forever – the successful Al Qaeda attacks in September, 2001, on the World Trade Centre and the Pentagon transformed how the US government perceived global threats to homeland security; much of the language used to describe the global danger to America of radical Islamic Jihadist terrorism is eerily reminiscent of the views of threats posed by international communism in the aftermath of the Second World War. The “enemy” then was exemplified by the Soviet Union and mainland China, as well as such bit players as Cuba, Vietnam (North until 1975) and North Korea. Because all of these enemies were essentially state actors, American responses could be characterised as merely adaptations of traditional statecraft (e.g. diplomatic, political, military, economic, etc) somewhat modified to fit post-war United Nations conventions.
Since 9/11 traditional statecraft, whether modified or adapted, has been pretty much thrown out the window, the “enemy” in our Global War on Terror seems mainly comprised of non-state actors fighting to impose their ideology of radical Islam wherever an opportunity arises. Although violent Jihadists may be sponsored or supported by established nations and may even seek to overthrow existing governments (e.g. Mali, Somalia, Islamic State in Iraq and Syria, Afghanistan), the received wisdom and emerging doctrine within ascendant Western security establishments views the current conflict as being both global and forever. This has led to new ways of assessing “victories” and conducting operations whose effect on US-Kenya bilateral relations may not be obvious but is nonetheless pervasive and with consequences that are unintended and little commented on.
Despite occasional statements paying lip service to promoting good governance, countering insurgency (i.e. hearts and minds activities, developing partners’ security capacities, etc.) and promoting a human rights agenda, short-term success is measured by the elimination of “wanted” Al Qaeda/Al Shabaab terrorists with little or no loss of American lives; financial considerations are secondary. In addition, since the invasion of Iraq in 2003 “nation building”, as a modern term for either small wars or counter insurgency campaigning, has fallen completely off the charts used by American and nearly all Western leaders. For example, in Somalia the US is following a policy of stabilisation which is inherently short term in nature and which has no overall strategic objectives.
In this scenario, Kenya, as a stable geographical entity with a friendly government, has assumed much greater importance than at any time in its nearly 40 years of military cooperation with Washington. In fact the nature of America’s “Forever War” since 9/11 gives the Kenyan government much greater influence in its relationship with Washington than was ever the case even at the height of the Cold War when American efforts in Africa concentrated on suppressing threats posed by the Soviet Union, Cuba or East Germany and such proxies as Libya and Ethiopia.
Another thing that is seldom appreciated is how many “survivors of terrorism” are driving America’s post 9/11 security agenda. For example, the present US Ambassador to Kenya, Robert Godec, survived the Al Qaeda bombing of the US embassy in Nairobi on 7 August 1998 and his career assignments since then have involved various aspects of the US government’s Global War on Terrorism. His immediate predecessor, Scott Gration, was on duty at the Pentagon on 9/11 when hijacked aircraft slammed into the building; he was also a senior officer who witnessed the terror bombing in the early 1990s of the Khobar Barracks used by US Air Force personnel in Saudi Arabia.
Further, I believe an appreciation of the connections and links between the individuals running the US security agenda in the Horn are critical to any assessment of the US government’s assistance to Kenyan security agencies. When Operation Linda Nchi was launched, Ambassador Scott Gration, a retired Major General in the US Air Force, was the US Ambassador to Kenya; he had previously served as the Obama administration’s representative in Juba, South Sudan. Ambassador Gration had grown up in Kenya and, as a US Air Force Major, had from 1983 to 1984, worked closely with Julius Karangi, then a Kenya Air Force Major, when the US government supplied Kenya with F-5 jets and instructors. Major Karangi, who was then in charge of US-Kenya military assistance programs, had risen to the Chief of Defence Forces when Operation Linda Nchi was launched.
US training and logistics assistance to Kenya increased substantially during 2012, although Gration resigned on 21 June 2012. Gration remains active in business and missionary circles in Kenya. General Karangi retired from KDF in 2015 but remains highly influential inside the government and its security architecture, as well as in business circles.
The political class in Kenya is oblivious of the existential security threats confronting Kenya; there is an ingrained belief in the nation’s exceptionalism and resilience based on little more than hope and an unwillingness by the media, government, civil society and the private sector to demand accountability from their friends, relatives and colleagues occupying senior positions of power, influence and responsibility when things go wrong.
Although Scott Gration served as Senator Obama’s military aide during the latter’s visit to Nairobi in 2006 and was one of the first generals to support Obama for president in 2008, he has close ties to Dr. Jendayi Frazer, a former Republican Assistant Secretary of State for African Affairs serving through January 2009; Dr. Frazer has been associated since 1990 with the Kenyatta family and does business in East Africa – especially in Rwanda – and is a strong proponent of fighting Islamic Jihadist terrorism, especially in East Africa. During her tenure as Assistant Secretary of State, the Kenyan government allowed the recruitment of ethnic Somali Kenya citizens and Somali refugees from Dadaab who were trained in Manyani by retired US personnel and serving Kenya Army officers and then sent in Somalia National Army uniforms to fight Al Shabaab; this project was eventually abandoned and by August 2011 some wounded survivors made their way to Mandera. This entire operation remains shrouded in secrecy but seems to have fallen apart when funds for salaries and logistics were stolen, with the fighters in Somalia being literally abandoned and left to their own devices; an unknown number of these trained soldiers were alleged to have defected to Al Shabaab. The financing of these sorts of shadowy military operations, which date back in concept to the late 1940s, has always been “off the books” and not subject to normal financial and performance audits.
While researching KDF “Order of Battle” reports compiled by various professional risk analysts, I noticed that there are 100-110 T-72 Main Battle Tanks (MBTs) still listed in Kenya Army inventories; the KDF has never purchased or deployed the Soviet era tanks although the Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA) Juba government took possession of such equipment when Scott Gration was the US government representative. Somali pirates had inadvertently captured a vessel carrying 33 T-72s, which was rapidly freed and made its way to Kenya where its cargo was offloaded in Mombasa from where the tanks, ammunition, spare parts and accessories were transported by rail and road to South Sudan; the Kenyan military would have been the only Kenyan government agency with the necessary means and capabilities to ensure safety and security of this and previous transfers of heavy war materials and weapons to the SPLA in Juba even before South Sudan formally achieved independence. (Whether the Auditor General has ever queried how over a hundred MBTs were added to the KDF assets register and whether this procurement, including payment to the supplier, was properly documented remains unknown.)
The launch of Operation Linda Nchi substantially altered the relationship between the Kenyan and US governments. Washington had not been formally advised about the incursion and the seemingly open-ended nature of this punitive expedition -which had failed by Jamhuri Day, 2011, to accomplish any of its limited objectives- presented the Obama administration with an unforeseen dilemma as it opened up another front in the US Global War on Terrorism. Kenya increased its forces inside Somalia to 4, 660 and announced that the main objective of the campaign was to seize the port of Kismayu after clearing Al Shabaab forces from an expansive zone –Gedo/Juba – adjacent to the international border. In addition, the government negotiated the permanent inclusion of some 3,600 KDF troops into AMISOM; this “rehatting” was essential if Kenya were not to be bankrupted by its invasion of Somalia.
An additional consequence of Operation Linda Nchi was a nearly immediate upsurge in Al Shabaab terrorism, not only in the four frontline counties along the Somali border but increasingly directed against civilian targets in and around Nairobi as well as in Mombasa. the Kenyan security forces’ weaknesses and vulnerabilities became obvious, which prompted more financial assistance from the United States and its Western allies to Counter Violent Extremism/Counter Jihadist Terrorism.
Similarly, well-documented governance issues and failures of the Kenyan government to manage basic administrative functions normally associated with a modern nation state – and essential for any success to be achieved in countering insurgency or fighting terrorism – have merely attracted more money for more quick fixes, community-based development solutions as well as increased joint training opportunities for selected KDF elements and, occasionally, counterparts from the United States (e.g. Massachusetts Air National Guard – September 2016). There are also ongoing deployments of US Special Forces personnel to “train, advise and assist” their KDF Special Forcescounterparts; the only time such activities come to light is when a US service member dies while temporarily deployed to Kenya and a notice briefly appears in some home town media outlet. Correspondent Margot Kiser has also reported in the Daily Beast about US soldiers in the Boni Forest / Lamu area.
On the Kenyan side of the bilateral relationship, there is a permanent, long-standing community of diverse political, social, economic and commercial interests, all of which derive benefits from continuing participation of the Kenyan government in America’s Forever War as it plays out in the Greater Horn of Africa. As will be explained in greater detail, regardless of the initial factors that motivated Operation Linda Nchi, there is no longer any reason to believe that the Kenyan government’s actions since 2011 have anything to do with strengthening Kenya’s national security within the context of the 2010 Constitution and in accordance with legitimate and acceptable national interests. The political class in Kenya is oblivious of the existential security threats confronting Kenya; there is an ingrained belief in the nation’s exceptionalism and resilience based on little more than hope and an unwillingness by the media, government, civil society and the private sector to demand accountability from their friends, relatives and colleagues occupying senior positions of power, influence and responsibility when things go wrong.
In 2014, I wrote about how Kenya had become a nation of “spin” and PR:
“… Kenya has developed into a nation where shameless deception and lying have become standard operating procedure in both public and private sectors; the effects of this Orwellian dystopia we have learned to accept initially means that we fail to identify and fix problems and ultimately suffer increasingly greater financial losses… our economy fails to grow and .. youth radicalization, crime and insecurity increase nationally.”
Although I was referring to the reporting in the media of bank failures, financial fraud and regulatory incompetence, it is true that the spinning of reality and PR whitewashes have replaced news reporting and analyses of all matters security.
With hindsight, Operation Linda Nchi was launched to put Kenya firmly on the side of the US and other western allies in the Global War on Terrorism but with little thought given to the country’s national security needs, capacities and capabilities.
Further, Kenya’s failure to implement anti-money laundering policies and procedures has gone well beyond inhibiting economic growth and facilitating corruption. “Kenya on US blacklist over terrorism laws,” the Daily Nation reported in March 2012. The country had been found to not be lax in enactment of legislation criminalising the financing of terrorism. Nearly eight months later, Kenya remained on watch lists of countries failing to make sufficient progress to curb money laundering and to counter terrorist financing.
An example of how half full – even nearly empty – water glasses can be described as opportunities to turn lemons into lemonade can be found in an article in the Standard on Sunday by Prof. Peter Kagwanja. In the piece, titled “Latest move by USAID a warning to end dependence on aid”, he characterised the recent US suspension of $21 million earmarked for the Ministry of Health (after the Auditor-General found that billions of shillings in the ministry could not be accounted for) as being done on political grounds, ostensibly because corruption is a major campaign plank of the opposition; the suspension, he argued, presented an opportunity for Kenya to wean itself off aid.
However, Prof. Kagwanja finishes up by mentioning the US government’s commitment to spend $30 million on the Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission (IEBC), implying that such spending constitutes approval rather than acquiescence. He also described the donation to the KDF of eight unarmed light transport helicopters and State Department approval of a controversial and seemingly hugely overpriced $418 million purchase of close air support aircraft, as examples of positive American support for the Kenyan government’s efforts to deal with terrorism and violent extremism.
Prof. Kagwanja is considered an international relations and security affairs expert and has presented his analyses and opinions on governance and security at the Washington DC Africa Center for Strategic Studies – an influential think tank affiliated with the Pentagon. As a senior and respected scholar, his views count and his credibility is seldom questioned by Americans active in the post- 9/11 Forever War on Global Terrorism. Whether US aid to Kenyan security forces is used effectively or KDF procurement decisions contribute to countering terrorism within East Africa is less important to the US officials involved than is protecting the American Homeland against Jihadist terrorism originating overseas. As will be explained, such disconnects between reality and fantasy, as well as different views on objectives to be achieved and relevant timelines, have created a perfect storm for national insecurity in Kenya as well as elsewhere throughout the Greater Horn of Africa.
Kenya’s War on Terror: Scorecard and Evaluation
The KDF Defence White Paper 2017, launched by President Kenyatta on 3 May 2017, emphasises threats to national security posed by neighboring states’ armed forces, as well as the existential threats in the form of radicalised Islamic youth tragically influenced by external Jihadist forces to become terrorists at home and abroad. Local influences and issues that motivate violent extremism, regardless of religion or political affiliation, are glossed over and no mention is made of the sort of counterinsurgency operations conducted by the British colonial authorities in Kenya in the 1950s against Mau Mau freedom fighters –then also referred to as terrorists – who were often executed as criminals when captured rather than treated as enemy combatants. There is no reference at all to counterinsurgency operations that focus on domestically-instigated conflicts.
This White Paper perfectly captures the thinking of the government’s and the country’s political class and corresponds to local interpretations of the place of Kenya in America’s Global War on Terrorism. Al Shabaab is essentially an insurgent group primarily fighting to take power in Somalia. It may have irredentist ambitions to establish a Greater Somalia within the Horn of Africa, and no doubt sees the frontline counties of Kenya adjacent to the international border as well as Tana River County and significant portions of the former Coast Province as being included in its area of operations. From a strategic perspective and remembering its main objectives, it is very likely that US military commanders view all of the Greater Horn of Africa as being one area of operation in the Global War on Terror -whether coordinated by Africom in Germany or US Centcom in Tampa, the enemy is Al Qaeda and its affiliate Al Shabaab, both of which are deemed to pose threats to Americans at home. The one stakeholder that has failed to embrace this expanded geographical combat zone has been Kenya which relies on borders, its role in a globalised war on terror and a notionally separate chain of command in AMISOM, to explain away the lack of progress in defeating Al Shabaab and improving domestic peace and security. It is the only actor seemingly without its own national objective.
A recent Transparency International (TI) report on Nigeria examined the negative effects of massive corruption within military procurement, troop support and administration on the war against Boko Haram. -Nigerian officials are literally stealing their soldiers’ capabilities to defeat Boko Haram! Kenya is now on the cusp of Nigerian-style military procurement corruption.
Conceptually, Operation Linda Nchi was flawed from the very beginning, and not because conventionally trained soldiers cannot defeat guerrillas. There was no reason to believe that Al Shabaab would engage in direct combat with the better armed and equipped Kenya Army professionals. Al Shabaab has historically disengaged on its own terms when in contact with AMISOM forces. And like AMISOM, the motorised road-bound KDF units occupied space without significantly diminishing Al Shabaab’s tactical capabilities.
Even assuming that the strategic objective underlying Operation Linda Nchi was to ultimately establish a permanent presence in support of a client semi-autonomous Jubaland Administration, the inevitable terrorist blowback within Kenya since the end of October 2011 has exposed massive cracks and gaps within Kenya’s entire security architecture, which have yet to be comprehensively considered or resolved despite fairly significant expenditure on new equipment and training by foreign experts of KDF and National Police Service (NPS) units and personnel.
With the assault on the KDF-manned camps in El Adde in January 2016 and Kulbiyow a year later, Al Shabaab has shown it can still mass sufficient numbers of trained fighters to successfully assault fixed defensive positions. Such conventional attacks have revealed shocking tactical deficiencies and lack of war fighting skills among KDF company grade officers and soldiers deployed to AMISOM. This latter revelation was completely unexpected and can be fixed but only if the KDF leadership believes there is a problem. Foreign military personnel generally avoid publicly commenting on these issues although they agree in private and off the record that the security leadership is either in deep denial or is simply not interested. There is no real disagreement about incompetence and poor military skills at all levels of the KDF.
With hindsight, Operation Linda Nchi was launched to put Kenya firmly on the side of the US and other western allies in the Global War on Terrorism but with little thought given to the country’s national security needs, capacities and capabilities. For example, as KDF troop numbers increased to nearly 4,600 and the Kenyan government announced its intention to join AMISOM, the government’s budgetary constraints and unanticipated consequential post- Operation Linda Nchi expenditures security operations nationwide nearly broke the bank; it became clear that much more financial support from friendly allies was required. Although Kismayu was seized at the end of September 2012 and the KDF withdrew some 800 troops, 3,660 remain assigned to AMISOM whose budgetary support (i.e. reimbursement for operational expenses, equipment losses, wear and tear, etc) remains critical to the government’s cash reserves and liquidity.
Further, opportunities for corruption abound whenever military procurement and security sectors’ expenditures take on lives of their own. Kenya is no exception although on a much smaller scale than in Somalia, Yemen, Iraq and Afghanistan. Corruption saps morale and discipline but also keeps conflicts from being concluded. Though the secrecy surrounding security spending makes it difficult to question its effectiveness and accurately track financial flows, it is not an impossible task. However, the media in Kenya has shown little willingness to undertake these sorts of investigations.
That the 7,000 Al Shabaab main force militiamen retain their ability to carry out attacks is not testament to their training or professionalism; Al Shabaab is just not that good. Rather, their continued resilience and successes on the battlefield shows how bad Kenya is at handling existential security threats.
Why Kenya’s War on Terror Failing
In January, much media attention was focused on looming cuts in foreign assistance to African countries announced by the incoming Trump Administration, citing the need to save taxpayers’ money for use at home, as well as corruption, ineffectiveness and the seemingly open-ended nature of US funding for democracy and governance programmes. Notably, Trump was asking why “we” hadn’t defeated Al Shabaab after spending “hundreds of millions” on a wide range of military activities within the Horn of Africa. Divorced from the source and disregarding the so called complexities of the Global War on Terror and the much studied internal dynamics of Somalia, Trump’s question is absolutely valid and worth asking not only in relation to Al Shabaab in Somalia but, more importantly, also in relation to Kenya’s Forever War On Terror. To be precise, how can the abysmal performance of Kenyan security forces in its war against Al Shabaab be explained?
As this article is being written, Al Shabaab militants have ramped up their terror campaign in the counties of Mandera and Garissa; at least fourteen police officers were killed in three roadside explosions this week with many more wounded. In March this year, Al Shabaab announced its intention to disrupt the Kenya General Elections scheduled to be held in August. In fact, since early May attacks on soft targets have occurred with increasing frequency.
Regardless of all the renewed expressions of financial and military assistance coming out of the London Conference, Al Shabaab continues to launch terror attacks in and around Mogadishu with relative impunity. Its forces in southern Somalia move freely, and when Ethiopian forces not assigned to AMISOM withdrew without notice from towns and villages they had occupied, Al Shabaab quickly reasserted control.
In many ways, the conditions that allowed an Al Qaeda sleeper cell to destroy the US Embassy in 1998 have become even more favourable for Al Qaeda, Al Shabaab, ISIS, narcotics traffickers, poachers and international fraudsters.
On 7 August 1998, Al Qaeda terrorists blew up the US Embassy located in Nairobi’s central business district; a simultaneous attack on a similar target in Dar es Salaam was less successful. Investigations into the Nairobi attack showed that an Al Qaeda sleeper cell had entered Kenya in 1993/94, acquired Kenyan IDs and passports, registered companies, opened bank accounts, established families and conducted business at the coast; all their documentation had either been obtained fraudulently or lawfully because of lapses and oversights in enforcing regulations and applicable laws in place 20 years before. In 2002 surviving Al Qaeda terrorists still in place in Kenya were able to successfully detonate a vehicle borne IED in the reception of the Israeli-owned Paradise Hotel on the north coast of Mombasa. Another Al Qaeda team managed to drive next to the runway at Mombasa’s Moi International Airport when an Israeli charter flight was taking off for Tel Aviv with a full load of tourists and fired surface-to-air missiles, smuggled over land from Somalia, at the plane. The missiles failed to hit the 747 but the terrorists also managed to elude capture. In 2010, Al Shabaab successfully detonated explosives in Kampala during which two venues crowded with World Cup spectators were hit. Subsequent investigations showed that much of the Al Shabaab planning, organisation and financing took place in Kenya where alleged terrorists were arrested and renditioned to stand trial in Uganda.
A recent Transparency International (TI) report on Nigeria examined the negative effects of massive corruption within military procurement, troop support and administration on the war against Boko Haram. -Nigerian officials are literally stealing their soldiers’ capabilities to defeat Boko Haram! Kenya is now on the cusp of Nigerian-style military procurement corruption. The acquisition of much needed IOMAX Air Tractor Close Air Support aircraft referred to by Prof. Kagwanja has been delayed – possibly irrevocably – because the original equipment manufacturer contends that the KDF is paying $125 million more than it should and getting them from a US Defence Contractor, L3 Technologies, that has no track record of supplying this sort of aircraft; in effect a “super broker” eating up to $125 million of Kenyan taxpayer money. The allegations are yet to be substantiated, though the US Air Force has been accused of not cooperating with congressional investigations.
As previously mentioned, the US has castigated Kenya for not doing enough to tackle terrorist financing; Kenya remained for another three years on a Financial Action Task Force (FATF) watch list of countries failing to enact legislation to curb money laundering and other assorted financial crimes. The still unresolved scam at the National Youth Service, dating back to early 2016, showed 28 commercial banks failing to report cash transactions in excess of $10,000 to the Central Bank of Kenya’s Financial Reporting Centre, as required by laws designed to curb money laundering.
The administrative chaos and regulatory confusion in Kenya militates against the prevention of the sorts of criminal activity that has brought down Dubai Bank, Imperial Bank, Chase Bank, Tsavo Securities, Discount Securities, Loita Asset Managers, Ngenye Kariuki Stockbrokers, and others. Vast amounts of money have gone missing through clever manipulation of existing laws and regulations, lax and/or complicit GOK regulators, and an overburdened outdated judicial system.
Three years ago, 18 foreign heads of mission, including US Ambassador Godec, jointly issued a letter demanding that the government put its financial house in order by enacting laws and actually implementing its own legislation. However, no timelines were set nor any punitive action described.
In many ways, the conditions that allowed an Al Qaeda sleeper cell to destroy the US Embassy in 1998 have become even more favourable for Al Qaeda, Al Shabaab, ISIS, narcotics traffickers, poachers and international fraudsters. Yet this has seemingly had no effect on how American tax money is spent in Kenya. The only logical explanation is that the consistent and short-term protection of the [American] Homeland is the overarching priority of the US Government; Kenya is a sovereign country and what the natives do with our “training, assistance and advice” is really not something we can or should dictate. In any case the real dilemma is that Kenya – the government, the political class, the private sector and its mainstream media – is its own incubator of national insecurity and the situation can only get worse.
THE BATTLE FOR KENYA’S SOUL: Will history absolve them?
Perhaps the timing was wrong. Or just right. Soon after the Miguna Miguna arrest-and-deportation circus began, I opened an autobiography I had just been gifted. The book, Walking in Kenyatta’s Struggles, by Duncan Ndegwa, came highly recommended. Little did I know what I was in for.
Duncan Ndegwa was Kenya’s first Head of Civil Service and its second Central Bank Governor. He was in the sanctum sanctorum in those early years. His story promised to be insightful, if not tantalising, revealing the many struggles Kenya’s first president, Jomo Kenyatta, faced. But it made me angry.
I wasn’t sure why I got angrier and angrier after I got past the diversionary chapters on culture. But I did. Eventually, I scanned through my notes and scribbled them in pencil on one of the blank pages at the back of the book. Then it all made sense. I was reading the past while it was happening in my present. If the past was ever a prologue, Kenya in 2018 is it. We are stuck in a destructive cycle.
Quick, try placing these two statements in the last five decades of Kenya’s history:
- He openly warned the media against misusing press freedom to “misinform the public”.
- He was charged with treason, which was later changed to the lesser crime of incitement.
The first entry is from a speech by Tom Mboya in 1962, but those words have been used many times since. They could as well have been said by Argwings Kodhek, or his boss Jomo. Or in 1979, when newspapers were ordered not to publish an opinion poll. Or by Kalonzo Musyoka in 1990, when he filed a motion to ban a newspaper from covering Parliament proceedings. They could even be taken from John Michuki’s infamous “if you rattle a snake” retort.
The second statement refers to the short-lived treason charge against Maina Kamanda in 2001. He had said that President Daniel arap Moi should be shot in bed if he tried to extend his term. The charge of treason, the crime of betraying one’s country, has been a constant threat against outspoken opposition MPs since independence. Whether applied in 1971 or in 2018, this weighty threat is still firmly in place.
The way the state speaks with those it governs has barely evolved over the last six decades. That’s because although the faces have changed, the essence of the state hasn’t; it hasn’t even kept up with those it governs.
You’ve heard both phrases lately, and you will hear them again. These are what the academic Joyce Nyairo calls “the grammar of the state”. The way the state speaks with those it governs has barely evolved over the last six decades. That’s because although the faces have changed, the essence of the state hasn’t; it hasn’t even kept up with those it governs.
Tyranny of the accursed
In many ways, the last decade has felt like a marathon through the first 30 years after independence. The son wants to eradicate the same things that his father promised to focus on 55 years ago. Detention without trial is back. We have launched wars on human rights, a new constitution, devolution, and Somalia. The concerted effort to reset to the KANU code is in full gear. We are back to essentially a one-party state with a growing greed and hold on all arms of government. We have the makings of a Sun King who can do no wrong, and in whose wisdom and undying love for our wellbeing we must trust.
There’s a tough-talking Interior Cabinet Minister with a disdain for the law and basic decency. Our maize scandals are now an annual thing and pilfering from the state is now a legitimate way to join the upper ranks of society. A fake political rivalry continues to eclipse real social and economic issues. Politics has become entertainment in all but name, an expensive escape from realities. We are now numb to theft of land, taxes, and even borrowed money, in this dark comedy.
This reality is not accidental; it was the entire purpose of the creation of the Kenyan state. In his treatise on this, Darius Okolla says that this founding ethos of the colony never went away. In fact, in the last sixty years and four presidents later, it is even more entrenched. Now as then, the needs of a few appear as the needs of the many, as do their problems. “Personal problems” are not the same as the “you” in “security starts with you”.
Of the many adjectives Okolla uses to describe the Kenyan elite, the one that sticks out the most, is “zombie”. The image of the undead it conjures is a reminder that while elites may try to extricate themselves from the society they actively ruin, they cannot detach themselves from it. The problem is their myopic view of what the Kenyan state could be, as becomes clear in Ndegwa’s memoirs. The men around Jomo deified him, and even when he was senile and dying, shielded him like one would a monarch. It wasn’t Jomo the man, or the icon, that they worshipped, but the head of this zombie elite. He wasn’t just actively refusing to build a formidable Kenyan state; he was leading the way in destroying it.
A constant argument I’ve heard is that it was important for Jomo and Moi to rule as they did because they had inherited a traumatised society. The argument is that such a society is fragile and needs a firm hand to guide it through the healing process. It is the dangerous justification for “benevolent dictatorship”. That firmer hand promised repeatedly by Jubilee mandarins before and after the last election is a slippery slope. It is the same one with which the opposition handles its internal elections. This argument is back in our news diet, based on the same laws and ideals. What’s missing from it is that this “firmer hand” traumatised society in more ways than the colonial unit had, more so because the black aristocracy had no direction or plan beyond acquisition.
Publicly, and in such personal records as memoirs, this elite class continuously pretends it worked for the good of the country. But it turns out that our definition of country differs. For them it was a running plantation that requires little or no input, where a slave working class is either a vote, a weapon, a taxpayer, or all three. To keep this intact, the greatest inheritance Uhuru’s fathers left him was an assortment of oppressive colonial laws. They retained that same colonial attitude to dissent, peasant revolutions, and oaths. Laws on treason, sedition and secession remained untouched. Some were even shored up and legitimised as necessary, such as the Emergency laws.
Of the many adjectives Okolla uses to describe the Kenyan elite, the one that sticks out the most, is “zombie”. The image of the undead it conjures is a reminder that while elites may try to extricate themselves from the society they actively ruin, they cannot detach themselves from it.
Inherited from a monarchy, these laws were designed to protect and deify the throne. They protected their perceived God-given right to rule, and fenced off the rituals, like oathing, that even attempted to challenge this. For example, the law used to arrest Miguna Miguna was passed in 1955 to fight the peasant irredentism that was the Mau Mau. Another interesting fight in the last five years was whether governors could fly official flags on their cars. In a pseudo-monarchy, the symbols of power, such as flags and oaths, must be protected to legitimise the power of the few, even among themselves. Yet that legitimacy remains shaky at best.
The identity problem
Two significant events will take place between now and 2020. The first is a census, in 2019, that will no doubt be assessed more for its political meaning than its socio-economic importance. We will be on the upper layers of 51 million people by the end of this year, with a net gain of one person every 25 seconds. Most of this population is under 25, and with a life expectancy of 62 years, is not even halfway through its lifespan.
Yet, given our deliberate and structured apathy to the destructive parts of our history, it will not be a surprise if the same conversations are still around in 40 years. Then, on June 11, 2020, most of mainland Kenya will mark a century since it was carved out as a colony. The 12-mile coastal strip will follow two months later, and the north five years after that. With that, the entire patchwork that is the Kenyan state will be a century-old. But the Kenyans within this boardroom experiment will still be struggling with what exactly it means to be Kenyan. Kenyanness is still a weapon, as shown by the cases of Ernsteine Kiano, Sheikh Khalid Balala, Miguna Miguna and Mohammed Sirat. All four found themselves “unKenyaned” for their personal and political stands, as if being born in a particular place (or married in, in the case of Ernsteine) should not be the foundation of all rights and inheritances.
Our zombie elite, united only in greed, has ensured that it remains the main cast. Their whims and fights steal newspaper acreage from the people. It is not just about publicity; it is part of their innate desire to live forever, to be “remembered well” even when they have done bad things. It is a blood relative who, after years of self-imposed exile, returns to the family fold when he’s diagnosed with a terminal disease. His reason? Because he needs his people to bury him.
In Ndegwa’s book, there’s a way he talks about the Shifta War that is both condescending and revealing. First, the state of emergency that allowed Jomo and Moi to rule the North-East by decree was illegal. Ndegwa says as much, but cheekily defends it as a necessary breach of the law. Second, there is an appalling distance in the way he talks about an attempt to deport all Somalis from Eastleigh, and his failure to follow an order from his boss in a related event. The worst thing about this “othering” is that it is not unique to him or to the Jomo administration; it is a tool used by politicians even today.
The future of the Kenyan experiment
There is no Kenyan identity to reclaim. It has never existed, and there’s a possibility it might never exist. There are layers, yes, between officialdom and what we actually are and want to be.
I encountered this properly when I wrote “Nicholas Biwott was Not a Good Man” in response to the flurry of hagiographies that followed his death. The things in that obituary were common knowledge, but they were missing from the most read obituaries. My article was followed by statements like “Africans don’t speak ill of the dead”, which is a lie. My subject had himself been obsessed with his legacy, probably being the first among Kenya’s elite who paid to have the Internet scrub off any bad stories about him. If anything, Biwott epitomised the murk of the zombie elite. For him, the problem wasn’t that he wasn’t contrite about the lives he had ruined in his quest for wealth and power, but how history remembered him. He escalated (and demanded) the official silence we somehow now believe was a precolonial thing. We collectively censor “bad” stories about public figures, in much the same way that sexual predators roamed Hollywood for decades, unpunished.
Our zombie elite, united only in greed, has ensured that it remains the main cast. Their whims and fights steal newspaper acreage from the people. It is not just about publicity; it is part of their innate desire to live forever, to be “remembered well” even when they have done bad things.
But the problem is that when official histories are written, people like him will get away with their contribution to the stagnation of the Kenyan state. Their concerted efforts to keep our identity in stasis, by both feeding off the land and actively trying to shape how such stories survive, will be lost in the threads of history. The elite of the day will actually promote this, not because of any other reason but a desire to sustain this destructive form of memory. It will still permeate through our social networks as if death, by itself the only certainty, somehow cleanses one of all the evil one has done.
In The Burden of History, American historian Hayden V. White wrote that “…we require a history that will educate us to discontinuity more than ever before; for discontinuity, disruption, and chaos is our lot.” There’s nothing like an objective history, White argued, because while historical facts are scientifically verifiable, stories are not. And societies are built on stories. If you control a society’s stories, whether through censorship, tyranny, litigation or official narratives, you control its future.
Here, the resurgence of the KANU state is not as scary as it should be because we are eternal optimists. Because in the way stories are distilled, present-day problems are new and the solutions for them haven’t been tried before. Our institutionalised amnesia is not accidental, and neither is our official silence. But in our homes, and in bars and next to church noticeboards, we whisper to each other about the true state of the nation. We have learnt to accept the dichotomy between what makes it to official history, which includes media and eulogies, and what we discuss outside of it. This allows us to live double lives, and to drive our society further up the pedestal from which it will eventually collapse.
Our institutionalised amnesia is not accidental, and neither is our official silence. But in our homes, and in bars and next to church noticeboards, we whisper to each other about the true state of the nation.
In a discussion I had about Ndegwa’s memoirs, an acquaintance told me I was being harsh on the old man. I offered that the purpose of memoirs is not just to tell one’s story for one’s legacy, but to fit it in a slot in the sands of time. Its purpose is to invite us into a journey that is not our own, to see and experience a different life. It is not just that we might learn something about the author, but that we might also learn something about ourselves. What I learnt about us from that book is that we are stuck in a cycle that can’t be sustained.
That was primarily why Walking in Kenyatta’s Struggles pissed me off so much. In Ndegwa’s boastful stories about how he and others deliberately undermined devolution, subverted the constitution and ostracised entire regions, I saw the men and women around Uhuru Kenyatta today. When they are aging and obsessed about their legacy, they will try to justify turning Kenya into the tyranny it is swiftly becoming. Memoirs will speak of the common good that is national security, and why ignoring court orders was the only choice. They will celebrate the handshakes and the failed projects. People who are actively destroying this society today will become “statesmen” and “stateswomen”.
And the taxpayers in this jua kali nation will let this be. In the coming years, they might even replace them in the list of great nation builders.
But will history absolve them?
HOW TO LOOT AN AFRICAN COUNTRY: Will unsustainable debts lead to state capture in Uganda?
In January 2018, at the annual Makerere University Tumusiime-Mutebile Centre of Excellence (TMCE) Business Dialogue, the Ugandan Minister of Internal Affairs, Ruhakana Rugunda, stated that Uganda was now in a position to finance 70% of its budget. However, despite the rosy declaration by the National Resistance Movement stalwart, all indications point to an economy in free fall and one not poised to make major economic breakthroughs.
Basic healthcare remains a serious challenge: despite a commitment made with several other African countries to allocating 15% of their budgets to the health sector, Uganda allocates less than 10% (just over 6% this year) of its budget to health. A cholera outbreak in western Uganda in late 2017 signaled yet another drug stock-out. There were reports from the central region of a lack of drugs to treat hepatitis-B. A major drug and consumables (e.g. gloves) shortage was also reported in Mbale in eastern Uganda in January 2018. The Mbale Regional Referral Hospital, which serves a catchment area of four million people, had received no drug consignments for two months.
Then in February this year, the Parliamentary Accounts Committee announced that a loan taken in 2016, in part to pay for drugs bought by the National Medical Stores, was not in fact passed on to the organisations for which it was borrowed. The Speaker of Parliament ordered a special audit to establish the use of the money.
At the beginning of the year, news filtered through that universal secondary education was being scaled back, with the facility being closed in some 800 private schools that have been implementing it through public-private partnerships. Over 200,000 students are expected to be affected.
The Secretary to the Treasury, Keith Muhakanizi, has so far explained that the funds were used for general budget support required in the last fiscal year: to plug a UGX 288 billion revenue shortfall, supplementary expenditure of UGX156 billion, and to substitute more expensive domestic borrowing amounting to 280 billion Uganda shillings.
Parliament is up in arms because when approval for the loan for budget support was first sought, it was rejected. Following a revised request emphasising the need for essential drugs, the request was approved. However, Parliament says it was duped as the beneficiaries were never advised about the arrival of the funds.
Muhakanizi is adamant that the money was banked in the government’s consolidated fund, along with all other sources of funds, and disbursed in the usual manner. One source says it is clear from the loan documents that it was never tied to the purchase of drugs. Furthermore, it appears that Parliament approved the loan on verbal presentations as to its usage, not on the loan documents. If this is so (the Auditor General is still investigating), then Parliament has revealed itself to be negligent in scrutinising and approving loans.
The underlying problem appears to be that, even with the PTA loan, there were simply insufficient funds for government business and the Treasury was unable to disburse all the money required by all sectors, even for essential expenditure like drugs. (Non-essential expenditure seems easier. It will be remembered that in 2016 a gratuity of UGX6.2 billion was paid by the President to 42 celebrity public servants as a reward for carrying out their ordinary duties. The Secretary to the Treasury was part of this privileged group.)
Contrary to Rugunda’s misleading claims in January and talk of an “economic take-off”, the country is in fact struggling to finance 47% of its budget through revenues, according to Parliament Watch, an independent NGO; the other 53% is to be financed by more loans.
The cash crisis persisted in 2018. At the beginning of the year, news filtered through that universal secondary education was being scaled back, with the facility being closed in some 800 private schools that have been implementing it through public-private partnerships. Over 200,000 students are expected to be affected.
This is not surprising as there has been a shortfall in expected revenues of UGX300 billion in the first half of the current fiscal year, according to the Finance Minister, Matia Kasaija. The shortfall is expected to double by the end of the year. By way of explanation, Kasaija claims that the budget estimates for 2017/1018 were wrong in some cases and there have been unexpected expenditures in others. The upshot, says Kasaija, is that ministries, departments and agencies have put in requests for an extra UGX2.3 trillion. This is needed for salaries, pensions, security and social assistance grants to low-income households, energy, as well as for the development budget. So far, only 38% (870 billion) of the excess expenditure has been approved in supplementary budgets.
Speaking of energy, Uganda is also experiencing a shortage of petrol. As with all fuel shortages, explanations include the refurbishment of infrastructure for the storage and transport of fuel, limited international supplies, delays in the construction of a pipeline from Kenya to Uganda, Kenyans, and myriad other excuses. What is not clear is why Uganda’s statutory fuel reserves are not replenished and in fact reserved for such emergencies. Why are the fuel reserves sold on the open market?
At the time of writing, news of the Uganda Police’s budget woes broke. The latest quarterly treasury release of UGX137 billion is sufficient only to fund operations at the Inspector General of Police’s headquarters and in three administrative regions, namely, Kampala Metropolitan, East Kyoga, Sipi and East Rwenzori. This means other operations, including criminal investigations and intelligence in Northern, Central and much of Western Uganda, are not funded. The Inspector General of Police has explained that operations will be rotated i.e. the next release will be used on operations in the areas that lost out this time.
Even though food is provided for, the association of police suppliers has suspended supplies while it demands payment of UGX 33 billion in arrears. This figure almost exactly matches the amount the police expects to spend on tear gas alone in a year. Total police arrears amount to UGX125 billion or a quarter of the annual budget. Suppliers have claimed that they are often threatened when pushing for payment.
The Indian entrepreneur Anil Agarwal who bought Konkola tells the story of how he did not even have US$4 million at his disposal when he approached the Zambian government but “took a chance” and offered US$25 million for the mines. There may be some details missing from his account, but he claims that some months later, when he had forgotten about his offer, he received a telephone call from Zambia and a voice said, “The mines are yours.”
Primary health, education and transport – all designated as priority areas for development – are affected by what can only be the slow-motion collapse of the Ugandan economy. Contrary to Rugunda’s misleading claims in January and talk of an “economic take-off”, the country is in fact struggling to finance 47% of its budget through revenues, according to Parliament Watch, an independent NGO; the other 53% is to be financed by more loans. Foreign exchange fluctuations and further falls in commodity prices could make the situation worse.
Konkola, Hambantota and other stories
The trouble with loans to administratively weak countries and to full-on captured states is that they are irresponsibly used and are unsustainable. It is also public knowledge that significant portions of public funds, which would include loans and grants made to the government of Uganda, if not squandered are stolen outright.
Unsustainable debt will eventually lead to a loss of Uganda’s ability to even generate income. Prime examples of this dynamic would be the Konkola Copper Mines in Zambia, Hambantota Harbour in Sri Lanka and Mozambique’s liquid natural gas deposits.
In 2014, under pressure from the World Bank to repay its debt, the Government of Zambia sought to sell Konkola, Zambia’s largest copper mines. The price was set at US$400 million, presumably after professional evaluation of Konkola’s potential revenues. The Indian entrepreneur Anil Agarwal who bought Konkola tells the story of how he did not even have US$4 million at his disposal when he approached the Zambian government but “took a chance” and offered US$25 million for the mines. There may be some details missing from his account, but he claims that some months later, when he had forgotten about his offer, he received a telephone call from Zambia and a voice said, “The mines are yours.”
He then found himself in the presence of President Mwanawasa and later the Zambian Parliament, being hailed as a great man. Addressing an investment conference in Bangalore in 2014, Agarwal boasted that Konkola had earned his company, Vedanta, between US$500 million and US$1 billion annually since he bought it – more than even its original sale price.
Another example is from Hambantota on the southern tip of Sri Lanka, which derives from an ancient civilization noted for its irrigation and prosperous salt production industry. The harbour is the site of a port built in 2010 with a loan from China. A feasibility study for international ship-building, repair and freight services looked good on paper. However, like Uganda’s budgets, the feasibility study did not pan out and Sri Lanka defaulted on the loan repayments. Under the terms of the agreement, the harbour became the property of China for the next 99 years. There was an outcry, of course. Issues such as the initial viability of the loan were raised. Readjustments followed and now the harbour is a joint venture between China and Sri Lanka. Joint ventures managed by economic predators are no more profitable than unsustainable loans.
The existence and terms of loans – the properties mortgaged – remain a state secret. It is possible that when (not if) Uganda defaults, public assets or whole districts could become the property of the People’s Republic of China, just like Hambantota harbour.
More recently, in 2017, Mozambique lost future revenue from newly discovered natural gas deposits when the government defaulted on secret loans of US$2 billion. There too, a dodgy feasibility study showed that the loan was sustainable but it turns out it will take Mozambique ten years and most of the gas income to cover the loan and penalties for defaulting. The military and fishing equipment that it was ostensibly used for was being searched for by an international audit firm. The fishing fleet bought with some of the funds was rusting in dock as the business proved to be a loss-maker from the start. The government admitted that the fishing project was, in fact, a front for military acquisitions.
Of the many accounts of the Mozambican debt crisis, Ugandans and citizens of other developing countries should at least read the one by Bodo Ellmers of the Committee for the Abolition of Illegitimate Debt, if only to form an idea of how our own oil discoveries could be squandered even before commercial production begins.
Naturally, after following developments in Zambia, Sri Lanka and Mozambique, one becomes nervous about Uganda’s situation. The existence and terms of loans – the properties mortgaged – remain a state secret. It is possible that when (not if) Uganda defaults, public assets or whole districts could become the property of the People’s Republic of China, just like Hambantota harbour. Chinese extractors are already mining the Lweera Wetland for sand at an industrial rate. The question is, could this official departure from national environmental policy be part of a secret concession sold to the Chinese by the usual suspects?
Is there a danger that title to or rights in other state assets will be or have been transferred to someone like Anil Agarwal or the Guptas, now that the latter have been flushed out of South Africa? It is a reasonable question, patriotic even, given that Uganda is a veteran of cartoonish business deals.
Uganda is still in the normalisation-of-fraud phase during which the illusion of a country on the move is perpetuated.
A recent Department of Justice statement revealed the modus operandi for looting state assets employed by predator “investors” and their local agents when it charged one Patrick Ho with bribing the Foreign Minister, Sam Kutesa, in return for assorted business favours for a Chinese state entity. These costly concessions included, but were not limited to, direct access to the President (resulting in) extended tax holidays, free land by the square kilometer, forests, transfers of public machinery and plants on promises of future payments after they become profitable, and so on. It is in the public interest that Parliament investigates the sustainability of Uganda’s entire debt burden and what the country stands to lose in the event of a default.
Restitution of control
The process of recovery from this parlous state will not be easy. Taking South Africa as an example, a state under the control of regime stalwarts and foreign divestors – the Gupta brothers – it took the constant coordinated efforts of the Economic Freedom Fighters to oust ex-President Jacob Zuma by: a) keeping the public informed about the inner workings of the regime; and b) naming the perpetrators. Working within the law, the EFF rejected attempts to normalise state capture by repeatedly bringing government business in Parliament to a halt. The resulting international spotlight on South Africa made Zuma’s position untenable. He resigned days after he was unable to make a last State of the Nation address.
Uganda is still in the normalisation-of-fraud phase during which the illusion of a country on the move is perpetuated. Increasingly elaborate state functions, like the Budget Speech, the State of the Nation address and Independence and Heroes day celebrations belie the desperate realities.
Meanwhile, envoys from complicit countries continue to make high-profile visits to Ugandan government officials, even those implicated in financial scandals. The World Bank and the International Monetary Fund churn out evaluation reports deliberately fabricating achievements and downplaying the impact of failures in administrative and economic reforms. Concrete examples can be found in the evaluation of the Economic and Financial Management Programme, the Public Service Performance Enhancement Programme and the Education Sector Adjustment Credit. 
Until the Ugandan Parliament recognises the capture of the state for what it is, and by whom, and becomes serious about scrutinising public debt, Uganda is going nowhere.
 For records of misleading World Bank reports on Ugandan projects, see Mary Serumaga, The case for repudiation of Uganda’s public debt, 8 December 2017 by Mary Serumaga published by the Committee for Repudiation of Illegitimate Debt.
WADING INTO TROUBLED WATERS: A message to Kenya’s youth
*This reflection is dedicated to my spiritual son, Jesse Masai, and several others like him who constantly wrestle with the question of their responsibility to the Republic in this season.
An old proverb says, “We have not inherited this land from our forebears, we have borrowed it from our children.” Here, we are debtors and owe our children a prosperous future.
The extent to which we develop our democratic institutions, entrench the rule of law and build a prosperous economy shows our obligation towards them. The dream of a land of freedom, where individual rights are guaranteed and where all prosper is fast turning into a frightening nightmare. The once-abhorred Nyayo era, marked with authoritarianism, state terror, press censorship and violation of human rights is back with a vengeance.
Throughout my writings, I have strenuously been trying to be non-partisan on party politics. This then is the article I thought I would never write: a candid assertion that a certain form of partisanship is now a moral necessity. The Jubilee government, as an institution, has become a danger to the rule of law and to the integrity of our democracy. The problem is not just President Uhuru Kenyatta; it’s the larger political apparatus, including Parliament, that made a conscious decision to enable him.
In a multi-party system, non-partisanship works only if all players are consistent democratic actors and subject to independent institutions that safeguard democracy. If one of them is not predictably so, the space for non-partisanship evaporates. I am thus driven to believe that the best hope of defending the country from Uhuru’s Jubilee enablers and saving the nation is to stage a public protest as Muthoni Nyanjiru and Nobel Laurent Professor Wangari Maathai did in 1922 and 1992, respectively. Protest against the government and Parliament until they get it right or implode!
The Jubilee government, as an institution, has become a danger to the rule of law and to the integrity of our democracy.
How can a prosperous future for our children be realised under these conditions? This is not how we pay the debt we owe our children. Today’s youth must not allow us to squander that future. There is an urgent voice calling for action now: “Wade in the waters, children…” Can’t we hear it?
The legendary Harriet Tubman, also known as “Moses” (who once had a US$40,000 price tag on her head for “slave stealing”), sung this song to alert the runaway slaves she guided to freedom. The song signaled to runaways: “Use the river so the hounds can’t trace you. Tonight is the moment for flight; move swiftly; the reaction will be fierce.” Harriet speaks to us today: Now is the time: stop this backsliding, “wade into the waters”, free our children from slavery. Wade into the waters, children!
This advice does not seem smart at first. Why would one want to jump into waters that God stirred up (described in the Bible as troubled)? For many Kenyans, the failure of the opposition NASA to guide them to Canaan is troubled waters. Under persistent attacks – many of them seemingly minor – democratic institutions in Kenya have been eroded gradually until they have failed. The undermining of the independence of the electoral commission, the police service and the free press has rendered our democratic process useless. Our waters are troubled in at least two possible ways.
Lately, we have come to regard the government as a danger to the Constitution of Kenya 2010. It has proved unable or unwilling to block assaults on the rule of law. If these assaults are normalised, they will pose an existential threat to Kenya’s future.
Secondly, our economy is being shackled with foreign debt. This act makes a mockery of the 2000 Jubilee campaign that pushed Western countries to forgive crippling foreign debts of the world’s poorest countries, including Kenya. It is irresponsible to deliberately and unnecessarily enslave our children’s future in debt, erasing their future ability to compete in this world.
There is an urgent voice calling for action now: “Wade in the waters, children…” Can’t we hear it?
Francis A. Schaeffer, warning in his book How Should We Then Live? is instructive to us in Kenya: “If we…do not speak out as authoritarian governments grow from within or come from outside, eventually we or our children will be the enemy of society and the state. No truly authoritarian government can tolerate those who have real absolute by which to judge its arbitrary absolutes and who speak out and act upon that absolute.”
A similar situation is playing out in a Kenya that negates the government’s claim to construct a prosperous future for our children. Instead of addressing these challenges, the government elects to shut down media channels that expose its incompetency and locks up critics who question its legitimacy. This is a perfect recipe for national rebellion.
Fredrick Douglas warned: “The thing that is worse than rebellion is the thing that causes rebellion.” Failure to address the causes of disquiet – and instead opting to use unconstitutional means to silence people – will be the Achilles heel of this government. This may have a tragic ending.
When Laius, the King of Thebes, is told by the Oracle of Delphi that his son will kill him and sleep with his mother Jocasta, the king pierces his baby son’s ankles and leaves him on a mountainside to die. This becomes the first of a sequence of events that leads to the Oracle’s prophesy being fulfilled. For a shepherd finds the baby and takes him to King Polybus and Queen Merope of Corinth, who name him Oedipus and raise him as their own.
Failure to address the causes of disquiet – and instead opting to use unconstitutional means to silence people – will be the Achilles heel of this government. This may have a tragic ending.
Later, Oedipus seeks the help of the Oracle of Delphi to know his parentage. The Oracle tells him that he’s destined to kill his father and sleep with his mother. Oedipus tries to run from this fate, but ends up running right into it. He kills Laius in a scuffle at a crossroads, not knowing he’s his real father. Later, he wins the throne of Thebes and unknowingly marries his mother, Jocasta, after answering the riddle of the Sphinx. When they figure out the truth, Jocasta hangs herself and Oedipus stabs out his own eyes. The Greek story ends in tragedy.
In the spiritual song – Wade in the Waters – those who will be blessed are urged to step into the waters first, before the angel of God comes. The song stresses meeting hardships with courage and “steady” faith; gather now and get ready, the healing is promised. Gather now, so that all will be among the first received and delivered by the gifts of grace that spring forth in dark times. While addressing young Germans in Stuttgart on the need to stand for human dignity, former United Nations Secretary-General Dr. Kofi Annan said: “You are not too young to lead, for to lead means to take responsibility and set example.” He explained, “When leaders fail to lead, the people can lead and make leaders follow.” For this very reason, youth in this country must wade in the waters and assume leadership to save their future.
But can we rely on the youth to deliver?
Harris Okongo Arara went to Chianda High School in Uyoma, Siaya County, the same school I attended. He was the best footballer and hockey player that the school ever produced. Upon completing his studies, Arara joined the Kenya Air Force. When he was in his 20s, he became an activist for change and courageously led the fight to end one-party dictatorship in Kenya. What he told a Nairobi court about to sentence him to jail for sedition on September 24, 1988, expressed the values he stood for and the vision he had for Kenya. He declined to plead for leniency or mercy. With confidence, he dismissed the courts’ right to judge him. Arara questioned why he should seek personal mercy while millions of Kenyans lived in misery. He was proud to join the company of those he called apostles, who attempted to rescue justice but found themselves in detention, prison or exile. He said:
The people of this nation are simply demanding their fundamental rights and freedoms. They are simply demanding their rights to a decent living, right to education, right to proper medical care, right to housing. In short, the right to be human beings. If that is sedition, so be it. These are the goals for which I have always fought, and for which I am prepared to die.
Arara was sentenced to a five-year jail term. This was his second stint in jail, having been in detention without trial for six years following the 1982 coup attempt. Arara had only been free for eight months at the time of this sentencing. He was wading into the troubled waters of the Nyayo era.
We learn history because through it we understand the sacrifices that were made before, so that when we make sacrifices we understand we’re doing it on behalf of future generations. It is possible to resist oppressive laws enacted by Parliament that undermine the Constitution and degrade human dignity.
In 1922, for instance, 27-years old Harry Thuku, the leader of the East African Association, was arrested for acting and speaking against “forced labour of women on the roads”. Officials of the nationalist association rallied African workers in Nairobi to go on strike. On March 15, transport workers, domestic workers and government employees deserted their workplaces and gathered in front of the police station where Thuku was being held. Makhan Singh, in History of Kenya’s Trade Union Movement to 1952, wrote: “As the crowd grew, a deputation of the East African Association, including Jomo Kenyatta, held a meeting with Acting Governor Sir Charles Bowring in his office.”
According to Audrey Wipper, who wrote the chapter “Kikuyu Women and the Harry Thuku Disturbances: Some Uniformities of Female Militancy in the Africa” in the Journal of the International African Institute, Nyanjiru and her stepdaughter, Elizabeth Waruiru, were among the city’s female workers who came out to demonstrate. Nyanjiru was a Kikuyu woman who had moved from the village of Weithaga in the native reserves to Nairobi. Addressing the strikers, Jomo Kenyatta announced the deal the East African Association deputies had reached with the governor: Thuku could not be released, but the governor had promised him a fair trial. He then urged the demonstrators to disperse.
It is possible to resist oppressive laws enacted by Parliament that undermine the Constitution and degrade human dignity.
Nyanjiru stood in the front of the crowd near Kenyatta as the demonstrators began leaving. She threw her dress over her shoulders and exposed her naked body, taunting the cowardice of the men and challenging them to stand up to Kenyatta. (In Ngugi wa Thiong’o’s A Grain of Wheat, Nyanjiru is presented as a woman who is incensed by men’s impotency against colonial oppression. She challenges men to swap their trousers for women’s skirts.) Nyanjiru threatened to lead the demand for Harry Thuku’s release if the men were too cowardly to do it.
The 300 women present ululated loudly. The strikers were galvanised by Nyanjiru’s actions and the women’s call to battle. Men who were beginning to disperse returned. A large section of the crowd rushed forward towards the armed guards. Nyanjiru stood only a few feet away from the guards, who had been on duty for 18 continuous hours. The guards kneeled and engaged their rifles at the command of the superintendent of police, Captain Carey.
In the end, 200 Kenyans died. Thuku was exiled, first to Kismayu, then to Marsabit, Witu and Lamu. But as Bryan Ngartia observed in The Ageless Defiance of Muthoni Nyanjiru, “the sacrifice wasn’t all in futility. The tax was reduced from 16 shillings to 12 shillings and was never again raised for the sole purpose of filling labour needs. African grievances were given serious consideration.” This was the seed of struggle that matured in the later independence of Kenya.
Where Are Those Songs? Micere Githae Mugo pleads with our mothers today:
Where are those songs / my mother and yours / always sang / fitting rhythms / to the whole / vast span of life/? […] Sing Daughter sing […] sing/simple songs/for the people/for all to hear/and learn/and sing/with you.
In 1992, Prof. Maathai led mothers of political prisoners detained by the Moi regime to occupy Freedom Corner in Nairobi’s Uhuru Park. The government, in now familiar style, dispatched armed police to evict the women, who stripped naked in protest and defiance. Prof. Maathai was beaten unconscious and hospitalised, but the women of Freedom Corner eventually won. Prof. Maathai and her group of women also stopped President Daniel Toroitich arap Moi – at the zenith of his power – from building what would have been Times Tower, a complex associated with the ruling party, at Uhuru Park.
Women must wade in the waters and refuse to be silenced; they must fight for their children’s future. In her contribution published in The Inquiry in 2013, titled “Silence is a Woman”, Wambui wa Mwangi opposed the exclusionary, false, Gikuyu-centric narrative and ideological erasure of many other ethnic communities in the Kenyan story as told by Gikuyu men. She stresses: “Here, I also want to insist on the strong tradition within Gikuyu women’s culture of resisting tyranny, oppression, domination, and hubristic upumbafuness by the men.” Wambui is right to point us to the fact that authoritarianism has no ethnicity. We all sink under bad leadership.
Wambui is right to point us to the fact that authoritarianism has no ethnicity. We all sink under bad leadership.
In shorthand, the song “wade in the waters” admonished the community not to be like the paralysed man, who seemed unable to seize the opportunity and betrayed to the authorities the one who saved him. The song pairs those who made it to safety with the victims who fell trying. For those who made it through: who that dressed in blue?
And in the description of baptism, a hinted memory of those lost in the middle passage:
Chilled body but not my soul…
We remember that their sacrifices have given us our freedom, made the rule of law possible and set us on the path of prosperity.
I am suggesting that in today’s situation, we all should mount powerful public protest despite our party affiliation or policy position. Our demand should be: The rule of law as a threshold in Kenyan politics. Any party that endangers this value must disqualify itself. We must insist on unadulterated implementation of Chapter 6 of the Constitution of Kenya 2010. Period. Then, perhaps, we too would be wading in the waters.
Going forward, it is likely that public protest will be dealt with ruthlessly and may even be fatal for some, but there is gain for all that we strive for. In the face of brutality against dreams, let us consider the story of Joseph in the Bible. The brothers said, ” Come, let us kill him and throw him into one of these wells…Then we’ll see what comes of his dreams.” (Gen. 37:20) Here the irony could not be more explicit. The very act intended to frustrate dreams by killing the dreamer becomes the beginning of a sequence of events that make the dreams come true. Joseph went on a winding journey from slavery, to Potiphar’s house, to prison and finally to leadership in Egypt.
Let us demand the dreams of our children.
Carl Rosberg and John Nottingham, 1966: The Myth of ‘Mau Mau’: nationalism in Kenya. New York: Praeger.
Ngugi wa Thiong’o, 2012: A Grain of Wheat. Penguin African Writers Series, New York: USA.
Schaeffer, Francis A., 1976: How Should We Then Live? The rise and decline of Western thought. Crossway books Wheaton IL. USA
Singh, Makhan, 1969: History of Kenya’s Trade Union Movement to 1952. Nairobi: East Africa African Publishing House.
Wipper, Audrey, 1989: “Kikuyu Women and the Harry Thuku Disturbances: Some Uniformities of Female Militancy, Africa: Journal of the International African Institute, 59.3: 300–337
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