Politics
Set up to Fail? Police Reforms in Kenya

For over a decade now, Kenyans have been listening to talk about police reforms. And though it may be true that police now have more fancy crowd control equipment than they did 10 years ago, and more cars, a forensic lab, health care insurance, armed vehicles, and some extra housing, this has yet to translate into better police performance that is noticeable for the average Kenyan. And frankly, there is little reason to be optimistic things will change in the near future.
Ever since its inception by the colonial powers, police in Kenya have functioned as a class institution, where members of the higher classes receive quite different treatment from the lower classes. Rather than serving the interests of the public, police have been serving the interests of those in power, especially when those in power could exercise influence over promotions and removals. For the others, policing in Kenya has since long been characterised by excessive use of force, extra-judicial killings, torture, and corruption.
Police frequently fail to respond professionally to policing situations, whether they involve calls for assistance, criminal investigations, dealing with terrorist threats, managing peaceful protests or even the handling of traffic. As a result, the public lacks confidence and is reluctant to report to the police or otherwise provide them with information.
As with any misconduct, it doesn’t stop at the gates of the institution: members of the police also fall victim to (internal) corruption, nepotism and (sexual) harassment. Nor are all police officers bad – on the contrary, there are many good willing, hardworking officers, who want the system to change, who are desperate to build true professional pride, and who were hoping the reforms would bring the long hoped for changes.
In sum, there is no real incentive for the powers-that-be to build a truly effective, professional, accountable police service.
Also, members of the upper classes are certainly not safe from bad policing. Cases such as the killing of the son of a British aristocrat, Alexander Monsoon, in 2012, the killing of the son of a former MP in 2009, and last April, the killing of the son of a senior police officer spring to mind. Likewise, the upper classes’ safety is hardly guaranteed: though senior members of the political and executive elites usually have substantial security detail (drawn from the police), this provides only some protection, and certainly does not protect against terrorism; a case in point is the death of the President’s nephew during the attack on the Westgate Mall. Make no mistake; without doubt, the lower classes get far worse policing, if any at all, than the middle and upper classes and especially when it comes to the use of force, they find themselves on the receiving end much, much more often than their richer compatriots. But it is not true that policing for the higher classes is without problems.
How did this situation evolve the way it did? First of all, due to systematic underfunding, misallocation of funds and regular inappropriate interference in police operations, the police force has been unable to develop into a service that meets international professional standards. But why did the powers-that-be allow this situation to evolve like this? For this we have to go a bit deeper, looking at how Kenya, with its politics dominated by tribalism and a winner-takes-all mentality, is a country where winning the elections means access to wealth. As such, it is useful for those in power, at whichever level, to have police who are loyal to them, rather than politically neutral servers of the general public.
Moreover, let’s not forget Kenya still is a country with various leaders being accused of various levels of involvement in organised crime and corruption, and with a ‘culture of impunity’ (see Branch 2011; or look at the difficulty the judiciary is having to interpret Chapter VI of the Constitution, let alone getting it implemented in practice). Indeed, reports of political involvement in drug trafficking, ivory poaching and corruption involving senior Government officials and businessmen closely related to the political elite (Gastrow 2011; Kahumbu 2014), make it clear that it may not be that beneficial for the country’s elite to have truly professional police that handle crime effectively: indeed they themselves might be targeted by police investigations. In sum, there is no real incentive for the powers-that-be to build a truly effective, professional, accountable police service.
This says something about the context in which police, and indeed other Government institutions, operate. Police in Kenya, like in most other countries, have a level of discretion to decide how to deal with certain policing situations. Such discretion is often seen as a defining element of police professionalism: within the boundaries set by the law and policies, police officers have a level of freedom to decide how to respond to a given situation, based on the specific nature of that situation. Indeed, where the public trusts the police they are willing to ‘grant’ them operational independence, and discretion, for which the police have to account. Discretion must be balanced by effective accountability, so that afterwards the appropriateness of the police’s actions can be assessed.
What has happened, however, is that the police in Kenya have had limited operational independence, and there was limited if any, effective, external oversight. The lack of oversight made it even easier to deploy the police for personal gain, and also to block investigations and operations that became a threat, and at the same time it gave the police space to serve their own interests, as when they collect bribes and intimidate and harass members of the public. Though it is too simple to say that the police are merely a puppet for those in power – and ultimately the President – it must be recognized they operate within the boundaries set by them. An effective accountability structure that includes independent oversight would greatly diminish the ‘playing field’ of both the rulers they serve as well as their own, and as such is not in the interest of either. The police have been given by and large a free hand, as long as they do not interfere with businesses that should be left unpoliced and instead ‘deal with’ crime and other security threats; that free hand has, however, extended beyond control, hence the extortions, killings, and tortures.
The police have been given by and large a free hand, as long as they do not interfere with businesses that should be left unpoliced and instead ‘deal with’ crime and other security threats; that free hand has, however, extended beyond control, hence the extortions, killings, and tortures.
It should be noted that this context is facilitated by a sometimes rather permissive attitude of the general public towards police misconduct, and mixed messages about what it is they want from the police. For example, with regards to killings by the police, all too often the comments from the general public are not only permissive, but sometimes even literally calling on the police to kill more. Civil society could, and should, play a role in opening up, and guiding the public debate about the type of police we want for Kenya today. Yet, to date, such a debate has yet to materialize.
Over the years, this situation led to ever-louder calls, by civil society and other stakeholders, for police reforms. For some 15 years now, there have been several reform efforts. A first comprehensive police reform effort was undertaken in 2003-4 after the NARC Government came to power on an agenda of change and anti-corruption. An ambitious police reform document (Strategic Plan 2004-2008) was developed, largely focusing on improving salaries and allowances and enhancing budget allocation to address infrastructural, operational and administrative concerns, but failed to propose substantial reforms that would have resulted in more accountable, more fair and effective policing. Calls for police reforms gained strength after the 2007/08 post-election violence. Domestic actors and representatives of the international community convinced the two principals, Mwai Kibaki and Raila Odinga, to sign the ‘National Peace Accord’, of which ‘Agenda item 4’ addresses ‘Long term issues and solutions’, including ‘Constitutional, legal and institutional reform’. It is under this agenda item that police reform was addressed. As the National Task Force on Police Reform later noted: “the inclusion of Police Reform under ‘Agenda Four’ stemmed from a strong feeling that the level of post-election violence and destruction would have been minimized had the Police responded in a professional non-partisan manner” (p.1).
In line with the Peace Accord, the coalition-Government established the ‘Commission of Inquiry on Post-Election Violence’ (also known as the CIPEV Commission, or Waki Commission, named after its Chair, Justice Philip Waki). ‘Waki’ revealed that, not only had the police been unable to prevent the violence or protect members of the public against it, they also actively contributed to the violence, with estimates that one third of the people who were killed died at the hands of members of the police. The two Principals agreed to implement certain recommendations from ‘Waki’, including the establishment of an Independent Police Service Commission and an Independent Police Conduct Authority, as well as the establishment of the National Task Force on Police Reforms in May 2009, (known as the ‘Ransley Commission’ after its Chair, Retired Justice Philip Ransley). ‘Ransley’ was tasked to evaluate the current police, and make recommendations for improvement. In total, ‘Ransley’ made over 200 recommendations to improve the efficiency and effectiveness of the police, conditions of service, provision of welfare benefits and greater security for officers, enhance accountability and create attitude and culture change. It called for establishing an effective complaints system, a Police Council and a Police Service Commission. After Ransley, the Government set up the Police Reform Implementation Committee (PRIC) to prepare implementation of the recommendations.
The key objective of the current reform project, as laid down by the Police Reforms Implementation Committee in 2011, is to enhance police professionalism and accountability; its ultimate goal ‘is to transform the police force into an effective, efficient and trusted police service’. The reforms have been codified in the 2010 Constitution and subsequent laws, most notably the National Police Service Act (c.11a), National Police Service Commission Act (c.30) and Independent Policing Oversight Authority Act (c.35), all of 2011. The Constitution gives an outline of the accountability infrastructure for the police. Overall command over the two Police Services, i.e. the Administration Police Service and the Kenya Police Service, is with the Inspector General who has security of tenure for four years, and is given independence of command. The Constitution prohibits the Cabinet Secretary, or anybody else, from interfering in police operations, investigations or employment and deployment matters. This also means that the Provincial Administration, or its equivalent, can no longer direct the police, which is a huge break with the past. Secondly, the Cabinet Secretary can give policy guidance only and this has to be in writing. Thirdly, the Constitution establishes the National Police Service Commission (the Commission, or NPSC) as responsible for recruitment and appointment and confirmation of promotions and transfers and gives the Commission the authority to observe due process, exercise disciplinary control and remove persons holding or acting in offices within the NPS. Even though the NPSC is a hybrid of both police and non-police (the IG and the two Deputy IGs are members, and the Commission includes two retired police officers, one from each branch of the Police Service; only the other four members are non-police), its independence is guaranteed under the Constitution. Fourthly, the Constitution places all national security organs under civilian authority and instructs the police to behave according to well-defined values of integrity and to reach out to the communities.
Yet, trouble loomed from the start. Normally, when a Bill has been adopted in Parliament, and is assented to by the President, it is sent to the Government’s Printer for printing and publication. As the key hurdle is parliamentary approval, followed by the President’s assent, printing should be a technicality only. Not so this time. Though the IPOA and the NPSC Acts were released fairly quickly, the NPS Act was only published one year later, in July 2012. Also, setting up the relevant institutions, most notably IPOA and the NPSC, was faced with delays. The IPOA Board was only appointed in June 2012 and the NPSC Commissioners were appointed in October 2012, more than a year after the Act was adopted in Parliament.
Tellingly, to date, there have been three amendments to the NPS Act, as well as one to the NPSC Act which strengthened the role of the executive, most notably the Cabinet-Secretary for Internal Security and Coordination of National Government, while weakening the NPSC.
In such a context, it should come as no surprise that implementation of the Acts, in letter but even more so in spirit, is wanting. For example, the Service Standing Orders should have been amended in order to comply with the new legislation and made public within one year after commencement of the Act. Not so. Releasing the Standing Orders would allow for a level of transparency that is apparently not in the interest of those in charge (whether de jure or de facto). Also, as can be seen by the many police shootings resulting in death, it is clear the police have not been instructed according to the new legislation. This is particularly clear when looking at IPOA, the official State body tasked with investigating deaths and serious injuries caused by police officers. Police have always been reluctant to notify the Authority of deaths and serious injuries that resulted from their actions, despite a statutory requirement to do so, and over the years the willingness has steadily declined. In the last 6 months of 2016, the police only notified the Authority in three instances. As IPOA wrote in its last Performance Report: ‘It is noted the number of deaths reported by the National Police Service is not reflective of the number of deaths as a result of police actions that were received through other channels. This implies a non-compliance by NPS.’ (p.21). IPOA has claimed the police fail to cooperate with the Authority, as was clear when IPOA inspectors were even detained by an Officer Commanding Police Division last year. Also, despite IPOA having conducted numerous investigations and inspections, and reviewed major police operations (for example, Operation Usalama Watch and also the Mpeketoni terrorist attacks), its impact on actual police performance remains modest as long as the police refuse to implement its recommendations.
The Commission hit the ground running, recruiting 7,000 new police recruits just weeks after it was established, and starting the recruitment of the new IG along with two deputies in late 2012, completing the make up of the Commission. However it was met with a hostile reception, from early 2013 onwards. Numerous were the headlines that the NPSC Chair, Johnston Kavuludi, was stepping on the mandate of then IG David Kimaiyo, and there were repeated calls to curtail, and even abolish the Commission. It was in this context that amendments started circulating shortly after the Commission took up office, which fed into the belief the executive had never been committed to implementing the legislation as it stood.
Tellingly, to date, there have been three amendments to the NPS Act, as well as one to the NPSC Act which strengthened the role of the executive, most notably the Cabinet-Secretary for Internal Security and Coordination of National Government, while weakening the NPSC. Though there has been repeated talk of amending the IPOA Act, this has to date been held off.
The Commission, meant to insulate the police from (political) interference by ensuring human resource management would be fair and merit-based, has received major criticism. It has conducted 5 major recruitment exercises, including one in 2014 that was marred with allegations of corruption and interference to the extent that IPOA went to court to get the exercise cancelled, much to the chagrin of the Commission, the police and wider executive, as well as the candidates affected (some of whom were said to have paid huge sums to acquire a spot while others had resigned from their jobs thinking they had gotten into the police). The 2015, 2016 and 2017 exercises went ahead – despite more allegations of malpractices (see for example the critical report by KNCHR).
Yet, probably the main activity for which the Commission is known to the public is the vetting process, which disclosed a lot of information about the inner workings of the police. As per the NPS Act, all members of the NPS are to be vetted on suitability and competence, by the Commission. The vetting, which started mid 2013, has been slow, and today the Commission has only vetted just over 3,000 officers. More worryingly, very few have actually been removed from the Service following the vetting, leading to many people questioning the value of the costly process. Indeed, there are many allegations, some of them substantiated, that the Commission does not comply with its own regulations, thus feeding into the belief the Commission is not fully independent and fails to prevent interference, raising questions about its own value.
All in all, despite the setting up of various institutions meant to hold the police to account, shield them from undue interference, and prevent misconduct or correct it where it does occur, police performance has barely changed. There are still numerous reports of crime committed by police officers, most notably corruption, extortion, bribery, excessive use of force and torture. Some have even argued that extra-judicial killings are on the rise, and there is a continuing failure of the police to respond professionally to policing situations, as the handling of various demonstrations in the past 12 months have shown all too well. The case of the Mavoko 3, where police were involved in the torture and brutal killing of lawyer Willie Kimani, his client, Josphat Mwenda, and their driver, Joseph Muiruri, is a particularly gruesome case in point.
All in all, despite the setting up of various institutions meant to hold the police to account, shield them from undue interference, and prevent misconduct or correct it where it does occur, police performance has barely changed.
Indeed, even though the government did spend additional resources, for example on cars, police housing, and insurance, this has yet to translate into better police performance and public confidence continues to be low. And despite the setting up of various oversight structures, a culture of non-compliance with the law has developed over the recent years and as a result, the (impact of the) enhanced accountability requirements have remained small, because the root causes of the current policing situation have been left, mostly, unaddressed.
In the current context, with few incentives to reform and just too many benefits to keeping things as they are, as well as limited political commitment to reform, both Cabinet-Secretary and the police leadership are likely to pick only those cherries from the reform package that are useful, and don’t rock the boat too much.
This should not come as a surprise, and unfortunately, all things staying equal, there is no reason to believe this will change in the near future. The current situation simply serves all involved all too well.
Sources:
Branch, Daniel, 2011. Kenya, between hope and despair, 1963–2011. New Haven: Yale University Press.
Commission of Inquiry into Post-Election Violence, Republic of Kenya. 2008. Report of the Commission of Inquiry into Post Election Violence. Nairobi: Commission of Inquiry into Post-Election Violence (CIPEV Commission).
Gastrow, Peter, Sept 2011. Termites at work. Transnational organized crime and state erosion in Kenya. New York: International Peace Institute.
Kahumbu, Paula, 2014. The war on poaching cannot be won in the field unless we take on highlevel corruption. The Guardian, 5 May 2014 [online].
National Task Force on Police Reforms, Republic of Kenya, October 2009. Report of the National Task Force on Police Reforms. Nairobi: National Task Force on Police Reforms.
Anneke Osse (2016) Police reform in Kenya: a process of ‘meddling through’, published in Policing and Society, 26(8), pp. 907-924.
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Politics
The Dictatorship of the Church
From the enormously influential megachurches of Walter Magaya and Emmanuel Makandiwa to smaller ‘startups,’ the church in Zimbabwe has frightening, nearly despotic authority.

In Zimbabwe, the most powerful dictatorship is not the Zimbabwe African National Union-Patriotic Front (ZANU-PF) party. Despite the party’s 40 year history of ruthlessly cracking down on opposition parties, sowing fear into the minds of the country’s political aspirants, despite the party’s overseeing of catastrophic policies such as the failed land reform, and despite the precarious position of the social landscape of the country today, neither former president Robert Mugabe, nor the current president Emmerson Mnangagwa, nor any of their associates pose as significant an existential threat to Zimbabweans as the most influential dictatorship at play in the country: the church.The church has frightening, near despotic authority which it uses to wield the balance of human rights within its palms. It wields authority from enormously influential megachurches like those of Walter Magaya and Emmanuel Makandiwa, to the smaller startup churches that operate from the depths of the highest-density suburbs of the metropolitan provinces of Bulawayo and Harare. Modern day totalitarian regimes brandish the power of the military over their subjects. In the same way, the church wields the threat of eternal damnation against those who fail to follow its commands. With the advent of the COVID-19 vaccine in 2020, for example, Emmanuel Makandiwa vocally declared that the vaccine was the biblical “mark of the beast.” In line with the promises of the book of Revelations, he declared that receiving it would damn one to eternal punishment.
Additionally, in just the same way that dictators stifle discourse through the control of the media, the church suppresses change by controlling the political landscape and making themselves indispensable stakeholders in electoral periods. The impact of this is enormous: since independence, there has been no meaningful political discourse on human rights questions. These questions include same-sex marriage and the right to access abortions as well as other reproductive health services. The church’s role in this situation has been to lead an onslaught of attacks on any institution, political or not, that dares to bring such questions for public consideration. But importantly, only through such consideration can policy substantively change. When people enter into conversation, they gain the opportunity to find middle grounds for their seemingly irreconcilable positions. Such middle-grounds may be the difference between life and death for many disadvantaged groups in Zimbabwe and across the world at large. The influence of the church impedes any attempt at locating this middle ground.
Additionally, because the church influences so many Zimbabweans, political actors do not dare oppose the church’s declarations. They fear being condemned and losing the support of their electorate. The church rarely faces criticism for its positions. It is not held accountable for the sentiments its leaders express by virtue of the veil of righteousness protecting it.
Furthermore, and uniquely so, the church serves the function of propping up the ZANU-PF party. The ZANU-PF mainly holds conservative ideals. These ideals align with those of the traditionalist Zimbabwean church. In short, the church in Zimbabwe stands as a hurdle to the crucial regime change necessary to bring the country to success. With a crucial election slated for the coming months, this hurdle looms more threatening than at any other time in the country’s history.
The impact of the church’s dictatorship on humans is immeasurable. Queer people, for example, are enormously vulnerable to violence and othering from their communities. They are also particularly vulnerable to sexually transmitted diseases and infections due to the absence of healthcare for them. The church meets the attempts of organizations such as the Gays and Lesbians of Zimbabwe to push for protection with cries that often devolve into scapegoating. These cries from the church reference moral decadence, a supposed decline in family values, and in the worst of cases, mental illness.
Similarly, the church meets civil society’s attempts at codifying and protecting sexual and reproductive rights with vehement disapproval. In 2021, for example, 22 civil society organizations petitioned Parliament to lower the consent age for accessing sexual and reproductive health services. Critics of the petition described it as “deeply antithetical to the public morality of Zimbabwe” that is grounded in “good old cultural and Christian values.”
Reporting on its consultations with religious leaders, a Parliamentary Portfolio Committee tasked with considering this petition described Christianity as “the solution” to the problem posed by the petition. This Committee viewed the petition as a gateway to issues such as “child exploitation … rights without responsibility … and spiritual bondages.” The petition disappeared into the annals of parliamentary bureaucracy. A year later, the Constitutional Court unanimously voted to increase the age of consent to 18.
A more horrifying instance of this unholy alliance between the church and the state in Zimbabwe is a recently unearthed money laundering scheme that has occurred under the watchful eye of the government. Under the stewardship of self-proclaimed Prophet Uebert Angel, the Ambassador-at-Large for the Government of Zimbabwe, millions of dollars were laundered by the Zimbabwean government. Here, as revealed by Al Jazeera in a four-part docuseries, Ambassador Angel served as a middleman for the government, facilitating the laundering of millions of dollars and the smuggling of scores of refined gold bars to the United Arab Emirates. He did this using his plenipotentiary ambassadorial status to vault through loopholes in the government’s security systems.
Importantly, Prophet Angel was appointed in 2021 as part of a frenetic series of ambassadorial appointments. President Mnangagwa handed out these appointments to specifically high-profile church leaders known for their glamorous lifestyle and their preaching of the prosperity gospel. Through these appointments, Emmerson Mnangagwa’s government earned itself a permanent stamp of approval from the church and access to a multi-million member base of voting Christians in the country. Mnangagwa’s gained access to freedom from accountability arising from the power of the endorsements by “men-of-God,” one of whom’s prophetic realm includes predicting English Premier League (EPL) football scores and guessing the color of congregants’ undergarments.
In exchange, Prophet Angel has earned himself a decently large sum of money. He has also earned the same freedom from critique and accountability as Zimbabwe’s government. To date, there is no evidence of Angel ever having faced any consequences for his action. The most popular response is simple: the majority of the Christian community chooses either to defend him or to turn a blind eye to his sins. The Christian community’s response to Prophet Angel’s actions, and to the role of the church in abortion and LGBTQ discourse is predictable. The community also responds simply to similar instances when the church acts as a dialogical actor and absolves itself of accountability and critique
Amidst all this, it is easy to denounce the church as a failed actor. However, the church’s political presence has not been exclusively negative. The Catholic Commission for Justice and Peace, for example, was the first organization to formally acknowledge Gukurahundi, a genocide that happened between 1982 and 1987 and killed thousands of Ndebele people. The Commission did this through a detailed report documenting what it termed as disturbances in the western regions of the country. Doing so sparked essential conversations about accountability and culpability over this forgotten genocide in Zimbabwe.
Similarly, the Zimbabwe Bishops’ Justice and Peace Commission has been involved in data collection that is sparking discourse about violence and human rights abuses in Zimbabwe. In doing so, the Commission is challenging Zimbabweans to think more critically about what constructive politics can look like in the country. Such work is hugely instrumental in driving social justice work forward in the country. What uniquely identifies the church’s involvement in both of these issues, however, is that neither touches on matters of Christian dogma. Instead, the Commission responds to general questions about the future of both God and Zimbabwe’s people in ways that make it easy for the church to enter into conversation with a critical and informed lens.
The conclusion from this is simple: if Zimbabwe is to shift into more progressive, dialogical politics, the church’s role must change with it. It is unlikely that the church will ever be a wholly apolitical actor in any country. However, the political integration of the church into the politics of Zimbabwe must be a full one. It must be led by the enhanced accountability of Zimbabwean religious leaders. In the same way that other political actors are taken to task over their opinions, the church must be held accountable for its rhetoric in the political space.
A growing population has, thus far, been involved in driving this shift. Social media has taken on a central role in this. For example, social media platforms such as Twitter thoroughly criticized megachurch pastor Emmanuel Makandiwa for his sentiments regarding vaccinations. This and other factors led him to backtrack on his expressed views on inoculation. However, social media is not as available in rural areas. There, the influence of the religion is stronger than elsewhere in the country. Therefore investments must be made in educating people about the roles of the church and the confines of its authority. This will be instrumental in giving people the courage to cut against the very rough grain of religious dogma. Presently, few such educational opportunities exist. To spark this much-needed change, it will be useful to have incentivizing opportunities for dialogue in religious sects.
More than anything else, the people for whom and through whom the church exists must drive any shift in the church’s role. The people of Tunisia stripped President Zine El Abidine Ben Ali of his authority during the Jasmine Revolution of January 2011. The women of Iran continue to tear at the walls that surround the extremist Islamic Republic. In just the same way, the people of Zimbabwe have the power to disrobe the church of the veil of righteousness that protects it from criticism and accountability.
In anticipation of the upcoming election, the critical issues emerging necessitate this excoriation even more. This will open up political spaces for Zimbabweans to consider a wider pool of contentious issues when they take to the polls in a few months. Above all, the people of Zimbabwe must start viewing the church for what it is: an institution, just like any other, with vested interests in the country’s affairs. As with any other institution, we must begin to challenge, question, and criticize the church for its own good and for the good of the people of Zimbabwe.
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This post is from a partnership between Africa Is a Country and The Elephant. We will be publishing a series of posts from their site once a week.
Politics
Pattern of Life and Death: Camp Simba and the US War on Terror
The US has become addicted to private military contractors mainly because they provide “plausible deniability” in the so-called war on terror.

Though it claimed the lives of three Americans, not 2,403, some liken the January 2020 al-Shabaab attack at Manda Bay, Kenya, to Pearl Harbour. The US would go on to unleash massive airstrikes against al-Shabaab in Somalia.
“We Americans hate being caught out,” a spy-plane pilot and contractor recently told me. “We should have killed them before they even planned it.”
Both the Manda Bay and Pearl Harbour attacks revealed the vulnerability of US personnel and forces. One brought the US into the Second World War. The other has brought Kenya into the global–and seemingly endless–War on Terror.
Months before launching the assault, members of the Al Qaeda-linked faction bivouacked in mangrove swamp and scrubland along this stretch of the northeast Kenyan coast. Unseen, they observed the base and Magagoni airfield. The airfield was poorly secured to begin with. They managed not to trip the sensors and made their way past the guard towers and the “kill zone” without being noticed.
At 5.20 a.m. on 5 January, pilots and contractors for L3Harris Technologies, which conducts airborne intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance (ISR) for the Pentagon, were about to take off from the airfield in a Beechcraft King Air b350. The twin engine plane was laden with sensors, cameras, and other high tech video equipment. Seeing thermal images of what they thought were hyenas scurrying across the runway, the pilots eased back on the engines. By the time they realized that a force of committed, disciplined and well-armed al-Shabaab fighters had breached Magagoni’s perimeter, past the guard towers, it was too late.
Simultaneously, a mile away, other al-Shabaab fighters attacked Camp Simba, an annex to Manda Bay where US forces and contractors are housed. Al-Shabaab fired into the camp to distract personnel and delay the US response to the targeted attack at the airfield.
Back at the Magagoni airfield, al-Shabaab fighters launched a rocket-propelled grenade at the King Air. “They took it right in the schnauzer,” an aircraft mechanic at Camp Simba who survived the attack recently recalled to me. Hit in the nose, the plane burst into flames. Pilots Bruce Triplett, 64, and Dustin Harrison, 47, both contractors employed by L3Harris, died instantly. The L3Harris contractor working the surveillance and reconnaissance equipment aft managed to crawl out, badly burned. US Army Specialist Henry J Mayfield, 23, who was in a truck clearing the tarmac, was also killed.
The attack on Camp Simba was not the first al-Shabaab action carried out in Kenya. But it was the first in the country to target US personnel. And it was wildly successful.
AFRICOM initially reported that six contractor-operated civilian aircraft had been damaged. However, drone footage released by al-Shabaab’s media wing showed that within a few minutes, the fighters had destroyed six surveillance aircraft, medical evacuation helicopters on the ground, several vehicles, and a fuel storage area. US and Kenyan forces engaged al-Shabaab for “several hours”.
Included in the destroyed aircraft was a secretive US Special Operations Command (SOCOM) military de Havilland Dash-8 twin-engine turboprop configured for intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance missions. A report released by United States Africa Command (AFRICOM) in March 2022 acknowledges that the attackers “achieved a degree of success in their plan.”
Teams working for another air-surveillance company survived the attack because their aircraft were in the air, preparing to land at Magagoni. Seeing what was happening on the ground, the crew diverted to Mombasa and subsequently to Entebbe, Uganda, where they stayed for months while Manda Bay underwent measures for force protection.
I had the chance to meet some of the contractors from that ISR flight. Occasionally, these guys—some call themselves paramilitary contractors—escape Camp Simba to hang out at various watering holes in and around Lamu, the coastal town where I live. On one recent afternoon, they commandeered a bar’s sound system, replacing Kenyan easy listening with boisterous Southern rock from the States.
Sweet home Alabama!
An ISR operator and I struck up an acquaintance. Black-eyed, thickly built, he’s also a self-confessed borderline sociopath. My own guess would be more an on-the-spectrum disorder. Formerly an operator with Delta Force, he was a “door kicker” and would often—in counter-terror parlance—“fix and finish” terror suspects. Abundant ink on his solid arms immortalizes scenes of battle from Iraq and Afghanistan. In his fifties, with a puffy white beard, he’s now an ISR contractor, an “eye in the sky”. His workday is spent “finding and fixing” targets for the Pentagon.
Occasionally, these guys—some call themselves paramilitary contractors—escape Camp Simba to hang out at various watering holes in and around Lamu.
He tells me about his missions—ten hours in a King Air, most of that time above Somalia, draped over cameras and video equipment. He gathers sensitive data for “pattern of life” analysis. He tells me that on the morning of the attack he was in the King Air about to land at the Magagoni airstrip.
We talked about a lot of things but when I probed him about “pattern of life” intel, the ISR operator told me not a lot except that al-Shabaab had been observing Camp Simba and the airstrip for a pattern of life study.
What I could learn online is that a pattern of life study is the documentation of the habits of an individual subject or of the population of an area. Generally done without the consent of the subject, it is carried out for purposes including security, profit, scientific research, regular censuses, and traffic analysis. So, pattern-of-life analysis is a fancy term for spying on people en masse. Seemingly boring.
Less so as applied to the forever war on terror. The operator pointed out the irony of how the mile or so of scrubland between the base and the Indian Ocean coastline had been crawling with militant spies in the months preceding the attack at Camp Simba. Typically, the ISR specialist says, his job is to find an al-Shabaab suspect and study his daily behaviours—his “pattern of life.”
ISR and Pattern of Life are inextricably linked
King Airs perform specialized missions; the planes are equipped with cameras and communications equipment suitable for military surveillance. Radar systems gaze through foliage, rain, darkness, dust storms or atmospheric haze to provide real time, high quality tactical ground imagery anytime it is needed, day or night. What my operator acquaintance collects goes to the Pentagon where it is analysed to determine whether anything observed is “actionable”. In many instances, action that proceeds includes airstrikes. But as a private military contractor ISR operator cannot “pull the trigger”.
In the six weeks following the attack at Magagoni and Camp Simba, AFRICOM launched 13 airstrikes against al-Shabaab’s network. That was a high share of the total of 42 carried out in 2020.
Airstrikes spiked under the Trump administration, totalling more than 275 reported, compared with 60 over the eight years of the Barack Obama administration. It is no great mystery that the Manda Bay-Magagoni attack occurred during Trump’s time in office.
Typically, the ISR specialist says, his job is to find an al-Shabaab suspect and study his daily behaviours—his “pattern of life.”
Several al-Shabaab leaders behind the attack are believed to have been killed in such airstrikes. The US first launched airstrikes against al-Shabab in Somalia in 2007 and increased them in 2016, according to data collected and analysed by UK-based non-profit Airwars.
Controversy arises from the fact that, as precise as these strikes are thought to be, there are always civilian casualties.
“The US uses pattern of life, in part, to identify ways to reduce the risk of innocent civilian casualties (CIVCAS) (when/where are targets by themselves or with family) whereas obviously Shabaab does not distinguish as such and uses it for different purposes,” a Department of Defense official familiar with the matter of drone operations told me.
The Biden administration resumed airstrikes in Somalia in August 2021. AFRICOM claimed it killed 13 al-Shabaab militants and that no civilians were killed.
According to Secretary of State Anthony Blinken, Mustaf ‘Ato is a senior Amniyat official responsible for coordinating and conducting al-Shabaab attacks in Somalia and Kenya and has helped plan attacks on Kenyan targets and US military compounds in Kenya. It is not clear, however, if this target has been fixed and killed.
A few days after the second anniversary of the Manda Bay attack, the US offered a US$10 million bounty.
The American public know very little about private military contractors. Yet the US has become addicted to contractors mainly because they provide “plausible deniability”. “Americans don’t care about contractors coming home in body bags,” says Sean McFate, a defense and national security analyst.
These airstrikes, targeted with the help of the operators and pilots in the King Airs flying out of Magagoni, would furnish a strong motive for al-Shabaab’s move on 5 January 2020.
The Pentagon carried out 15 air strikes in 2022 on the al-Qaeda-linked group, according to the Long War Journal tracker. Africom said the strikes killed at least 107 al-Shabaab fighters. There are no armed drones as such based at Camp Simba but armed gray-coloured single-engine Pilatus aircraft called Draco (Latin for “Dragon”) are sometimes used to kill targets in Somalia, a well-placed source told me.
The US has become addicted to contractors mainly because they provide “plausible deniability”.
The contractor I got to know somewhat brushes off the why of the attack. It is all too contextual for public consumption, and probably part of army indoctrination not to encourage meaningful discussion. He had, however, made the dry observation about the al-Shabaab affiliates out in the bush near the airfield, doing “pattern of life” reconnaissance.
The strike on Magagoni was closely timed and fully coordinated. And it appears that the primary aim was to take out ISR planes and their crews. It was private contractors, not US soldiers, in those planes. I pointed out to the operator that those targets would serve al-Shabaab’s aims both of vengeance and deterrence or prevention. His response: “Who cares why they attacked us? Al-Shabaab are booger-eaters.”
With that he cranks up the sound, singing along off-key:
And this bird, you cannot change
Lord help me, I can’t change….
Won’t you fly high, free bird, yeah.
Politics
Breaking the Chains of Indifference
The significance of ending the ongoing war in Sudan cannot be overstated, and represents more than just an end to violence. It provides a critical moment for the international community to follow the lead of the Sudanese people.

They say that the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.
As someone from the diaspora, every time I visited Sudan, I noticed that many of the houses had small problems like broken door knobs, cracked mirrors or crooked toilet seats that never seemed to get fixed over the years. Around Khartoum, you saw bumps and manholes on sand-covered, uneven roads. You saw buildings standing for years like unfinished skeletons. They had tons of building material in front of them: homeless families asleep in their shade, lying there, motionless, like collateral damage. This has always been the norm. Still, it is a microcosm of a much broader reality. Inadequate healthcare, a crumbling educational system, and a lack of essential services also became the norm for the Sudanese people.
This would be different, of course, if the ruling party owned the facility you were in, with the paved roads leading up to their meticulously maintained mansions. This stark contrast fuelled resentment among the people, leading them to label the government and its associates as “them.” These houses were symbols of the vast divide between the ruling elite and the everyday citizens longing for change. As the stark divide between “them” and “us” deepened, people yearned to change everything at once, to rid themselves of the oppressive grip of “them.”
Over the years, I understood why a pervasive sense of indifference had taken hold. The people of Sudan grew indifferent towards a government that remained unchanged. It showed no willingness to address the needs of its citizens unless it directly benefited those in power. For three decades, drastic change eluded the Sudanese people. They woke up each day to a different price for the dollar and a different cost for survival. The weight of this enduring status quo bore down upon them, rendering them mere spectators of their own lives. However, as it always does, a moment of reckoning finally arrived—the revolution.
Returning home after the 2019 revolution in Sudan, what stood out in contrast to the indifference was the hashtag #hanabnihu, which from Arabic translates to “we will build it.” #Hanabnihu echoed throughout Sudanese conversations taking place on and off the internet, symbolizing our determination to build our nation. To build our nation, we needed to commit to change beyond any single group’s fall, or any particular faction’s victory. Our spirits were high as everyone felt we had enough muscle memory to remember what happened in the region. We remembered how many of “them” came back to power. With the military still in power, the revolution was incomplete. Yet it still served as a rallying cry for the Sudanese people. It was a collective expression of their determination to no longer accept the unfinished state of their nation.
Many Sudanese people from the diaspora returned to Sudan. They helped the people of Suean create spaces of hope and resilience, everyone working tirelessly to build a new Sudan. They initiated remarkable projects and breathed life into the half-built houses they now prioritized to turn into homes. We had yearned for a time when broken door knobs and crooked toilet seats would be fixed, and for a time when the government would smooth out the bumps on the road. For four years following the revolution, people marched, protested, and fought for a Sudan they envisioned. They fought in opposition to the military, whose two factions thought that a massacre or even a coup might bring the people back to the state of indifference that they once lived in.
Remarkably, the protests became ingrained in the weekly schedule of the Sudanese people. It became part of their routine, a testament to their unwavering dedication and the persistence of their aspirations. But soon, the people found themselves normalized to these protests. This was partly due to the fact that it was organized by the only body fighting against the return of this indifference: the neighborhood’s resistance committees. These horizontally structured, self-organized member groups regularly convened to organize everything from planning the weekly protests and discussing economic policy to trash pickup, and the way corruption lowered the quality of the bread from the local bakery.
The international media celebrated the resistance committees for their innovation in resistance and commitment to nonviolence. But as we, the Sudanese, watched the news on our resistance fade, it was clear that the normalization of indifference extended beyond Sudan’s borders. The international community turned a blind eye to justice, equality, and progress in the celebrated principles of the peaceful 2019 revolution. In a desperate attempt to establish fake stability in Sudan, the international community continued their conversations with the military. Their international sponsors mentioned no retribution against the military for their actions.
During my recent visit to Sudan, the sense of anticipation was palpable. It was just two months before the outbreak of war between the army and the paramilitary group. The protests had intensified and the economy was faltering. The nation stood at the precipice as the activism continued and the tensions between “us” and “them” had begun to grow once again.
Now, as war engulfs the nation, many Sudanese find themselves torn. At the same time, they hope for the victory of the Sudanese Army. Despite the army’s flaws, Sudanese people hope the army will win against “them” while recognizing that this war remains primarily between different factions of “them.” We wake up every day with a little less hope. We watch them bomb Khartoum and the little infrastructure that existed turn to dust. We watch as the resistance committees continue to do the army’s job for them. They work fiercely to deliver medicine, evacuate people and collect the nameless bodies on the sides of the streets next to the burnt buildings that were almost starting to be completed.
Another battle takes place online. On Sudanese social media, people challenge the negative mood of the war. Sudanese architects and designers work from their rented flats in Cairo or Addis, posting juxtaposed images that place the grainy, rashly captured photos of the latest burnt-down building in Khartoum next to different rendered perspectives. These perspectives reimagine the same building in a rebuilt Sudan. They thus instantly force a glimpse of hope in what now looks like a far-fetched reality to most people.
Just as these young visionaries attempt to defy the odds, international intervention and support are pivotal to help Sudan escape the clutches of this devastating conflict. Let Sudan serve as a catalyst for the change that was meant to be. Diplomatic engagement, humanitarian aid, and assistance in facilitating peaceful negotiations can all contribute.
The significance of ending the ongoing war in Sudan cannot be overstated. It represents more than just a cessation of violence. It provides a critical moment for the international community to follow the lead of the Sudanese people. The international community should dismantle the prevailing state of indifference worldwide. The fight against indifference extends far beyond the borders of Sudan. It is a fight that demands our attention and commitment on a global scale of solidarity. We must challenge the systems that perpetuate indifference and inequality in our own societies. We must stand up against injustice and apathy wherever we find it.
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This post is from a partnership between Africa Is a Country and The Elephant. We will be publishing a series of posts from their site once a week.
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