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THE SILENT MARCH: How the mainstream media muffles the voices of female politicians and commentators

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Wambui is intelligent and funny. She went to a girls’ boarding school and, presumably, is more “girl power” than the average girl. Or so our past conversations have shown. On this day we are talking politics and sadly, I realize we have a problem. These are only the second elections she is eligible to vote in and says she will vote in. She declares, “Even if there were a woman candidate, I would not vote for them. Kenya is not ready to be governed by a woman.”

She grew up in a woman-headed household.  Her aunts push her to be the best she can be and try to be good examples of this themselves. She went to a school where she was taught that anything boys could do, girls could do just as well.

Yet…

She has internalised the idea that despite women’s competence in running a home – a government is, after all, just a bigger home – and her ability to compete as an equal academically with her male peers, women are not ready to govern. I am saddened though not surprised. A little over a month before the elections, I have realised that my niece is a product of a society that, through the media, silences women as voters, as political commentators and even as politicians in one way or another.

Women as the electorate

An incident in the American town of Baltimore comes to mind when I think of the disregard for women’s voices. Recently at a bar dubbed Kamau’s (yes, there are just that many Kenyans in Baltimore), I sat sharing drinks and having a political discussion with some Kenyan friends. All six of them were men. As in any election year, the conversation was intense. Every now and again, one of them would ask another man passing by to come and support what they were saying. I noticed with interest that although they paid keen attention to and debated ferociously what I said, never was any other woman’s opinion sought. It almost seemed as though, by virtue of not being Kenyan, I was an honorary man in these political discussions and the only woman who could be listened to.

During the last elections, I recall seeing a news clip of men being interviewed in Nyanza. The men stated authoritatively that their wives were voting for certain candidates because failure to do so would result in unfortunate consequences. Of course, alone in the voting booth, the women’s decisions would be their own, but it is difficult not to see how, unless the women were otherwise strong-willed and independent-minded, they could very well be coerced to believe that when it comes to politics, their husbands’ opinions were more valid than theirs.

Now this may seem like it is nothing. These Kenyan men and women are US citizens and although many of them hold dual citizenship, the Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission has not made it such that they can vote from outside of Kenya. But it is not nothing. While perhaps only one of the six men I sat with will make it to Kenya for the elections on 8th August, they are very real influencers in the political space through communication with family and friends at home. The ethnic stereotypes, the opinions on the politicians and their running mates, played out in this bar in Baltimore in the same way that it would have played out at a home in Kenya.

During the last elections, I recall seeing a news clip of men being interviewed in Nyanza. The men stated authoritatively that their wives were voting for certain candidates because failure to do so would result in unfortunate consequences. Of course, alone in the voting booth, the women’s decisions would be their own, but it is difficult not to see how, unless the women were otherwise strong-willed and independent-minded, they could very well be coerced to believe that when it comes to politics, their husbands’ opinions were more valid than theirs. And the men in Nyanza were not the only ones. Constantly then and now, in broadcast in particular, it appears that when the mwananchi’s opinion is sought by news reporters, it mirrors that of the Kenyan bar in Baltimore where men’s opinions are more relevant to themselves and to each other.

Women as political commentators

Dr. Wandia Njoya is possibly one of the more riveting political commentators in the Kenyan landscape. A lecturer at Daystar University, her fellow academics seem to know and respect her political commentaries, as do a core part of the electorate that is her students. Non-governmental organisations also see the value she adds to political analysis and often request her to moderate or participate in a panel discussing important political issues of the day. She is an example of how to provide well-thought out and contemporary political thought that never forgets to look at Kenya’s history and compare it with that of other states in the hope of progressing further.

Programmes like Press Pass on NTV more often than not have all-male panels week in, week out; when they do manage to get female panelists, they seem to be the ones that prop up the political hegemony, never the ones that question it. This then only serves to make it seem as though there are no women commentators, and when they can be found, their opinions are so unbalanced as to not warrant further engagement.

Whether it is criticism or praise, the one thing that Dr. Njoya’s commentaries cannot hide is how much she loves Kenya, how much she wants it to be better and how much she wants to be one of the Kenyans who helps make it progress. I mention her as an example rather than an exception. She is an example of women with powerful and important political opinions who can potentially shape the trajectory of this country. And yet none of the editors-in-chief of the three major media houses, namely, the Nation Media Group, the Standard Media Group or Radio Africa, have thought it worthwhile to give Dr. Njoya a regular column in their print or online publications so that her views can be widely disseminated or debated.

Indeed, apart from Rasna Warah, who writes a weekly op-ed column for the Daily Nation, most female columnists seem to be relegated to lifestyle or fashion topics. When political opinions by women are published, they are usually as guest columnists, not as regular contributors. And it is not merely in print that mainstream media is failing to take on board women’s political perspectives. This is true also in broadcast. Programmes like Press Pass on NTV more often than not have all-male panels week in, week out; when they do manage to get female panelists, they seem to be the ones that prop up the political hegemony, never the ones that question it. This then only serves to make it seem as though there are no women commentators, and when they can be found, their opinions are so unbalanced as to not warrant further engagement. But that is when viewers are lucky to get any women at all.

I recently watched a show moderated by a woman journalist on the upcoming governor election in Bomet. Despite the fact that one of the two leading candidates is a woman, it was interesting to note that all the four panelists who were debating and discussing the two candidates were male. As a viewer I could not help wondering whether, despite the widely circulated list of commentators by Ory Okolloh on social media, Kenyan media has just chosen not to engage with women commentators or thinks their opinions are not worth hearing.

Does this mean that despite being ignored, women commentators have kept their opinions to themselves? Fortunately not. Many share their thoughts on social media and through blogs. Unfortunately, one has to know where to find them in order to engage with their work. As traditional media still offers the best form of widest dissemination, society is all the poorer when women’s opinions are not deemed worthy of political engagement. For my Wambui, this means she gets to see very little political commentary by women. And seeing little political commentary from women results in her and many other young women believing that opinion shapers where politics is concerned can and must be those not of her gender.

Women as politicians

A tabloid leads with a headline on a female politician saying she enjoys sex and which female politician is the best looking. A talk show of questionable quality has the male host watching and grinning while a male politician makes rape jokes (threats?) about a female contender who he is on the show with. While these scenarios are eyebrow-raising, they are sadly expected.

One would not know it through reading the Kenyan newspapers or watching the news just how many bills Millie Odhiambo has authored in Parliament. Yet, because of how she is represented in the media, social media has often condemned her for all sorts of things, including being “too forward”.

What irks though is when mainstream media communicates similar information on female politicians. Information on female politicians in the mainstream media tends to focus on their sex lives, as if their sex lives have something to do with their ability to do their jobs. There also seems to be major coverage on female politicians having petty squabbles while focusing little on the work they do. For example, one would not know it through reading the Kenyan newspapers or watching the news just how many bills Millie Odhiambo has authored in Parliament. Yet, because of how she is represented in the media, social media has often condemned her for all sorts of things, including being “too forward”. These opinions are sadly given by both men and women. Similarly, I am yet to see any engagement on the impact that Rachel Shebesh made as woman representative in Nairobi County. What I and possibly many other women have seen are stories of a past relationship. This is true of Shebesh and many other women politicians.

In the few instances where women seem to be written or spoken of positively in the media, it often appears that even the positivity is slightly condemning. Take the reference to Martha Karua as the “Iron Lady” of Kenyan politics. While this is purportedly to show how tough she is, one cannot help wonder how giving a Kenyan female politician the same nickname as an anti-union, anti-poor former British Prime Minister is supposed to be a compliment. A politician who is principled is admirable but one does not quite get that feeling when the term “Iron lady” is used to describe anyone. In any case, why is this seemingly incompassionate term reserved for women politicians? Why is a Mike Sonko or an Isaac Rutto not referred to as a Kenyan Bulldog, for instance?

Take the reference to Martha Karua as the “Iron Lady” of Kenyan politics. While this is purportedly to show how tough she is, one cannot help wonder how giving a Kenyan female politician the same nickname as an anti-union, anti-poor former British Prime Minister is supposed to be a compliment.

The fact that even when the principals of Jubilee and NASA are not on the front pages of all the major newspapers, mostly male politicians make it there should be a serious cause for concern at how the media engages with women. How women are underrepresented or unheard in the media is probably something worth analysing when we look at why the Kenyan electorate has failed to vote to uphold the one-third gender representation as per the Constitution. How can there be expectations of one-third representation of a gender politically when there is not even one-third representation of that gender in the media, except in ways that have nothing to do with what those politicians claim to stand for or their failure to deliver on what they claim to push?

As Kenya looks to the elections in August, there are more women contesting beyond just women’s representative. Kirinyaga has two women as the leading contenders in the race for governor, which gives rise to hopes that, whoever wins, Kenya may finally have at least one female governor. Machakos, Kitui and Bomet also have women contenders fighting against the male incumbents. And a few other counties have women as running mates. So this is something worth acknowledging as Kenya is actually doing better in representing women in these elections than in previous ones.

But until the one-third gender representation is achieved, no bar in Baltimore, Busia, Mombasa or Tana River should bring out the busaa. The road to getting there is long. It will involve the media deliberately putting in place editorial policies where female voters are listened to. It will mean perhaps removing some male voices and getting some female voices to give their political opinions. It will entail holding female politicians to the same standard to which male politicians are held and engaging with their work in the same way beyond their looks.

As Kenya looks to the election date in August, there are more women contesting beyond just women’s representative. Kirinyaga has two women as the leading contenders in the race for governor, which gives rise to hopes that, whoever wins, Kenya may finally have at least one female governor.

With the next elections now so close, we can park any hope of this happening now. What we can do though is hope the media works diligently to ensure that this becomes part of their policy immediately after the current elections are settled.

Until then, my niece Wambui and her peers will probably continue believing that Kenya is not ready to have a female head of state because they see no women in leadership positions and when they do, it has nothing to do with the positions that they hold. This is certainly not a legacy we would like to leave to our sons and daughters. The mainstream media can do better.

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Zukiswa  Wanner is the 2015 winner of South African Literary Award’s  K.Sello Duiker Award for her fourth novel, London-Cape Town Joburg. She is currently a columnist for the Mail & Guardian (South Africa), has been a columnist for the pan-African magazine New African and Saturday Nation in Kenya. 

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Who Won Kenya’s “Nominations”?

Being nominated rather than selected by party members may undermine grass-roots legitimacy but it is hard not to suspect that some of the losers in the nominations process might feel a little bit relieved at this out-turn.

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Who Won Kenya’s “Nominations”?
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Who won Kenya’s “nominations”, the tense and often unpredictable political process through which parties select which candidates they want to represent them in the general election scheduled for 9 August? That may sound like a silly question. Social media is full of photographs of smiling candidate clutching their certificates of nomination—surely we need to look no further for the winners?

But maybe we do. Beyond the individual candidates in the contests for nominations, there are other winners. One may be obvious: it seems the general feeling is that Deputy President William Ruto came out better from the nominations than did his principal rival in the presidential race, former opposition leader Raila Odinga—about which more below. However, for some, coming out on top in the nominations may prove a poisoned chalice. Where nominations are seen to have been illegitimate, candidates are likely to find that losing rivals who stand as independents may be locally popular and may gain sympathy votes, making it harder for party candidates to win the general election. This means that there are often some less obvious winners and losers.

One reason for this is that nominations shape how voters think about the parties and who they want to give their vote to, come the general election. Research that we conducted in 2017, including a nationally representative survey of public opinion on these issues, found that citizens who felt that their party’s nomination process had not been legitimate were less likely to say that they would vote in the general election. In other words, disputed and controversial nomination processes can encourage voters to stay away from the general election, making it harder for leaders to get their vote out. In 2017, this appeared to disadvantage Odinga and his Orange Democratic Movement (ODM), whose nomination process was generally seen to have been more problematic—although whether this is because they were, or rather because this is how they were depicted by the media, is hard to say.

In the context of a tight election in 2022, popular perceptions of how the nominations were managed may therefore be as significant for who “wins” and “loses” as the question of which individuals secured the party ticket.

Why do parties dread nominations?

The major parties dreaded the nominations process—dreaded it so much, in fact, that despite all their bold words early on about democracy and the popular choice (and despite investments in digital technology and polling staff), most of the parties tried pretty hard to avoid primary elections as a way of deciding on their candidates. In some cases that avoidance was complete: the Jubilee party gave direct nominations to all those who will stand in its name. Other parties held some primaries—Ruto’s United Democratic Alliance (UDA) seems to have managed most—but in many cases they turned to other methods.

That is because of a complicated thing about parties and elections in Kenya. It is widely assumed—and a recent opinion poll commissioned by South Consulting confirms this—that when it comes to 9 August most voters will decide how to cast their ballot on the basis of individual candidates and not which party they are standing for. Political parties in Kenya are often ephemeral, and people readily move from one to another. But that does not mean that political parties are irrelevant. They are symbolic markers with emotive associations – sometimes to particular ideas, sometimes to a particular regional base. ODM, for example, has been linked both with a commitment to constitutional reform and with the Luo community, most notably in Nyanza. So the local politician who wants to be a member of a county assembly will be relying mostly on their personal influence and popularity—but they know that if they get a nomination for a party which has that kind of emotive association, it will smoothen their path.

Disputed and controversial nomination processes can encourage voters to stay away from the general election, making it harder for leaders to get their vote out.

This means that multiple candidates vie for each possible nomination slot. In the past, that competition has always been expensive, as rival aspirants wooed voters with gifts. It occasionally turned violent, and often involved cheating. Primary elections in 2013 and 2017 were messy and chaotic, and were not certain to result in the selection of the candidate most likely to win the general election. From the point of view of the presidential candidates, there are real risks to the primary elections their parties or coalitions oversee: the reputational damage due to chaos and the awareness that local support might be lost if a disgruntled aspirant turns against the party.

This helps to explain why in 2022 many parties made use of direct nominations—variously dressed up as the operation of consensus or the result of mysterious “opinion polls” to identify the strongest candidate. What that really meant was an intensive process of promise-making and/or pressure to persuade some candidates to stand down. Where that did not work, and primaries still took place, the promise-making and bullying came afterwards—to stop disappointed aspirants from turning against the party and standing as independents. The consequence of all that top-down management was that the nominations saw much less open violence than in previous years.

So who won, and who lost, at the national level?

Despite all the back-room deal-making, top-down political management was not especially successful in soothing the feelings of those who did not come out holding certificates. That brings us to the big national winners and losers of the process. Odinga—and his ODM party—have come out rather bruised. They have been accused of nepotism, bribery and of ignoring local wishes. This is a particularly dangerous accusation for Odinga, as it plays into popular concerns that, following his “handshake” with President Kenyatta and his adoption as the candidate of the “establishment”, he is a “project” of wealthy and powerful individuals who wish to retain power through the backdoor after Kenyatta stands down having served two-terms in office. In the face of well-publicised claims that Odinga would be a “remote controlled president” doing the bidding of the Kenyatta family and their allies, the impression that the nominations were stage-managed from on high in an undemocratic process was the last thing Azimio needed.

Moreover, perhaps because Odinga seems to have been less active than his rival in personally intervening to mollify aggrieved local politicians, the ODM nominations process seems to have left more of a mess. That was compounded by complications in the Azimio la Umoja/One Kenya Alliance Coalition Party (we’ll call it Azimio from now on, for convenience). Where Azimio “zoned”—that is, agreed on a single candidate from all its constituent parties—disappointed aspirants complained. Where it did not zone, and agreed to let each party nominate its own candidate for governor, MP and so on, then smaller parties in the coalition complained that they would face unfair competition come the general election. That is why the leaders of some of these smaller groups such as Machakos Governor Alfred Mutua made dramatic (or theatrical, depending on your view) announcements of their decision to leave Azimio and support Ruto.

Despite all the back-room deal-making, top-down political management was not especially successful in soothing the feelings of those who did not come out holding certificates.

So Ruto looks like a nomination winner. But his success comes with a big price tag. His interventions to placate disgruntled aspirants involved more than soothing words. A new government will have lots of goodies to distribute to supporters—positions in the civil service and parastatals, diplomatic roles, not to mention business opportunities of many kinds. But the bag of goodies is not bottomless, and it seems likely that a lot of promises have been made. Ruto’s undoubted talents as an organizer and deal-maker have been useful to him through the nominations—but those deals may prove expensive for him, and for Kenya, if he wins the presidential poll.

Money, politics, and the cost of campaigns

Those who “won” by being directly nominated to their desired positions may also come to see this process as something of a double-edged sword. In the short term, many of them will have saved considerable money: depending on exactly when the deal was done, they will have been spared some days of campaign expenses—no need to fuel cars, buy airtime for bloggers, pay for t-shirts and posters, and hand out cash. But that will be a brief respite. The disappointed rivals who have gone independent will make the campaigns harder for them—and likely more expensive. The belief that they were favoured by the party machinery may mean that voter expectations are higher when it comes to handouts and donations on the campaign trail. And the fact they were nominated rather than selected by party members may undermine their grass-roots legitimacy.

Others may experience a similar delayed effect. Among the short-term losers of the nominations will have been some of the “goons” who have played a prominent physical role in previous nominations: their muscular services were largely not required (although there were exceptions). The printers of posters and t-shirts will similarly have seen a disappointing nominations period (although surely they will have received enough early orders to keep them happy, especially where uncertainty over the nomination was very prolonged). The providers of billboard advertising may have seen a little less demand than they had hoped for, although they too seem to have done quite well from selling space to aspirants who—willingly or not—did not make it to the primaries. But where the general election will be fiercely contested, entrepreneurs will likely make up any lost ground as the campaigns get going. In these cases, competition has been postponed, not avoided.

Those in less competitive wards, constituencies or counties—the kind in which one party tends to dominate in the general election—are unlikely to be able to make up for lost time. These “one-party” areas may be in shorter supply in 2022 than in the past, due to the way that the control of specific leaders and alliances over the country’s former provinces has fragmented, but there will still be some races in which it is obvious who will win, and so the campaigns will be less heated.

Those who “won” by being directly nominated to their desired positions may also come to see this process as something of a double-edged sword.

More definite losers are the parties themselves. In some ways, we could say they did well as institutions, because they were spared the embarrassment of violent primaries. But the settling of many nominations without primaries meant not collecting nomination fees from aspirants in some cases, and refunding them in others. That will have cost parties a chunk of money, which they won’t get back. That may not affect the campaigns much—the money for campaigns flows in opaque and complex ways that may not touch the parties themselves. But it will affect the finances of the parties as organizations, which are often more than a little fragile.

Are the losers actually the biggest winners?

Some losers, however, are really big winners. Think about those candidates who would not have won competitive primaries but were strong enough to be able to credibly complain that they had been hard done by due to the decision to select a rival in a direct process. In many cases, these individuals were able to extract considerable concessions in return for the promise not to contest as independents, and so disrupt their coalition’s best laid plans. This means that many of the losers—who may well have been defeated anyway—walked away with the promise of a post-election reward without the expense and bother of having to campaign up until the polls.

It is hard not to suspect that some of them might feel a little bit relieved at this out-turn. In fact, some of them may have been aiming at this all along. For those with limited resources and uncertain prospects at the ballot, the opportunity to stand down in favour of another candidate may have been pretty welcome. Instead of spending the next three months in an exhausting round of funerals, fund-raisers and rallies, constantly worrying about whether they have enough fifty (or larger) shilling notes to hand out and avoiding answering their phones, they can sit back and wait for their parastatal appointment, ambassadorship, or business opportunity.

For those with limited resources and uncertain prospects at the ballot, the opportunity to stand down in favour of another candidate may have been pretty welcome.

For these individuals, the biggest worry now is not their popularity or campaign, but simply the risk that their coalition might not win the presidential election, rendering the promises they have received worthless. Those whose wishes come true will be considerably more fortunate—and financially better off—than their colleagues who made it through the nominations but fall at the final hurdle of the general election.

Separating the winners of the nominations process from the losers may therefore be harder than it seems.

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Asylum Pact: Rwanda Must Do Some Political Housecleaning

Rwandans are welcoming, but the government’s priority must be to solve the internal political problems which produce refugees.

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The governments of the United Kingdom and Rwanda have signed an agreement to move asylum seekers from the UK to Rwanda for processing. This partnership has been heavily criticized and has been referred to as unethical and inhumane. It has also been opposed by the United Nations Refugee Agency on the grounds that it is contrary to the spirit of the Refugee Convention.

Here in Rwanda, we heard the news of the partnership on the day it was signed. The subject has never been debated in the Rwandan parliament and neither had it been canvassed in the local media prior to the announcement.

According to the government’s official press release, the partnership reflects Rwanda’s commitment to protect vulnerable people around the world. It is argued that by relocating migrants to Rwanda, their dignity and rights will be respected and they will be provided with a range of opportunities, including for personal development and employment, in a country that has consistently been ranked among the safest in the world.

A considerable number of Rwandans have been refugees and therefore understand the struggle that comes with being an asylum seeker and what it means to receive help from host countries to rebuild lives. Therefore, most Rwandans are sensitive to the plight of those forced to leave their home countries and would be more than willing to make them feel welcome. However, the decision to relocate the migrants to Rwanda raises a number of questions.

The government argues that relocating migrants to Rwanda will address the inequalities in opportunity that push economic migrants to leave their homes. It is not clear how this will work considering that Rwanda is already the most unequal country in the East African region. And while it is indeed seen as among the safest countries in the world, it was however ranked among the bottom five globally in the recently released 2022 World Happiness Index. How would migrants, who may have suffered psychological trauma fare in such an environment, and in a country that is still rebuilding itself?

A considerable number of Rwandans have been refugees and therefore understand the struggle that comes with being an asylum seeker and what it means to receive help from host countries to rebuild lives.

What opportunities can Rwanda provide to the migrants? Between 2018—the year the index was first published—and 2020, Rwanda’s ranking on the Human Capital Index (HCI) has been consistently low. Published by the World Bank, HCI measures which countries are best at mobilising the economic and professional potential of their citizens. Rwanda’s score is lower than the average for sub-Saharan Africa and it is partly due to this that the government had found it difficult to attract private investment that would create significant levels of employment prior to the COVID-19 pandemic. Unemployment, particularly among the youth, has since worsened.

Despite the accolades Rwanda has received internationally for its development record, Rwanda’s economy has never been driven by a dynamic private or trade sector; it has been driven by aid. The country’s debt reached 73 per cent of GDP in 2021 while its economy has not developed the key areas needed to achieve and secure genuine social and economic transformation for its entire population. In addition to human capital development, these include social capital development, especially mutual trust among citizens considering the country’s unfortunate historical past, establishing good relations with neighbouring states, respect for human rights, and guaranteeing the accountability of public officials.

Rwanda aspires to become an upper middle-income country by 2035 and a high-income country by 2050. In 2000, the country launched a development plan that aimed to transform it into a middle-income country by 2020 on the back on a knowledge economy. That development plan, which has received financial support from various development partners including the UK which contributed over £1 billion, did not deliver the anticipated outcomes. Today the country remains stuck in the category of low-income states. Its structural constraints as a small land-locked country with few natural resources are often cited as an obstacle to development. However, this is exacerbated by current governance in Rwanda, which limits the political space, lacks separation of powers, impedes freedom of expression and represses government critics, making it even harder for Rwanda to reach the desired developmental goals.

Rwanda’s structural constraints as a small land-locked country with no natural resources are often viewed as an obstacle to achieving the anticipated development.

As a result of the foregoing, Rwanda has been producing its own share of refugees, who have sought political and economic asylum in other countries. The UK alone took in 250 Rwandese last year. There are others around the world, the majority of whom have found refuge in different countries in Africa, including countries neighbouring Rwanda. The presence of these refugees has been a source of tension in the region with Kigali accusing neighbouring states of supporting those who want to overthrow the government by force. Some Rwandans have indeed taken up armed struggle, a situation that, if not resolved, threatens long-term security in Rwanda and the Great Lakes region. In fact, the UK government’s advice on travel to Rwanda has consistently warned of the unstable security situation near the border with the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) and Burundi.

While Rwanda’s intention to help address the global imbalance of opportunity that fuels illegal immigration is laudable, I would recommend that charity start at home. As host of the 26th Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting scheduled for June 2022, and Commonwealth Chair-in-Office for the next two years, the government should seize the opportunity to implement the core values and principles of the Commonwealth, particularly the promotion of democracy, the rule of law, freedom of expression, political and civil rights, and a vibrant civil society. This would enable Rwanda to address its internal social, economic and political challenges, creating a conducive environment for long-term economic development, and durable peace that will not only stop Rwanda from producing refugees but will also render the country ready and capable of economically and socially integrating refugees from less fortunate countries in the future.

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Beyond Borders: Why We Need a Truly Internationalist Climate Justice Movement

The elite’s ‘solution’ to the climate crisis is to turn the displaced into exploitable migrant labour. We need a truly internationalist alternative.

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“We are not drowning, we are fighting” has become the rallying call for the Pacific Climate Warriors. From UN climate meetings to blockades of Australian coal ports, these young Indigenous defenders from twenty Pacific Island states are raising the alarm of global warming for low-lying atoll nations. Rejecting the narrative of victimisation – “you don’t need my pain or tears to know that we’re in a crisis,” as Samoan Brianna Fruean puts it – they are challenging the fossil fuel industry and colonial giants such as Australia, responsible for the world’s highest per-capita carbon emissions.

Around the world, climate disasters displace around 25.3 million people annually – one person every one to two seconds. In 2016, new displacements caused by climate disasters outnumbered new displacements as a result of persecution by a ratio of three to one. By 2050, an estimated 143 million people will be displaced in just three regions: Africa, South Asia, and Latin America. Some projections for global climate displacement are as high as one billion people.

Mapping who is most vulnerable to displacement reveals the fault lines between rich and poor, between the global North and South, and between whiteness and its Black, Indigenous and racialised others.

Globalised asymmetries of power create migration but constrict mobility. Displaced people – the least responsible for global warming – face militarised borders. While climate change is itself ignored by the political elite, climate migration is presented as a border security issue and the latest excuse for wealthy states to fortify their borders. In 2019, the Australian Defence Forces announced military patrols around Australia’s waters to intercept climate refugees.

The burgeoning terrain of “climate security” prioritises militarised borders, dovetailing perfectly into eco-apartheid. “Borders are the environment’s greatest ally; it is through them that we will save the planet,” declares the party of French far-Right politician Marine Le Pen. A US Pentagon-commissioned report on the security implications of climate change encapsulates the hostility to climate refugees: “Borders will be strengthened around the country to hold back unwanted starving immigrants from the Caribbean islands (an especially severe problem), Mexico, and South America.” The US has now launched Operation Vigilant Sentry off the Florida coast and created Homeland Security Task Force Southeast to enforce marine interdiction and deportation in the aftermath of disasters in the Caribbean.

Labour migration as climate mitigation

you broke the ocean in
half to be here.
only to meet nothing that wants you
– Nayyirah Waheed

Parallel to increasing border controls, temporary labour migration is increasingly touted as a climate adaptation strategy. As part of the ‘Nansen Initiative’, a multilateral, state-led project to address climate-induced displacement, the Australian government has put forward its temporary seasonal worker program as a key solution to building climate resilience in the Pacific region. The Australian statement to the Nansen Initiative Intergovernmental Global Consultation was, in fact, delivered not by the environment minister but by the Department of Immigration and Border Protection.

Beginning in April 2022, the new Pacific Australia Labour Mobility scheme will make it easier for Australian businesses to temporarily insource low-wage workers (what the scheme calls “low-skilled” and “unskilled” workers) from small Pacific island countries including Nauru, Papua New Guinea, Kiribati, Samoa, Tonga, and Tuvalu. Not coincidentally, many of these countries’ ecologies and economies have already been ravaged by Australian colonialism for over one hundred years.

It is not an anomaly that Australia is turning displaced climate refugees into a funnel of temporary labour migration. With growing ungovernable and irregular migration, including climate migration, temporary labour migration programs have become the worldwide template for “well-managed migration.” Elites present labour migration as a double win because high-income countries fill their labour shortage needs without providing job security or citizenship, while low-income countries alleviate structural impoverishment through migrants’ remittances.

Dangerous, low-wage jobs like farm, domestic, and service work that cannot be outsourced are now almost entirely insourced in this way. Insourcing and outsourcing represent two sides of the same neoliberal coin: deliberately deflated labour and political power. Not to be confused with free mobility, temporary labour migration represents an extreme neoliberal approach to the quartet of foreign, climate, immigration, and labour policy, all structured to expand networks of capital accumulation through the creation and disciplining of surplus populations.

The International Labour Organization recognises that temporary migrant workers face forced labour, low wages, poor working conditions, virtual absence of social protection, denial of freedom association and union rights, discrimination and xenophobia, as well as social exclusion. Under these state-sanctioned programs of indentureship, workers are legally tied to an employer and deportable. Temporary migrant workers are kept compliant through the threats of both termination and deportation, revealing the crucial connection between immigration status and precarious labour.

Through temporary labour migration programs, workers’ labour power is first captured by the border and this pliable labour is then exploited by the employer. Denying migrant workers permanent immigration status ensures a steady supply of cheapened labour. Borders are not intended to exclude all people, but to create conditions of ‘deportability’, which increases social and labour precarity. These workers are labelled as ‘foreign’ workers, furthering racist xenophobia against them, including by other workers. While migrant workers are temporary, temporary migration is becoming the permanent neoliberal, state-led model of migration.

Reparations include No Borders

“It’s immoral for the rich to talk about their future children and grandchildren when the children of the Global South are dying now.” – Asad Rehman

Discussions about building fairer and more sustainable political-economic systems have coalesced around a Green New Deal. Most public policy proposals for a Green New Deal in the US, Canada, UK and the EU articulate the need to simultaneously tackle economic inequality, social injustice, and the climate crisis by transforming our extractive and exploitative system towards a low-carbon, feminist, worker and community-controlled care-based society. While a Green New Deal necessarily understands the climate crisis and the crisis of capitalism as interconnected — and not a dichotomy of ‘the environment versus the economy’ — one of its main shortcomings is its bordered scope. As Harpreet Kaur Paul and Dalia Gebrial write: “the Green New Deal has largely been trapped in national imaginations.”

Any Green New Deal that is not internationalist runs the risk of perpetuating climate apartheid and imperialist domination in our warming world. Rich countries must redress the global and asymmetrical dimensions of climate debtunfair trade and financial agreements, military subjugation, vaccine apartheidlabour exploitation, and border securitisation.

It is impossible to think about borders outside the modern nation-state and its entanglements with empire, capitalism, race, caste, gender, sexuality, and ability. Borders are not even fixed lines demarcating territory. Bordering regimes are increasingly layered with drone surveillance, interception of migrant boats, and security controls far beyond states’ territorial limits. From Australia offshoring migrant detention around Oceania to Fortress Europe outsourcing surveillance and interdiction to the Sahel and Middle East, shifting cartographies demarcate our colonial present.

Perhaps most offensively, when colonial countries panic about ‘border crises’ they position themselves as victims. But the genocide, displacement, and movement of millions of people were unequally structured by colonialism for three centuries, with European settlers in the Americas and Oceania, the transatlantic slave trade from Africa, and imported indentured labourers from Asia. Empire, enslavement, and indentureship are the bedrock of global apartheid today, determining who can live where and under what conditions. Borders are structured to uphold this apartheid.

The freedom to stay and the freedom to move, which is to say no borders, is decolonial reparations and redistribution long due.

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