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KENYA ON TRIAL: Truth, Justice and the Supreme Court

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Waiting to exhale

Confronted on his excesses, abuses and disregard of rights of the people of France, Louis XVI responded, “L etat c’est moi”, “I am the State”. That was in 1715. Louis was tried by the people and executed. Four centuries later, Zaire’s Mobutu Seseko repeated Louis’ “royal liturgy” to a French journalist. Mobutu went further; he pronounced himself God. Mobutu fled and died in exile.

Entitlement is a malaise that afflicts absolute rulers. It thrives where law is what the ruler decrees it is; not the people, through their Courts. Where the peoples’ sovereign franchise prevails, and truth, justice and the rule of law governs the affairs of man, there is tranquility.

World attention today focuses on the Supreme Court of Kenya. The Court will, for the second time in a row, hear and rule on whether President Uhuru Kenyatta was validly elected for a second term. Just as in 2013, the suitor is former Prime Minister Raila Amolo Odinga. Raila says he has “given the Court a second chance to redeem itself.”

On 13th August, Raila protested the declaration of Uhuru as winner, accusing the Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission (IEBC) of subverting the will of the people, not once, but for the third consecutive time and substituting it with the dictate of a minority ruling elite.

Having initially vowed not to contest it in Court, but rather through other means, he claims that a crackdown on human rights organizations expected to do that necessitated the change of tact.

What is Raila’s case? How did Kenya end up here? Is there cause for concern or alarm on the Court? Will the Court decide otherwise than before and with what consequences?

Case summary

The petition claims that “the Presidential Election was so badly conducted and marred with irregularities that it does not matter who won or was declared as the winner of the Presidential Election…Instead of giving effect to the sovereign will of the Kenyan people, the IEBC delivered preconceived and predetermined computer generated leaders.”

The IEBC is accused of interfering with the Kenya Integrated Elections Management System (KIEMS) and unilaterally disbanding the Elections Technology Advisory Committee (ETAC).

Whereas people voted, the IEBC did not count and tally the results. It adopted Joseph Stalin’s principle, “It is enough that the people know there was an election. The people who cast the votes decide nothing. The people who count the votes decide everything.”

Evidence in support of the case is contained in a voluminous record of over 25,000 pages. The evidence supports 12 main issues.

The IEBC is accused of interfering with the Kenya Integrated Elections Management System (KIEMS) and unilaterally disbanding the Elections Technology Advisory Committee (ETAC).

KIEMS is a single unit electronic platform. It was intended to ensure that voters are biometrically identified, and polling results transmitted and declared in a simple, accurate, verifiable, secure, accountable and transparent manner. These tenets of a free and fair election are anchored in the Constitution and the 2017 amendments to the Elections Act.

It is alleged that the IEBC had, through a proxy, sought to declare unconstitutional the law that requires biometric voter identification and electronic transmission of results from polling stations to the Constituency Tallying Center and the National Tallying Center. The case was filed by a third party against the IEBC but through a lawyer who is on the advisory panel of the IEBC.

Though not determined at the time of the elections, Raila believes that the case was filed with the connivance of the IEBC to sabotage the integrated, electronic electoral management system. He claims that the manipulation of the system resulted in a permanent pre-set 11% margin between him and Uhuru. It is Raila’s position that the outcome of the case would, as did the manipulation of the system, countermand the requirement for finality of results declared at 290 Constituencies established under the Constitution.

The finality of Constituency results was affirmed by the Court of Appeal. It would remove the risk of rigging at the National Tallying Center as recommended by Judge Johann Kriegler in his report following the disputed 2007 elections.

The ETAC’s function was to advise on adoption and implementation of election technology. It entailed the participation of stakeholders, in this case, candidates and political parties in the elections. In a Judgement made on 15th June, 2017, the High Court held that the requirement for a professional audit of the voter register 6 months before the election was overtaken by events. The Court further declared unconstitutional, the law establishing ETAC.

It is Raila’s complaint that being a stakeholder he ought to have been notified of the proceedings leading to the disbandment of the ETAC and that the IEBC intentionally failed to defend the case properly. As a result, the disbandment compromised the transparency of IEBC’s preparation for the elections. The IEBC then monopolized the management of the electronic voter system to the exclusion of other players. This, it is claimed, enabled manipulation in the transmission of results that could not be independently verified.

The IEBC is also accused of intentionally supplementing its server on a private cloud. The decision was made contrary to advice from the Communications Authority of Kenya. KIEMS became vulnerable to intrusion and manipulation.

Raila claims that 2 days to the elections, the IEBC designated 11,000 polling stations outside 3-4 G network coverage. There was not sufficient notice or time for Raila to appoint his agents in those stations. Results from those stations account for over 7.7 million votes and cannot be verified in the manner prescribed by law and intended by KIEMS.

The IEBC is also accused of intentionally supplementing its server on a private cloud. The decision was made contrary to advice from the Communications Authority of Kenya. KIEMS became vulnerable to intrusion and manipulation. The murder of IEBC’s ICT Manager Chris Msando a few days to the election is claimed to have been planned. His password or information obtained from him were used to infiltrate KIEMS, create and relay computer generated results.

Uhuru is accused of unduly influencing and inducing voters with 2007/2008 post-election reparation payments, hurriedly launched projects and advertisement of his administration’s achievements. He is said to have intimidated voters in his campaigns with military deployments and outright threats on public servants. A widely publicized incident in Makueni where Chiefs were threatened is cited. Uhuru is alleged to have used state resources and State Officers, in particular Cabinet Secretaries, to actively solicit for votes contrary to law.

Raila’s agents are also said to have been ejected from polling stations in Central Kenya and Rift Valley. It is claimed that they were replaced by those procured by Uhuru’s Jubilee Party. Massive manipulation of results is claimed to have ensued as a result.

KIEMS was designed to transmit results from polling stations to the Constituency and the National Tallying Centers simultaneously with electronic images of Forms 34As. It would also enable electronic transmission of final results from the Constituency level to the National Tallying Center. Form 34A is the official declaration at the polling stations whilst Form 34B is for the Constituency declaration.

However, provisional results are alleged to have been transmitted from polling stations to the National Tallying Center, bypassing the Constituency Tallying Centers. The results were not accompanied by Forms 34A and 34B. The results were said to be provisional, again, in disregard of the Court of Appeal decision. 10,000 stations with 5 million votes were affected. The complaint by Raila is that this was a precursor to the rigging of the election in favour of Uhuru.

Further, the petition claims that scrutiny of spoilt and rejected votes would reveal that nearly 400,000 votes were deducted from Raila and added to Uhuru. It is alleged that the manipulation and doctoring of Forms 34A and 34B means another 7 million votes cannot be authenticated.

Raila states that the declaration of a winner was made prematurely in the absence of 11,883 supporting Forms 34A and 187 Forms 34B. 3.5 million votes are affected. He also wants the Supreme Court to go against the precedent it set in 2013 and have rejected votes, this time numbering 477,196 or 2.6% of votes cast, considered when ascertaining whether the Constitutional threshold of 50% plus 1 has been crossed.

The great trek

Kenya gained internal self-rule and political independence from the then British Empire 5 decades ago. The Union Jack quickly came down. The Kenyan flag was hoisted. Jomo Kenyatta was appointed Prime Minister by the colonial Governor-General and one year later declared President by parliament. The Lancaster Constitution did not provide a term limit for the Presidency. The leader of the dominant political party was appointed President by acclamation in periodic parliamentary elections, whose occurrence he controlled. Kenyatta being the leader of the Kenya National African National Union (KANU) party would rule for life, for 15 years. Kenyatta was succeeded by Daniel Arap Moi. Moi ruled for 24 years; 14 for life and 10 on a 5 year term.

In 2013, Raila challenged the election of Uhuru. The Supreme Court jettisoned all evidence before it. It then proceeded to dismiss the Petition, in reliance upon decisions from Nigeria, Gabon and Uganda.

The British had an elaborate law for periodic election of their Prime Minister back at home. They saw no need for the same in Kenya, or any of their former colonies which did not have established political systems in place. With the exception of India, which embraced democratic rule at inception, former British colonies suffered absolute leadership until after the collapse of the Soviet Union and the second liberation in the 1990s.

In the intervening period, a change in government in the Commonwealth was effected in two ways only; a coup or the natural or unnatural death of the President. Determinations by Courts on the legitimacy of the regimes were unheard of.

In Uganda, Judges declared unconstitutional the government of Idi Amin upon the overthrow of Milton Obote. They were killed on the same day. Whitehall often supported similar governments in the entire Commonwealth. Without periodic elections, there was no precedent for a Presidential Election Petition.

The clamor for change saw to the re-introduction of multi-party politics in 1992. Moi won the Presidential Election despite a determined opposition wave. A Petition by Kenneth Matiba was dismissed by the High Court and Court of Appeal without a hearing. The requirement for personal service upon Moi and signature of the Petition by Matiba, who could not because he was ill, were technical considerations relied upon by the Courts. A petition by Mwai Kibaki upon Moi’s re-election in 1997 suffered the same fate. The Courts had no semblance of independence. The President controlled the Courts. A Petition against his election was doomed to fail.

The 2003 election of Kibaki was not challenged in Court; it was not even disputed. Kibaki had defeated Uhuru with a landslide victory. Uhuru had largely been viewed as Moi’s project. The people had resolved to overrule Moi’s prophesy that the independence party, KANU, would rule Kenya for 100 years.

Kibaki’s re-election in 2007 was highly disputed. It is widely believed to have been stolen from Raila. Raila did not go to the Courts as they were controlled by the President. The post-election violence that ensued resulted in the unhappy marriage between Kibaki and Raila. One outstanding achievement of the Grand Coalition Government was the promulgation of the 2010 Constitution. An elaborate process for the period election of the President and determination of a dispute arising from the election was put in place. The Supreme Court was created specifically for this function, with a minimum of 5 and maximum of 7 Judges as quorum.

In the aftermath, radical changes in the Judiciary sent packing Court of Appeal Judges who presided over the Petitions by Matiba and Kibaki. This was a pointer to the Supreme Court that the issue of election of the President was not that simplistic and legalistic. It is one that must be considered on the wider public interest, to uphold the popular will of the people and the Constitution.

In 2013, Raila challenged the election of Uhuru. The Supreme Court jettisoned all evidence before it. It then proceeded to dismiss the Petition, in reliance upon decisions from Nigeria, Gabon and Uganda. These countries, unlike Kenya, had experienced the full brunt of authoritarian military rule. Their Courts could not be objective. In fact, this was the first time a Kenyan Court took refuge in decisions from such countries.

The 2013 decision set an unreasonably high standard and burden of proof. It was not different from Matiba and Kibaki earlier decisions. The legal fraternity in Kenya and worldwide has condemned, trashed and shelved it as bad law. The Supreme Court could be forgiven for arriving at the decision since the Constitution was nascent and barely 2 years old. The Court itself was only a year old. Though composed of highly learned minds, three of the Judges, including the President of the Court, were in their novitiate, having been appointed from outside of the Judiciary and with limited or no courtroom experience at all. This was their first election petition they were handling and were confounded by the magnitude of the exercise and perhaps scared of the consequences of their decision. They may have played safe and sacrificed truth, justice and the law.

This was their first election petition they were handling and were confounded by the magnitude of the exercise and perhaps scared of the consequences of their decision. They may have played safe and sacrificed truth, justice and the law.

The Supreme Court’s image has since then been dented by credibility concerns. Unconcluded investigations for bribery involving one of the Supreme Court Judges demonstrated that the Court was susceptible to manipulation and compromise. It does not better the case when two Senior Counsel who accused the Judge, as well as an Advocate who was alleged to have conveyed the bribe as well as the Judge’s Advocate, a senior counsel, will act together for some of the parties in the current Petition.

That thwarted attempts by President Kenyatta to have a final say in the appointment of the Chief Justice, who is the President of the Court, publicly played out during the retirement case for two of its Judges, both matters again involving the three Senior Counsel cannot be overlooked. In his election campaigns in Kisii, Uhuru recently stated that he had appointed their son the Chief Justice. The Judicial Service Commission quickly refuted this claim and reiterated its independence from the Presidency. It was too little too late. The damage had already been done and aspersions cast. There is therefore, profound merit in Raila’s call for redemption.

Collective success or failure of the Court

The 2017 Petition will be decided in a polarized setting. Both parties are on record, attacking the judiciary whenever a decision goes against them. Several Judges of the High Court and Court of Appeal recused themselves from pre-election cases. They did so out of fear or to escape the badge of bias.

A bench to hear the case by Raila’s coalition, seeking that the election be conducted solely on an electronic basis, the IEBC having failed to make regulations for a manual back was constituted of Judges outside the Constitutional Division of the High Court. The Presiding Judge, Odunga had been accused by Jubilee Party of being compromised to rule in favour of the opposition. The Judge and his other two colleagues in the Division would not feature in subsequent benches set up by the Chief Justice. At the Court of Appeal, three Judges recused themselves on account of their handling of previous electoral cases, real or perceived relations with some of the Advocates or the parties. The outcome is the same. It is an indicator that Courts could still be subject to accusations of manipulation from litigants.

The Supreme Court suffers a numerical disadvantage. It has 7 Judges, all of whom may sit, going by the precedent of 2013. Whereas 5 Judges constitute quorum, it is unlikely that the earlier precedent will be departed from. None can be recused on account of bias, compromise, relations or affiliations with the parties or their advocates. It is, however, troubling that most of these Judges share Advocates with the parties appearing in the petition. It is very untidy. Suspicions of possible bias and compromise cannot be dismissed. This calls for extra caution and vigilance.

There is a popular view that the Judges should declare their interests if any and possible conflict. The Judges should write their individual decisions. Indeed, that is the practice in the Commonwealth. It was the practice adopted by the Court of Appeal until recently, when it appears to have been abandoned. The only way to ensure judicial fidelity and interrogate judges’ Jurisprudential Quotient, is to test their individual decision-making abilities. They should not hide in the cocoon of collective success or failure. This conduct amounts to judicial laziness.

Repeat performance or improvement?

Approval and dismissal of merits of the petition is as varied as is the public support for Raila and Uhuru. Raila’s side perceive a strong case, better than the first one. Uhuru’s team consider the case much weaker. Viewed objectively, it is a case of desire for justice on the part of Raila and one of a sure win on the part of Uhuru. This is likely to play out in Court.

The 2017 Petition will be decided in a polarized setting. Both parties are on record, attacking the judiciary whenever a decision goes against them.

The only difference between a Presidential Election Petition and a National Assembly Election Petition is the volume. A Presidential Election is held in all 290 Constituencies. Intriguingly, the Petition must be heard and determined in 14 days. The other Petitions are heard and determined within 6 months.

The Supreme Court does not have the luxury of the High Court. It cannot recount, scrutinize and audit results from all 290 Constituencies. A decision must be based on pillars of “a free and a fair election”. International and national public policy must play a role also. The Supreme Court is empowered to depart from its previous decisions depending on the circumstances of the case or change in public policy. It is a delicate balance, but one that can be attained with a National Assembly Election Petition as a simulator.

Interference with KIEMS to transmit and project provisional results or to generate results contravened the Constitution. Such action would have gone against the decision of the Court of Appeal, in respect to the finality of results declared at the Constituency Tally Center. Publication of achievements, use of state resources and threats by a party to an election are election offences. Some of the State Officers are being investigated for possible prosecution. Uhuru’s election could be nullified on account of the election offences by his administration.

Massive inconsistencies and discrepancies of results in Forms 34A and 34B and in the IEBC portal could be indicative of manipulation towards a flawed electoral process. The 5 to 7 million votes claimed to have been affected is such a huge number that cannot be ignored. This limb of the case may be very strong on the fidelity of the electoral process. The demanded forensic examination of IEBC’s server and portal would establish whether there is a case. It remains to be seen how the Court will undertake a detailed examination of evidence within 14 days and order scrutiny and recount of votes to verify the numbers. If it does, the truth or falsity of Raila’s claim will unfold. The hasty announcement of the winner without the benefit of Forms 34B and before the completion of the tally, affecting over 3.5 million votes is a grave violation. The case seems to be strong on this limb.

The Supreme Court is not handicapped on precedent in the decision to be made. Resort to decisions from other countries alone is unnecessary. There are many locally decided cases that may be of guidance to the Court. Being a Court of law as well as public policy, numerous cases, not necessarily in respect to Presidential Election Petitions are available internationally and locally.

For example, the election of the Member of Parliament for Juja Constituency was challenged in the disputed 2007 General Election. The declared winner was the Chief Government whip for Kibaki’s wing in the Grand Coalition Government. Malpractices in the election mirrored those leveled against the election of Kibaki. The then Electoral Commission of Kenya was accused of subverting the popular will of the people and replacing it with a pre-determined choice of the ruling elite. The inconsistencies and manipulation of the declaration of results was so monumental that the election could not be sanitized by either a scrutiny or recount of the votes. The entire process was flawed. The election was therefore annulled.

The High Court pronounced itself thus; “One may ask why courts should hold an electoral body to a high standard in the performance of its duties. I think if there is any statutory body whose actions should be considered to be above the board and which should perform its duties to the required standard of integrity and probity, it should be the electoral commission. The electoral commission has a duty to inculcate and imbue confidence in the electorate that its process is transparent, free and fair.” Raila’s claim of manipulation of the entire electoral process would be based on principles set out in this decision. If the process is flawed, numbers or margin of difference between two candidates does not matter. The election may be invalidated without the need for scrutiny or recount of the votes.

 Of the election petitions subsequent to the 2013 elections that of Mathare Constituency attained distinction, in electoral law. The winner was from Raila’s Orange Democratic Movement. The loser, from Uhuru’s The National Alliance had been awarded the certificate. The High Court dismissed the petition. It held that results declared at the Constituency are not final and may be altered by the Chairman of the IEBC.

When called upon to review the issue, the Court of Appeal affirmed the finality of the declaration at the Constituency as the will of the people. The Court of Appeal held that it could not declare the claimant winner and directed that fresh election be held.

The dispute found its way to the Supreme Court. The decision by the Court came fast, crisp and sharp; “Apart from the priority attaching to the political and constitutional scheme for the election of representatives in governance agencies, the weight of the people’s franchise-interest is far too substantial to permit one official, or a couple of them, including the Returning Officer, unilaterally to undo the voters’ verdict, without having the matter resolved according to law, by the judicial organ of State.” The case supports Raila’s plea on finality of results declared at the Constituency level and fidelity of the process attendant to the declaration. It also buttresses the position in law that the IEBC cannot subvert the popular will of the people and replace it with that of a ruling elite.

That the petitioners in the two cases referred to won the by-elections that followed goes a long way to demonstrate how the electoral process can be subverted to defeat justice.

The complaint of use of State Officers and resources for campaign is one that Uhuru will be hard put to defend. It is well documented and publicly known. There is evidence in the Petition that the entire Government machinery from top bottom was deployed to campaign for Uhuru with threats to those perceived to rally behind the opposition. These events were concentrated within the campaign period and cannot be said to have been part and parcel of normal Government administrative duties.

The Public Officer Ethics Act and the Election Offences Act prohibit State Officers from engaging in politics, yet these Officers actively campaigned for Uhuru and defended their actions as part of Government business. Prohibited also is the advertisement of achievements for political gain. Raila has a strong case on this ground, supported by precedent.

The election of Moses Wetang’ula as Senator for Bungoma in 2013 was invalidated by the High Court. The decision was upheld by the Court of Appeal and the Supreme Court. The Courts found that the offences of bribery and voter treating had been proved and were sufficient to warrant the annulment of the election. In the words of the Supreme Court, “Moreover, we take judicial notice of the centrality of elections in the functioning of established governance bodies, as signaled by the Constitution in both general and specific terms. On that principle alone, a party found on fact to have befouled the electoral process, cannot maintain an argument that his or her offence may not be declared, save alongside that of other parties.” If Raila convinces the Court that Uhuru breached the law on the campaign trail, the Court could invalidate the election on the basis of this decision.

If Raila convinces the Court that Uhuru breached the law on the campaign trail, the Court could invalidate the election on the basis of this decision.

The case by Raila will have to be examined on the basis of these principles. If established, the Supreme Court would order a fresh election. The case could be dismissed if the evidence does not support the complaints before the Court.

The Austrian Court overturned results of election in which Alexander Van der Bellen narrowly beat far-right candidate Norbert Hofer for electoral malpractice. A South Korean court removed the President from office for abuse of office. The Brazilian senate impeached Brazilian President Dilma Rousseff for illegally manipulating government accounts. The Pakistan Supreme Court stripped the Prime Minister of his office, for corruption. Here in Kenya, former Deputy Chief Justice Nancy Baraza was removed from office for misbehaviour for merely pinching the nose of a security guard. The bar on integrity has been set high locally and internationally. The Court may be persuaded to use these out of court processes in arriving at a decision.

A majority of Kenyans feel that a minority ruling elite has since independence, acting through unlawful means, denied other regional and ethnic communities the legitimate opportunity to rule. That feeling may prevail, irrespective of whatever legally acceptable or meritorious outcome is to be made by the Court. It may be high time that a rotational presidency, on the basis of the 8 main regions or provinces Kenya was demarcated and administered from independence, is considered, if the law of winner takes it all will forever be used or abused.

The Supreme Court has many references for direction in determining whether the popular will of the people of Kenya was ousted. Its decision must be based, not only upon evidence and the law, but international and national public policy. “Good people do not need laws to tell them to act responsibly, while bad people will find a way around the laws”, said Plato. The Court must ensure that leaders act responsibly, without circumventing the law.

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THE KILLING FIELDS OF MATHARE: Extrajudicial executions and the grassroots group that is documenting them

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THE KILLING FIELDS OF MATHARE: Grassroots activists challenging extra-judicial executions

Kennedy “JJ” Chindi is a popular man. In the three days I spend shadowing him during his rounds as a community organiser for the Mathare Social Justice Centre (MSJC), none of our conversations are uninterrupted. While we are walking through the informal settlement, people of all ages and backgrounds come up to him just to say hello and let him know how they’re doing. In his small shared office at the centre, at least five people interrupt our conversation with greetings, requests for assistance or simply to say, “Hey JJ, I’m around”. He makes time for all of them, never too busy for a friendly word or a gentle encouragement, even for the dishevelled, unkempt man reeking of chang’aa that he stealthily tries to shield me from by standing between us.

JJ’s popularity stems from his status as one of Mathare’s longest-serving community organisers. Mathare is one of the oldest informal settlements in Kenya, predating independence, and one of the most densely populated parts of the country. Like other informal settlements in the city, it has an unfortunate history of violence – clashes between gangs are common but so is violent policing. According to MSJC, between 2013 and 2016, the police killed 800 young people in Mathare. During the 2008 post-election violence, Human Rights Watch recorded an incident in which the police rounded up 34 young men and shot them all at point blank range. Every time Kenya’s politics bubbles over, Mathare burns.

But Mathare is also a site of tremendous hope and resilience, as JJ himself proves. Over the last 30 years, he has taken up the cause of justice in the informal settlement that has become increasingly violent and unliveable for its largely youthful population. Extra-judicial killings by the police are common – between 2015 and 2016 MSJC documented at least 84 killings by the police in the settlement, down from a high of 126 the previous year, which makes Mathare the site of the highest concentration of killings in the country. These numbers were recorded before the 2017 election violence in which many more died. He believes that the only reason why the numbers are going down is because for the first time someone is really watching and counting the dead.

JJ got his nickname from the popular Nigerian footballer JJ Okocha because he owes much of his fame to the years he played football with a local team. If you’re as good as JJ was in the home of the legendary Mathare United, football can be both a path out of the settlement and a guarantee of local fame. JJ could have used his fame to do something else but he chose to use it to try and make a difference. For many years, he collaborated with other colleagues – Stephen Mwangi, Wangui Kimari, Rahma Wako and Gacheke Gachihi – and organisations like Peace Brigades International to help resolve individual cases of injustice. In 2015, the group formalised their collaboration as MSJC.

According to MSJC, between 2013 and 2016, the police killed 800 young people in Mathare. During the 2008 post-election violence, Human Rights Watch recorded an incident in which the police rounded up 34 young men and shot them all at point blank range. Every time Kenya’s politics bubbles over, Mathare burns.

“We started in Kiamako,” he says, “near the big goat slaughterhouse, where the residents are mostly people from the northern counties. They have a major issue with trafficking of underage kids from Ethiopia and early marriages. We would advocate against that and report cases to the police station and things like that.”

Mama Rahma, one of JJ’s earliest allies, is a Borana grandmother whose oldest grandchild is just about to finish high school. She says little, preferring to observe, but their friendship is apparent. Together, they helped protect innumerable victims of trafficking brought to the slaughterhouse to work jobs even locals wouldn’t touch – pointing them to safe houses and shelters in the settlement.

Earlier this year, JJ won the Public Popular Vote at the Human Rights Defender’s Award and that solidified his and the centre’s reputation as a cornerstone for human rights advocacy not just in Mathare, but across the country. When he walks through the settlement, people come up to him and congratulate him and he is visibly pleased. “After so many years of working at the grassroots it feels good to be acknowledged, especially to win the Popular Public vote,” he beams. “It means people appreciate the work that we’re doing. It gives us courage”.

MSJC has programmes on youth empowerment, arts and culture, reproductive health rights and political accountability and runs a safe space for Mathare’s children that they’re hoping to expand with a library and a well-resourced sports and arts programme. They cleared a dumping site outside their office and planted a community garden so that locals could have a place to sit as part of their “Greening Mathare” initiative.

But MSJC is best-known for its activism against extra-judicial executions by the police. “We started documenting it because people wouldn’t believe it was happening,” JJ says. From his perspective, before MSJC began publicly documenting and shaming the police for the violence, the situation was only getting worse. “The number of young men dying in Mathare was increasing so much. In a day you could get six young guys, or even ten young guys being killed by the police. And they were never caught at the scene of the crime. They were always just walking on the street or pulled out of their houses and taken to be killed.”

For JJ, shifting towards advocacy around this issue was a natural fit. He knew first-hand what it meant to be young and poor in Mathare, and because of his profile, people already brought cases to him hoping he could help. “JJ already had much of the information,” says Wangui Kimari, a graduate student and part of the core of six, who volunteers as a researcher and coordinator at the centre. “It was just a question of turning the raw information that he had into something a little more structured, especially so we could take it to officials like IPOA [the Independent Policing Oversight Authority]”. To this end, Kimari and other volunteers allowed local and international researchers working in Mathare to use the centre as a base for their work in exchange for supporting the preparation of key documents pertaining to their cases.

This exercise led to the centre’s first high profile publication called “Who is Next?” In the report, the centre presented aggregate statistics and highlighted specific narratives of extra-judicial executions in Mathare. The document made waves in Nairobi’s often detached human rights community for many good reasons. In a first for this highly fragmented and professionalised human rights advocacy space, it was a lateral collaboration between grassroots human rights defenders across the city’s informal settlements. “Even the big organisations joined us because for the first time, in 2016, one of their own, Willie Kimani, was targeted [for execution],” JJ points out. Kimani, a lawyer with the International Justice Mission (IJM), his client and their driver were kidnapped and killed while pursuing a case of blackmail against a police officer. Five policemen are currently on trial for the murders.

The centre identified at least eight police officers known in the community who were involved in repeated extra-judicial executions. The average age of those executed was 20, but the youngest was only 13 years-old. Most of those killed were executed at close range – some in the process of surrendering, like the two captured in the video that went viral.

The “Who is Next?” report was also the first time that a human rights report had a preface written in Sheng’ rather than institutional English or Kiswahili. “It was a deliberate choice,” says Kimari. “We wanted people of Mathare to read it and take ownership of it.” The report also had a notably confrontational style. Instead of attempting to appease institutions by appealing to the non-existent mechanisms that frustrates MSJC everyday, it called out these failures and pointed out the ways in which they left Mathare’s people vulnerable.

Significantly, the cover image on the report is a still from a video that went viral in which a local police officer, Rashid, well known for targeting young men accused of crimes, shoots two young men in the head while a large crowd looks on. The disturbing video triggered a polarising response where many Nairobians argued that the police were right to execute “thugs” who terrorise their neighbourhoods. For MSJC, it was a reminder of how much work needed to be done to remind Kenyans that the young men in Mathare are human beings too. They chose the photo to confront the police and the public directly for what they literally did that day and what they figuratively do on other days – look on while the state takes away Mathare’s young people.

The main findings of the report are chilling. The centre identified at least eight police officers known in the community who were involved in repeated extra-judicial executions. The average age of those executed was 20, but the youngest was only 13 years-old. Most of those killed were executed at close range – some in the process of surrendering, like the two captured in the video that went viral. The report also alleges a form of systematic cover-up – young men are killed in a handful of known locations and almost always “in possession of a home-made gun”.

As expected, there was a major response. The human rights community in Nairobi was moved into action in an unprecedented way – there has been a heightened level of collaboration and coordination on the issue since the report was launched. Many news outlets covered the launch, thus breaking the silence on extra-judicial executions in informal settlements.

“We noticed after the report was launched that Rashid kept coming around more often, asking for me by name,” says JJ. I ask if that makes him afraid. “I’m afraid a lot of the time,” he admits. He has reason to be so; Steve Mwangi, the administrative coordinator at MSJC, was arrested twice in one week and was threatened with the same fate as Willy Kimani. “When we launched the report and the policeman started hovering around here, it gave me such anxiety.” But JJ’s faith and his networks, especially the rest of the team at the centre, give him courage at times like this.

No one at MSJC is insensitive to the risks of organising against the police in such a visible way. It speaks to their dedication that all the staff members are volunteers even while Nairobi’s cost of living soars. Maria Mutaula, their social media volunteer, is unequivocal: “If I die for the work, I die for it,” she says unflinchingly. Mutaula is not a resident of Mathare – she goes to the centre every day because the other volunteers inspire her and make her hopeful that Kenya can be better than it currently is. “I love that feeling of hope,” she says.

“They love their press conferences and their meetings in hotels,” says JJ, “but when it’s a protest – when it’s time to get teargassed – we the people from the grassroots are the ones who show up.”

Nairobi’s fairly rigid class lines are held in place by the challenges of travelling from one part of the city to the other, and people like Mutaula who cross them regularly by choice are unusual. For the most part, while residents in informal settlements are increasingly organising, centres like MSJC struggle to get the attention of Nairobi’s middle-class communities and, until recently, the human rights organisations nestled in the city’s leafy suburbs. “Mainstream organisations like the big cases like Willy Kimani or Jacob Juma (a controversial businessman murdered allegedly with the connivance of state agents in May 2016),” says JJ. “But it’s hard to get them to pay attention to the small individual cases that we deal with.”

Kimari’s assessment is bleaker. “The middle class in Kenya is a useless demographic,” she notes, fully aware that she is part of that demographic. “We get unexpected allies from time to time – like the well-known constitutional lawyer who pays our rent or individual representatives of various organisations. But for the most part, the mainstream organisations are embarrassed because we are able to do work that they can’t do.” This is symbolic of a growing chasm between the formal human rights network in Kenya and the grassroots organisers that bring them the stories they need to prove their efficacy.

“They love their press conferences and their meetings in hotels,” says JJ, “but when it’s a protest – when it’s time to get teargassed – we the people from the grassroots are the ones who show up.”

JJ isn’t the only one alarmed by the widening gap between national and international human rights organisations and those in informal settlements; it is a common complaint amongst the MSJC team. Part of this gap can be attributed to geography. Nairobi is an economically segregated town and no major human rights organisation has its offices in working-class or poor neighbourhoods of the city. It takes two matatus and several minutes of walking to get from the MSJC office in Mathare to the offices of the national human rights groups in Kilimani, Kileleshwa or Karen. But part of it is also wilful decisions not to invest in networks and collaborations in places like Mathare. “What if instead of spending their money renting rooms in five-star hotels for their press conferences they sent some of that money here so we can buy water for our toilets?” wonders Kimari.

This doctrine of self-organising has also changed the power dynamics between the grassroots groups and the mainstream human rights organisations. It is building confidence in the grassroots organisers to demand different terms of engagement.

In the meantime, MSJC continues to be an inspiration, especially in other informal settlements. “It has spread, we now have the Dandora Youth Network. In Kayole, there’s the Kayole Social Justice Centre. In Kangemi, there’s one – all of these are inspired by MSJC, which showed that we at the grassroots can also form organisations that can make a difference.”

This doctrine of self-organising has also changed the power dynamics between the grassroots groups and the mainstream human rights organisations. It is building confidence in the grassroots organisers to demand different terms of engagement.

“Before, they used to use us to rubber stamp their work,” JJ says, “but now that we are more organised, they have to approach us as full partners and they are starting to take up our issues too.”

For all their successes, MSJC faces the same challenges that any other community-led group in the world faces, funding key amongst them. “Money is important,” notes Kimari, “We have to pay for utilities, buy meals for some of our volunteers and even buy water for the toilets because there’s no running water in the building.” Most of their work is funded by the research collaborations they set up with local and international researchers working in Mathare. They have long-running partnerships with organisations like Peace Brigades International and the Katiba Institute. Occasionally, they are included in projects with other organisations. But they’re still just getting by. “We need more well-wishers to help us grow,” JJ says, “to cover our overheads like administration, Internet and other things – and maybe one day to pay our volunteers a small honorarium.”

These challenges complicate the work but the team moves forward in confidence because they have the greatest asset of all – support from the community. “We deliver for them,” JJ says. “We help them organise in a way that makes sure that people see them. We solve their problems like they are our own. They know that we are part of them and that’s why when you see me walking through the streets they always stop and say hello.”

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THE PEOPLE’S COUP: The 30th January ‘swearing-in’ and its aftermath

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THE PEOPLE’S COUP: The 30th January ‘swearing-in’ and its aftermath

January 30th 2018 enters Kenya’s history books alongside September 1st 2017, the day when, for the first time, an election in the country was nullified. Many dismissed the opposition coalition NASA’s threat to swear in the principals Raila Odinga and his deputy Kalonzo Musyoka as a PR gimmick.

Yet, as the new year rolled in, the momentum for the “swearing-in” gained traction within the NASA ranks and it became apparent that the “ tunaapisha movement” had prevailed over the moderates. The new concern became the possibility of a violent clash between the security forces and opposition hardliners.

On the morning of 30th January, Nairobi had a cloud of unease hovering over it. Uhuru Park was buzzing as early as 4am and waves and waves of humanity swept into the park despite the open threat of repercussions from security authorities. Doomsayers predicted a bloodbath; it was expected that there would be violence as opposition supporters faced the state’s fire power.

The day fell on a Tuesday at the end of the frugal month of January. The usual end-of-month buoyant mood displayed by salaried workers making up for weeks of being broke was absent. I encountered no traffic as I drove to meet a business prospect in the Lavington shopping centre at about 8 in the morning. On my way into the mall, I said hello to a security guard, a familiar face, and asked him why he was not at Uhuru Park. “We don’t have the luxury of demonstrating. You will be quickly sacked and replaced here”, he answered with a trace of annoyance in his voice.

The crowd at Uhuru Park had reached proportions that appeared to rival the swearing-in ceremony of Mwai Kibaki as president in 2002. You could throw a bead in the air and it would struggle to hit the ground. But there was no way in hell that a ceremony of this nature, the first in Kenya’s history, would go down without any drama.

As my business prospect and I sat down for tea, an elderly Caucasian male walked past, chatting to the mall’s security guards with the ease of a regular and teased them, “Hurry up guys, I have to be in Uhuru Park before seats run out.” There was a mix of excitement or dread in the air, depending on what side of the political divide one stood. A ruckus interrupted our conversation. The noise of loud whistles and raised voices filtered through to where we were seated. My guest worried about his car. “I hope these guys have not started rioting. I should have parked in the basement”.

A gang of five men came into sight, walking boisterously past a line of taxis with their drivers standing alert. The undertones of aggression were not reassuring. Three military Land Cruisers had driven past James Gichuru road, pressing our anxiety buttons.

The ceremony

An hour later, I returned home to monitor the live broadcast on TV. The crowds had swelled to proportions I had never seen before. With some relief, I noted that the police were out of sight and the procession to Uhuru Park was peaceful, though the city remained edgy. I got frantic calls from my relatives in the village asking whether we were okay. As a media guy I received the recurring questions: “What do you think is going to happen? Will they kill people?” I hoped for the best as I mentally prepared for the worst.

The crowd at Uhuru Park had reached proportions that appeared to rival the swearing-in ceremony of Mwai Kibaki as president in 2002. You could throw a bead in the air and it would struggle to hit the ground. But there was no way in hell that a ceremony of this nature, the first in Kenya’s history, would go down without any drama. At around noon, the government switched off the live broadcast, starting with Citizen, Inooro and NTV and then followed by KTN, which continued to broadcast for a stretch longer before it was also rendered off-air. Kenyans switched to online streaming. The media blackout only helped in heightening tensions. At Uhuru Park, the atmosphere was electric, the sea of humanity estimated to be in the hundreds of thousands patiently waiting for the man of the moment. The “swearing-in” was running late and by 1pm none of the principals had arrived.

The casualness of the whole affair was comically deceptive. An opposition leader had just sworn himself in as “The People’s President” less than three months after the constitutionally elected President was sworn in, smack in the middle of the city in broad daylight.

Raila Odinga finally arrived to a tumultuous welcome after 2pm. His co-principals, Kalonzo Musyoka, Musalia Mudavadi and Moses Wetangula, were nowhere in sight. Mombasa Governor “Sultan” Hassan Joho, James Orengo and T.J. Kajwang were in ceremonial dress ready to administer the oath. The lawyer Miguna Miguna and businessman Jimmy Wanjigi were conspicuously defiant. At about 2.45 pm, Raila raised a green Bible and read the oath swearing himself in as “The People’s President”. The applause reverberated throughout the city. He delivered a short and hurried speech in Kiswahili, trying to explain the absence of his co-principals and then switched to English, giving an even shorter remark and closing with the solidarity slogan, “A people united can never be defeated”. The speech lasted barely 5 minutes. He then swiftly exited the platform.

A sense of flatness descended soon after, anti-climatic in some respects, because the masses gathered at Uhuru Park had hoped that the moment’s significance would be immediately tangible. The crowds dissolved peacefully within the next two hours. The self-policed gathering appeared innately alive to the fact that any type of violent behaviour would have soiled the occasion, fueling the narrative of opposition supporters’ appetite for violence and destruction. The peaceful assembly cast the police as the provocateurs.

The casualness of the whole affair was comically deceptive. An opposition leader had just sworn himself in as “The People’s President” less than three months after the constitutionally elected President was sworn in, smack in the middle of the city in broad daylight. Uhuru Park, with its heavy symbolism of a monument of liberation movements, is just a 100 metres away from the Parliament building, the seat of Kenya’s power, and less than 200m from State House, the president’s residence. The possibility of riotous masses in their hundreds of thousands storming either State House or the Parliament in Kenya’s own version of a people’s coup was not far-fetched.

The “swearing-in” ceremony, caricatured as a farce and a self-defeatist move by its critics, achieved its aim in the eyes of the proponents of secession and the People’s Republic. Kenya now had two “presidents”, each to his own, and putting Kenya in an unprecedented political stalemate.  The move was unconstitutional and even treasonable, as former Attorney General Githu Muigai had boldly stated, yet for the millions of NASA supporters it became a cathartic moment. They had scored and sent a loud and clear message that the Jubilee government was illegitimate and that their leadership was an imposition that they would not stop contesting.

Raila Odinga’s disobedience and resistance was a shot in the arm of a disenfranchised opposition that had lost complete faith in acquiring any sort of electoral justice under the present state of affairs. The growing ranks of radicals appeared to be in control of the opposition’s momentum, led from the front by economist and NASA strategist David Ndii and Miguna Miguna, the self-styled “general” of the National Resistance Movement.  On December 9th 2017, after his release from police custody,  David Ndii had stated his position clearly: “If the Jubilee administration decides to go extra-legal then there is absolutely nothing law-abiding people can do if their government goes rogue. It becomes the responsibility of citizens to see how they navigate themselves out of a situation where the state is captured by a rogue regime and that’s why we have constituted the People’s Assembly”.

The January 30th swearing-in was about common people, the hoi polloi asserting their presence in a highly visible manner. One barman at a restaurant  I frequent told me that it was no longer about Raila Odinga; he was a symbol of resistance who everyone respected, but if Raila had hesitated to swear himself in, his supporters would have installed him as their leader anyway.

Raila, lived up to his moniker, Agwambo (the unpredictable), conquering the fear of his own political death in a transcendental moment.  Courage is what the millions of supporters demanded of their leader and he stood a man apart from his co-principals who succumbed to the pressure of the moment much to the disgust of their core bases in Ukambani and Luhyaland.

The “swearing-in” reinforced Raila’s status as untouchable. The word on the street was “touch Raila and the country burns”. Raila has (not yet) suffered the fate of other opposition leaders who have dared to question the legitimacy of a sitting government in this brazen manner. The other African opposition leaders who had sworn themselves in, namely, Kizza Besiyge, Mashoud Abiola and Etienne Tshesekedi, were promptly bundled into jail. In the Kenyan political game of thrones, Raila is better in the field than out of the play, good for business so to speak. During the opposition boycott of the October 26th election, Raila’s absence on the ballot box was blamed for the low turnout in Jubilee strongholds, bringing credence to the rumours that Jubilee voters do not necessarily vote for the party but rather against Raila, the perennial bogeyman in Central Kenya.

What next?

But the question remains, what next? Soon after the ceremony at Uhuru Park, Ruaraka MP T.J. Kajwang was temporarily arrested for his role in the “swearing-in”. This was followed by the dramatic arrest, court run-around and eventual deportation of Miguna Miguna.  These actions and the consequent disregard for court orders were signs of a government flexing muscle and saving face as it confronted challenges to its legitimacy.

The January 30th swearing-in was about common people, the hoi polloi asserting their presence in a highly visible manner. One barman at a restaurant  I frequent told me that it was no longer about Raila Odinga; he was a symbol of resistance who everyone respected, but if Raila had hesitated to swear himself in, his supporters would have installed him as their leader anyway.

The several ordinary Kenyans I spoke to as I sought to guage the pulse of the nation all alluded to the fact that Kenya had crossed the red line of public cynicism about its politics. The political elites were completely divorced from the suffering of the masses. Life was hard for everyone no matter who you voted for.

This honour seems incomprehensible to the elite; it is easier to diminish protestors as thugs, militia or brainwashed and ignorant adherents of opposition politics. But the nature of any resistance movement changes when its followers are no longer afraid of death.

There was also a sense of hopelessness about changing the system through legal means because the rules were regularly flouted to cater to the interests of the political elite.  The public had decided it was pointless to talk about democracy where rules were made to be broken.

Meanwhile, Western countries who had championed democratic reforms in the past discredited themselves by taking a unified stand to remain mum on illegalities raised during the nullified election of August 8th. During press briefings, the face of the diplomatic corp, US ambassador Bob Godec, harped on about peace in place of justice, stability in place of protest and a return to normalcy, which is the euphemism for a return to the established status quo. The West lost moral credibility after the rise of Trump, Brexit and France’s failure to face up to racism within its borders.  The open bias of Western media around issues of electoral injustice has established that Kenya can no longer rely on the West for help. The fallacy of a hollow democracy for Africans where hard questions are discouraged could no longer hold.

Something else had changed. People were not afraid to die for this new ideal they believed in. According to a Standard newspaper article published on the 3rd of January, NASA supporters were planning funerals for the living as a precautionary action before any demonstration. One interviewee was quoted saying, “I do not know if it is my turn today but I beseech you my friends when I go down, do not let the ground that has fed on millions of bodies feast on mine in Lang’ata [cemetery]. Send me off with honour.”

This honour seems incomprehensible to the elite; it is easier to diminish protestors as thugs, militia or brainwashed and ignorant adherents of opposition politics. But the nature of any resistance movement changes when its followers are no longer afraid of death. The reality of the lives of millions of struggling Kenyans locked in informal settlements or in neglected villages leaves no room for fence-sitting. It matters not whether one is innocent or guilty; innocent people have been killed in their homes and children have been shot while playing on balconies. These repeated encounters with police brutality have turned many people living in the slums of Nairobi and other parts of the country into die-hard protestors.

Commentator John Lauritis wrote a piece titled “All Cops are Bad”, elaborating on how modern police institutions negate moral responsibility. He explains how the French policing model, Gendarmes, spread during the early 1800s as Napoleon Bonaparte conquered much of Europe. Modern police institutions have become a publicly-funded centralised police organised in a military hierarchy and under the control of the state. The police service was not designed to serve the public but rather to protect the political power of the ruling elite. As opposed to a community service, they have become the harsh arm of state authority. Structurally, the policing culture in Kenya that was developed in the colonial state deprives the police of moral agency and hence no cop is held responsible for individual excesses. By its very nature, the police become an agent of state impunity that is accountable to no one.

There is a sense on the ground that the only way to draw attention to the plight of the victims is to plunge Kenya into a crisis – the only language that the political elite responds to. There is an African proverb that aptly captures the mood: “If the youth are not initiated into the village, they will burn it down just to feel its warmth.”

During the September 2017 demonstrations against Independent Electoral Boundary Commission (IEBC) officials, protestors in Kisumu reprimanded the police for showing restraint and demanded the use of tear gas to disperse them. Beyond the comical undertones of that stance,  protestors daring police violence has become a way of reclaiming moral authority against the police’s monopoly of violence.

Political tensions have been bubbling since the murder of IEBC ICT manager Chris Musando a week before the 8th August election. The tribally-profiled victims of state-sanctioned violence, including opposition demonstrators, have joined a long list of martyrs. There is a sense on the ground that the only way to draw attention to the plight of the victims is to plunge Kenya into a crisis – the only language that the political elite responds to. There is an African proverb that aptly captures the mood: “If the youth are not initiated into the village, they will burn it down just to feel its warmth.”

The trigger, as it appears, could be the most random action that unleashes the bottled-up frustrations of millions of Kenyans who are not prepared to wait another five years for change.  The trigger of the Rwandan genocide was the shooting down of the plane carrying President Juvénal Habyarimana on April 6th 1994. The Berlin Wall collapsed on 9th November 1989 after the first secretary of the German Democratic Republic’s Central Committee, Gunter Schabowski, blundered in a speech that was broadcast to the world. Before the speech could be retracted, East Berliners had gathered at the wall, overwhelming the border security. The self-immolation of street hawker, Mohammed Bouazizi, after he had been harassed by the police, was the trigger that brought down President Zine El Abidine Ben Ali’s 23-year hold on the Tunisian people. Zimbabwe’s Robert Mugabe was brought down by a speech given by his wife “Gucci” Grace Mugabe that led to the expulsion of former Vice President Emmerson Mnangagwa from the ZANU ruling party.

History is filled with pages of ordinary people negotiating their own justice; there comes a point when oppressed masses cease to be afraid of brutal state power.

Kenya crossed a tolerance threshold on January 30th 2018. The facade of democracy and unity fell apart and Kenyans have now occupied hard-line positions, well aware of the precipitating political crisis.  The crackdown on opposition leaders only adds to the narrative of a state hell-bent on providing the incentive for an inferno. The dominance of the Kikuyu and the Kalenjin in political positions engenders a victimhood complex; those who refuse to speak against the victimisation are considered to be complicit in the suffering of their fellow citizens. Oppression is the grievance that unites Kenya’s disenfranchised masses against the “two bad tribes”.

History is filled with pages of ordinary people negotiating their own justice; there comes a point when oppressed masses cease to be afraid of brutal state power.

The great unwashed are restless. The Kenya Project is rushing to a tipping point. “[When] things fall apart; the centre cannot hold,” wrote the Irish poet W.B. Yeats.

In the interim, we return to our perpetual state of angst, as if living next to a haunted swamp that keeps bubbling. There is evidence that something lurks. The weather just needs to change and the soul is seized again.

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THE TROUBLE WITH SOUTH SUDAN: A revolution that ate its own children 

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THE TROUBLE WITH SOUTH SUDAN: A revolution that ate its own children

The highly hyped youngest country in the world has aged so fast that it now lies on the region’s sick bed in the hope that the High-Level Revitalisation Forum in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, which convened on February 5th 2018, will salvage something from its nearly five years of civil war. “Did South Sudan start to walk prematurely before teething and crawling like other human toddlers, or receiving sufficient and timely immunisation against the post-independence ailments that afflicted most sub-Saharan African countries?” a passer-by asked in astonishment. The truth is that for historic reasons South Sudan does not fit comfortably where it situates politically, economically and diplomatically as a sovereign nation.

“History does not repeat itself”, was Marx’s repudiation of Hegel’s metaphysics: “It occurs as a tragedy, and then a farce.” The Inter-governmental Authority on Development (IGAD) successfully midwifed the (1994-2005) peace talks that led to the comprehensive peace agreement (CPA) between the Government of Sudan and the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement (SPLM). The CPA provided the people of southern Sudan the inalienable right to self-determination. When the time for a referendum came on 9 January 2011, the people of southern Sudan voted overwhelmingly (98.3%) for independence and the Republic of South Sudan was born on 9 July 2011. That was the tragedy. Who could imagine that a country that was barely three years-old and that was emerging from twenty-one years of a devastating war of national liberation could get embroiled in another war?

The roots of the civil war locate in the internal political contradictions in the SPLM, which is linked to the failure of the SPLM leaders to address the fundamental issues of socio-economic and cultural backwardness of the people that underpinned the war of national liberation. This is reflected in the abject poverty, ignorance, illiteracy and superstition prevalent in the new nation, which submerge their consciousness and prevents them from correctly gauging their reality.

“Did South Sudan start to walk prematurely before teething and crawling like other human toddlers, or receiving sufficient and timely immunisation against the post-independence ailments that afflicted most sub-Saharan African countries?”

The reasons for South Sudan’s failure are simple: The SPLM leaders spearheaded the war of national liberation without an ideology; they never envisaged or envisioned the state and society they desired and hence lack – or could not marry – the theory and practice of liberation. Moreover, their refusal to politically educate and organise their people entrenched an ethnic-based ideology that expunged progressive thinking among the combatants and the masses of the people. The absence of democratic institutions and instruments of power resulted in the personification, rather than the institutionalisation, of the SPLM’s authority. The linkage between state power and ethnic hubris rolled into an explosive alloy driving the ethnicised power politics.

The internal SPLM contradictions were nothing more than a power struggle within its top echelon. This had been the cause of its splits and internecine fighting since the SPLA/M inception in 1983. These contradictions were not ideological but political in character, revolving around personalities rather than issues. Sometimes they permeated into ethnic and provincial domains where they became violent and susceptible to exploitation by the common enemy feeding into its proxy wars of counterinsurgency.

The death of Dr. John Garang de Mabior, the SPLM Chairman, the SPLA Commander-in- Chief, the first Vice President of the Republic of the Sudan and the President of the Government of Southern Sudan, in a tragic helicopter crash on 30 July 2005 deprived the SPLM and the people of southern Sudan of a moderate voice that could prevent the escalation of internal feuds. The new leadership of South Sudan, comprising two incompatible and uncompromising leaders, quickly sent the people of South Sudan into war. This erupted on 15 December 2013 and continues unabated except for a break following the IGAD-mediated peace agreement on resolution of the conflict in South Sudan (ARCISS) in August 2015.

What is the problem?

Many people, especially the so-called international development partners, erroneously believe that the problem is a personal rift between President Salva Kiir Mayardit and his former deputy in the leadership of the SPLM and the Government of South Sudan, Dr. Riek Machar Teny-Dhurgon. This could not be much further from the reality. Although, the two leaders indeed are factors at the secondary and tertiary levels of the contradiction, the fundamental contradiction underpinning the war in South Sudan is the centuries’ old condition of socio-economic and cultural backwardness of its people. Failure to address that fundamental contradiction was the driver of the southern Sudan people’s struggle against the different regimes that came and went in Khartoum since Sudan’s independence in 1956, including the war of national liberation spearheaded by the SPLM/A.

The independence of South Sudan did not change the nature of the contradiction, particularly following the paradigm shift the SPLM leadership undertook from revolution to right-wing neoliberalism in the dying days of the Cold War and the superpower rivalry in the Horn of Africa. The shift transformed the SPLM leaders into an elitist class completely alienated from the masses of the people. This facilitated and accelerated the consummation of the liberal peace agreement with the Islamic fundamentalist regime in Khartoum in 2005, giving the SPLM full control of the subnational entity known as the Government of Southern Sudan (GoSS). The SPLM leaders had no programme or strategy for managing the unfamiliar ground the CPA lobbed them onto i.e. to run the government and the state.

Many people, especially the so-called international development partners, erroneously believe that the problem is a personal rift between President Salva Kiir Mayardit and his former deputy in the leadership of the SPLM and the Government of South Sudan, Dr. Riek Machar Teny-Dhurgon.

GoSS had an annual budget of between five and six billion US dollars from its share of the oil revenues. However, the SPLM, the dominant and leading political party in GoSS, did not have a programme for addressing the social and economic development of South Sudan. The political, military and burgeoning commercial/business elite that evolved in the context of the war economy plaited into a parasitic capitalist class; parasitic in that it did not command any means of production but derived its wealth consequent to its control of the state and its resources through the agency of corruption and outright theft from state coffers. Instead of providing development and social services, the members of this class dolled themselves in self-aggrandisement that they christened ‘payback time’ in a political patronage system suggesting that the war of national liberation was about nothing but rent-seeking.

The SPLM leaders jettisoned the liberation era pledge to construct a society based on freedom, justice, fraternity and prosperity for all. Thus, corruption, tribalism, nepotism, impunity, insecurity and ethnic conflicts were the characteristic features of the interim period between 9 January 2005 and 9 July 2011 and only the general and genuine desire by the people for the successful implementation of the referendum on self-determination constituted the constraint that prevented an all-out eruption of violence. The political environment was tense and gearing towards a totalitarian dictatorship as President Salva Kiir erected oppressive tools in the SPLM system, exploiting people’s patience as they waited to vote for independence.

A provision in the Interim Constitution of Southern Sudan (ICSS, 2005) stated that should the result of the referendum be in favour of independence, the ICSS would become the transitional constitution of the Republic of South Sudan, with amendments relevant to the changed status of South Sudan. Instead of following that provision, President Kiir ordered for the crafting of a completely new constitution that gave him excessive powers, making him an imperial president. Thus, South Sudan became independent on an undemocratic and oppressive transitional constitution in which power was concentrated in the presidency. President Kiir particularly liked the provision that he could fire his deputy, which was done specifically with the incumbent, Machar, in mind. The transitional constitution eroded all the rights and freedoms enshrined in the interim constitution. This marked the beginning of South Sudan’s political troubles.

This development coincided with the upsurge of Dinka (Jieng) ethnic nationalism, with its ideology of hegemony and domination. The Dinka is the single largest nationality in South Sudan. The formation of the Jieng Council of Elders (JCE) – representing the social, economic and political interests of the Dinka people – as a power broker around Kiir’s presidency was part of engineering a totalitarian political dispensation in the young republic. President Kiir used his executive powers in the JCE to paralyse the political functions of the SPLM, shifting power from the SPLM General-Secretariat through the office of the president (OP) to the JCE, which now evolved into a quasi-state institution.

At the economic level, the parasitic capitalist class in control of the state and its resources allied with East Africa’s parasitic and global comprador capitalist class to extract and plunder South Sudan’s natural resources, especially oil, gold and timber. This alliance witnessed massive capital flight from South Sudan to Kenya and Uganda and via these countries to Western financial houses, leaving the country in abject poverty. The South Sudan Pound lost value against foreign currencies from 2.5 to the US dollar in 2011 to 250 in 2018. The negative social and economic indices inspired political protests, demonstrations and opposition to the regime’s oppressive policies in different parts of South Sudan. This raised the political temperatures within the top leadership of the SPLM, fuelling the power struggle between President Kiir and Vice President Machar, which reached a crisis point in July 2013 when the President dismissed his deputy.

IGAD mediation

In an extraordinary assembly of IGAD Heads of State and Government in Nairobi on 27 December 2013, the region decided to intervene to resolve the conflict in South Sudan. Unfortunately, unlike its experience of mediating the conflict between the Sudan and the SPLM, which ushered in the CPA, the region this time round shot itself in the foot. The four countries involved in the mediation (Uganda, Kenya, Ethiopia and the Sudan) each had their respective national economic, security and political interests in South Sudan. Uganda had the UPDF and Air Forces involved in the war on the side of Kiir’s government. Sudan had its SPLM/A–North and the Justice and Equality Movement (JEM) rebels operating from South Sudan with the support of Uganda. The Sudan also had its commercial interests as oil from South Sudan still transits through the Sudan to international markets.

The respective security, economic and political interests of these countries created an environment of competition among them and therefore interfered in their collective efforts to resolve the conflict. The regional mediation of the South Sudan conflict was flawed in many aspects. The negotiation modality involved many stakeholders on the principle of inclusivity when only two parties, namely the SPLM in government and the SPLM/A in the opposition, were fighting the war. The mediation advanced the formation of the Transitional Government of National Unity (TGoNU) before sealing the agreement. This introduced the issue of power sharing, which was like placing the cart before the horse. After sixteen months of intermittent negotiation, there was an Agreement on the Resolution of Crisis in South Sudan (ARCISS), which the SPLM/A (IO) and other parties signed on 17 August, and which Salva Kiir reluctantly signed on 26 August.

At the economic level, the parasitic capitalist class in control of the state and its resources allied with East Africa’s parasitic and global comprador capitalist class to extract and plunder South Sudan’s natural resources, especially oil, gold and timber. This alliance witnessed massive capital flight from South Sudan to Kenya and Uganda and via these countries to Western financial houses, leaving the country in abject poverty.

The agreement provided for power sharing between the SPLM in government (Kiir, 53%), the SPLM/A in the opposition (Machar, 33%), the SPLM political leaders or individual arrested and detained in the wake of the violence on 15 December 2013 (7%) and the other 18 registered political parties (7%). It took eight months before the parties started implementing the peace agreement. This was partly due to the government’s reluctance and intransigence and partly due to the weakness demonstrated by the mediators, the peace guarantors and the international community to bring pressure to bear on President Kiir to enable the operationalisation of ARCISS instruments. The body formed to oversee and supervise the implementation, the Joint Monitoring and Evaluation Commission (JMEC) chaired by former Botswana President Festus Mogae, proved ineffective in the face of procrastination, bullying and outright defiance by government functionaries. The transitional government of national unity (TGoNU) was formed on 29 April 2016 before the amended constitution incorporating ARCISS was promulgated, rendering it difficult to operationalise.

In addition to the difficulties President Kiir erected to frustrate TGoNU functions, a rebellion was brewing in Dr. Machar’s party. Taban Deng Gai, who was the SPLM/A (IO)’s chief negotiator, was not pleased that Riek Machar had denied him the petroleum portfolio in the TGoNU. He shifted allegiance to President Kiir in a conspiracy that triggered the fighting in the presidential palace on 8 July 2016, rekindling the war and precipitating the collapse of the TGoNU as well as the ARCISS. President Kiir later appointed Taban Deng Gai as the first vice president in lieu of Dr. Machar. This was a flagrant violation of ARCISS.

The US Secretary of State, John Kerry, during a visit to Nairobi later in the month, forced the IGAD Council of Ministers to recognise the de facto new situation in South Sudan. The United States had played a pivotal role in the consummation of the CPA and in the conducting of the referendum on self-determination that eventually led to South Sudan’s independence. The region therefore could not effectively intervene to stop the deteriorating humanitarian situation caused by the escalation of the war, which now engulfed the hitherto peaceful areas in Equatoria and Western Bahr el Ghazal consequent to the emergence and proliferation of armed opposition groups. This situation continued until finally in June 2017, the JMEC Chair, Mr. Festus Mogae, finally admitted that ARCISS was fatally disabled and required revitalisation.

Revitalisation of ARCISS

The intricacy of diplomacy renders difficult the interpretation and operationalisation of certain terminologies. In the current context of South Sudan, “the revitalisation of ARCISS” is meaningless as it is not be feasible without Dr. Machar, who has been holed up in South Africa since November 2016 on the advice of US Secretary of State John Kerry. Since the 30-month ARCISS transition period is almost expiring, the IGAD mediators should have started a new peace process involving the newly formed political and armed opposition groups. However, IGAD proceeded with their plan to consult and draw an agenda for the revitalisation of ARCISS. This agenda included a meeting in December 2017 to recommit the parties to the agreement on the cessation of hostilities. The parties signed the agreement on 21 December, but it never came into force because the government started its dry season military offensive to regain the territories under the armed opposition in Equatoria and Jonglei. This caused further humanitarian crises, with people streaming into Ethiopia and Uganda to seek refuge.

The second phase of the revitalisation process commenced on 4 February 2018 and was expected to continue until 16 February. The objectives of this phase are: a) restore the permanent ceasefire; b) achieve full and inclusive implementation of ARCISS; and c) develop a revised and realistic timeline and implementation schedule towards democratic elections at the end of the transitional period.

These are unrealistic objectives. First, the government has demonstrated a complete lack of interest in sharing power with the opposition. Secondly, the mediators have failed to deploy the 4,000-strong Regional Protection Force from Rwanda and Ethiopia that would have provided security for Juba and other major towns. Thirdly, the armed opposition, the SPLM/A (IO), provides no military threat to the government because of an undeclared arms embargo imposed on it and the incarceration of its leader in South Africa. Fourthly, the transitional period that ARCISS provided ends in May 2018, which is the beginning of the rainy season in South Sudan. Even if it was possible to conduct elections during the rainy season, it would be a futile exercise as there are more than four million South Sudanese living in refugee camps in Uganda, Kenya, Ethiopia, Sudan, the Central African Republic and DR Congo. It would not be possible to bring them back to partake in elections in such a short time. Fifthly, assuming that the high-level revitalisation forum ends in an agreement, a new transitional period must factor in reconciliation and must enable the repatriation and resettlement of refugees.

Even if it was possible to conduct elections during the rainy season, it would be a futile exercise as there are more than four million South Sudanese living in refugee camps in Uganda, Kenya, Ethiopia, Sudan, the Central African Republic and DR Congo.

The revitalisation process is therefore a tall order in terms of the commitment of the IGAD region, the African Union and other interested parties to enforce the implementation of the resultant agreement. It would also require walking the extra diplomatic and political mile to force President Kiir and Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni to accept the agreement and its implementation in the letter and spirit in which the parties negotiated and agreed to it.

The entire process reeks of liberal peacemaking. The usual shortcoming of liberal peacemaking is that it leaves the regime intact. The superficial reforms it provides rarely impact the character and essence of the regime and end up recreating the conditions for renewed conflict. The 1972 Addis Ababa Agreement between the May regime of Gaafar Nimeri and the South Sudan Liberation Movement of Joseph Lagu created the conditions for the formation of the SPLM/A and the war of national liberation (1983-2005). The CPA created the conditions for the ongoing wars in the Sudan and South Sudan. Other examples exist in Mozambique, Angola and Cambodia. Therefore, whatever agreement the interested parties may come up with, the people of South Sudan should receive it with caution.

What then is the solution to the conflict in South Sudan?

A national democratic revolution

The plethora of problems afflicting the people of South Sudan are typical of when a people emerge from a war of national liberation or from colonial bondage. These problems obtained, and even continued to multiply, in South Sudan because the SPLM leaders decided to construct and maintain neocolonial relations with global comprador capitalism in order to perpetuate the system of extraction and plunder of South Sudan’s natural resources. This has left the country bankrupt and in economic meltdown while the people have been pauperised.

The essence of the war of national liberation that the SPLM spearheaded was to develop and free the national productive forces from any kind of foreign interference and domination. In this context, the SPLM hitherto counted as one of the forces of national democratic revolution in the Horn of Africa and the Middle East. However, the socio-economic and political developments in South Sudan since 2005 have demonstrated that the SPLM leaders have jettisoned the liberation pledge they made in 1983 and abandoned the path to national democratic revolution.

Until we successfully carry out a national democratic revolution for the social, economic and political development of our people, these problems will endure. We have to complete the national democratic revolution by implementing its programme in the social, economic and political spheres. We must construct a national democratic state that emancipates our people from the poverty, ignorance, political and ideological illiteracy, and superstition, which if left alone, could pop up in different forms: ethnic chauvinism and bigotry; religious, gender and racial discrimination; nepotism and favouritism; electoral fraud; political exclusion; and economic marginalisation and exploitation. These could quickly become the drivers of future conflict.

However, while the conditions and chances for successfully carrying out a revolutionary armed struggle are getting dimmer because of internal and external factors, the masses have at their disposal the option of non-violent means of struggle to win back their basic rights and fundamental freedoms.

Notwithstanding their political weaknesses and lack or organisation, the forces of the national democratic revolution exist in South Sudan in social groups, civil society and community-based organisations, and in the political parties and armed opposition. Some of these are actively participating in daily social and economic struggles and some may be hibernating, waiting for the opportune time. The tools for national democratic revolution range from what already exists now in the form of waging a revolutionary armed struggle, to demonstrations and processions, sit-ins and civil disobedience in towns and cities. We tried these methods successfully before in the popular uprising against the first military government of Ibrahim Abboud and Jaafar Nimeiri’s totalitarian dictatorship in Sudan.

However, while the conditions and chances for successfully carrying out a revolutionary armed struggle are getting dimmer because of internal and external factors, the masses have at their disposal the option of non-violent means of struggle to win back their basic rights and fundamental freedoms. It is imperative to complete the national democratic revolution and the construction of the national democratic state to address social and economic development, as well as the secondary contradictions inherent in the ethnic, religious, linguistic and cultural multiplicities of South Sudan. This is necessary whether or not the IGAD-led revitalisation of ARCISS succeeds in forcing the parties – through diplomatic arm-twisting by development partners – to agree to a power-sharing timeline and some reforms in the system.

In conclusion, the people of South Sudan are in such a dire social, economic and humanitarian situation that there is no time to waste in sterile debates about power-sharing and reforms of a system that has become, as Dr. Garang used to say of the government in Khartoum, “too deformed to be reformed”. It is about time the patriotic democratic social and political forces pulled together to salvage the country and its people.

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