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?
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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AGRA’s Green Revolution Has Failed, Critics Say
Fifteen years later, and a billion dollars in funding, AGRA’s promise to double productivity and incomes for 30 million smallholder farming households by 2020 while reducing food insecurity by 50 per cent has not been fulfilled.
When the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation and the Rockefeller Foundation launched the Alliance for a Green Revolution in Africa (AGRA) in 2006, it was billed as a game-changer in addressing the continent’s hunger crisis. Africa would get the sort of productivity revolution that could reduce hunger, improve livelihoods and create jobs. “Sustainable intensification” was the goal – getting more food from the same land, the “green” in the name being in opposition to the “red revolutions” that were sweeping through Asia in the 1960s.
While at the outset this ambitious project appeared to be the sort of aid that could transform Africa’s agricultural sector and feed its growing population, AGRA is now hard-pressed to demonstrate its achievements after 15 years and one billion dollars in funding.
The criticisms against AGRA emanate from diverse quarters and are gaining momentum. The Alliance for Food Sovereignty in Africa (AFSA), the continent’s largest civil society network, comprising 35 groups that involve some 200 million food producers, has embarked on a robust campaign, painting AGRA as a misguided effort that has fallen short in bringing any sort of productivity revolution in its 13 focus countries. Faith leaders in Southern Africa issued their own challenge to the Gates Foundation. Neither has received a reply from AGRA’s major donors, which include the two US foundations and aid agencies from the United States, United Kingdom, Germany and Canada.
Those challenges came to a head on 2 September 2021 at a press conference prior to the opening of AGRA’s annual Green Revolution Forum when civil society leaders called for donors to stop funding AGRA. “What African farmers need is support to find communal solutions that increase climate resilience, rather than top-down profit-driven industrial-scale farming systems,” said Francesca de Gasparis, the executive director of the Southern African Faith Communities’ Environment Institute (SAFCEI).
AFSA released an open letter signed by its 35 member networks and 176 international organizations from 40 countries. “AGRA has unequivocally failed in its mission to increase productivity and incomes and reduce food insecurity, and has in fact harmed broader efforts to support African farmers,” reads the strongly worded letter.
AGRA Vice President for Innovation Aggie Asiimwe Konde disagrees. “We focus on informing farmers, enable access to technology and increase production and income to farmers. We have had a resounding success in that we have seen farmers doubling their income, diversification of crops, and integration into the market.”
Searching for evidence of Green Revolution success
AGRA was founded in 2006 with ambitious goals: To double productivity and incomes for 30 million smallholder farming households by 2020 while reducing food insecurity by 50 per cent. That deadline has now passed, and independent research suggests that AGRA’s rosy promises are far from being realised.
In fact, AGRA is unable to provide evidence of that progress, says Timothy A. Wise, a senior advisor on the Future of Food at the Institute for Agriculture and Trade Policy and senior research fellow at Tufts University’s Global Development and Environment Institute. Wise undertook an impact assessment in 2020 and found no comprehensive evaluations of AGRA’s progress in meeting its goals by AGRA itself or by its major donors. After AGRA refused to accede to his request for data on its beneficiaries, Wise took a broader and more revealing approach.
“I chose to examine data from AGRA’s 13 priority countries to see if there were indications that a productivity revolution was taking place with rising incomes and improved food security. I found little evidence of significant productivity improvements,” notes Wise on his research. As he explained in a recent article for The Conversation, “By any estimate, 30 million smallholder farming households represent a significant majority of farmers in the 13 focus countries. If the alliance had doubled yields and incomes and halved food insecurity for that many farming households, that would indeed have shown up in the data.”
It did not. For a basket of staple crops, Wise found that productivity increased just 18 per cent over 12 years. That is nowhere near the goal of doubling productivity, which would be a 100 per cent increase. More tellingly, it is barely higher than the rate of productivity growth before AGRA was launched.
And neither did incomes nor food security improve significantly. According to the latest United Nations estimates, the number of severely “undernourished” people in AGRA’s 13 focus countries has increased by 30 per cent since 2006, a far cry from AGRA’s promise to cut food insecurity by half.
“After 15 years and one billion dollars in outside funding, AGRA has failed to catalyse a productivity revolution in African agriculture. Farmers’ yields have not grown significantly,” Wise stated at the September 2 press conference. “It is time for donors to listen to African farmers and community leaders.”
Wise pointed out that his critique goes well beyond AGRA, implicating the entire Green Revolution approach to which African governments devote significant resources, including an estimated one billion dollars per year in subsidies for seeds, fertilizers and other inputs. “Our research assessed the progress of the Green Revolution project as a whole. This should indeed have produced measurable results in 15 years given the billions of dollars invested in the project. It has not,” he wrote in The Conversation.
“It is time for donors to listen to African farmers and community leaders.”
African and German civil society organisations produced a report drawing on Wise’s research. Titled False Promises, the report calls on countries to abandon AGRA and its Green Revolution and instead support initiatives that boost small-scale food producers, particularly women and the youth, to develop climate-resilient and environment-friendly farming practices.
A lot of money went into supporting maize production, and total production went up 87 per cent, according to the report. But most of that increase came from farmers increasing the land under maize cultivation, encouraged by the subsidies. Yields increased only 29 per cent over 12 years, but land under maize production went up nearly 50 per cent, hardly a sustainable way of farming.
The bias towards maize at the expense of other equally essential food crops such as millet, which are drought-tolerant and more nutritious, has also been cited as one of the downsides of AGRA’s interventions. Millet production had declined by a quarter, says the report.
Rising hunger across the continent
The decline in crop variety can result in a drop in diet diversity, which may be contributing to the alarming rise in hunger. According to the UN Food and Agriculture Organization’s annual hunger report published on 12 July 2021, the world experienced an almost unprecedented increase in severe hunger from 2019 to 2020. The agency’s annual estimate of “undernourishment” showed an increase of up to 25 per cent over the 2019 levels, to between 720 and 811 million people.
In sub-Saharan Africa, about 44 million more people faced severe malnutrition in 2020, with 30 per cent of the continent’s population struggling to feed their families. Some 66 per cent of the population faced “moderate or severe food insecurity” in 2020, says the FAO, up from 51 per cent in 2014, an increase of 244 million food-insecure people in just six years.
The decline in crop variety can result in a drop in diet diversity, which may be contributing to the alarming rise in hunger.
Wise points out that since AGRA was founded in 2006, hunger in Sub-Saharan Africa has not gone down by half but has increased nearly 50 per cent. “The Green Revolution is taking Africa in precisely the wrong direction,” he says.
AGRA has itself faulted Wise’s survey, conducted under the aegis of Tuft University’s Global Development and Environment Institute, saying the research failed to meet “basic academic and professional standards of peer review. . .” Andrew Cox, chief of staff and strategy at AGRA, is quoted terming the research as “not professional and ethical.” But Tufts University administrators have defended Wise’s methods.
AGRA’s Konde said in an interview that the organization was successful. “We targeted 9.5 million farmers and now we have 10 million farmers with minimum technology.” She then went on to fault African governments for not doing their part. “Unfortunately, only Ghana, Rwanda, and Nigeria have implemented the 10 percent of their budget to the agricultural sector as per the 2003 Maputo Declaration. The rest of Africa has only committed 2 percent of their budget to agriculture.”
Konde took issue with the demands of AGRA’s critics. “Taking into account the uncertainties brought about by climate change and the COVID pandemic, it would be unfortunate to call for the disbandment of AGRA at this point in time. I wonder which farmers they are representing. AGRA believes in increasing choices to farmers, and promotes ways how more farmers can have access to technology and apply them.”
She went on: “We have been carrying out value for money assessments and every $1 we have spent has produced close to $10. The questions we should be asking are did the African farmers get access to information and technology?”
AGRA officials say that the agency’s budget and contributions are too small to have its impact reflected in national-level data. “The data could not possibly be extrapolated onto the kinds of regional/sub-regional work that we do,” AGRA’s Cox wrote via email to Stacy Malkan of U.S. Right to Know. Critics point out that if AGRA reached the 30 million farmers it set out to reach and transformed their practices, such impacts would be evident. Still, AGRA claims that its recent Annual Report provides evidence of yield increases, income gains and improved food security.
Wise reviewed the new documents and was critical of the data, saying it was hastily constructed, poorly documented, and highlighted improvements in just a few crops and countries over a very short period. Other critics also consider AGRA’s failure to document its impacts over its full 15 years of existence as telling.
Muketoi Wamunyima, country coordinator for PELUM Zambia, which works to improve the livelihoods of small-scale farmers by fostering ecological land use management, co-signed a letter to AGRA last year asking for evidence of its impacts. They received a long response from AGRA’s Andrew Cox, which they dismissed as non-evidence. “As civil society organisations working in Zambia, we have challenged AGRA’s model and engaged with our local government to highlight the fact that AGRA’s approach does not respond to the needs of the small-scale food producers,” Wamunyima said.
Rwanda is widely touted as a star performer in AGRA’s plan, with a quadrupling of maize production since 2006. But according to the False Promises report, the Rwandan “miracle” showed weak overall productivity improvements across staple crops in the country as farmers abandoned the cultivation of more nutritious local crops for maize. And according to the UN’s latest hunger estimates, the number of undernourished people in Rwanda has increased by 41 per cent since the advent of AGRA.
Mariam Mayet, executive director of the African Centre for Biodiversity, said, “For years we have documented the efforts to spread the Green Revolution in Africa, and the dead-ends it will lead to: declining soil health, loss of agricultural biodiversity, loss of farmer sovereignty, and locking of African farmers into a system that is not designed for their benefit, but for the profits of mostly Northern multinational corporations.”
Africa is not a monoculture
AGRA’s Konde dismissed AFSA’s criticisms. “We invited those that have been complaining to the AGRF summit so that we can exchange views but they did not come.”
AFSA’s General Coordinator, Million Belay, confirmed that he was invited but only at the last minute. Belay explained why he declined the invitation in an opinion piece for Al Jazeera.
“We at AFSA disagree with the Green Revolution’s approach on a basic level. The strategy has indebted our farmers, ruined our environment, harmed our health and undermined our seeds and culture. We object to the flurry of initiatives to amend our seed laws, biosafety standards, and institutionalise fertiliser rules and regulations that seek to entrench Africa’s overreliance on corporate agriculture.”
He took particular issue with AGRA’s claim that the forum would speak for Africa in a “single coordinated African voice.”
“Africa is not a monoculture and we do not want it to become one. Africa does not speak with a single voice, certainly not that of the Green Revolution Forum. Its diversity of voices is as rich as the diversity of the continent’s landscapes, cultures and food traditions. Those voices want to sing, not in monotones but in harmony, with one another, with nature, and with government leaders and donors who value that diversity and support it.”
According to the UN’s latest hunger estimates, the number of undernourished people in Rwanda has increased by 41 per cent since the advent of AGRA.
Anne Maina, the Coordinator of the Biodiversity and Biosafety Association of Kenya (BIBA-K), concurs. She believes that sustainably improving nutrition, increasing production, enhancing biodiversity, raising resilience and boosting incomes will come about with the participation of all – smallholder farmers, pastoralists, fisher folk, hunter/gatherers and indigenous peoples – in their diversity and not through expensive, high-input monocultures.
And while AGRA’s technocrats have in the past been more combative in their response to criticism, its board chairman, Ethiopia’s former Prime Minister Hailemariam Dessalegn, sounded conciliatory in an op-ed published by AfricanArguments.com.
“The solutions for transforming Africa’s food systems [have] come down to one approach over another. Such binary debates are unhelpful and at times counterproductive. Building more resilient food systems on the continent will require a mix of approaches from agroecology to the latest crop and soil science,” wrote Mr Dessalegn.
Whatever the case may be, the need to resolve Africa’s hunger crisis in a sustainable way is an urgent one.
The BBI Case at the Supreme Court of Kenya – Day 3
What is at stake is one of the most unique contributions to global jurisprudence in recent times: a basic structure doctrine that is not substantive but procedural, that does not impose a judicial veto but seeks a deeper form of public participation to amend the Constitution, and which provides to direct deliberative democracy an integral role in processes of significant constitutional change.
As with Day 2, the final day of the proceedings in the BBI Case before the Supreme Court of Kenya can be divided into three phases (watch here). In some ways, it was a microcosm of the entire hearing – and indeed, of the entire BBI case so far: in Phase One, the Respondents finished their arguments. In Phase Two, the bench put a series of questions to the Respondents. In Phase Three, the Appellants made their Rejoinder. This, then, concluded the hearing (read analysis of Day 1 and Day 2 here), and judgment was reserved.
Phase One: The Respondent’s Arguments
Carolene Kituku advanced detailed submissions on the IEBC/Quorum issue, arguing – in particular – that when a judgment struck down a legal provision as unconstitutional, the default position was that the provisions so struck down were deemed to have been always unconstitutional, right from the moment of their enactment (and not from the date of the judgment). Now if these amended provisions were void ab initio and never came into force, it would follow that the original, pre-amended provisions were never actually replaced, and continued to hold the field in the interim period. Thus, when in the Katiba Insitute case it was held that amended paragraphs 5 and 7 of the Schedule to the IEBC Act were unconstitutional, it would follow that the pre-amended provisions for quorum – which the IEBC was in breach of – would continue to apply during the intervening period – and indeed – as Elisha Ongoya argued later in the day – would be applicable until either the declaration of unconstitutionality was set aside, or another, legally valid amendment, was enacted. Carolene Kituku also advanced submissions on why the popular initiative process failed to pass the threshold of public participation (insufficient time, the draft bill only on the internet, PDFs, and so on).
In his submissions, Elisha Ongoya pointed out that at this stage, the BBI case had received close attention from a dozen judges combined (five at the High Court and seven at the Court of Appeal), and their concurrent findings should, therefore, be treated with a modicum of deference; in particular, and in any event, factual findings (such as insufficient public participation) should not be disturbed. Following up on this argument, Elisha Ongoya argued that the High Court’s determination of the basic structure doctrine – and the four-step-sequential process – was rooted in a detailed analysis of the text, structure, and history of the 2010 Kenyan Constitution. Ongoya argued that the onus was on the Appellants to demonstrate, specifically, which of these considerations was wrong or irrelevant; however, they had not done so, choosing instead to attack the High Court in general terms, for having converted itself into a philosophical tribunal. In particular, on Article 89 (delimitation of constituencies), the High Court produced six specific reasons, none of which had been disturbed by the Appellants. Moving through the abstract and the particular (as he had in the Court of Appeal), he illustrated the very specific political and historical concerns around constituency delimitation that had necessitated the High Court to evolve the basic structure doctrine. He was followed up on this by Evans Ogada, who argued that by prescribing a procedure and a time limit for the IEBC to carve out these new constituencies, the BBI Bill fatally compromised the independence of this fourth-branch institution. The line-up on the Respondents’ side was finally completed by Dr John Khaminwa, who summed up the arguments in favour of the basic structure doctrine.
Phase Two: The Judges’ Questions
In my opinion, the brief half an hour around midday today was perhaps the most important part of the hearing; having heard the judges’ questions to the Appellants the day before, their questions to the Respondents perhaps indicated in the clearest manner what their concerns were, and what the issues were upon which the decision would finally turn.
On the basic structure, Ouku J asked whether the High Court and Court of Appeal had provided sufficient guidance to the citizens of Kenya for determining what the basic structure was; and further, was the four-step-sequential process to be found within the Constitution, or coming from outside. Wanjala J asked about the distinction between “amendment” and “alteration”: what meaning was to be given to the “disappearance” of the word “alteration” from the constitution-making process, and how might that word be revived, constitutionally. He also asked about the where the juridical form of the constituent power was located. Koome CJ wondered if Kesavananda Bharati had attained the standard of a municipal decision that could be taken to lay down “a general principle of international law” – and whether, indeed, it had informed the framing of Kenya’s own Constitution, in particular Articles 255 – 257. Sticking with the theme, Lenaola J asked where in Kesavananda Bharati it was said that the Indian Constitution has any “eternity clauses”. He then asked what – in my view – was the most important question of the hearing (I will examine the reasons for this below): given that Article 255(1) specified which entrenched matters had to go to a referendum for amendment Article 257(1), what were those matters outside Article 255(1) that might need to go to the primary constituent power for amendment?
On the IEBC and quorum, Ouku J asked what would happen to those acts that the IEBC had done while it was improperly constituted. Njoki J asked if the quorum requirements could be read into the Constitution – and if not, why did the Constitution provide a “minimum” and a “maximum” number for the composition of commissions. Wanjala J wanted to know what would happen if Parliament made a law for a three-member commission, and fixed quorum on that basis. Similarly, Lenaola J asked what the meaning was of Article 250(1) setting the minimum number at three (as no constitutional provision ought to be considered superfluous), and what – if any – acts the Commission could undertake with three members.
On public participation, Njoki J asked what specific steps the IEBC could have taken to reach ordinary Kenyans. And Koome CJ expressed a concern similar to the one she had expressed during Appellants’ arguments: was there something in the Constitution that could be used to determine the standards for public participation, even in the absence of express statutory framework?
Discursion: Thinking through Lenaola J’s Question
Before continuing with this post, I want to briefly think through Lenaola J’s question, as I believe it is fundamental to the case. The point is basically this: as the Appellants argued repeatedly, the Kenyan Constitution has a two-track process for amendment. The regular Parliamentary route on the one hand (Article 256), and then, for the ten entrenched subjects under Article 255(1), the public participation + referendum route under Article 257. Appellants argued that this two-track process was doing the same work that the basic structure doctrine was otherwise meant to do: it was identifying the basic features of the Kenyan Constitution, and then prescribing a more onerous, people-involved way of amending them, which approximated the primary constituent power.
This being the case, the obvious challenge for the basic structure doctrine is this: if you say that the basic structure of the Kenyan Constitution is the ten subjects under Article 255(1) (the supremacy of the Constitution, the territory of Kenya, the sovereignty of the People, etc.), then an immediate problem arises – given that there is a specific and express way to amend these subjects (Article 257), how then can the four-step process be simply superimposed upon this scheme? If, on the other hand, you say that the basic structure of the Kenyan Constitution is not in these ten subjects, then a whole host of other problems arise. What, for example, is even more fundamental or basic than sovereignty, or the bill of rights, or constitutional supremacy, that would need an even higher threshold of amendment than what is set out in Article 257? And how would you identify what those even more fundamental themes are?
So how does one answer Lenaola J’s question? I think there are two sequential (sorry!) responses. The first is to accept that the basic structure is (largely) located within Article 255(1) of the Kenyan Constitution (as the Court of Appeal, in fact, did) and not outside of it. However, here is the key: not every amendment to an Article 255(1) subject will trigger the basic structure doctrine and the four-step-sequential process. It is important to note here that the OG basic structure case – Kesavananda Bharati – never actually said that you cannot amend the basic structure. What it said – and this is crucial – is that you cannot damage or destroy the basic structure. And the distinction is significant: for example, amendments to Article 16 of the Indian Constitution setting out the modalities for affirmative action have passed the judicial scrutiny, even though they “amend” the Constitution’s equality code, which is unambiguously part of the basic structure.
So, even with respect to the subjects set out under Article 255(1), not every amendment will necessarily trigger basic structure scrutiny. Consider, for example, 255(1)(e) – the Bill of Rights. Article 24 of the Kenyan Constitution sets out the conditions for limiting a particular fundamental right. It follows familiar language – the nature of the right, the purpose of the limitation, etc. Now, suppose you wanted to amend Article 24 and make the language clearer – for example, incorporate into the Article, in express terms, the global proportionality standard that is now followed in many jurisdictions across the world. This would be an amendment to an Article 255(1) subject, and therefore trigger Article 257. However, it would not be damaging or destroying the basic structure in a manner that would trigger the primary constituent power, and the four-step-sequential process. Indeed, you can think of many ways in which the subjects set out under Article 255(1) could be amended (i.e., making language more precise, modifications to standards, adding standards, etc.) that would not trigger what we generally think of as basic structure scrutiny. On the other hand, if you were to repeal Article 24 altogether, and replace it with a provision such as: “All rights in this Part may be limited whenever the government deems fit in the public interest” – now that would be a basic structure violation that would go beyond Article 257 and trigger the four-step-sequential process.
This point is crucial, because it really does go to the heart of the case – the difference between amendment and repeal – and why the existence of the two-track process (as the Appellants argued) does not preclude the operation of the basic structure doctrine. This is because at the end of the day, the two-track process is concerned with amendment – whether of non-entrenched provisions (Article 256 route) or entrenched provisions (Article 255(1) + 257 route). The two-track process does not contemplate wholesale repeal of the Constitution (express or implied). It is for those situations that the primary constituent power and the four-step-sequential process is needed. Thus, there is nothing absurd about saying that one does not need to go looking for the basic structure outside of Article 255(1): the same sub-clauses under Article 255(1) might trigger either Article 257 or the four-step-sequential process, depending upon the nature of the change in the Constitution sought to be effected, and whether it genuinely amounts to an amendment, or whether it is a repeal. In other words, the key is not Article 255(1), but the nature of the change.
My second, brief point is that at the same time, one might hesitate to definitively say that Article 255(1) necessarily exhausts the basic structure. Arguments were made before the High Court and the Court of Appeal, for example, showing how the questions of boundary delimitation – given Kenya’s context and history – needed to be considered as basic structure questions (arguably this would come within sub-clause (g), but bracketing that for the moment). One can also think of a case such as Indira Nehru Gandhi v Raj Narain, for example, where a constitutional amendment that simply precluded a challenge to the Prime Minister’s election was invalidated by the Court. Again, this would arguably fall within 255(1)(d) (the rule of law) and (g) (independent of the judiciary), but it is possible to differ on that. In any event, I do not think too much turns on this point: I think it is also perfectly reasonable to finally and conclusively say as follows:
. . . the basic structure – as the Appellants correctly argue – is found in Article 255(1). But not every amendment to Article 255(1) triggers the application of the basic structure doctrine, the primary constituent power, and the four-step-sequential process. For the primary constituent power to be triggered, the amendment must be of such nature, extent, and consequence, that it amounts to an implied repeal of the Constitution or its basic structure. Thus, if you were to make a venn diagram, there would be a larger circle of amendments to Article 255(1) subjects, and a smaller circle – contained within it – of amendments that triggered the basic structure doctrine.
With respect to the judge’s questions, Nelson Havi argued that both the High Court and the Court of Appeal had correctly stated that to identify the basic structure, you would have to look at the context and history of each provision. For example, in order to understand why the independence of the judiciary was part of the basic structure, you would have to look at how the colonial judiciary was a department of the executive, and how and why it migrated from the State department to independent status. On the four-step process, Havi argued that it was not found within the Constitution, but a means of preventing constitutional death: it was found in the process that made the 2010 Constitution. Indeed, it had to be outside the Constitution because the primary constituent power was, by definition, primordial. On the distinction between “alter” and “amend”, Havi submitted that the reason for the change was precisely the flaws that had been discovered with the Independence Constitution providing for the means of its own “alteration”.
Esther Ang’awa then argued that quorum could not be read into the Constitution, as the Commission had to operate on the basis of both the Constitution and legislation (the two engines). This argument was supplemented by other counsel, who pointed out that “composition” was just for membership, whereas quorum was to transact business – thus, the two concepts remained fundamentally distinct.
On public participation, Carolene Kituku provided various ways in which it could have been secured (e.g., use of other media of communication, such as radio). She also made an interesting burden of proof argument. Flipping the question around – i.e., what evidence was there that public participation was insufficient – she asked, instead, what evidence had been produced by State organs to show that public participation had taken place. I believe that this question is correctly framed: because if public participation is a guaranteed right under the Kenyan Constitution, and if it is easier for the State to prove the affirmative (i.e., that public participation had been carried out), then to me it seems to follow that the initial evidentiary burden lies upon the State: until the State has produced satisfactory evidence that the public participation requirement has been fulfilled, the presumption ought to be that it has not (this flows from the fact that it is a right).
Finally, Topua Lesinko made the point that the judgments of the High Court and the Court of Appeal were different in crucial respects from Kesavananda: to continue with the running theme of the proceedings, while in Kesavananda the Court permanently shut out certain amendments from being made altogether, the High Court and Court of Appeal surrendered them to the primary constituent power without shutting them out. In my view, another way of putting it would be that Kesavananda puts substantive limits on constitutional amendments based on their content, while the High Court and the Court of Appeal placed procedural limits based on deepening public participation, so that the People could adequately determine when the content could be allowed to go through and when not.
The last segment of the hearing saw the rejoinder by the Appellants. I will focus here on the basic structure doctrine, as the rest of the arguments were addressed, but only briefly, and with arguments similar to those that have already been discussed previously.
On the subject of the basic structure, in closing, the Attorney-General’s legal team laid out the core of their case: that the basic structure constituted the foundational provisions of the Constitution. These were entrenched, and were to be found in Article 255(1). At the same time, the basic structure doctrine was an extra-constitutional doctrine that substantively limited the power of amendment. Thus, the Kenyan Constitution had a basic structure, but did not contemplate the basic structure doctrine. The Kenyan Constitution’s basic structure was protected not by the basic structure doctrine, but by the onerous amendment provisions under Articles 255 and 257.
The reason why the basic structure was located in Article 255(1) was to be found in the history of the constitution-making process. The People’s concern during the framing – as captured in the Constitution of Kenya Review Commission report – was how quickly and how fundamentally the Independence Constitution was amended. The CKRC then identified the People’s solution: a distinction between entrenched and non-entrenched provisions, with a stringent procedure being put into place for the amendment of the latter. This would safeguard the core of the Constitution. And that core was what was provided under Article 255(1).
The AG’s team argued that the basic structure doctrine was being deployed to obstruct the sovereign (i.e., the People’s) right to amend the Constitution under Article 257. In this context, there was no real difference between “amendment” and “alteration.” The contextual meaning of the word “amend” simply flowed from the ability of the sovereign to make or unmake anything, and that was the manner in which it was used in Chapter XVI of the Kenyan Constitution.
George Oraro SC then took up the baton. Speaking about the four sequential steps, he argued that what the High Court and Court of Appeal judges were trying to do was to revert to the original ratification procedure as a basis for legitimising the basic structure doctrine. But – according to Oraro SC, as I understood him – this, ultimately, was a futile endeavour: the power of making a Constitution was primordial and belonged to the People. By definition, it could not be regulated by a Court. The People had the right of reserving to themselves how they would use this power (e.g., Article 1(1)) – but even that could not stop them from coming up with a new method of creating or recreating a Constitution.
However, for now, the People had set out the route that they wanted to take, and that route was through Articles 255 and 257. The role of the Court, thus, was to ensure that those strict provisions for exercising the primary constituent power were very strictly followed: for example, sufficient participation, sufficient consultation. In essence, the role of the Court was to ensure that the right of the People to exercise their primary constituent power was protected. Oraro SC closed by stating that ultimately, it was the citizens – who were registered voters – who were holders of the primary constituent power, and it was this primary power that had been textualised under Article 257. This – thus – precluded the application of the basic structure doctrine.
As a closing remark of my own, I believe that this is as clear a statement of the case as it is possible to make. However, I am not entirely convinced that it responds to the core point: namely, that while the People indeed chose to constitutionalise the amendment to entrenched provisions under Article 257, that does not necessarily imply that said power carried with it the power of repeal or abrogation. Oraro SC’s argument assumes a conflation of that distinction, but in my respectful view, does not demonstrate it. It does not respond (in my view) to the independent arguments making that distinction, and showing why the primary constituent power is different from the power of amendment, and why – therefore – it must lie outside the Constitution.
The three days’ hearing before the Supreme Court saw arguments touch upon a wide range of issues crucial to both Kenyan constitutional law, and to comparative constitutional law in general. What is at stake (in my view) is one of the most unique contributions to global jurisprudence in recent times: a basic structure doctrine that is not substantive but procedural, that does not impose a judicial veto but seeks a deeper form of public participation to amend the Constitution, and which provides to direct deliberative democracy an integral role in processes of significant constitutional change. We will now wait to see the final fate of this case.
As Solicitor General Kennedy Ogeto said at the very end of the hearing, the judgment of the Court would be with Kenya for posterity. To that I will only add: it is also the kind of judgment that will echo in the annals of global constitutional law and thought for generations to come.
The BBI Case at the Supreme Court of Kenya – Day 2
By now, it is evident that the battle lines have been drawn, and the points of conflict are beginning to appear in a clearer fashion.
Day 2 of the BBI hearing (read analysis of Day 1 here) at the Kenyan Supreme Court (watch here) can be divided into three phrases. In the first phase, counsel supporting the appellants (i.e., broadly, the pro-BBI side) finished their submissions. In the second phase, the bench posed a series of questions to the pro-BBI side. In the third phase, the anti-BBI side (or, the Respondents) commenced its submissions. This typology is slightly reductive: for example, Mr. Isaac Aluochier, who argued in the first session, was against the basic structure doctrine, but was also against the BBI (for other reasons). Mr. Morara Omoke, who argued in the third session, was technically an appellant, as he had filed a cross-appeal on the question of single and multiple referendum questions. However, in the interests of sanity, this typology will have to do for the purposes of this post.
The President’s legal team opened Day 2. SC Waveru Gatonye addressed the Court on the issue of Presidential immunity. Like his predecessors the day before, he focused on how the Kenyan Constitution contains inbuilt accountability mechanisms that are consistent with wide-ranging Presidential immunity from civil proceedings during the term of office. For example, wronged parties could sue the Attorney-General, and impeachment proceedings could always be launched. A bar upon suing the President during their term of office, therefore (for things done in the operation of their office) would not lead to impunity. Continuing on the theme of Presidential powers, SC Kimani Kiragu then argued on Presidential involvement in the Popular Initiative under Article 257: he argued that the sovereign People of Kenya had delegated a part of their authority to H.E. the President. Once that had been done, there could be no half-measures: the President must be deemed to possess all sovereign powers that had been delegated – including the power to initiate constitutional reform – unless there was an express limitation in the Constitution. In the context of Article 257, there was no such limitation. Readers will take careful note of this argument; as we shall see, it will become particularly important when contrasted with the Respondents’ submissions on this point.
Mr. Isaac Aluochier took the podium, to argue against both the basic structure doctrine and Presidential immunity. I want to flag one particular argument, as it was made before the Court of Appeal as well: that the basic structure doctrine is precluded by Article 1 of the 2010 Constitution of Kenya, which states that “all sovereign power belongs to the people of Kenya and shall be exercised only in accordance with this Constitution.” Mr. Aluochier argued that Article 1 is express authority for the proposition that there can be no “extra-constitutional defence mechanism” for the Constitution, such as the basic structure doctrine. However, as I have tried to show before, this argument proves too much: at all times, the phrase “this Constitution” presumes the existence of the Constitution under advisement, that is, the 2010 Constitution. However, the whole point of the basic structure doctrine is to prevent or regulate amendments that are of such a nature that “this Constitution” will no longer be “this Constitution”, as its fundamental identity has been altered. Thus, if the basic structure doctrine is otherwise correct, Article 1 does not refute it: when you say that sovereign power will be exercised in accordance with this Constitution, it already excludes situations where this Constitution is no longer this Constitution – which is the situation that the basic structure doctrine is meant to cover. To be clear: this is not an affirmative argument in support of the basic structure doctrine. It is, however, a defensive argument that demonstrates that whatever other arguments there might be against the doctrine, Article 1(1) cannot be pressed into service here.
In an interesting turn of events, the bench did not pose any questions to counsel while they were arguing; instead, in the second phase, each of the judges took turns in posing a series of questions. Counsel for the pro-BBI side were then granted three minutes each to respond to the questions most relevant to their brief.
Let us group the questions thematically. On the subject of the basic structure, Lenaola J asked what it meant to say that sovereignty was “extra-constitutional”. Njoki J wanted to know if the four-step sequential process was found anywhere in the Constitution. Smokin Wanjala J asked why the appellants located the Kenyan Constitution’s basic structure within Article 255 – and why believed that the basic structure doctrine was inapplicable in Kenya. On the popular initiative, Lenaola J asked if there was any global precedent for a President – or a President-like figure – being involved in something like a popular initiative. Njoki J asked if the President was authorised to move under a popular initiative in order to fulfil his constitutional functions (readers will note this question, as an interesting answer was provided during Respondents’ submissions). Smokin Wanjala J enquired why it was being argued that the popular initiative kicked in only after the collection of a million signatures – and not before. Koome CJ also asked about the initiation of the popular initiative, and whether the requirement of public participation required a legal framework or rules of procedure, to be instantiated. Finally, on the subject of distinct and separate referendum questions, Ouku J made the important point that while four judges in the Court of Appeal seemed to endorse the “thematic unity” approach to referendum questions (i.e., referendum questions within a single theme could be grouped together, but not from different themes), the final disposition of the Court of Appeal reflected the opposite holding. Lenaola J asked if it was correct to say that the question was not yet ripe, as the IEBC was yet to decide how to frame the referendum questions; and Njoki J wanted to know if – given that there was nothing express in the Constitution – whether the thematic approach implied inserting into the Constitution something that was not there.
Responses to these questions were along familiar and expected lines: counsel reiterated – or further explained – the positions they had taken, including the argument that the basic structure doctrine applies only when there is a parliamentary monopoly over amendments, that the Kenyan Constitution’s basic structure was identified in Article 255 and provision for its amendment set out in Article 257, that Kesavananda Bharati is inapplicable to Kenya, that the scope of public participation is expressly set out in Article 257, and varies with the stage of the popular initiative, that the referendum question issue was unripe. Most of these points were addressed in yesterday’s blog post, and I will not repeat the arguments here.
Let me, however, flag two interesting responses. One response came on the question of global precedent: apparently, in Lichtenstein, the Prince had proposed a series of constitutional changes through a popular initiative (including the power to appoint judges), which were eventually passed by a referendum. Now, it was undoubtedly fascinating to hear – for the first time – some comparative constitutional law from Lichtenstein! I do wonder about the appropriateness of the example, though: a Prince taking control of the judiciary through constitutional amendment doesn’t exactly feel like a particularly inspiring instance of the use of the popular initiative. Out of curiosity, I did some digging after the hearing: it appears that the Venice Commission strongly criticised many of the constitutional reform proposals for their anti-democratic character, for the reason that they would result in excessive centralisation of power with the monarch. If anything, therefore, the Lichtenstein example seems to show that letting a powerful head of State bring about constitutional reform through popular initiative is more a recipe for abuse than anything else!
The second response was on the basic structure. Perhaps for the first time, counsel bit the bullet, and told the Court that if, tomorrow, there was a constitutional amendment seeking to curtail judicial review itself, the Court could participate in the public discussion around it – but would have no power to invoke the basic structure to invalidate the amendment. Putting the point in such stark terms – i.e., telling the Court that it had no legal power to protect even its own existence from constitutional amendment under Article 257 – is undoubtedly a starkly honest – and rather bold! – argumentative technique. It remains to be seen how the Court will respond to the issue being framed in such categorical terms.
The third phase was kicked off by Mr. Morara Omoke’s team, which had filed a cross-appeal on the referendum questions issue, but ultimately launched a full-throated defence of the High Court and Court of Appeal judgments. Counsel responded directly to the Appellants’ Kesavananda point, noting that there was a key distinction between Kesavananda and David Ndii. Kesavananda expressly “locked out” a set of amendments altogether. The High Court and the Court of Appeal, however, were equally express that in principle, every provisions of the 2010 Kenyan Constitution – including its basic structure – could be amended (as I argued in yesterday’s post, this distinction is crucial, as it – in my view – tracks the contextual differences between the Kenyan and Indian Constitutions). Secondly, counsel argued that the purpose of the four-step sequential process was to deepen public participation in the amendments process. It is important to read the two arguments together. The first argument is an argument demonstrating the need for a different form of the basic structure doctrine in the Kenyan context; and the second argument is an argument demonstrating that the form chosen by the High Court and the Court of Appeal was justified: where the amendment process already provides a role for the People (the two-track process referred to by the Appellants), the basic structure doctrine can only exist to the extent that it deepens that role to a level commensurate with constitutional framing. That, in essence, was what – according to counsel – the High Court and Court of Appeal did, and that was why this particular form of the basic structure doctrine (i.e., the four-step sequential process) was justified in the specific context of Kenya.
Mr. Morara Omoke then advanced a series of arguments supporting the High Court and Court of Appeal: on the issue of IEBC quorum, that Article 250(1) mentioned that the composition of Commissions had to be a minimum of three – but that composition did not equate to quorum. Extending the argument – in terms somewhat similar to the constitutional statute point made in yesterday’s blog post, he took the example of the tax code: if – Mr. Morara Omoke argued – amendments to the tax code were struck down, would it be the case that the Code itself would be treated as repealed, leaving the entire domain unregulated? He argued that that could not be the case – and similarly, the striking down of Sections 5 and 7 of the IEBC Act Schedule could not lead to the conclusion that there was now no statutory regulation governing the functioning of the IEBC.
For the sake of completeness, this argument was carried forward later in the day by Ester Ang’awa, who pointed out that the IEBC was regulated by both the Constitution (Article 250(1)), and by statute (the IEBC Act) – both of which, together, functioned as two wings of a plane, and were necessary for it to continue flying. On the failure of one engine (the statute, parts of which were struck down), the plane could not simply run perpetually just on the other. Readers may here again spot similarities with the constitutional statute argument, without the term expressly being mentioned.
Finally, on the issue of referendum questions, Mr. Morara Omoke noted that he had written to the Court of Appeal after its judgment, requesting clarification on the apparent contradiction between the holdings and the disposition; he had a reply stating that there was no contradiction (pretty impressive due diligence!). Mr. Omoke then made the case in favour of the “thematic unity” approach. The case is, by now, a familiar one: a voter cannot exercise choice in any true sense if she is provided with a grab-bag of seventy-four constitutional amendments – some of which she may support and some of which she may oppose – and then asked to approve or reject all of them in an up-down vote. This is a specific problem when “sweeteners” that have nothing to do with constitutional reform are thrown into the mix with the specific intention of making the reform proposals more palatable.
The Respondents then formally opened proceedings, with Mr. Nelson Havi starting the case. His conceptual and theoretical arguments on the basic structure should – by now – be familiar; one important point to flag is that Mr. Havi affirmed that – by its very nature – primary constituent power must lie outside of the Constitution itself. This is a direct response to the argument – made by George Oraro SC the day before – that the 2010 Constitution had textualised the primary constituent power within Articles 255 and 257. Now, while this is true as a matter of constitutional theory, a more subtle point that the appellants had made remains: which is that the closer the amending process in a Constitution gets to the primary constituent power, the less role there is for judicial intervention through the basic structure doctrine. To this, Mr. Havi replied that the four-step sequential process was what provided the wedge between constitutional amendment and constitutional repeal. The four-step sequential process – which lay outside the Constitution – kicked in only when what was being attempted was constitutional repeal (express, or through necessary implication). Thus, no matter how close an amendment process came to approximating the primary constituent power, when what was being done was not an amendment at all, but a repeal, it became necessary to look outside the Constitution in order to find the power for such an action; because, recall – Mr. Havi argued – that the primary constituent power is the power to frame, re-frame, or repeal a Constitution, and must therefore lie outside of it.
On the involvement of the President in the popular initiative, Mr. Havi inverted the argument made by the Appellants: he asked, instead, where in the Constitution was the President granted the power to involve himself in the popular initiative process. This emphasises the point that I made in yesterday’s blog post: the popular initiative dispute is, at the end of the day, a dispute about how to interpret a constitutional silence, and will turn upon what the Court thinks is the purpose of Article 257. If the Court thinks that the purpose of Article 257 is to establish bottom-up direct democracy, it will exclude the President; if, however, it does not view Article 257 in that manner, it may not do so.
In the final set of arguments for the day, Elias Mutuma addressed submissions on Presidential involvement in the popular initiative – again, responding specifically to the appellants’ core point that in the absence of any constraining provision, the President should be deemed to have the power as part of the normal exercise of his constitutional rights. While it was true – Mr. Mutuma argued – that the People had delegated sovereign power to the President, it was important to note that what had been delegated was executive, not legislative power; thus, to the extent that the President wanted to legislate (and constitutional reform through the Popular Initiative was a form of legislation), he needed express authorisation under the Constitution. A constitutional silence, thus, would need to be interpreted against the President.
Mr. Mutuma went on to make a fascinating argument about the nature of the popular initiative, and when it could be deemed to commence. Under Article 257 – he noted – the People had to be involved with enacting the constitutional reform in question. This envisaged an active role for the People right from the beginning, and not simply a situation where the People were just given a constitutional reform proposal to endorse or reject. Thus, the mere fact that there was a reform proposal with one million signatures did not ipso facto mean that the requirements of Article 257 had been fulfilled.
I want to pause for a moment and reflect upon the deep roots of this argument in democratic theory. Article 257 of the Kenyan Constitution – as I’ve argued before – is a particularly important provision in how it seeks to infuse direct democracy into the constitutional amendment process. Direct democracy itself, however, can be of two kinds, depending upon whether the citizenry is to be treated as passive consumers of laws, or active participants in their enactment. In the former situation, the political elite continue to devise and frame the laws, with the “direct” role of the People being limited to (mostly) accepting them by acclamation, or (rarely) turning them down. In the latter situation, however, the involvement of the People is deeper, and begins from the moment of the devising of laws. Mr. Mutuma argued that Article 257 envisioned the latter conception of direct democracy, and this would have an impact (a) on the question of when the Popular Initiative could have been deemed to have begun, and (b) on the scope of public participation. Incidentally, it would also have an impact on the question of Presidential involvement: it is far more difficult to justify Presidential involvement if the purpose of Article 257 is to empower an active citizenry to play a front-stage role from the get-go. Top-down, led initiatives are in fundamental conflict with this vision of direct democracy.
Finally, Mr. Mutuma posed a hypothetical: if this was a pre-constitutional moment, and the 2010 Constitution was being submitted for ratification, would the procedure under Article 257 be deemed sufficient? He argued that it would not, and that was why the four-step sequential process – which provided for a deeper and more sustained level of public participation – was justified. Arguments for the day were then concluded by Caroline Jerono, who argued that as all the terms in Article 257 (Bill, Amendment, Suggestion) were in the singular, it was a strong indication in favour of the thematic unity approach to referendum questions.
This brings us to the close of day 2 of the hearings. By now, it is evident that the battle lines have been drawn, and the points of conflict are beginning to appear in a clearer fashion. Tomorrow should bring the curtains down upon the case, and leave us with a clear sense of the issues on which this case will finally turn.
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