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Kenya’s Electoral Crisis: The Political Culture of Tricksters and Masks

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Kenya’s Electoral Crisis: The Political Culture of Tricksters and Masks

Political culture is an elusive creature. It is pervasive but invisible, like the oxygen that energizes our social organization and economy. It is also colorless and odorless, the carbon monoxide that suffocates the public interest. Like the quanta of particle physics, it inhabits a difficult to pinpoint state straddling legal-constitutional rationality and people’s behavioral orientations. The oil that lubricates the wheels of power, it is also the glue that holds the system together. Red in tooth and claw, it is an essential component of peaceful coexistence.

An agricultural economist colleague once asked me, ‘all this insight into culture you anthropologists generate is fascinating, but what are we supposed to do with it?” There are no simple answers to this question, but we can try.

 

1. Political Culture Defined

Political culture is formally defined as the “set of attitudes, beliefs and sentiments that give order and meaning to a political process, including the underlying assumptions and rules that govern political behavior. The dean of political culture studies, Gabriel Almond, cited the terribly destructive “irrational” events of twentieth century like the World Wars and the Holocaust to underscore its importance, in contrast to rationality, for explaining social life.

The concept’s lineage dates back Plato who used it to explain the dispositions differentiating Greek city-states like Athens and Sparta. This comparative approach is often more useful for practical purposes than for diagnosing the intricacies of a given political system. The contrasts between the political cultures in this region, for example, can be a useful entry point for examining the different pathways nations are traveling in search of adaptive governance as well as the usual historical, environmental and other parameters guiding the journey. This in turn connects to the idea political culture is a useful indicator of the system’s health, viability, and most distinctive features.

Political culture is formally defined as the “set of attitudes, beliefs and sentiments that give order and meaning to a political process, including the underlying assumptions and rules that govern political behavior.

Ethiopia, for example, presents a very strong internalized sense of order. This helps account for why, after Mengistu’s regime fell, the country continued to function normally for two weeks without a government. Civil servants went to their offices and the business of ordinary life continued without disruption and looting. This not to say violence is alien to the country; the sustained bloodshed of the red and white terror is hardly ancient history and the government has shown itself to be quite adept at using force to leverage its objectives. The state does go about it in a more organized fashion than neighboring countries, and the same can be said for the civilians: as one acquaintance in Addis Ababa informed me, “we let these guys do their thing for a long time but when things reach a certain point we pick up our weapons and get rid of them.”

Abyssinian imperial tradition helps explain this particular set of attitudes and values, especially in contrast to the conflicts raging in neighboring South Sudan and Somalia. The example of Somaliland, in contrast, contradicts the notion that lineage based societies are conducive to clan-based violence.

The more self-explanatory aspects of the term are expressed in familiar truisms like the ‘culture of impunity’ or ‘subculture of violence, and tired clichés like ‘there are no permanent friends or enemies’, and ‘politics is a dirty game’, or more homegrown expressions like ‘to slip is not to fall’ one hears in Kenya. These indicators of modern political culture underscore the rupture between the more seamless quality traditional African political cultures and the contemporary variations that replaced them, including the culture of unchecked power and domination.

 

2. In Search of African Political Culture

Cultural exemplars are typically context-specific, by nature a derivative of culture proper, and of which Africa has long been a rich reservoir. In general, African cultures established clear boundaries between generations and groups, defined clear mechanisms for participation, and incorporated belief in higher powers and recognized the agency of forces operating outside the natural world. Politics was for the most part embedded in the internal order of these societies and recognized the overlap between the material and the unseen world. The uncertainty embedded in the environment gave rise to mythical representations like the character of the trickster who was often represented by an animal, the most famous being Ananse the spider of Akan-Ashanti traditions.

Ethiopia, for example, presents a very strong internalized sense of order. This helps account for why, after Mengistu’s regime fell, the country continued to function normally for two weeks without a government. Civil servants went to their offices and the business of ordinary life continued without disruption and looting.

Leadership was often distributed across generations and genders, though less so in the case of women in many societies, and included pathways for integration and negotiation with other groups. Culture is by definition plastic and adaptable, and institutions such as age grade organization and elders’ councils facilitated the transfer of problem-solving skills and wisdom across generations. In the areas that gave rise to centralized structures, kings operated more as managers and coordinators who oversaw the redistribution of resources; the culture of gift giving, dance and music, rituals and rights of passage featured prominently, as did the tradition of sacrifice to propitiate to the gods and the higher powers. Rainmakers and seers occupied a prominent position in many cultures. Violation of social rules and the unseen order could bring misfortune upon the individual and the group.

European intervention effectively deculturalized many areas of Africa with ramifications for post-colonial governance. The problem was most acute in Anglophone countries. In a recent article in the Guardian, Chizidie Obioma describes colonialism as a process where “the civilisations of the peoples, their various cultures and traditions, their religions, political philosophies and institutions” were effectively hollowed out.

In any event, the transfer of state institutions at independence came with the attendant problems of fossilized ethnic identities, marginalization of indigenous institutions, detention without trial, and other repressive mechanisms adopted by the new state elites. The pattern coincides with multiple other examples in developing regions where political culture is often reducible to the influence invested in national elites. The following decades saw diverse attempts to reconstitute a national political culture based on different ideologies including efforts to indigenize the Marxist orientation behind many liberation movements.

One analyst explained the political culture of democratic transition in Latin American countries by underscoring the link between the material aspirations of the general public and the goal of replicating the greater opportunity and ability enjoyed by the wealthy classes. This equates to the quest for democracy incentivized by material success. The caveat here is that for generations, that region’s political culture was shaped by the contest between ‘the people’ and small cartels shaping their nation’s key political institutions and controlling most of the wealth. These conditions gave rise to Neo-Marxist models that were exported to Africa in the form of dependency theory and critiques of neo-colonialism, but the political culture they fed elsewhere never really took root in African soil.

In general, African cultures established clear boundaries between generations and groups, defined clear mechanisms for participation, and incorporated belief in higher powers and recognized the agency of forces operating outside the natural world.

The African socialism of that era was a convenient catchall term. Julius Nyerere’s Ujumaa was arguably the most serious attempt to inculcate a political culture based on indigenous tradition. The idea of African socialism was a common meme across the continent after independence, but took different forms. The African Socialism featuring in Kenya’s Sessional Paper No. 10 provided a convenient wrapper for expanding the inequality associated with the country’s agrarian capitalism, while others like Kwame Nkrumah parlayed the term into a vehicle for grandiose infrastructural projects. On more than one occasion civil servants explained it to me by saying, ‘we Africans like to socialize so we get together somewhere and share beer and talk’.

The centralized system behind Syad Barre’s contrived concept of hantiwadaag, or camel-sharing, scientific socialism was another example. During the early years of his rule Syad Barre sincerely attempted to extrapolate his hantiwadaag socialism into economic reality by nationalizing most of the country’s formal sector economy and by devoting a third of the government budget to setting up a system of agricultural cooperatives, including a pilot scheme of fourteen cooperatives for herders based on the allocation of grazing blocks and drilling boreholes for water. His most ambitious cooperative-based project was the conversion of 90,000 drought stricken nomads into fisherman. Other initiatives including processing facilities for milk, meat and fish canning, and sugar enjoyed a measure of success during the 1970s before everything unraveled following his ill-fated support for the occupation of the Ogaden.

In the end, the political culture of irredentism triumphed over the scientific management of national resources. Such case studies provide ammunition for academic critics who regard “the very concept of political culture as epiphenomenal and superfluous,” according one scholar based at the University of Warwick. Even so, the idea keeps on coming back.

In 2009 I participated in a research project entitled Political Culture, Governance, and the State in Africa. Our objective was to examine the influence of political culture across the continent. We recruited a diverse collection of academics and analysts to explore how culture and politics interact, and the import of political culture in African societies where institutionalization is weak and emergent national political cultures reflect a variety of diverse influences and forces.

I reviewed and read close to sixty papers, many of which were interesting, well documented, and insightful. Some featured captivating but complicated titles; one of my favorites was African Cultural Political Renaissance: Strategies, Identities, Ambiguities, And Confrontations. Quite a few were also dense, abstract, and not easy to read. They invariably illuminated the culture of politics in diverse African settings and contexts from South Africa to Tunisia, and discussed issues from the role of the military, to capacity building and indigenous conflict management. However, none of them directly addressed the basic thesis that sought to pin down how political culture articulates within African settings to influence political processes and their outcomes.

The same proved true during our three-day meeting, despite the project’s curator, Professor Abdalla Bujra, attempts to steer discussion toward this end. The case studies demonstrated that culture is integral to politics, and that governance draws from a variety of sources both within a given national arena and from without. The practice of socialism, democracy, participatory governance, and resource redistribution as well as relentless exploitation and opportunism all have precedents on the communal level. Pluralism is the problem; the richness of indigenous political culture contrasts with the poverty of its institutional counterparts. They negate each other in a manner that tended to make the conclusions of the papers amorphous in the end.

Perhaps this was understandable insofar as it is difficult too isolate the contribution of political culture when one is so immersed in the chase, so to speak. Culture is like camouflage, and its influence derives from its ability to blend so well into the background.

The practice of socialism, democracy, participatory governance, and resource redistribution as well as relentless exploitation and opportunism all have precedents on the communal level.

But there are success stories. The unrecognized Republic of Somaliland’s retreat from the brink of civil war through protracted dialogue is one such exemplar that underscores the utility of inclusive participation. The long discussions among clan elders in Boramo received most of the attention, but the contribution of organizations with names like Moonlight and Havioko that served as conduits for women and youth were equally critical to the emergence of a political culture aligned with the society’s internal cultural endowment.

Still, the shift from democratically inspired liberation movements to democratic governance has been a major problem as most other cases illustrate. The contrast between Eritrea’s remarkable guerilla campaign and the dictatorship of Isias Afworki is probably the most extreme case, and as one South African commentator details, a supportive political cultural is essential for democracy to work.

 

3. Identity, Culture, and Power

I came across an interesting commentary by Jens-Martin Eriksen and Frederik Stjernfelt on culturalism and politics while doing research for our political culture conference. The culturalism argument they address is predicated on the view that individuals are determined by their culture, and that cultures have a claim to special rights and protections even if at the same time they violate individual rights. This is the ‘each culture in its own place, each culture in its own country’ right-wing response to multiculturalism and globalization.

Any politically aware individual alive and breathing today will recognize how the issue of identity-based politics has gained traction since the time of our meeting. The American political scientist, Samuel Huntington, captured the essence of these developments in 2004 when he predicted that we are entering a time when what you support will not matter as much as who you are.

The problem in Africa is that African constitutions … are easily ripped up or ignored because the real charter organizing political life is a nation’s power map, which typically reflects ethnic identity and who controls the state.

This has been the default in Africa for quite some time, where many cultures ended up sharing the same political space. Who you are and where you were born often has a direct impact on individual and group prospects and opportunities. The departing colonialists assumed that the transfer of Western political institutions and legal institutions would solve the problem. The problem in Africa is that African constitutions, according Kenya’s illustrious legal scholar, H.W.O. Okoth-Ogendo, are easily ripped up or ignored because the real charter organizing political life is a nation’s power map, which typically reflects ethnic identity and who controls the state.

Change through legal and institutional methods is gaining ground, but there is a long way to go. When institutions lack autonomy and rule of law is weak, political culture functions as a system of unwritten codes and principles. Rules continue to be defined by the political elite, and this is often the case even when they are not in power.

This form of political culture is as much about assumptions as values. There are rules of thumb, like the common meme that ‘no incumbent government loses an election before its constitutional term has expired’. Acceptance of this assumption leads to the familiar discourse that treats the government of the day and the opposition as different sides of the same coin.

The authors of the culturalism essay cover similar terrain when they ask why the left is unable to muster their intellectual powers to counter the culturalism of the right. Erikson and Stjernfelt observe that this is due to the fact that “they allow themselves to be blinded by the same cultural views as their homologous opponents: they are themselves culturalists.” The inability to recognize their similarities limits to their ability to analyse their opponents’ position.

In the African context, the same problem translates into the often-cited view that criticism of the management of the political process is a self-serving ploy to advance the interests of the opposition’s ethnic coalition at the expense of national development. Even though they claim to represent reform and renewal, says the government in power, they subscribe to the same political culture as we do. In Kenya, the period of coalition government following the 2007 electoral meltdown added substance to this narrative.

Kenyan political campaigns typically use this ‘we are the same but they are poor and hungry’ discourse to deflect attention from issues of misrule and corruption. During the 2017 campaigns, the Presidential contenders broke new ground by skipping the debates organized by the national media houses. This confirmed the sad reality that in Kenya elections, it is the method more than the theory that determines the outcome.

 

4. The Political Culture of Tricksters and Masks

The root meaning of siasa, the Swahili term for politics, is order. The brutal but more clinical use of state violence referred to in the Ethiopian example above conforms to this definition of politics. In many other cases, the meaning of the term is inverted.

In a 2002 volume entitled Criminalization of the African State, Francois Bayart, Stephen Ellis, and Beatrice Hibou (2002) provide a deeper analysis of the pathologies of African governance. Bayart’s contribution explores the role of the trickster archetype, which appeared particularly relevant to Moi’s style of leadership. In Africa Works: Disorder as Political Instrument, an earlier volume in the same series, Patrick Chabal and Jean Pascal Daloz detail how disorder and violence are used to maintain the neo-patrimonial status quo. They explore the darker side of the forces unleashed by the mandarins of the neo-liberal political economy and pour cold water on the idea that the likes of civil society and structural reforms will lead to improved governance.

The advancement of political culture in these analyses tends to form a circular relationship with institutional development, posing a chicken-and-egg question of which comes first. The problem makes it tempting to advocate for more soft power and support for artistic works and civic education in order to advance the cause.

Some of my academic colleagues do not like this line of analysis, but they miss the fact that it is, for many nations, an unavoidable stage in Africa’s political development. The authors of these analyses do not posit this state of affairs is the endpoint, or a permanent condition. They push us to look deeper and to disentangle the complicated role of culture at the intersection of politics and economy.

Almond and his acolytes cloak the concept of political culture in discussions of political socialization, loyalty and human identity, the cultivation of civic virtue, historical determinants explaining the variations among political traditions, and the ‘ordered subjective realm of politics’ which gives meaning to the polity and discipline to institutions. The advancement of political culture in these analyses tends to form a circular relationship with institutional development, posing a chicken-and-egg question of which comes first. The problem makes it tempting to advocate for more soft power and support for artistic works and civic education in order to advance the cause. Of course, this is part of the solution. But interpreting what transpires in the shadows is more useful than the positivism of the Anglo-American tradition at this stage of the game.

Kenyans have consistently associated events like the departure of Moi and the passage of a new constitution with a new political dispensation, but the trickster never left. The instrumentalisation of disorder to serve political ends is still part of the game, as the 2017 elections indicated once again.

The electoral chicanery disrupting the past three electoral cycles has become part of the country’s culture of politics, and in turn encouraged resort to disorder and civil disobedience by the opposition to combat it. One cannot be separated from the other even though the intentional use of disorder justifies the opposition’s efforts to fight back. These elections have traumatized the economy and body politic while cloaking the very idea of national unity in verbal abuse and blood.

The angst conveyed by Wafula Chebukati in the wake of the flawed elections of last August mirrored the horror of his predecessor Samuel Kivuitu ten years earlier. The mocking visage of the Electoral Commission’s executive, Ezra Chiloba, in contrast, signified how shameless in contrast the Masters of Deception have become. His glib explanation for the Commission’s colossal failings, dished out to an incredulous public, remade him into a poster boy for the shadow school of analysis—or perhaps more accurately, the mask concealing the venality of the usual suspects.

Kenya’s elections have become masquerades that integrate all of these functions. Chiloba put on his mask and played God with the country’s future.

Like the trickster archetype, the mask has a long pedigree in human culture. The ancients believed masks imbued the wearer with some kind of unimpeachable authority. In rituals, masks allow humans to assume the role of the gods, or to lend credence to a person’s claim on a given social role. Kenya’s elections have become masquerades that integrate all of these functions. Chiloba put on his mask and played God with the country’s future.

National elections are participatory cultural spectacles that begin with hope but end in tragedy. Episodic incidents of electoral violence, political assassinations, and mass protests turned violent are predictable features of Kenya’s political arena. From the perspective of Kenya’s political culture, these episodes have also acted as kafara – blood sacrifices – that primed the system to accept change before plunging the nation into the kind of full-scale conflict experienced by neighboring states.

The 2017 version, however, was different. The Supreme Court parted the clouds long enough to establish an important precedent. The battle took place in the courts instead of the streets this time around. Those who found the confirmation of what is in effect a nusu kikombe instead of a nusu-mkate government—whether or not the glass is half empty or half-full is irrelevant at this juncture[1]—a cause for celebration are deluding themselves. The fat lady did not sing this time around.

 

[1] The coalition government that emerged out of the post-electoral violence of 2008 is often referred to as nusu-mkate, or a half-loaf government due to the division of positions between the two parties.

Mr. Goldsmith is an American researcher and writer who has lived in Kenya for over 40 years.

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DEBT AND TAXES: Kenya is living large on borrowed money

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DEBT AND TAXES: Kenya is living large on borrowed money

Kenya’s fiscal policy – the means by which the government adjusts its spending levels, revenue generation and collection, and debt to monitor and influence the economy- has been a defining feature of the current administration. The three have been characterised by almost consistent features and trends.

Some background information is useful. Kenya has had an annual growth rate of about 5.46 percent from 2004 until 2016. Initially, the economy was slated to grow at around 6 percent in 2017 but this has since been revised to 5 percent. According to Genghis Capital, it will actually be between 4.25- 4.75 percent due to the drought-induced contraction in agriculture, the negative effects of the interest rate cap on the financial sector and the prolonged electioneering period. The Government thinks the economy will grow by over 6 percent next year though the World Bank projects a lower rebound to 5.8 percent in 2018 and 6.1 percent in 2019.

Kenya’s economy is primarily services driven and according to the Kenya National Bureau of Statistics (KNBS), under the Kenyatta administration, growth has largely been on the back of government spending on infrastructure projects such as the Standard Gauge Railway (SGR), the expansion of the road network as well as electricity generation and transmission projects. Other significant contributors to growth include a resurgent tourism industry and growth in information and communication, real estate and transport and storage.

Over the past 6 years, government spending has grown at an average of 14.7 percent, yet revenue growth has only increased by 12.7 percent. Under the current administration, spending has gone up by two-thirds, from Sh1.6 trillion in 2013/14 to Sh2.64 trillion in 2017/18.

Back to fiscal policy, we will address each component separately: expenditure, revenue generation and collection, and borrowing.

EXPENDITURE

Over the past 6 years, government spending has grown at an average of 14.7 percent, yet revenue growth has only increased by 12.7 percent. Under the current administration, spending has gone up by two-thirds, from Sh1.6 trillion in 2013/14 to Sh2.64 trillion in 2017/18. While some of this can be explained by inflation reducing the value of money, there is a consistent trend of notable increases in government spending.

Public spending as a % of GDP

(Source: Institute of Economic Affairs)

 

A fundamental problem in analysing fiscal policy at both national and county levels is determining the intended recurrent vs development budgets and comparing these to the actual expenditure pattern. The image below from the Institute of Economic Affairs Kenya (IEA) details this for the National Government:

Share of Recurrent and Development Budgets in Total MDA Budget.
(Source: Institute of Economic Affairs)

Overall, two key trends are clear, the first of which is that the national budget is still geared towards recurrent spending. Indeed, as the Treasury itself has admitted in the past, recurrent expenditure is reaching unsustainable levels.

There are several factors behind this aggressive growth in expenditure, the first of which is devolution. In 2010 Kenyans enacted a new constitution, which established a bicameral Parliament and 47 county governments. At the beginning of the implementation of devolution, a parliamentary report indicated that it would cost at least Sh36 billion to set up. Prior to devolution, it cost Sh6.6 billion per year to run Parliament, but that figure is expected to rise to Sh14.3 billion. The Parliamentary Budget Office has also stated that it will cost Sh21.75 billion annually to run the 47 county assemblies. Thus, while welcome, the reality is that devolution is expensive.

At the beginning of the implementation of devolution, a parliamentary report indicated that it would cost at least Sh36 billion to set up. Prior to devolution it cost Sh6.6 billion per year to run Parliament, but that figure is expected to rise to Sh14.3 billion. The Parliamentary Budget Office has also stated that it will cost Sh21.75 billion annually to run the 47 county assemblies. Thus while welcome, the reality is that devolution is expensive.

Linked to the point above is the public wage bill which, according to the Salaries and Remuneration Commission (SRC), has ballooned from Sh465 billion when the Kenyatta administration took over to Sh627 billion in the 2015/2016 financial year, an annual average growth of 9 per cent. SRC’s projections show that it will be Sh676 billion in 2016/2017. Earlier this year, the International Monetary Fund (IMF) raised concerns, stating that Kenya is among countries that exhibit large increases in the wage bill, particularly in the run-up to elections. IMF is of the view that given Kenya’s rising debt levels (more on this later) the decision to increase spending on public sector wages is a concern as less funds are left over for economically productive development expenditure. The SRC pooh-poohed the IMF’s concerns, stating that wages were actually falling as a proportion of GDP: from 10.3 per cent in 2012/2013 to 9.5 per cent in 2015/2016.

A second factor behind the growth in expenditure, which the government has been eager to finger as the primary reason, has been the investment in infrastructure. According to the Capital Markets Authority (CMA), Kenya’s current estimated infrastructure funding gap is USD 2-3 billion per year over the next 10 years. To address this, government has allocated nearly a third of total budget expenditure to infrastructure between the 2016/17 and 2019/20 financial years.

The World Bank makes the point that the infrastructure investment drive in Kenya needs to be done in a way that is both efficient and sustainable. With such a robust commitment, key questions must be asked. For example, is Kenya investing in the right infrastructure? The Brookings Institution makes the point that a push for more infrastructure only raises economic growth and people’s well-being if the focus is on quality and impact, rather than quantity and volume. Has Kenya fallen short here? Has the government conducted an audit of infrastructure investment and the development it has engendered thus far? Has there been an audit of its quality? How efficient is our investment? Without an answer to these questions, the country risks wasting resources on aggressive infrastructure expenditure that generates no real benefits for its people.

Indeed, the link between infrastructure and economic growth is more tenuous than previously assumed. According to the London School of Economics, most recent studies on infrastructure’s contribution to growth tend to find smaller effects than those reported in earlier studies; this is linked to improvements in methodological approaches. Kenya, therefore, shouldn’t assume that infrastructure investment and development will automatically lead to significant improvements in economic growth. It is time for a fundamental rethink of the scale, nature and efficiency of the government’s spending on infrastructure.

Kenya, therefore, shouldn’t assume that infrastructure investment and development will automatically lead to significant improvements in economic growth. It is time for a fundamental rethink of the scale, nature and efficiency of the government’s spending on infrastructure.

The final issue regarding expenditure is linked to the mismanagement of public funds at both national and county levels. At the national level, allegations of corruption and financial mismanagement are legion and include: the National Youth Service (NYS) affair where the Auditor General stated a loss of Sh1.9 billion; Sh5.2 billion misappropriated at the Ministry of health according to an in-house audit report; mobile clinics valued at Sh1.4 million each being sold to the government at more than 7 times the price then abandoned in an NYS yard; inflated rig charges at the Geothermal Development Company (GDC) in which the Ethics and Anti-Corruption Commission (EACC) found the tender committee culpable and six managers were sent on compulsory leave.

At county level, there are rising concerns with expenditure considering that the national government has sent to the counties more than Sh1 trillion since their establishment in 2013. Research by the International Budget Partnership Kenya (IBPK) reveals that county governments are not making available fiscal documents required by the Public Financial Management Act (PFMA). Only about 20 percent of key budget documents, including fiscal expenditure documents, meant to be online had been uploaded. Indeed, IBPK reports that in some cases, budget allocations are based on lists of projects drawn up by Members of County Assemblies (MCAs). There is no clarity on the criteria governing such allocations, and even less clarity on how county funds are actually spent. There is a distinct air of mischief informing this laxity. It is not a secret that the first iteration of devolution revealed how much autonomy county governments have in the planning and use of funds they receive and generate. This lack of transparency seems to be aimed at facilitating a culture of financial mismanagement and corruption at the county level in an environment where, frankly, no one is holding them accountable.

Further, county governments see themselves as expenditure units, not development units. This needs to change. Rather than concentrating on how much they have to spend, they ought to focus on the development dividends they are responsible for generating. Without this fundamental shift in thinking, county governments will continue to be like spoilt children, forever crying over what they are owed, but with nothing to show for the development they ought to deliver.

For example, 16 firms listed on the Nairobi Stock Exchange issued profit warnings in 2016, which meant less corporation tax could be collected. Additionally, the 7000 jobs lost to downsizing and shuttering of firms, mainly in the banking sector, reduced Pay As You Earn receipts.

The greatest concern beyond the moral question of the financial mismanagement of the public funds of a poor African country, is the issue of how corruption affects spending efficiency. As will be explained later, Kenya is getting into significant debt, particularly to finance development expenditure. If such debt is not being used as efficiently as possible and instead funds are stolen or dubiously spent, the country will be saddled with onerous debt without he means – the improvements in economic performance that were to come from debt financed development projects – to pay it.

Given the factors detailed above, there are several broad changes that ought to be made. At national level, the first recommendation is for government to commit more money to development expenditure and put more effort into actually absorbing the allocations given to the docket.

Secondly, the national government ought to be more consistent in the manner in which it presents data and should make it easier to track planned versus actual expenditure, particularly across the recurrent and development dockets.

Thirdly, large allocations to infrastructure projects need to be audited and a determination made on the effectiveness of the allocations, how funds can be better spent and recommendations on how to improve efficiency.

Finally, national government has to clamp down on financial mismanagement and prosecute and punish culpable officials. Without this, the government’s commitment to ending corruption will be seen as insincere and ineffective.

At county level, there are several issues that ought to be addressed the first of which is that there needs to be a very clear hierarchy of accountability for county expenditure. Governors and the County Ministers of Finance must be held accountable for their spending and individuals need to be punished if found guilty of corruption.

Secondly, counties must comply with the PFMA and provide breakdowns of their expenditure which includes a delineation between recurrent and development expenditure.

Thirdly, the principle of fiscal discipline should carry considerable weight when national government makes county allocations such that responsible use of resources is rewarded and poor performers are punished.

Finally, a citizen-led effort to create a ranking of county governments according to fiscal transparency with a focus on expenditure would likely create pressure on county governments to adhere to their legal obligations. Included in the ranking should be how well they comply with PFMA stipulations, with the top and bottom performers widely publicised.

REVENUE GENERATION AND COLLECTION

Kenya Revenue Authority (KRA) has been falling short of its revenue targets for some time. For example, in 2016/17 total collection stood at Sh1.365 trillion representing a performance rate of 95.4 percent, and a shortfall of Sh66.64 billion- a significant number. In the first four months of this fiscal year, KRA has already fallen behind by Sh40 billion. There are questions as to why revenue collection consistently underperforms. I am of the view that KRA is given unrealistic targets, more informed by aggressive increases in government expenditure and oblivious to the serious constraints that mute tax collection.

Without this fundamental shift in thinking, county governments will continue to be like spoilt children, forever crying over what they are owed, but with nothing to show for the development they ought to deliver.

Revenue generation targets tend to be revised upwards over the course of the year. KRA’s original revenue target for the 2016/17 was Sh1.415 trillion which was later revised to Sh1.431 trillion, an increase of KES 16.24 billion. This is a concern because motivations behind the increases in targets are not clear. Do they perhaps stem from a realisation in Treasury that it cannot raise as much as anticipated in borrowing?

The second constraint is that the macroeconomic environment informs the extent to which revenues deviate from targets. For example, it is estimated that a 1 percent reduction in GDP growth reduces revenue by Sh13.4 billion and as noted earlier, this has been something of a tough year. A similar increase in inflation also requires that revenue targets be raised by Sh13 billion.

This is linked to sectoral issues which can affect the ability of KRA to collect tax. For example, 16 firms listed on the Nairobi Stock Exchange issued profit warnings in 2016 –a rising trend since 2013– which meant less corporation tax could be collected. Additionally, the 7000 jobs lost to downsizing and shuttering of firms, mainly in the banking sector, reduced Pay As You Earn receipts.

Third, government policy decisions, particularly those related to tax policy, affect the ability to generate revenue. For example, the non-implementation of changes to specific excise rates in 2016/17 reduced revenues by nearly Sh5 billion. Additionally, the duty-free importation of essential foods (maize, milk, sugar) led to a revenue loss of over Sh4 billion in the fourth quarter of the same financial year. Indeed, it is estimated that government policy decisions cost it Sh13 billion in lost revenue that entire year. The government tends to shoot itself in the foot in other ways too. For example, delays in remitting income tax from public institutions costs it Sh823 million.

Finally, revenue generation and collection in Kenya like the rest of Africa is negatively affected by illicit financial flows from the country. According to the UN, Africa loses more than US$50 billion through illicit financial outflows per year. Companies evade and avoid tax by shifting profits to low tax locations, claiming large allowable deductions, carrying losses forward indefinitely, and using transfer pricing.

The main reason why consistent subpar revenue collection is worrying is because the national treasury continues to construct budgets based on the unrealistic targets. For example, revenue generated was meant to play a bigger role in the current budget, financing 60.7 percent of the overall deficit and 58.7 percent of the development expenditure. Since it appears as though targets will again not be met, government will have to borrow more than anticipated.

 

There ought to be fundamental rethink of revenue generation and collection in order to effect a sustained increase. There are several factors to address, the first of which is improvements in the business environment that increase profits and thus taxable revenue. A key component that is often ignored here is the environment for the informal economy. Current assessments largely ignore the sector in which 90 percent of employed Kenyans earn a living. More ought to be done to make informal businesses more profitable.

At the same time, the government ought to seek to expand the revenue base by encouraging the formalisation of these businesses. Concerted efforts must be undertaken to pilot schemes that remove barriers to – and create incentives for – formalisation, particularly of larger businesses that easily evade tax yet are robust enough to consistently pay.

As recommended by the Africa Progress Report 2013, alongside demanding the highest standards of propriety and disclosure from their government, Kenyans should push citizens of the developed world to demand similar standards from their governments and companies.

Finally, Kenya needs to work on curbing illicit financial outflows. The UN makes the point that G8 leaders have committed to the 2013 Lough Erne Declaration, a 10-point statement calling for an overhaul of corporate transparency rules. Among other things, the declaration urges tax authorities to automatically share information to fight evasion. It states that poor countries should have the information and capacity to collect the taxes owed to them. Kenya should join other African countries in lobbying rich countries to enact stricter laws against tax evasion. As recommended by the Africa Progress Report 2013, alongside demanding the highest standards of propriety and disclosure from their government, Kenyans should push citizens of the developed world to demand similar standards from their governments and companies.

BORROWING AND DEBT

In 2013, the Jubilee administration inherited a debt of Sh1.7 trillion after a decade of the Kibaki government. Less than 5 years later, that has ballooned by nearly 250 percent to Sh4.4 trillion. This year’s borrowing has been particularly aggressive. The Central Bank of Kenya (CBK) says that the government is borrowing an average of Sh86 billion per month, the highest level since the bank started listing public debt in 1999, and over Sh30 billion more than the monthly averages of 2015 and 2016.

Despite this, it seems the government’s debt appetite won’t wane any time soon. The Treasury recently announced that it is seeking to issue another Eurobond, which could be used to repay the outstanding US$750 million syndicated loan the government raised in 2015 and which came due in October. What seems to be clear is that given expanding expenditure and subpar revenue collection, borrowing from both foreign and domestic sources will continue to grow. Further, as a Bloomberg analyst points out, Kenya has among the highest debt levels in sub-Saharan Africa, partly a result of having neither the commodity revenue sources of Nigeria and Angola nor the budget support from donor countries enjoyed by neighbouring Tanzania and Uganda.

Before looking at the specific features of Kenya’s debt, it is important to state that debt itself is not necessarily a problem. If used wisely, it can fund investment into activities and projects that catalyse economic development, GDP growth and growth in per capita incomes. Concerns only start being raised when the pattern of debt accrual and servicing seems headed in an unsustainable direction. If expenditure is growing in the context of muted revenue generation, that creates momentum for more debt than cannot be sustainably serviced. Further, if debt is not used efficiently and linked to increases in productivity and GDP growth, it also saddles countries with burdensome repayments. At the moment, Kenya is on the cusp where the government can either take decisive action to put the country on a better debt path, or continue with current trends that are edging the country closer to an unsustainable position.

 

The IEA points out that as of June 2012, total public debt was composed of 52.9 percent domestic debt and 47.1 percent external debt. However, the share of external debt has been steadily growing and recent statistics show that today the situation is reversed, with external debt taking up more than half (52.3 percent) of total debt.

The National Treasury Report 2015 indicates that the external debt stock for Kenya is composed of multilateral debt (54.7 percent), bilateral debt (27.1 percent), export credits (1.5 percent), commercial banks (0.6 percent) and International Sovereign Bonds (16.1 percent). As the IEA points out, a large part of the external debt remains concessional (i.e. on terms substantially more generous than market loans) and mainly from multilateral creditors; however, the share of concessional loans has been falling over the last three years which means external debt is becoming ever more expensive for the country.

There are several factors affecting the composition of debt, the first of which is Treasury’s desire to reduce domestic borrowing in order to release domestic credit for the private sector. This was a major reason given for issuing the Eurobond. As shown by the statistics above, he government has stayed true to this intent in some ways. However, the cap on interest rates introduced last year, has perversely facilitated government’ ability to raise domestic debt as banks, reluctant to lend to the general public due to profit margin and risk concerns, have more aggressively pursued government securities. The attractiveness of government debt is thus pushing the domestic private sector out of the domestic debt market, which contradicts government’s original intent.

The Central Bank of Kenya (CBK) notes that the government is borrowing an average of Sh86 billion per month, the highest level since the bank started listing public debt in 1999, and over Sh30 billion more than the monthly averages of 2015 and 2016.

It is important to note that, as reported in The Standard, World Bank data indicates that the average grace period on repaying new external debt has shrunk by half in the last four years. On average, in 2013, the country was given 8.2 years before starting to repay loans. This had reduced to 4.6 years by 2016. Shorter grace periods reduce the government’s room for flexibility and could be an indicator of jittery lenders keen on getting their money back as soon as possible. Indeed, Bank of America Merrill Lynch notes that Kenyan debt underperforms its peers as evidenced by the fact that yield premiums over U.S. debt have not narrowed as much as those of other sub-Saharan debt. In short, Kenya is seen as riskier to lend to than other African countries.

Informed by the expansion in borrowing, Kenya’s fiscal deficit has also grown. Its ratio to GDP has widened significantly from 6.4 percent in 2013/14 to 10.4 percent in 2016/17. The IEA points out that the large increase in deficit partly reflected the financing of the first phase of Standard Gauge Railway (SGR) project.

Fiscal deficit as a percentage of GDP

Fiscal deficit as a percentage of GDP
(source: IEA)

The government is targeting a fiscal deficit of 5.9 percent of GDP, in the 2018/19 fiscal year, down from an estimated 7.3 percent this fiscal year. Others however do not expect this will be met. Genghis Capital thinks Kenya’s budget deficit for this fiscal year will likely reach 8 percent of GDP. Further, the government doesn’t always hit its fiscal deficit projections. Indeed, according to Cytonn Investments, in the 2016/2017 fiscal year, the government’s deficit actually widened to 8.3 percent of GDP, some way above its revised target of 6.9 percent. In any case, despite the efforts it may be making to reduce the deficit, current government targets and performance are still higher than its own preferred ceiling of 5 percent.

 

The IEA points out that as the amount of debt held increased, the cost of debt has also gone up with debt servicing increasing from about Sh19 billion in 1990 to Sh400 billion by the end of 2015. A larger component of debt servicing emanates from servicing of domestic debt, but since the proportion of domestic and external debt to GDP are almost at par, it may indicate that it is costlier to service the former.

Debt service 1980 – 2016, KES billions

Debt service 1980 – 2016, KES billions
(Source: IEA)

There are growing concerns as to how much revenue is being committed to servicing debt. In the first nine months of the 2015/16 financial year, the government spent four out of every 10 shillings it collected as tax to settle debts. In April, the IMF estimated Kenya’s debt-service to revenue-ratio at 34.7 percent against a threshold of 30 percent, and a report in the Business Daily pointed out that in the last fiscal year, the country spent more money to settle debt (Sh435.7 billion) than it did to finance development (Sh394.2 billion). If more and more revenue has to be locked into servicing debt, government will either have to ramp down spending on development (given the relatively fixed burden of recurrent expenditure) or borrow even more, none of which is good.

The IEA also notes that the ratio of debt to GDP rose from 40.7 percent in 2012 to 56.4 percent in June, which merited a ranking of 78 out of 138 countries on the World Economic Forum’s Global Competitiveness Index.

Government Budget and Public Debt as % of GDP

Government Budget and Public Debt as % of GDP
(Source: IEA); GDP is for full year (FY) and measured in thousands; * Provisional estimates

As borrowing continues to grow aggressively, it will lead to higher imbalances that will raise concerns about sustainability.

Views differ on whether Kenya’s debt is sustainable. Some are of the view that given the massive gaps in key sectors such as energy and transport infrastructure, the country must continue to do everything possible to finance and address the gaps and that debt accrued now will pay off in the long term. Kenya remains below the World Bank’s debt-to-GDP ratio ceiling (or tipping point) of 64 percent. The IMF, in its review of Kenya a year ago, said Kenya’s risk of external debt distress remains low but notes there is need for reduction in the deficit over the medium term. While the IMF has raised concerns about Kenya’s public debt, it is below what they view as the applicable ceiling for Kenya – 74 percent of GDP.

The IEA points out that as the amount of debt held increased, the cost of debt has also gone up with debt servicing increasing from about Sh19 billion in 1990 to Sh400 billion by the end of 2015.

Others, however, are of the view that a debt-to-GDP ratio beyond 40 percent for developing and emerging economies is dangerous. The IMF itself envisages fiscal consolidation that targets a 3.7 percent of GDP deficit by 2018/19 (compared to the government’s own target of 5.9 percent) which it says is critical to maintaining a low risk of debt distress while preserving fiscal space for development priorities.

I disagree with the Treasury’s assertions that the national debt is manageable and that there is headroom for more. Kenya’s debt is only manageable if decisive action is taken to reduce expenditure, boost revenue collection and reduce borrowing. If this does not happen within the next three years, the country will start feeling the effects of debt distress.

The credit rating agency Moody’s has already raised concerns about the country’s accumulating debt. Indeed, the agency is currently assessing whether it needs to downgrade the country’s credit rating from the current B1 status on grounds of its weakening ability to repay debt. Moody argues that unless a decisive policy response is introduced, the upward trajectory in government debt will see the debt-to-GDP ratio surpass the 60 percent mark by June 2018, pushing financing costs for the private sector even higher. Its assessment points to the fact that in the latest fiscal year, the government spent 19 percent of its revenues on interest payments alone, up from 10.7 percent five years ago. It notes that persistent, large, primary deficits and high borrowing costs continue to drive government indebtedness ever higher. Further, government liquidity pressures risk, the danger that the government may not have enough readily available cash to settle its immediate and short-term obligations, is rising in the face of increasingly large financing needs.

Another credit rating agency, Fitch, has also indicated that it could downgrade Kenya’s rating due to its debt position. Fitch noted that the country was spending a larger proportion of its revenue on paying debt compared to its economic peers such as Uganda, Rwanda and Ghana.

Fitch gave Kenya a B+ rating, with a negative outlook. These credit ratings are important as a fall in rating will mean any new foreign debt taken on by the country will be more expensive.

 

There are several broad strategies Kenya can use to better manage its debt the first of which is to aggressively reduce expenditure. Government must implement austerity budgets and limit unnecessary expenditure. I also think here should be a fundamental downward review of salaries of those in government. While those of technocrats such as Cabinet and Permanent Secretaries as well as professionals such teachers and doctors should remain attractive, there are far too many people in elected office on overly generous terms, and the related wage bill is not sustainable for a relatively poor African country.

Secondly, government needs to improve its recurrent vs development expenditure allocations. As elucidated before, year after year, more money is allocated to recurrent expenditure which is not economically productive. A reduction in recurrent expenditure is crucial and this can be partially addressed by a downward review in wages as explained above. The IEA points out that although in relative terms the proportion of recurrent expenditure to GDP has slightly declined while that of development expenditure has nearly doubled from 5.7 percent of GDP in 2007/8 to 11.0 percent in 2016/17, recurrent expenditure still remains comparatively high.

In April this year, the IMF estimated Kenya’s debt-service to revenue-ratio at 34.7 percent against a threshold of 30 percent, and a report in the Business Daily pointed out that in the 2016/17 fiscal year, the country spent more money to settle debt (Sh435.7 billion) than it did to finance development (Sh394.2 billion).

Development expenditure should be prioritised by considering projects which bring immediate returns to the economy. More money must be committed to spurring the growth required to pay debts, if Kenya is to avoid a repayment crisis.

Thirdly, government has to create strategies to ensure more development expenditure is absorbed. A November 2017 report by Controller of Budget showed the use of development funds for the financial year ending in June was at 70 percent, the highest since 2013. While this is good news and higher than the 66 per cent rate recorded in the previous year, it is not good enough. Indeed, the organisation Development Initiatives notes that the 2017/18 fiscal year actually saw a decline in total allocations to development spending by 12.3 percent, as a result of lower absorption of development spending by ministries in 2016/17. The problem is at both national and county levels. As Price Waterhouse Coopers points out, if the entire amount allocated is not being absorbed, it defeats the purpose of the budget especially around development expenditure. Given that the country is getting into a great deal of debt for development expenditure, it is crucial that absorption rates in this docket increase in order to spur economic growth.

Fourthly, government needs to better track how the debt which is financing the development docket, is being used. Given concerns with financial mismanagement of public funds at both national and county levels, it is crucial that the debt spending is meticulously tracked. This is because financial mismanagement of debt funds poses the dangerous risk of pushing the country into debt unsustainability as money is pocketed rather spent to generate growth.

 

CONCLUSION

This article has elucidated Kenya’s fiscal policy and position in terms of expenditure, revenue generation and debt accrual. It is important that the country reduces expenditure, increases revenue generation and better manages debt spending to put the country on a more sustainable fiscal path. We are in a position where Kenya’s fiscal health can be dramatically improved by taking decisive action as per the recommendations herein. It is my hope that the government takes the required action to improve the country’s fiscal path so that fiscal policy plays the positive and important role it can in driving the country’s development.

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MIND YOUR LANGUAGE: Roots of the crisis in Cameroon

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MIND YOUR LANGUAGE: Roots of the crisis in Cameroon

Since October 2016, Cameroon – one of the most stable states in a volatile subregion – has been making international headlines. A political crisis – the Anglophone Crisis – is shaking the country to the core. It started as a sectoral crisis – with lawyers and teachers demanding for English to remain the primary language of the education and judiciary systems of the English-speaking part of the country – but later turned into a political crisis after the protests were met with military violence, mass arrests and torture.

A country in turmoil

In November 2016, hundreds of people took to the streets in Bamenda after violence was inflicted on lawyers asking for Common Law and English to remain the basis of the judiciary subsystem and on teachers asking for the non-Francophonisation of the Anglophone education subsystem. At first, many people from the northwest and southwest regions were not for separation or violence; people were peacefully protesting for change. However, denial in official statements and the continuous violent responses from the government led to the emergence of small secessionist groups that are taking advantage of the situation to radicalise local activists and non-activist citizens.

Local groups and parts of the Anglophone diaspora have revived the separatist agenda: some demand federalism, others secession.

On October 1st, thousands of people in the English-speaking regions of Cameroon took part in a peaceful march to symbolically proclaim the independence of Ambazonia, the name of an independent country that would be located in the northwest and southwest regions.

According to an International Crisis Group report, security in Cameroon has deteriorated in the Anglophone regions of the northwest and southwest. To protest against the government’s marginalisation of Anglophones, protestors set fire to seven schools and several shops and, for the first time in Cameroon’s post-independence history, homemade bombs were detonated in mid-September 2017. Between 14th and 20th September, two bombs exploded in the northwest region; there were no casualties. On 21st September, another bomb was detonated at a police station in Bambenda, injuring three police officers. A fourth bob nearly exploded in Douala.

After the explosion, the governors of the northwest and southwest regions imposed a de facto curfew, cutting off the Internet for 24 hours, barring movement between Anglophone divisions, and banning gatherings and demonstrations until 3rd October. Despite these measures, around 50,000 people took to the streets in tens of towns and communities in the northwest and southwest regions on September 22nd, demanding the departure of President Paul Biya, the release of Anglophone political leaders and separation. The date chosen coincided with the president’s speech at the United Nations General Assembly. However, what was supposed to be a peaceful march turned violent in some areas. According to local newspapers, some protesters in Buea vandalised the home of the town’s mayor, who is Anglophone but against the protesters. In Mamfe, a police station was set on fire. Four protesters were shot to death by police forces and several more were injured.

On October 1st, thousands of people in the English-speaking regions of Cameroon took part in a peaceful march to symbolically proclaim the independence of Ambazonia, the name of an independent country that would be located in the northwest and southwest regions. This also coincided with the anniversary of the reunification of Cameroon under French mandate and British Southern Cameroon in 1961.

The response of military forces to the march was the most repressive to date. According to Amnesty International, 17 people were reported dead and more than 200 people were arrested during demonstration. The government put the figure at around 10 deaths, but according to locals, the army killed about 100 people on that day. In total, since the beginning of the crisis in October 2016, at least 55 people have officially been reported dead.

These repressive measures led to retaliation by the populace. People burnt vehicles belonging to the sub-prefect and prefect in Boyo and Fundong (in the northwest), snatched weapons from gendarmes in Kumba (in the southwest), ransacked police stations in Ikiliwindi, Mabanda Teke and Kongle, and threw stones at police and military officers in Buea and Bamenda. Since the beginning of November, four military men have been killed in conditions that are still not clear. Cho Ayaba, a leading member of the political wing of the separatist movement who lives abroad, told Reuters, “Cameroon soldiers are enforcing an occupation. The only thing that will make us stop these attacks is if the regime withdraws. If they stop using the military to impose political exclusion and systematic terror on our people.”

The so-called Anglophone Crisis is not something new, as the international media suggest; it has its roots in the decolonisation era.

Currently, the English-speaking regions of Cameroon have become ghost towns due to general strikes – an initiative taken by the Cameroon Anglophone Civil Society Consortium as part of their long-term protest against a government they deem biased towards French speakers. For a year now, schools have not been fully operational, a lost year for students. In September, the so-called Ghost Town operations continued for three days each week. Several stores and seven schools were burnt down to protest against them opening despite the ban. Paul Biya agreed to release some Anglophone leaders and activists to stop the operations and to prevent the school year from being jeopardised for the second year in a row. However, the releases had little or no effect; enrolment rates remain very low and the ghost town operations are still ongoing.

The root of the crisis

The so-called Anglophone Crisis is not something new, as the international media suggest; it has its roots in the decolonisation era. Despite the fact that the current crisis started as a language issue between Anglophones and Francophones, the problem is not really about language; it is about people fighting for respect, integration and identity.

In July 1884, the German government and the traditional Douala chiefs signed a treaty that established a protectorate called Kamerun. After Germany lost in World War I, the victorious powers imposed punitive territorial, military and economic provisions that led to Germany losing her colonies. Kamerun, which was a former German colony, was partitioned between Britain and France under a League of Nations mandate, which appointed France and Britain as joint trustees of Kamerun. France gained the larger share and ruled its territory Cameroun from Yaoundé. Britain’s territory, Northern and Southern Cameroon – a strip bordering Nigeria from the sea to Lake Chad – was ruled from Lagos. During the period of the mandate and the trusteeship, each colonial power shaped their territories in their own image.

 

A report from International Crisis Group describes the situation clearly:

This resulted in major differences in political culture. English was the official language in the territory under British administration. The justice system (Common Law), the education system, the currency and social norms followed the British model. The system of indirect rule allowed traditional chiefdoms to remain in place and promoted the emergence of a form of self-government to the extent that freedom of the press, political pluralism and democratic change in power existed in Anglophone Cameroon prior to independence. The territory was administered as though it was part of Nigeria and several members of British Cameroon’s Anglophone elite were ministers in the Nigerian government in the 1950s.

 In contrast, the Francophone territory was directly administered by France following the assimilationist model, although colonisers and the traditional elites also practised a form of indirect government, especially in the north of the country. French was spoken and France’s social, legal and political norms shaped the centralist political system of successive regimes. Bogged down in a total war against the nationalist movement (Union des populations du Cameroun – UPC), which challenged French presence, the Francophone territory was less democratic.

Being used to self-administration, Southern and Northern Cameroon were in many ways more developed than French Cameroun, with several industries and a sense of democracy. French Cameroun accessed independence before English-speaking Cameroon on January 1, 1961. British Cameroon was aspiring to independence as an autonomous state, but former colonial powers believed that it would not be economically viable and advocated for not creating microstates. So a referendum took place on February 11, 1961: British Cameroon was supposed to choose between joining Nigeria or the new Republic of Cameroon. Northern Cameroon chose to join Nigeria and Southern Cameroon chose to join the Republic of Cameroon. This led to the independence of Southern Cameroon in October 1961 and the creation of a federal state with a flag with two stars symbolising the two territories coming together – West Cameroon being the former Southern Cameroon and East Cameroon being the former Republic of Cameroon. Both territories were now one under the name United Republic of Cameroon.

Problems started when, despite the constitutional provision stating that English and French were both official languages, French became the language of administration.

A federal constitution approved by the National Assembly of the Republic of Cameroon in August 1961 and promulgated by the then president Amadou Ahidjo in September 1961 was imposed when negotiating the terms of reunification. (Southern Cameroon was then still under the trusteeship of Britain since as it obtained independence on October 1, 1961.)

Centralisation was the governing mode of the former French territory, and the federated state was administrated from Yaoundé, where political leaders held all powers in their hands to the detriment of traditional chiefs whose authority was recognised and respected during the trusteeship. The assimilationist model the former French territory experienced under French trusteeship became its way of governance. In line with the constitutional provision stating that the vice president must be from West Cameroon if the federal president comes from East Cameroon and vice versa, John Ngu Foncha became vice president of the country and prime minister of West Cameroon.

Problems started when, despite the constitutional provision stating that English and French were both official languages, French became the language of administration. Then Amadou Ahidjo divided the country into six administrative regions and appointed federal inspectors in each region. English- speaking Cameroonians were not happy because West Cameroon could not at the same time be a federated state according to the constitution and be an administrative region by decree. The appointed federal inspector had more powers over the region than its prime minister. At the economic level, Ahidjo imposed an exchange rate of £1 to FCFA692 instead of the normal FCFA800, which reduced the purchasing power of the region that still had strong ties with Britain. Then he demanded for West Cameroon to cut ties with Britain, which made the region lose export duty advantages.

Though the southwest and northwest regions play an important role in the economy, especially when it comes to agriculture and trade, and though most of Cameroon’s oil, which accounts for one-twelfth of the country’s gross domestic product (GDP), is located off the coast of the Anglophone region, these regions are still lagging behind.

The economic decline of West Cameroon became evident. Reunification came with the dismantlement of the federal state/region’s economic structures, such as the West Cameroon Marketing Board, the Cameroon Bank and Powercam, as well as abandonment of several projects (the port of Limbé, and airports at Bamenda and Tiko), with investments in the Francophone part of the country having more advantages. The problem still persists to date.

Though the southwest and northwest regions play an important role in the economy, especially when it comes to agriculture and trade, and though most of Cameroon’s oil, which accounts for one- twelfth of the country’s gross domestic product (GDP), is located off the coast of the Anglophone region, these regions are still lagging behind.   As Amindeh Blaise Atabong declared on Quartz, “In Cameroon’s 2017 public investment budget, home region of president Paul Biya, in the south, was allocated far more resources than the northwest and southwest regions put together. Going by the country’s government project logbook for the year, the south region was accorded over 570 projects at a total sum of over $225 million (FCFA 126 billion). For its part, the northwest region had no more than 500 projects to be executed with over $76 million (FCFA 42 billion), while the southwest region had slightly over $77 million (FCFA 43 billion) for over 500 projects.”

When Paul Biya succeeded Amadou Ahidjo in November 1982, he further centralised power. On August 22, 1983, he divided the Anglophone region into two provinces: North-West and South-West provinces. The following year, he changed the country’s official name to the Republic of Cameroon and removed the second star representing the English-speaking part of the country from the flag. (The Republic of Cameroon was the name of the former Francophone territory.) These decisions symbolically killed West Cameroon and assimilated it within the Republic of Cameroon.

The separatist agenda and the way forward

As previously mentioned, the separatist agenda is not a new one. In 1993, English-speaking Cameroonians organised the All Anglophone Conference (AAC) and called for a return to federalism. During this period, Anglophone political leaders Muna and John Ngu Foncha went to the United Nations to demand independence for former Southern Cameroon. The position of the Social Democratic Front (the main opposition party then and now with a strong contingent of English-speaking Cameroonians) was judged to be ambiguous since it was against secession, which led to the creation in 1995 of the Southern Cameroons National Council (SCNC). Since 1996, the SCNC has been demanding secession and has taken its case to the UN, the African Court of Banjul, the Commonwealth and national embassies.

Cameroon cannot afford another armed conflict. The country is already engaged in the fight against Boko Haram in the far north and militias from the Central African Republic in the east. The president has to take drastic and lasting measures to solve the crisis.

Despite the situation being a stalemate, measures have been taken to solve the crisis: there have been several attempts to dialogue; about a thousand English-speaking teachers across the southwest and northwest have been appointed; a Commission for the Promotion of Bilingualism and Multiculturalism has been created; and leaders of the separatist movement have been released. In reality, however, these measures were doomed to fail from the start. Dialogue was actually the government trying to impose its conditions on the English-speaking leaders at the table. And the Commission is nothing but the recycling of former members of government or people with close ties to it.

Cameroon cannot afford another armed conflict. The country is already engaged in the fight against Boko Haram in the far north and militias from the Central African Republic in the east. The president has to take drastic and lasting measures to solve the crisis.

Firstly, the president should act as if he cares about the situation and spend more time on national soil instead of abroad. Secondly, a mediator should be appointed to negotiate high-level talks between the government and the separatists, be they on national soil or from the diaspora, since the diaspora is playing a major part in the movement. Thirdly, each official who has ever been publicly disrespectful when addressing or talking about English-speaking Cameroonians should apologise and resign.

The law on decentralisation promulgated in 2004 should be enforced, not for regions to operate autonomously, but for each of them to be in charge of social and financial development of the region for the sake of the region and of the country as a whole. English-speaking regions of the country are not the only ones suffering from bad governance, so this will be an opportunity for the government to solve the crisis and improve the desperate situation of the country as a whole. The best way to go about this is to work on these issues before the next presidential election that is supposed to take place in 2018.

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CHANGING FACES: How Zimbabwe’s Liberation Movement is Re-Inventing Itself to Hold on to Power

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Changing Faces: How Zimbabwe’s Liberation Movement Re-Inventing Itself to Hold on to Power

Zimbabwe has a new president thanks to what its military chiefs called an “intervention” to “weed out criminals” that were negatively affecting the work of the President.  The actions of the army generals ended up leading to a popularly, if not emotionally, supported removal of President Mugabe, the man they had initially pledged to be acting to protect.

The new president, Emmerson Mnangagwa was sworn in on Friday 24 November 2017.  The state media glowingly called it an inauguration at Harare’s National Sports Stadium at a ceremony attended by at least 60,000 people, including serving presidents from the Southern African Development Community (SADC) member states, Ian Khama, Edgar Lungu and Filipe Nyusi of Botswana, Zambia and Mozambique respectively.

There are multiple reasons why the army and those sympathetic to the ruling party within SADC would not out rightly call the tumultuous political events in Zimbabwe over the last two weeks a coup.  Or why the commander of the Zimbabwe Defence Forces (ZDF) General Constantino Chiwenga and his subordinates would reach such alarming levels of national popularity.

The most obvious reason is that a lot of people in Zimbabwe, the region and the continent were genuinely tired or annoyed by Mugabe’s long stay in power.  His wife most certainly did not help matters in a patriarchal society by insulting those who were long time loyalists (including Mnangagwa) in public. The move by the military, well-choreographed as it was, invariably had a popular veneer to gloss over what it really was, a decision by the military to defy their commander in chief and hold him in captivity. Also generally known in political science studies as a military coup d’etat.

There are multiple reasons why the army and those sympathetic to the ruling party within SADC would not out rightly call the tumultuous political events in Zimbabwe over the last two weeks a coup. Or why the commander of the Zimbabwe Defence Forces (ZDF) General Constantino Chiwenga and his subordinates would reach such alarming levels of national popularity.

The other more significant motivation for the military intervention is that the ruling ZANU-PF party had failed to deal with its succession politics via the clearer political route.  And that the veterans of Zimbabwe’s liberation guerilla war which run from the late 1960s to 1979 and who are recognized in the national as well as the ruling party constitutions, were beginning to stake a claim on who they thought should succeed Mugabe. Initially, and this is to their credit, the Zimbabwe National Liberation War Veterans Association (ZNLWVA) sought the political route to resolving this issue. They were the only members of the ruling ZANU-PF party that consistently asked Mugabe to appoint his successor, much to the latter’s chagrin. Mugabe would insist that his successor would come from the people via congress and that it was only the people who would tell him to go.

The decisive factor to consider, therefore, is how the war veterans eventually got to the stage where their preferred successor, Emmerson Mnangagwa, got fired and made what is with hindsight a startlingly prescient claim as he left for exile in South Africa that he would be back to lead Zimbabwe.  He would also cheekily refuse to meet Mugabe before the latter resigned because the ‘people have said so’.

The war veterans are not only former guerrillas in Zimbabwe’s liberation war. They are also still serving in key command positions in all sections of the National Army, the Police Service, the Airforce and the Prisons Services.  The commander of the ZDF, General Chiwenga is himself a war veteran, and so are all of his subordinates.

In the corridors of the ZNLWVA, it is an open secret that the veterans felt it was the turn of one of their own, or at least one who had undergone military training during the war to take over. This, it was argued by some of the war veterans leaders, was because the nationalists (such as Mugabe, Joshua Nkomo and others) had had their turn at the head of the liberation movement and, more significantly in Mugabe’s case, as head of state and government.

Their consistent argument was that as a liberation movement, due recognition should be given to those that went to war but are still alive and still capable of playing a leadership role in the post-independence ruling ZANU-PF party and its government.  And quite literally, this role meant having ‘one of their own’ being the first secretary and president of the ruling ZANU-PF party. (Mnangagwa is viewed as exactly that by the war veterans.)

And that the veterans of Zimbabwe’s liberation guerilla war which run from the late 1960s to 1979 and who are recognized in the national as well as the ruling party constitutions, were beginning to stake a claim on who they thought should succeed Mugabe.

Zimbabwe’s military is therefore led by those that were and are part of ZANU-PF in two specific respects.  First as a liberation movement and secondly as a contemporary ruling party.   It is also important to note that unless they have been unwell, all service chiefs, including the commander of the ZDF, have religiously attended, the ruling ZANU-PF party’s annual conferences and periodic congresses.

Though they will claim neutrality in politics, their actions clearly indicate that the military top brass is embedded in the liberation struggle claim of being the military wing of what once was a revolutionary movement prior to independence.

When Mugabe used to claim that his party had committed itself to the Maoist dictum that it is ‘politics that always leads the gun’, he probably assumed that those holding the gun had no vested interests.  Nor thought that they could carry out an internally (to the party) and externally (nationally) popular coup.

They did this using a combination of understanding national constitutional and internal ruling party processes and procedures, knowing the then first lady Grace Mugabe’s lack of popularity, and reaching out through cultural events/music to younger Zimbabweans.  (There is a popular musical outfit called Military Touch Movement that, as its name suggests, is rumoured to have close ties to the military establishment).

On the national party processes and procedures, they knew that SADC would never accept anything that they referred to as a coup.  Their carefully choreographed public statements – referring to Mugabe as being confined to his home, and as still being in charge of the country while allowing him to appear at a graduation ceremony and undertake a “State of the Nation” address where he conceded that their actions had his permission – were testament to that. Allowing and urging Zimbabweans, through the ZNLWVA to march on the capital’s streets and closely controlling the domestic media narrative, the veterans managed to get the American and British governments to support their cause through issuing positive statements even as SADC dithered.

The subsequent roping in of the ZANU-PF Central committee to dismiss Mugabe and recommend Mnangagwa to succeed him until not only their extraordinary congress scheduled for early December 2017 but also the harmonized general elections for 2018, entrenched a civilian dimension in what was a military-led deposing of the party leader.

After it turned out Mugabe was ‘refusing’ to resign, a process of parliamentary impeachment that ZANU-PF embarked upon, ironically with the support of the mainstream opposition Movement for Democratic Change-Tsvangirai (MDC-T), sanitized the military change of ZANU-PF leadership.

The generals had however not stopped trying to persuade Mugabe to resign and through a mediation process facilitated by a Catholic priest, eventually got the letter they wanted on 21 November 2017 as parliament sat to impeach their Commander in chief.

When Mugabe used to claim that his party had committed itself to the Maoist dictum that it is ‘politics that always leads the gun’, he probably assumed that those holding the gun had no vested interests. Nor thought that they could carry out an internally (to the party) and externally (nationally) popular coup.

Emmerson Mnangagwa upon his return was well aware of this and made it apparent in his first remarks to his supporters at a rally held at the ZANU-PF headquarters.  He however indicated that he had all along had a hand in this ‘intervention’ by staying in ‘constant touch’ with the generals even though he was in exile.

He also made it clear in his first address as president of Zimbabwe, that he owed his ascendancy to the ruling party.  This is a point that the generals would have no problem with, as they were acting, in the final analysis, in tandem with their role as what General Chiwenga has referred to in previous interviews with the state media as ‘stockholders’ of the liberation struggle and therefore the country. All via the party.

SADC could do little else.  Not least because of the fact that apart from Malawi, Zambia, Seychelles and Mauritius, all of the current governments in the region are led by former liberation movements (Kabila’s in the DRC claims Lumumbist origins to his government).   And they tolerated this military action on a serving president so long there was deference to the ruling party and a modicum of constitutionalism could be salvaged from the process.

For now, with Mnangagwa sworn in as a president to finish off Mugabe’s term as outlined in the sixth schedule of Zimbabwe’s constitution, this would appear to be the case. I am certain that SADC will probably follow up with the new president on the holding of free and fair elections in 2018 as scheduled, which Mnangagwa confirmed in his first speech as president and when he will pursue a full five-year term.

This is not to say ZANU-PF’s military-political complex does not understand the need for ‘performance legitimacy’ despite having the capacity to deploy force for a political outcome. They understand this entirely hence Mnangagwa’s new focus is on the national economy.

SADC will definitively seek a greater role in supervising these elections and closely monitor the role of the military in how they are conducted.  But the ruling party will not worry too much about this as it is already riding on a peculiar wave of popularity that while it is surprised by, it is still very keen to consolidate, not only to renew its stay in power, but also to make it unthinkable for the opposition MDC-T, or any new opposition parties for that matter, to realistically hope to wrestle away power. Also, because the war veterans actively serving in the defence forces have become the guarantors of the ruling party’s succession politics and its ability to stay in power at a time of political crisis.

This is not to say ZANU-PF’s military-political complex does not understand the need for ‘performance legitimacy’ despite having the capacity to deploy force for a political outcome. They understand this entirely hence Mnangagwa’s new focus is on the national economy.  His government intends to introduce free market economic policies and probably do so within the ambit of Chinese-style ‘state capitalism’ which will court foreign direct investment and introduce property rights to the controversial issue of the Fast Track Land Reform Programme (FTLRP).

One of the first acts of his government will be to ease the liquidity crisis and seek the effecting of what Mugabe had referred to as ‘mega deals’ with the Russians and the Chinese in order to create a massive influx of jobs. The American and British governments will be courted to invest in the economy in return for the removal of sanctions and the re-integration of Zimbabwe into Western investor circles. And the Australian government will get promises to protect its mining interests again in return for support in other areas of the national economy.

What is apparent is that in the aftermath of this military intervention, there is limited scope for a value based politics in Zimbabwe. The now very popular actions of the ZDF in tandem with the political endorsements of ZANU-PF have left a void that the opposition cannot fill.

While this temporary and highly politicized economic shift is underway, the opposition will be courted with carrots such as support for the livelihoods of some of its leaders along with deferential treatment.  But essentially, they will be a divided lot that will be unable, barring a miracle, to defeat Mnangagwa’s militarized but popular version of ZANU-PF in what the latter will be at pains to prove to SADC, the African union and the world, is a free and fair 2018 election.

What is apparent is that in the aftermath of this military intervention, there is limited scope for a value based politics in Zimbabwe. The now very popular actions of the ZDF in tandem with the political endorsements of ZANU-PF have left a void that the opposition cannot fill. That void is the inability to articulate what would have been a democratic alternative to ZANU-PF rule, especially given the backing of war veterans in the military and the neo-liberal global west and east in their pursuit of markets, minerals and military dominance.

As it is Zimbabweans must brace themselves to be governed by a military–political complex that claims legitimacy on the basis of national liberation and assumes it can re-create itself in subsequent generations of not only civilians, but also those that would serve in the defence forces.  All in aid of an intended perpetuation of ZANU-PF’s hold on political power and the cosmetic maintenance of a hapless and long suffering political opposition.

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