Punctuated evolution describes how brief but explosive episodes of change have redirected the long course of evolution. The concept originated from Steve Jay Gould’s study of the fossil record. Several anthropogenic advances have likewise ‘punctuated’ the normal process of incremental change driving our species evolution: the discovery of tool making, emergence of human speech, domestication of plants and animals, and the four technological revolutions have all brought us to the current life-on-earth-threatening threshold.
On the much smaller scale of individual societies, progress results from the accumulation of many smaller steps. But sometimes an event, a creative work of art, disruptive invention, or insightful academic analysis coincides with other developments to ‘punctuate’ the dominant narrative. Even a seemingly isolated or random incident, like the story about a coke bottle dropping out of the sky in the Kalahari, can set a series of changes in motion.
Mohammed Bouazizi was not thinking about the Arab spring when he set himself on fire in Tunisia. The film Out of Africa of Africa was not expected to reconfigure Kenya’s tourism industry, but it triggered a boom leading to the sector’s diversification and unique new facilities. No one thought the international debate on neocolonialism spawned by Colin Leyes’ 1974 book, Underdevelopment in Kenya, would result in the legitimization of Kenya’s indigenous capitalism. By the same measure, the editors at The Elephant probably did not expect the Millennial Edition to feature at the front end of a larger social movement, although this might be in the making.
Maybe. The timing is right, the numbers are there, but Kenya’s power elite has countered the trajectory of reforms dating back to the 1990s. Economic liberalization, political pluralism, the 2002 opposition victory, institutional restructuring, a coalition government, and the new constitution have all failed to unlock the population’s aspirations.
If a government refuses to evolve by conventional means, why not a generational revolution?
The millennial writers’ personal vignettes hint at a vast reservoir of untapped power. Their collective angst should be seen as a warning. Their generation’s pent-up energies will either align with other factors to exert a system-changing impact across the region, or they will become another source of the country’s creeping entropy.
If a government refuses to evolve by conventional means, why not a generational revolution?
The Millennial Edition Revisited
Kenya’s millennials grew up during the time when concepts like sustainability, accountability, and transparency were driving global narratives. They came of age during the interlude punctuated by the fall of the Berlin wall, the collapse of Marxist and right-wing dictatorships, the rise of political pluralism, adoption of participatory development, and the expansion of higher education. The first generation to take digitalization for granted and to be connected by the spread of social media never had to stockpile coins for making a phone call. They are entering their prime during the period Barrack Obama proclaimed to be the best time to be alive in human history.
Under 35 Kenyans are the ostensible beneficiaries of these positive developments, but the succession of articles appearing in The Elephant depicts a different reality. The essays are articulate, entertaining, and illuminated by the authors’ personal experience. The diverse collection conveys a multidimensional and nuanced view on a variety of issues, but there some common threads.
The Swahili adage that states, ‘where the elders are present nothing will go awry’ attests to the gerontocracy’s role in African governance. But many among Kenya’s younger generations no longer accept the import of this ‘pasipokuwa na wazee neno haliharibiki‘ wisdom. They see the elders as the cause of their present predicament.
Joe Kobuthi’s essay, Starin’ at the World Through My Rearview, provides a comprehensive overview of his generation’s current dilemma. He cites Francis Fukuyama’s declaration that victory of liberal democracy signified the ‘End of History’ to set the stage for his assessment of developments in Kenya. The ascendency of the neoliberal monoculture that dovetailed with the end of President Daniel arap Moi’s rule promised a new start and the return to prosperity.
Kenyans were buoyed by the fast growing economy that reached 7.1 per cent in 2007. Economic rationalization appeared to parallel the normalization of politics. “Politics became just that, politics. It didn’t rule our lives or condition the shared positive perceptions of those times.” But these assumptions proved false, leaving most of his generation bogged down in a frustrating slog to survive. The reversal was largely due to the 2007 electoral fiasco reinforced the global financial meltdown of 2008. But the ‘Olds’ responsible for the domestic underpinnings of the malaise shifted the blame by castigating the millennials for being lazy and undisciplined.
“Not only are we screwed,” Kobuthi laments, “but also we have to listen to lectures about our folly from the people who screwed us.”
In The Revolution Won’t Be Instagrammed, Darius Akolla depicts the contrast between his generation’s prospects and those of his parents. He is the same age as his homeowner father was when he celebrated his birth as the household’s third child. But now the son and most of the university educated youth of his generation are caught in a syndrome characterized by temporary employment, late marriage, delayed parenthood, and jobless economic growth.
Okolla declares, “My father’s generation has contributed nothing meaningful to the country, whether politically, intellectually or economically, other than pillage and the accumulation of wealth.” In an essay following out of this polemic he details how his generation’s disempowerment has compromised perceptions their own masculinity.
Silas Nyanchwani’s The End of Empathy in Kenya describes how the country’s ethnic polarization is taking the nation down the path towards genocide. He concludes by stating, “The cowardice of the country’s elite to confront these problems head-on has made us emotionless towards each other’s plight.” The country’s entropic education system lies at the root of this and related problems: Mwangi Maina vents his angst over the “tribulations of experiencing an education system that is anti-black, dehumanizing and misogynistic.”
Kenya’s retrogressive politics are one of the Edition’s reoccurring themes, and the series of false dawns contributing to the millennials’ woes are documented in Oyunga Pala’s Children of a Revolution that Never Was. Kenya has repeatedly reached the threshold of renewal only to fall back due to the venality of the nation’s power elite. In 2002 the youthful supporters of the NARC coalition chanted, yote yawezakana bila Moi (everything is possible without Moi). By 2004 they were partisan but passive spectators watching the ironic spectacle of just how unbwogable the post-Moi leadership had become.
Pala ends his account on a cynical note: “It might be 2018, yet 36 years later Moi’s protégés continue playing by the same rule book of economic mismanagement, rampant corruption, political assassinations, electoral theft and violent suppression of dissent.”
Kenya has repeatedly reached the threshold of renewal only to fall back due to the venality of the nation’s power elite. In 2002 the youthful supporters of the NARC coalition chanted, yote yawezakana bila Moi (everything is possible without Moi). By 2004 they were partisan but passive spectators watching the ironic spectacle of just how unbwogable the post-Moi leadership had become.
Many of the writers’ perspectives echo Yvonne Owuor Odhiambo’s discussion of the precarity generated by globalization. Precarity refers to the view that the planet’s poor and dispossessed are somehow responsible for their own predicament. It is mirrored in the different writers compulsion to deny their responsibility for the mess by way of repeating the accusations characterizing them as spoiled, lazy, and hyper-individualistic.
Raising three millennial children of my own has not familiarized me with many of these criticisms and complaints. They sound like recycled versions of the dinner table arguments defining the generational divide of my own era. In any case, the backward looking emphases in some of the essays illuminate why the millennials are not the architects of their precarity, and Wandia Njoya’s Millenial Bashing Has to Stop contribution to the debate removes any doubt.
But we can still offer some critical observations about the Millennial Edition articles. Despite the diversity of the contributors and the underlying issues of identity they raise (Katya Nyange’s The Agony of an Untold Story is a case in point), the sample is limited to writers reflecting on their predominantly Nairobi-centric experiences. The collection is short of voices from Kenya’s neglected periphery, rural towns, and minority communities.
In addition to sample problem, some of the broad generalizations running through many of the articles warrant more detailed qualification. The polemic of Us Millennials versus them ‘Olds’, for example, presumably refers to the elites of the respective riika. The system of checks and balances governing African generational dynamics conveyed by the indigenous term for generation falls between the cracks.
The lapse of such cultural institutions is part of the syndrome, a point that segues into Okolla’s skepticism about the validity of generation as a coherent social unit. He attributes this to the absence of common experience that “knits” a group born around the same time into peer-bonded collective sharing “largely observable mind-sets and worldviews.” This returns us to his observation that the elites of that era only acted as a generation when united by the Structural Adjustment induced hedonism and despondency of the 1990 to 2002 era.
He adds that the prosperity following it “torpedoed” any chance of generation formation for their children. Sam Opondo nevertheless captures the sentiment of the millennial writers in Plotting Our Raging Hope, where he begins by citing Franz Fanon’s observation, “Each generation must out of relative obscurity discover its mission, fulfill it, or betray it.”
The corresponding notion, that the concept of riika is not only scalable but can unite a cross-section of society to pursue a set of common objectives, represents one of the Millennial Edition’s underlying themes. Yet despite the aspirations and manifestos, bringing this about in Kenya’s political arena faces formidable constraints.
The under 35ers have the votes, but Nairobi’s young electorate could not even elect a fellow millennial like Boniface Mwangi to Parliament. Hence Oyunga Pala’s conclusion: “we have morphed into our parents with children living in bubbles.” Political participation alone will not pop the bubble.
The formation of a genuine Kenyan riika would be a powerful force. Unlike their Maasai, Meru, Kalenjin, Borana and other age-set societies equivalents, there is the issue of crosscutting stratifications of class, ethnicity, and geography. However difficult, it is should be now easier for digital era youth who come of age within a shared environment to form peer bonds that provide an enduring basis for collective action than it was for their analog elders.
Yet despite the aspirations and manifestos, bringing this about in Kenya’s political arena faces formidable constraints.The under 35ers have the votes, but Nairobi’s young electorate could not even elect a fellow millennial like Boniface Mwangi to Parliament. Hence Oyunga Pala’s conclusion: “we have morphed into our parents with children living in bubbles.” Political participation alone will not pop the bubble.
Playbook for a Millennial Uprising?
Fanon predicted the behavior of Africa’s post independence elites with uncanny accuracy in The Wretched of the Earth. His description recalls the educated minority of those Kenyans born between 1952 and 1982, anointed the nation’s ‘Future Leaders’ after independence. These future leaders became the national elite the writers hold responsible for their present conundrum.
Our own generational movement was running its course when I first came to Kenya in 1974. Radical critiques questioned the achievements and values of Western civilization; radical chic spawned non-conformity in dress, lifestyle, and personal expression. It generated a milieu animated by new ideas about the future and the wisdom of old religions. The quest for unique and mind-expanding experiences motivating travel to distant and remote destinations, and broadened the movement’s horizons.
I read Fanon in 1970 and assumed his anti-colonial ideology would resonate even stronger in post-colonial Black Africa. My exchanges with like-minded Kenyan age mates typically began with long Marxist lectures that ended with demands for beer money. I abandoned my peers in the Afro-Unity Day and Night Club to explore the landscape, where I found all manner of amazing and creative Kenyans—many of whom had minimal exposure to the same education system Mwangi Maina so vociferously condemns.
When I met these Future Leaders characters later, now in government offices, they often made the same demands but without the rant. Africanisation was clearly not the ally of decolonization it was supposed to be. The Future Leaders’ education socialized them to repurpose for their own rather than deconstruct the colonial institutions the new nation inherited.
This orientation resulted in many of the Future Leaders’ contemporaries paying a high price for these proclivities. Their cupidity did not go unnoticed when the country began to burn. The author of an op-ed writing during the height of the post-electoral violence lambasted “Generation Disaster” for Kenya’s lagging economic growth and fossilized politics. Writing in 2008, he anticipated the inter-generational friction surfacing in the millennials narratives.
“The next revolution in Kenya,” he proclaimed, “will not be a violent one, contrary to the bloodletting presently underway. Rather it will be the rejection of the generation of men from whom the leaders of this country have been drawn.”
There have been many youth-driven political movements over the past decade and the results are mixed. The most prominent example, the Arab Spring, produced a mix of chaotic and opposite outcomes across the Middle East. The author of Generation Revolution, a fictionalized account of Egypt’s Arab Spring, explains why:
Revolutionary Egyptians sought radical change only in the narrow lane of their relationship to the government and police. They did not reject the profoundly conservative mores of family, village, neighborhood and religious hierarchy, whose webs of control emerged relatively unscathed from the revolutionary period.
Kenyans are similarly bogged down in a similar intersectional status quo. Cursing the enemy will not bring back the father’s lost cattle. The blame game will not bring about the New Man anticipated in Joe Kobuthi’s account or the progression from slave to citizen Arkanuddin Yasin envisions.
The universal playbook for a generational uprising does not exist. Each movement ends up writing its own script. There are, however, some parallels that can be drawn with the American generational revival alluded to above.
Some say the movement was a predominantly middle class party and others state that it pretty much changed everything that came after it. Both views are valid, but with certain caveats. The youth-driven uprising of the 1960s attracted disparate elements from surfers and social activists to Vietnam War veterans, members of the clergy, housewives and construction workers. Emerging in the slipstream of the civil rights movement ensured a high level of synergy between the cultural and political forces at work.
More libertarian than Marxist, the multicultural character of the movement stemmed from a shared commonsensical logic questioning the insanity of industrial capitalism and its wars on everything from Third World peasants to the natural environment. This provoked the quest for a completely new way of thinking, a mindset liberated from the fears, petty ambitions, and assumptions of our elders.
The youth-driven uprising of the 1960s attracted disparate elements from surfers and social activists to Vietnam War veterans, members of the clergy, housewives and construction workers. Emerging in the slipstream of the civil rights movement ensured a high level of synergy between the cultural and political forces at work.
The advice ‘don’t trust anyone over thirty years old’ became over time a humorous meme capturing both our new generational identity and the youthful narcissism that came with it. Being born again Salafi-style Americans came with an attitude problem. Some of my university friends were present during one of the dinner table flare-ups characteristic of the intense generational frictions of those times. My parents told us, “you think everything you are doing is unique and original, but you are walking on our backs.”
They had been through a depression and a cataclysmic world war. This was their way of saying, ‘tell us what else is new’. The only response to this challenge was to translate ideas into action.
While lowering the voting age from 21 to 18 was one of the movement’s early victories, higher value was placed on protest and rejection of the establishment. than embracing it through political participation. Transcending the conventional fed the avalanche of music, poetry, art, film, new cuisines, and creative lifestyles. Healthy habits flourished alongside a propensity for risk taking and experimentation with mind-altering substances. The creation of a new society required self improvement; stealing the God’s fire became the baby Boomer’s Promethean goal.
Most of us identified with the idea of counter culture more than the gospel of revolution advocated by the radical fringe. In practice this allowed the movement to grow as an inter-generational and open-ended phenomenon. Strident and polarizing in the beginning, it mellowed and broadened over time, spawning some pretty flaky new age fads in the process. A new creative problem solving mindset had become mainstream by the time conventional forces governing the socioeconomic cycle reasserted themselves.
Fictive Kinship and Other Multipliers of Change
The anthropological term fictive kinship applies to a range of informal and structural mechanisms. The Meru institution gichiaro created long lasting ties between individuals and groups, reinforcing the expanding networks of the late nineteenth century. The Nyambene Range was the epicenter of one such network that spanned a large area extending from Lake Turkana to Kitui and Nyeri. The explorer Joseph Chanler established a base camp on the northern flank of the range in 1893. He commented on the simple blood brotherhood rituals that formalized the ties of gichiaro fictive kinship known as in Meru, and how the sharing of miraa contributed to the bonding process sustaining the trade networks.
The concept’s practical import for social cohesion transcends such examples from the ethnographic literature. For my generation, the ties may have lacked the formal rules of gichiaro, but the shared consciousness that came with responding to the threats of primitive politics, environmental catastrophe, institutional racism, and nuclear annihilation served the same function.
The war ended, the CIA was reined in, environmental legislation passed, and other good things happened during the following decades. Even though the solidarity faded with time, the mentality remained as individuals transited through the life cycle on their separate paths. Some of the movement’s voices continued to speak out on contemporary issues and long-term trends shaping the planet, and their imaginative thinking about the future resurfaced in what became Silicon Valley.
Today the theology of technological liberation and some techie initiatives to ‘make the world a better place’ may seem more countercultural fairy tale than punctuated evolution, especially as Trump, Tea Party, and the Dirty Money crowd attempt to roll back history. Their revisionism cannot hold back the advancing realities anticipated by the secular prophets of those times. The coming of major earth changes, the crisis of capitalism, and the technological singularity are much closer now. The planet needs help.
Maybe a real global punctuation is in the cards this time around. In the meantime, a new confluence of generational dynamics, cultural renewal, and technological change is beginning to take shape in this part of the world.
The future leaders template is obsolete and the institutions of higher education that should be filling the vacuum are not up to the task. In his comprehensive treatise on reforming higher education, Paul Zeleza addresses the lacunae, which featured prominently among the millennial grievances, by outlining a programme based on international criteria focusing on the skills that enhance the employability of students.
He sets a very high bar. The job marketplace will demand future graduates, he reports, who will be “communicators, thinkers and problem solvers, inquirers and researchers, collaborators, adaptable, principled and ethical, responsible and professional, and continuous learners.”
The series of small steps needed to fix this other problems fueling millennial grievances will take time—which is no longer the elastic quantity it was when the future leaders were in charge. The academy is symptomatic of the larger institutional failure that continues to resurface in critical narratives. In the process of installing the institutions that the majority of Kenyans still believe are the flagship of the nation’s modernity, the colonials suppressed society’s cultural soul.
In a blog post Patrick Gathara articulates the sentiments of many others when he calls for a full-scale revision of “the systematic patterns of thought” behind the flawed governance of the past five decades. The post-independence argument about the value and legitimacy of building on a nation’s own historical and cultural experience needs to be revisited in the context of his ‘thought process’ problem.
The start of something along these lines is already underway. The region is on the move. In Ethiopia Dr. Ahmed Abiy is relaunching the African leadership renaissance that was so over-hyped during the 1990s. The cultural festivals sprouting across the Kenyan landscape and some of the developments within the counties are among the preliminary indicators suggesting how the larger movement will unfold.
We don’t know when and where the coke bottle will drop, but we can start writing the script.
Expect most of the real action to occur outside the political arena, and when like-mind individuals dispersed across the landscape meet live. Bringing the youth in Turkana, Lamu, Marsabit, and other points on the periphery into play will be a game changer. The arts and humanities will energize a cultural awakening, attracting middle class support. Swahili will be its lingua franca; new forms of gichiaro and cultural identities will emerge. Women will lead from the front. The peaceful confluence of ideas and actors will be anointed by the shedding of blood; over time it will coalesce with other trans-generational uprisings across the globe.
Expect most of the real action to occur outside the political arena, and when like-mind individuals dispersed across the landscape meet live. Bringing the youth in Turkana, Lamu, Marsabit, and other points on the periphery into play will be a game changer.
The makeover may take an entirely different path; things can also go terribly wrong. Chances are nothing will happen, or it will fall to the post-millennial under 18 generation. When by chance the revival does gather momentum, it will begin like a light breeze dispersing the suffocating heat accompanying a long drought. You will know it’s the real thing because it will be free, spontaneous, and fun.
Until this happens, Kingwa Kamencu’s original and at times irreverent commentary gets the last word: “We are decolonizing the material culture and some of its values and will soon be a force to reckon with in the political realm. Time and chance, grows all movements.”
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Asylum Pact: Rwanda Must Do Some Political Housecleaning
Rwandans are welcoming, but the government’s priority must be to solve the internal political problems which produce refugees.
The governments of the United Kingdom and Rwanda have signed an agreement to move asylum seekers from the UK to Rwanda for processing. This partnership has been heavily criticized and has been referred to as unethical and inhumane. It has also been opposed by the United Nations Refugee Agency on the grounds that it is contrary to the spirit of the Refugee Convention.
Here in Rwanda, we heard the news of the partnership on the day it was signed. The subject has never been debated in the Rwandan parliament and neither had it been canvassed in the local media prior to the announcement.
According to the government’s official press release, the partnership reflects Rwanda’s commitment to protect vulnerable people around the world. It is argued that by relocating migrants to Rwanda, their dignity and rights will be respected and they will be provided with a range of opportunities, including for personal development and employment, in a country that has consistently been ranked among the safest in the world.
A considerable number of Rwandans have been refugees and therefore understand the struggle that comes with being an asylum seeker and what it means to receive help from host countries to rebuild lives. Therefore, most Rwandans are sensitive to the plight of those forced to leave their home countries and would be more than willing to make them feel welcome. However, the decision to relocate the migrants to Rwanda raises a number of questions.
The government argues that relocating migrants to Rwanda will address the inequalities in opportunity that push economic migrants to leave their homes. It is not clear how this will work considering that Rwanda is already the most unequal country in the East African region. And while it is indeed seen as among the safest countries in the world, it was however ranked among the bottom five globally in the recently released 2022 World Happiness Index. How would migrants, who may have suffered psychological trauma fare in such an environment, and in a country that is still rebuilding itself?
A considerable number of Rwandans have been refugees and therefore understand the struggle that comes with being an asylum seeker and what it means to receive help from host countries to rebuild lives.
What opportunities can Rwanda provide to the migrants? Between 2018—the year the index was first published—and 2020, Rwanda’s ranking on the Human Capital Index (HCI) has been consistently low. Published by the World Bank, HCI measures which countries are best at mobilising the economic and professional potential of their citizens. Rwanda’s score is lower than the average for sub-Saharan Africa and it is partly due to this that the government had found it difficult to attract private investment that would create significant levels of employment prior to the COVID-19 pandemic. Unemployment, particularly among the youth, has since worsened.
Despite the accolades Rwanda has received internationally for its development record, Rwanda’s economy has never been driven by a dynamic private or trade sector; it has been driven by aid. The country’s debt reached 73 per cent of GDP in 2021 while its economy has not developed the key areas needed to achieve and secure genuine social and economic transformation for its entire population. In addition to human capital development, these include social capital development, especially mutual trust among citizens considering the country’s unfortunate historical past, establishing good relations with neighbouring states, respect for human rights, and guaranteeing the accountability of public officials.
Rwanda aspires to become an upper middle-income country by 2035 and a high-income country by 2050. In 2000, the country launched a development plan that aimed to transform it into a middle-income country by 2020 on the back on a knowledge economy. That development plan, which has received financial support from various development partners including the UK which contributed over £1 billion, did not deliver the anticipated outcomes. Today the country remains stuck in the category of low-income states. Its structural constraints as a small land-locked country with few natural resources are often cited as an obstacle to development. However, this is exacerbated by current governance in Rwanda, which limits the political space, lacks separation of powers, impedes freedom of expression and represses government critics, making it even harder for Rwanda to reach the desired developmental goals.
Rwanda’s structural constraints as a small land-locked country with no natural resources are often viewed as an obstacle to achieving the anticipated development.
As a result of the foregoing, Rwanda has been producing its own share of refugees, who have sought political and economic asylum in other countries. The UK alone took in 250 Rwandese last year. There are others around the world, the majority of whom have found refuge in different countries in Africa, including countries neighbouring Rwanda. The presence of these refugees has been a source of tension in the region with Kigali accusing neighbouring states of supporting those who want to overthrow the government by force. Some Rwandans have indeed taken up armed struggle, a situation that, if not resolved, threatens long-term security in Rwanda and the Great Lakes region. In fact, the UK government’s advice on travel to Rwanda has consistently warned of the unstable security situation near the border with the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) and Burundi.
While Rwanda’s intention to help address the global imbalance of opportunity that fuels illegal immigration is laudable, I would recommend that charity start at home. As host of the 26th Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting scheduled for June 2022, and Commonwealth Chair-in-Office for the next two years, the government should seize the opportunity to implement the core values and principles of the Commonwealth, particularly the promotion of democracy, the rule of law, freedom of expression, political and civil rights, and a vibrant civil society. This would enable Rwanda to address its internal social, economic and political challenges, creating a conducive environment for long-term economic development, and durable peace that will not only stop Rwanda from producing refugees but will also render the country ready and capable of economically and socially integrating refugees from less fortunate countries in the future.
Beyond Borders: Why We Need a Truly Internationalist Climate Justice Movement
The elite’s ‘solution’ to the climate crisis is to turn the displaced into exploitable migrant labour. We need a truly internationalist alternative.
“We are not drowning, we are fighting” has become the rallying call for the Pacific Climate Warriors. From UN climate meetings to blockades of Australian coal ports, these young Indigenous defenders from twenty Pacific Island states are raising the alarm of global warming for low-lying atoll nations. Rejecting the narrative of victimisation – “you don’t need my pain or tears to know that we’re in a crisis,” as Samoan Brianna Fruean puts it – they are challenging the fossil fuel industry and colonial giants such as Australia, responsible for the world’s highest per-capita carbon emissions.
Around the world, climate disasters displace around 25.3 million people annually – one person every one to two seconds. In 2016, new displacements caused by climate disasters outnumbered new displacements as a result of persecution by a ratio of three to one. By 2050, an estimated 143 million people will be displaced in just three regions: Africa, South Asia, and Latin America. Some projections for global climate displacement are as high as one billion people.
Mapping who is most vulnerable to displacement reveals the fault lines between rich and poor, between the global North and South, and between whiteness and its Black, Indigenous and racialised others.
Globalised asymmetries of power create migration but constrict mobility. Displaced people – the least responsible for global warming – face militarised borders. While climate change is itself ignored by the political elite, climate migration is presented as a border security issue and the latest excuse for wealthy states to fortify their borders. In 2019, the Australian Defence Forces announced military patrols around Australia’s waters to intercept climate refugees.
The burgeoning terrain of “climate security” prioritises militarised borders, dovetailing perfectly into eco-apartheid. “Borders are the environment’s greatest ally; it is through them that we will save the planet,” declares the party of French far-Right politician Marine Le Pen. A US Pentagon-commissioned report on the security implications of climate change encapsulates the hostility to climate refugees: “Borders will be strengthened around the country to hold back unwanted starving immigrants from the Caribbean islands (an especially severe problem), Mexico, and South America.” The US has now launched Operation Vigilant Sentry off the Florida coast and created Homeland Security Task Force Southeast to enforce marine interdiction and deportation in the aftermath of disasters in the Caribbean.
Labour migration as climate mitigation
you broke the ocean in
half to be here.
only to meet nothing that wants you
– Nayyirah Waheed
Parallel to increasing border controls, temporary labour migration is increasingly touted as a climate adaptation strategy. As part of the ‘Nansen Initiative’, a multilateral, state-led project to address climate-induced displacement, the Australian government has put forward its temporary seasonal worker program as a key solution to building climate resilience in the Pacific region. The Australian statement to the Nansen Initiative Intergovernmental Global Consultation was, in fact, delivered not by the environment minister but by the Department of Immigration and Border Protection.
Beginning in April 2022, the new Pacific Australia Labour Mobility scheme will make it easier for Australian businesses to temporarily insource low-wage workers (what the scheme calls “low-skilled” and “unskilled” workers) from small Pacific island countries including Nauru, Papua New Guinea, Kiribati, Samoa, Tonga, and Tuvalu. Not coincidentally, many of these countries’ ecologies and economies have already been ravaged by Australian colonialism for over one hundred years.
It is not an anomaly that Australia is turning displaced climate refugees into a funnel of temporary labour migration. With growing ungovernable and irregular migration, including climate migration, temporary labour migration programs have become the worldwide template for “well-managed migration.” Elites present labour migration as a double win because high-income countries fill their labour shortage needs without providing job security or citizenship, while low-income countries alleviate structural impoverishment through migrants’ remittances.
Dangerous, low-wage jobs like farm, domestic, and service work that cannot be outsourced are now almost entirely insourced in this way. Insourcing and outsourcing represent two sides of the same neoliberal coin: deliberately deflated labour and political power. Not to be confused with free mobility, temporary labour migration represents an extreme neoliberal approach to the quartet of foreign, climate, immigration, and labour policy, all structured to expand networks of capital accumulation through the creation and disciplining of surplus populations.
The International Labour Organization recognises that temporary migrant workers face forced labour, low wages, poor working conditions, virtual absence of social protection, denial of freedom association and union rights, discrimination and xenophobia, as well as social exclusion. Under these state-sanctioned programs of indentureship, workers are legally tied to an employer and deportable. Temporary migrant workers are kept compliant through the threats of both termination and deportation, revealing the crucial connection between immigration status and precarious labour.
Through temporary labour migration programs, workers’ labour power is first captured by the border and this pliable labour is then exploited by the employer. Denying migrant workers permanent immigration status ensures a steady supply of cheapened labour. Borders are not intended to exclude all people, but to create conditions of ‘deportability’, which increases social and labour precarity. These workers are labelled as ‘foreign’ workers, furthering racist xenophobia against them, including by other workers. While migrant workers are temporary, temporary migration is becoming the permanent neoliberal, state-led model of migration.
Reparations include No Borders
“It’s immoral for the rich to talk about their future children and grandchildren when the children of the Global South are dying now.” – Asad Rehman
Discussions about building fairer and more sustainable political-economic systems have coalesced around a Green New Deal. Most public policy proposals for a Green New Deal in the US, Canada, UK and the EU articulate the need to simultaneously tackle economic inequality, social injustice, and the climate crisis by transforming our extractive and exploitative system towards a low-carbon, feminist, worker and community-controlled care-based society. While a Green New Deal necessarily understands the climate crisis and the crisis of capitalism as interconnected — and not a dichotomy of ‘the environment versus the economy’ — one of its main shortcomings is its bordered scope. As Harpreet Kaur Paul and Dalia Gebrial write: “the Green New Deal has largely been trapped in national imaginations.”
Any Green New Deal that is not internationalist runs the risk of perpetuating climate apartheid and imperialist domination in our warming world. Rich countries must redress the global and asymmetrical dimensions of climate debt, unfair trade and financial agreements, military subjugation, vaccine apartheid, labour exploitation, and border securitisation.
It is impossible to think about borders outside the modern nation-state and its entanglements with empire, capitalism, race, caste, gender, sexuality, and ability. Borders are not even fixed lines demarcating territory. Bordering regimes are increasingly layered with drone surveillance, interception of migrant boats, and security controls far beyond states’ territorial limits. From Australia offshoring migrant detention around Oceania to Fortress Europe outsourcing surveillance and interdiction to the Sahel and Middle East, shifting cartographies demarcate our colonial present.
Perhaps most offensively, when colonial countries panic about ‘border crises’ they position themselves as victims. But the genocide, displacement, and movement of millions of people were unequally structured by colonialism for three centuries, with European settlers in the Americas and Oceania, the transatlantic slave trade from Africa, and imported indentured labourers from Asia. Empire, enslavement, and indentureship are the bedrock of global apartheid today, determining who can live where and under what conditions. Borders are structured to uphold this apartheid.
The freedom to stay and the freedom to move, which is to say no borders, is decolonial reparations and redistribution long due.
The Murang’a Factor in the Upcoming Presidential Elections
The Murang’a people are really yet to decide who they are going to vote for as a president. If they have, they are keeping the secret to themselves. Are the Murang’a people prepping themselves this time to vote for one of their own? Can Jimi Wanjigi re-ignite the Murang’a/Matiba popular passion among the GEMA community and re-influence it to vote in a different direction?
In the last quarter of 2021, I visited Murang’a County twice: In September, we were in Kandiri in Kigumo constituency. We had gone for a church fundraiser and were hosted by the Anglican Church of Kenya’s (ACK), Kahariro parish, Murang’a South diocese. A month later, I was back, this time to Ihi-gaini deep in Kangema constituency for a burial.
The church function attracted politicians: it had to; they know how to sniff such occasions and if not officially invited, they gate-crash them. Church functions, just like funerals, are perfect platforms for politicians to exhibit their presumed piousness, generosity and their closeness to the respective clergy and the bereaved family.
Well, the other reason they were there, is because they had been invited by the Church leadership. During the electioneering period, the Church is not shy to exploit the politicians’ ambitions: they “blackmail” them for money, because they can mobilise ready audiences for the competing politicians. The politicians on the other hand, are very ready to part with cash. This quid pro quo arrangement is usually an unstated agreement between the Church leadership and the politicians.
The church, which was being fund raised for, being in Kigumo constituency, the area MP Ruth Wangari Mwaniki, promptly showed up. Likewise, the area Member of the County Assembly (MCA) and of course several aspirants for the MP and MCA seats, also showed up.
Church and secular politics often sit cheek by jowl and so, on this day, local politics was the order of the day. I couldn’t have speculated on which side of the political divide Murang’a people were, until the young man Zack Kinuthia Chief Administrative Secretary (CAS) for Sports, Culture and Heritage, took to the rostrum to speak.
A local boy and an Uhuru Kenyatta loyalist, he completely avoided mentioning his name and his “development track record” in central Kenya. Kinuthia has a habit of over-extolling President Uhuru’s virtues whenever and wherever he mounts any platform. By the time he was done speaking, I quickly deduced he was angling to unseat Wangari. I wasn’t wrong; five months later in February 2022, Kinuthia resigned his CAS position to vie for Kigumo on a Party of the National Unity (PNU) ticket.
He spoke briefly, feigned some meeting that was awaiting him elsewhere and left hurriedly, but not before giving his KSh50,000 donation. Apparently, I later learnt that he had been forewarned, ahead of time, that the people were not in a mood to listen to his panegyrics on President Uhuru, Jubilee Party, or anything associated to the two. Kinuthia couldn’t dare run on President Uhuru’s Jubilee Party. His patron-boss’s party is not wanted in Murang’a.
I spent the whole day in Kandiri, talking to people, young and old, men and women and by the time I was leaving, I was certain about one thing; The Murang’a folks didn’t want anything to do with President Uhuru. What I wasn’t sure of is, where their political sympathies lay.
I returned to Murang’a the following month, in the expansive Kangema – it is still huge – even after Mathioya was hived off from the larger Kangema constituency. Funerals provide a good barometer that captures peoples’ political sentiments and even though this burial was not attended by politicians – a few senior government officials were present though; political talk was very much on the peoples’ lips.
What I gathered from the crowd was that President Uhuru had destroyed their livelihood, remember many of the Nairobi city trading, hawking, big downtown real estate and restaurants are run and owned largely by Murang’a people. The famous Nyamakima trading area of downtown Nairobi has been run by Murang’a Kikuyus.
In 2018, their goods were confiscated and declared contrabrand by the government. Many of their businesses went under, this, despite the merchants not only, whole heartedly throwing their support to President Uhuru’s controversial re-election, but contributing handsomely to the presidential kitty. They couldn’t believe what was happening to them: “We voted for him to safeguard our businesses, instead, he destroyed them. So much for supporting him.”
We voted for him to safeguard our businesses, instead, he destroyed them. So much for supporting him
Last week, I attended a Murang’a County caucus group that was meeting somewhere in Gatundu, in Kiambu County. One of the clearest messages that I got from this group is that the GEMA vote in the August 9, 2022, presidential elections is certainly anti-Uhuru Kenyatta and not necessarily pro-William Ruto.
“The Murang’a people are really yet to decide, (if they have, they are keeping the secret to themselves) on who they are going to vote for as a president. And that’s why you see Uhuru is craftily courting us with all manner of promises, seductions and prophetic messages.” Two weeks ago, President Uhuru was in Murang’a attending an African Independent Pentecostal Church of Africa (AIPCA) church function in Kandara constituency.
At the church, the president yet again threatened to “tell you what’s in my heart and what I believe and why so.” These prophecy-laced threats by the President, to the GEMA nation, in which he has been threatening to show them the sign, have become the butt of crude jokes among Kikuyus.
Corollary, President Uhuru once again has plucked Polycarp Igathe away from his corporate perch as Equity Bank’s Chief Commercial Officer back to Nairobi’s tumultuous governor seat politics. The first time the bespectacled Igathe was thrown into the deep end of the Nairobi murky politics was in 2017, as Mike Sonko’s deputy governor. After six months, he threw in the towel, lamenting that Sonko couldn’t let him even breathe.
Uhuru has a tendency of (mis)using Murang’a people
“Igathe is from Wanjerere in Kigumo, Murang’a, but grew up in Ol Kalou, Nyandarua County,” one of the Mzees told me. “He’s not interested in politics; much less know how it’s played. I’ve spent time with him and confided in me as much. Uhuru has a tendency of (mis)using Murang’a people. President Uhuru wants to use Igathe to control Nairobi. The sad thing is that Igathe doesn’t have the guts to tell Uhuru the brutal fact: I’m really not interested in all these shenanigans, leave me alone. The president is hoping, once again, to hopefully placate the Murang’a people, by pretending to front Igathe. I foresee another terrible disaster ultimately befalling both Igathe and Uhuru.”
Be that as it may, what I got away with from this caucus, after an entire day’s deliberations, is that its keeping it presidential choice close to its chest. My attempts to goad some of the men and women present were fruitless.
Murang’a people like reminding everyone that it’s only they, who have yet to produce a president from the GEMA stable, despite being the wealthiest. Kiambu has produced two presidents from the same family, Nyeri one, President Mwai Kibaki, who died on April 22. The closest Murang’a came to giving the country a president was during Ken Matiba’s time in the 1990s. “But Matiba had suffered a debilitating stroke that incapacitated him,” said one of the mzees. “It was tragic, but there was nothing we could do.”
Murang’a people like reminding everyone that it’s only they, who have yet to produce a president from the GEMA stable, despite being the wealthiest
It is interesting to note that Jimi Wanjigi, the Safina party presidential flagbearer is from Murang’a County. His family hails from Wahundura, in Mathioya constituency. Him and Mwangi wa Iria, the Murang’a County governor are the other two Murang’a prominent persons who have tossed themselves into the presidential race. Wa Iria’s bid which was announced at the beginning of 2022, seems to have stagnated, while Jimi’s seems to be gathering storm.
Are the Murang’a people prepping themselves this time to vote for one of their own? Jimi’s campaign team has crafted a two-pronged strategy that it hopes will endear Kenyans to his presidency. One, a generational, paradigm shift, especially among the youth, targeting mostly post-secondary, tertiary college and university students.
“We believe this group of voters who are basically between the ages of 18–27 years and who comprise more than 65 per cent of total registered voters are the key to turning this election,” said one of his presidential campaign team members. “It matters most how you craft the political message to capture their attention.” So, branding his key message as itwika, it is meant to orchestrate a break from past electoral behaviour that is pegged on traditional ethnic voting patterns.
The other plunk of Jimi’s campaign theme is economic emancipation, quite pointedly as it talks directly to the GEMA nation, especially the Murang’a Kikuyus, who are reputed for their business acumen and entrepreneurial skills. “What Kikuyus cherish most,” said the team member “is someone who will create an enabling business environment and leave the Kikuyus to do their thing. You know, Kikuyus live off business, if you interfere with it, that’s the end of your friendship, it doesn’t matter who you are.”
Can Jimi re-ignite the Murang’a/Matiba popular passion among the GEMA community and re-influence it to vote in a different direction? As all the presidential candidates gear-up this week on who they will eventually pick as their running mates, the GEMA community once more shifts the spotlight on itself, as the most sought-after vote basket.
Both Raila Odinga and William Ruto coalitions – Azimio la Umoja-One Kenya and Kenya Kwanza Alliance – must seek to impress and woe Mt Kenya region by appointing a running mate from one of its ranks. If not, the coalitions fear losing the vote-rich area either to each other, or perhaps to a third party. Murang’a County, may as well, become the conundrum, with which the August 9, presidential race may yet to be unravelled and decided.
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