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DIVIDENDS, DEFICITS, AND DEVELOPMENT: Can Kenyan Millennials Ride the Demographic Wave?

13 min read.

Falling fertility and mortality rates have put Kenya in line to reap the same demographic dividend that powered the rise of the Asian Tigers – but only if it gets its social and economic policies right. By PAUL GOLDSMITH



DIVIDENDS, DEFICITS, AND DEVELOPMENT: Can Kenyan Millennials Ride The Demographic Wave?
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The population surge now taking place across sub-Saharan Africa is this continent’s equivalent of the Western post-war Baby Boom. The congruence with demographic transitions elsewhere suggests that in theory, Africa’s “Baby Boomer” millennials are well positioned to affect a radical transformation. The case for a generational social movement intersects Kenya’s potential for a demographic dividend similar to the one underpinning the rapid rise of the Asian Tigers.

Two thousand years ago, Africans comprised an estimated 12 to 15 per cent of the world’s population. Africa’s share had dropped to 9 per cent by 1500 AD. By the end of the 19th century, the export of African slaves to the Americas and environmental calamities contributed to its decline to 6 per cent. Initial conditions, including the continent’s low population densities, physical and spatial barriers to communication, and historical isolation from other world regions, made it vulnerable to European exploitation.

Africa’s population began catching up during the decades of colonial rule, and spiked after independence. The continent’s share of the world’s population reached 17 per cent in 2017, and Africa is projected to host over a quarter of the world’s people by 2050. Naturally, the exceptionally high growth rates of the past several decades pose some formidable developmental challenges for Kenya and for the many other African nations with similar demographics.

Fewer births each year results in a country’s young dependent population decreasing relative to the working-age population. With fewer people to support, a country has a window of opportunity for rapid economic growth, but only if it gets its social and economic policies right. The decline in fertility, albeit slower than was the case in Asia, should exert a similar effect on African countries.

Kenya’s population has been surging since independence, growing from 8 million in 1960 to 13 million in 1975, and doubling to 26 million in 1995. These numbers confirm the fact that all the generations of Kenyans alive today were “Baby Boomers” when they came of age. The result is a population pyramid that over time has more in common with Mt. Kenya than with Mt. Kilimanjaro.

Since the colonial era, Kenya’s lopsided population distribution, where over 80 per cent of the population is concentrated in the 23 per cent of high potential land, has combined with the threat of environmental degradation to provoke Malthusian predictions of impending calamity. During the 1990s, urbanisation and the numbers of new university graduates entering the economy provoked a new set of concerns.

Kenya’s population has been surging since independence, growing from 8 million in 1960 to 13 million in 1975, and doubling to 26 million in 1995. These numbers confirm the fact that all the generations of Kenyans alive today were “Baby Boomers” when they came of age. The result is a population pyramid that over time has more in common with Mt. Kenya than with Mt. Kilimanjaro.

In 1998, I reviewed an internal US State Department analysis of the problem that outlined three future scenarios for Kenya: economic take-off; collapse; and muddling through. Where the document highlighted the prospects for political instability in the future if the then Moi regime of public mismanagement and political corruption were to persist, I opined that Kenyans were a resilient people who would somehow manage as long as the rains were okay.

This proved to be true. The rise in annual GDP growth during the following years may have partially offset the spreading rot, but the large numbers of educated youth entering the work force exposed the unsatisfactory state of affairs, as the accounts of urban millennials published in The Elephant over the last two months have shown.

Demographic dividends and deficits

Population growth in the form of natural increase and mass migration is one of the primary forces of historical change. However, demographic structure is acknowledged to be the more important indicator for developmental policy. The latest population numbers for Kenya provide the quantitative parameters of the country’s shifting generational balance.

Kenya Population Structure, 2017

Kenya Population Structure, 2017

Source:  CIA World Factbook

The backlash against the elders highlighted in many of the Elephant’s Millennial Edition is tempered by their relative scarcity. The elderly – people over the age of 65 – now comprise only three per cent of Kenya’s 48 million population. The 25-54 age group’s current share of the population is now one-third larger than it was in 1975.

One notices the difference conveyed by these statistics as soon as you step off the plane almost anywhere in the northern hemisphere. America’s retiring Baby Boomers, for example, are 16 per cent of the U.S. population. In South Korea, so often cited to underscore the two countries’ diverging economic pathways over the past several decades, the figure is 13.5 per cent. The world’s estimated average is edging towards 10 per cent and growing; the trend will translate into a global reduction in household savings and returns on financial assets. This will reduce the growth of household wealth from the historical mean of 4.5 per cent to 1.3 per cent over the next two decades, according to research on global demographic trends.

These numbers qualify the demographic dividend David Ndii referred to in his contribution to the discourse. Formally defined, the demographic dividend is the accelerated economic growth assisted by a decline in a country’s mortality and fertility and the shift in the age structure of the population. This dividend can be activated when pro-human capital policies combined with a large working-age population create virtuous cycles of wealth creation.

The dividend accounted for an estimated two-fifths of the Asian economic miracle. Now it may be Africa’s turn. Population numbers are moving in this direction, but there are basic prerequisites that must be in place for it to happen. Flexible labour markets, quality education systems and health services, and outward-looking economic policies are conventional elements of the formula.

Kenya’s formal policy framework meets most of the criteria. Despite the slower than expected fertility rate decline, Kenya’s dependency ratio is hovering between 76 per cent and 80 per cent. This means one working individual currently supports up to four dependents, but the ratio will decline, bringing Kenya in the rank of countries expected to reap the dividend. But there is no guarantee that this will happen, as the dividend is time-bound. The equation has real and potential implications for millennials, especially considering that important economic indicators, such as investments and savings, are trending in the opposite direction.

The demographic surge raises the stakes for getting policy right. In the case of Latin America, weak governments and closed economies saw large areas forfeit their dividend during the years between 1965 and 1985. Comparative analysis indicates the interactive effect of policy and demography accounts for 50 per cent of the growth gap between Latin America and East Asia. The corresponding observations about demographic deficits, or the failure to maintain living standards due to population decline or other systemic inefficiencies, underscore the imperative of getting the long-term policy equation right.

The demographic surge raises the stakes for getting policy right. In the case of Latin America, weak governments and closed economies saw large areas forfeit their dividend during the years between 1965 and 1985.

Japan and Europe are now going through the decline phase of their demographic transition. Socio-economic change diminishing the role of extended families and other social mechanisms exacerbates the problem, requiring that the state enact effective social policies to bridge the gap. Although post-war Japan maximised its dividend, it is still having problems coping with a population that is shrinking and aging at the same time. Despite its sustained economic growth, almost half of South Korea’s citizens aged over 65 now live in relative poverty, defined in this case as earning 50 per cent or less of median household income. High levels of isolation and depression have led to a dramatic rise in suicide among the elderly, from 34 per 100,000 people in 2000 to 72 per 100,000 people in 2010.

The United States, in contrast, has traditionally relied on immigration to maintain its working-age population. This has countered the aging variable while sustaining a major source of socio-economic revitalisation in the form of new blood and cultural diversity. The noise from President Donald Trump and his base conflicts with the fact that the 75 per cent of Americans support immigration, and they report that the diversity of immigrants makes the country a better place. The country has systematically capitalised on this multicultural dividend to rejuvenate the population and refresh its economy throughout its history. Present controversies over uncontrolled immigration and refugee influxes camouflage the fact that Europe has lately been following a similar – though undeclared – policy pathway.

Demographic transitions typically involve a large jump in population followed by a steady decline as investment in fewer children replaces the risk-spreading and agricultural labour function of large families. In Kenya, where the fertility rate remained in the mid-3 per cent range until the last decade, perhaps the prolonged transition to “adulating” lamented in some of the millennials’ accounts may hasten the fertility rate to drop to the replacement level of 2.1 children per woman from the 2.7 of the past decade.

The employment numbers indicate that the process of reaping the dividend here is less linear and subject to the distinctive features of Kenya’s geography and domestic politically economy. The median age in Kenya is now 19, and Kenya’s 39 per cent overall unemployment rate translates into 22 per cent for youth. The numbers for neighbouring countries are much lower: 4.1 per cent for Uganda; 5.2 per cent for Tanzania; and 3.1 per cent for Rwanda. Even Nigeria, Africa’s most populous country, has a significantly-below-Kenya youth unemployment rate of 13 per cent.

Even though we should not accept all these economic numbers at face value (the less visible parallel economy that doesn’t show up in official statistics is an important source of informal sector livelihoods in Kenya), we may be facing the politically explosive demographic overload scenario that was detailed in the State Department study twenty years ago.

The median age in Kenya is now 19, and Kenya’s 39 per cent overall unemployment rate translates into 22 per cent for youth. The numbers for neighbouring countries are much lower: 4.1 per cent for Uganda; 5.2 per cent for Tanzania; and 3.1 per cent for Rwanda. Even Nigeria, Africa’s most populous country, has a significantly-below-Kenya youth unemployment rate of 13 per cent.

The demographic dividend has a finite window; it does not occur automatically. Both the policies and their timing are critical, which is why Kenya’s millennials are facing a two-pronged dilemma: unemployment is high yet some 47 per cent of the Kenyans sampled in a 2014 Pew Research Survey reported that aging is a major problem. The figures for populous Nigeria, crowded Egypt, and middle-income South Africa came in at 28 per cent, 23 per cent, and 39 per cent in comparison, respectively.

These factors raise the stakes for Kenya getting things right now. But there is more at the crux of the debate than economic policy and warm bodies. Technological innovation works with population increase to drive human adaptation, and developments are moving rapidly on this front.

The fast-moving advance of the fourth technological revolution suggests that Kenya and its neighbours in Rwanda and Ethiopia have the potential to jump the queue if they position themselves properly for the longer run. Negative implications of artificial intelligence for the future of work should not distract us from the benefits on the horizon. The technology sector and building the industrial Internet may serve the same role that manufacturing did in Asia, although the potential for the same demo-techno double dividend cannot be taken for granted.

Assessments of African economic trends now argue that Africa is not likely to transit through the phase of manufacturing and carbon-driven energy generation that powered the post-World War II rise of East Asia and other world regions. Fourth generation technologies, in contrast, can generate an equivalent rise in prosperity and economic growth. This will come about through their contribution to everyday economic domains like health care, resource management and precision agriculture. Digital platforms are already creating a new small-scale ecosystem for commodity marketing, financial inclusion, and women’s empowerment according to one Kenyan expert.

The potential for tech-driven growth will require more than the tech hubs being established in Africa’s tech-friendly countries. It requires the kind of unorthodox and often irreverent problem-solving mindset that the country’s education system is adept at quashing.

The dynamic relationships linking scientific research, applied technology, and venture capital are critical to contemporary processes of innovation. This requires an enabling cultural environment, as demonstrated by the rise of American tech hotspots in the San Francisco Bay area, North Carolina’s research triangle, and the northeastern corridor. These hotspots were not planned; rather, the presence of top research universities and a culture of critical thinking and entrepreneurial risk-taking enabled their rise to prominence over the past three decades.

Kenya’s economy was building towards a transformational tipping point before events saw the country drift into a nebulous purgatory of ethnic polarities and failed constitutionalism. Now deficit financing of infrastructural projects and massive corruption are continuing to remove from circulation critical resources that could be energising the younger generations’ pent-up human capital.

The future availability of such investment capital cannot be taken for granted. It may decline apace with the industrial world’s demographic deficit over coming decades. Then again, demographic trends and the historian John Illife’s treatise on The Emergence of African Capitalism suggest that the continent just may step into the gap. (This was in 1981.) The importance of this synergetic union of capital and labour happening now extend beyond the African continent due to the significance of Africa’s expanding share of the world’s economically active population for the world economy.

Kenya’s economy was building towards a transformational tipping point before events saw the country drift into a nebulous purgatory of ethnic polarities and failed constitutionalism. Now deficit financing of infrastructural projects and massive corruption are continuing to remove from circulation critical resources that could be energising the younger generations’ pent-up human capital.

Beyond demography and economic policy

The first thing that strikes me when I get off the plane back in Kenya is the high level of activity almost everywhere one looks. The country is bursting with energy, but some of it is misdirected and much of it is generating low per capita returns.

The former World Bank head for Kenya, Apurva Sanghi, attributes the mismatch between job requirements and the shortfall of skilled labour due to the poor quality of education. This mismatch clashes with the millennials’ claims about their high level of education. The dramatic growth in universities in Kenya saw quantity replacing quality and the acquisition of paper qualifications displacing the search for knowledge. The commercialisation of higher education has in effect been another drain on the economy that has deprived a large segment of the millennial generation of the skills commensurate with their degrees and diplomas.

The more one studies the data, the more muddled the already uncertain big picture becomes. Even so, the long-term fundamentals, including the country’s 5 per cent per annum growth rates, are at best just okay.

As the latest World Bank overview for Kenya states, Kenya has the potential to be one of Africa’s success stories. All the country has to do is address “the challenges of poverty, inequality, governance, the skills gap between market requirements and the education curriculum, climate change, low investment and low firm productivity in order to achieve rapid, sustained growth rates that will transform lives of ordinary citizens.”

This is a very tall order and until this happens the country will continue to face the risk of stagnation and a creeping demographic deficit. The clock is ticking. In any event, the country needs more than the population-based dividend to drive its transformation. Assuming that demographic growth and the right policies do account for up to 40 cent of the Asian economic miracle, where did the other 60 per cent come from?

Japan and the Asian Tiger nations achieved their reputation through rapid growth compacted within the space of several decades. The demographic dividend is the central component in the developmental mantra explaining East Asia’s remarkable transition. The dividend was activated by policies that combined agricultural commercialisation, liberalisation and the relaxing of state controls, fostering a combination of domestic industry and export-led growth with favourable international economic conditions.

South Korea, the most popular exemplar for other developing countries, implemented deliberate population policies and pragmatic economic guidelines that helped create an age structure facilitating its rapid transition from an agrarian to an industrial society during the short interval between 1960 and 1990. The mutually reinforcing economic and population policies resulted in a basic shift at the household level, with changes in women’s roles and the rise of a middle class in place of the formerly dominant land-owning aristocracy.

The Asian exemplars counteracted the influence of Malthusian assumptions on post-independence developmental thinking, and now the Chinese model figures prominently in the calculations of many African political decision-makers. The Lamu Port, South Sudan, Ethiopia Transport Corridor (LAPSSET) project is emblematic of the focus on large infrastructure projects, natural resource exports, and extractive industries. The proposed Konza Technology City is another worthy but flawed project representative of the central command approach. The coders, investors, nerds, and hackers are not thrilled about moving to a corporate complex in the hinterland in the tradition of sparsely inhabited cityscapes like Brasilia, Morogoro, and China’s Xiongan megacity.

Asia’s big blueprint approaches were consistent with the central planning tradition and Confucian ideologies of social harmony that justified past South Korean and present Chinese and North Korean dictatorships. But there was nothing particularly harmonious about the Asian developmental processes that grew out of the region’s intense internal and territorial struggles, all of which reflected the zero-sum stakes of the era’s ideological conflicts. The triumph of capitalism in that region was anointed with blood, napalm, and genocidal pogroms. The success of the Asian Tigers was the culmination of a long fight that began with imperialism and led to new policies midwifed by fierce competition within old societies sharing similar environmental settings and socio-economic constraints.

Africa’s distinctive features, however, contrast with the conditions underpinning the Asian developmental orthodoxy. In the case of Kenya, competition between communities and opposition to the state prevail whereas in Asia competition and conflict were over ideology and economic models. Growing local opposition to centrally-planned projects in places like Turkana, Isiolo, and Lamu is indicative of the kind of political and social obstacles now complicating the next phase of the proverbial way forward.

Milk, as the pastoralists’ blockade of the road to Lodwar indicates, is still thicker than oil in the Horn of Africa.

It is interesting that the Marxist planners of the superpower era in Eastern Europe saw artificial intelligence as the natural ally of socialist development. AI may still prove to be an antidote to the inequities promoted by neoliberal capitalism. Where Western advisors stressed population control, their socialist counterparts in Africa saw population growth as integral to the continent reclaiming its position on the world stage. The prospects of this happening over the next several decades reminds us that Marx was one of the few analysts to critique the natural laws of Malthus when he postulated that each society at each point in history has its own laws that determine the consequences of population growth.

In traditional African systems, these laws often reflected the dynamics of generational succession. The cultural emphasis on the wisdom of the elders supported their embedded cross-generational influence on decision-making. I witnessed negative examples of this tradition in my children’s schools, where on more than one occasion, I lost arguments with fellow parents over issues like setting up computer labs and Internet connections. Kenya’s fossilised education system is one of the culprits responsible for the under-35ers’ angst, and this is corroborated by another recent essay on the multidimensional crisis plaguing higher education, published in The Elephant.

Has the generational model of African development hit a wall? The unproductive transfer of generational assets that formerly sustained capital formation is undermining productivity in the highland areas that fueled Kenya’s post-independence prosperity. When parents die they bequeath their wealth to their children, and this powered economic growth and diversification in the past. This vector is now turning family farms into dead capital as the owners age and their children working outside the sector block the sale of family land. The widespread leasing of small acreages and the break-up of large farms into parcels for rent is one symptom of a malaise that impacts beyond the agricultural sector.


The economic planners that once fostered Kenya’s economic growth have morphed into bureaucrats trapped in the development administration contradiction Bernard Schaffer identified in 1969. Schaffer argued that the first imperative of state administrators is to conserve and protect their bureaucracies while “development” is essentially an entrepreneurial activity. Kenya’s cartels and tenderpreneurs offer proof of the term’s oxymoronic logic.


Everywhere the millennials look they see dead ends, or so it seems from the urban point of view. Ndii’s “Hustler Nation essay argues that multiple productivity enhancing interventions in rural areas will generate far more to youth employment and productivity than the mega project revenue vampires they have conjured up. The resources allocated to building a tech city, for example, would be better invested in interdisciplinary IT programmes hosted by universities across the country, and other nodes dedicated to addressing economic activities ripe for innovation.

Everywhere the millennials look they see dead ends, or so it seems from the urban point of view. Ndii’s “Hustler Nation” essay argues that multiple productivity enhancing interventions in rural areas will generate far more to youth employment and productivity than the mega project revenue vampires they have conjured up.

These are the kind of issues that the millennial generation intellectuals and activists would do well to explore and debate. Their future, if not present welfare, will likely depend on developing creative developmental formulae consistent with the region’s historical trajectory and distinctive socio-cultural variation. A shift in this direction is beginning to gather speed on the county level, where the stakeholders are much better situated to generate the adaptive policies needed to maximise the demographic dividend.

In any event, we now know that progress is more a function of trial and error than the strategic planning processes and interventions managed by actors who remain insulated from their failures and unintended consequences. Devolution generates local initiatives, like the Makueni County public health revolution, which can be replicated and tweaked to fit the conditions in other settings.

Considering the obsession with branding of almost every Kenyan enterprise, with its vision and mission statements, more expansive thinking on these issues is one area where The Elephant’s Millennial Edition articles came up short. But they are not, as David Ndii contended, “on their own”. In addition to their rural age-mates, there is a growing transnational movement out there that is beginning to coalesce into a mass generational movement.

I hope it happens. Africa does need to regain its rightful place in the world, and someone needs to rescue the species from the Trumpian values of late capitalism.

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


Who Won Kenya’s “Nominations”?

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



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

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

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

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

Why do parties dread nominations?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Money, politics, and the cost of campaigns

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

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

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

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

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

Are the losers actually the biggest winners?

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

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

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

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

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

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Asylum Pact: Rwanda Must Do Some Political Housecleaning

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

Labour migration as climate mitigation

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reparations include No Borders

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

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

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

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

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

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

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