I was in the second year of my Master of Divinity programme at Princeton Theological Seminary when agents of the U.S. state executed Eric Garner and Michael Brown. The murders of these two young black men and the subsequent determination by the state that the killers were in the right had ignited a fiery political activism in me and in my fellow students. I remember that it was so fiery that it was a source of warmth while we protested in the bitter cold.
Every consecutive killing thereafter was like throwing a log into a bonfire. I also remember the struggle of trying to conceive of a theology where God and God’s Christ could be found in the tragic wake of the age-old practice of state-inflicted violence against black bodies. But most of all, I remember something very startling about the rhetoric employed by activists, myself included: our frameworks for achieving justice presupposed that the state’s existence and its claims to authority over our lives were legitimate. Or, at the very least, we assumed the state was a necessary evil through which we could do pragmatic work.
We imagined that more representation in multiple levels of government would be key to our salvation. “If we have the right people in government, the oppressed would be treated right,” we would exclaim.
But let us ask ourselves: What if the global political discourse is so colonised that our imagination of liberating oppressed peoples has been limited to participating in the very systems that oppress people in the first place? In other words, what if we have been conditioned to think that every vision of liberation must include the iteration of a state? Moreover, what if Jesus Christ challenges us to not work with the state, but to subvert it?
The state is illegitimate and unnecessary
I contend that the state – as an entity that claims to possess a monopoly over the use of legitimate coercion (i.e. violence) – is illegitimate and is unnecessary for achieving liberation for the oppressed. Anarchy can replicate every function of the state in a more effective fashion without its coercive elements through a voluntary and cooperative effort. It is within this space that the apocalyptic Christ dares us to imagine liberation not as another iteration of coercive power, but one of anarchy, which rejects the domination and subordination of human beings.
I contend that the state – as an entity that claims to possess a monopoly over the use of legitimate coercion (i.e. violence) – is illegitimate and is unnecessary for achieving liberation for the oppressed.
When I talk about the “state,” I’m referring to the general idea of “state-ness” in all its iterations, whether in America, Kenya or Malaysia – an entity that claims to possess a monopoly over the use of legitimate coercion. So, when we say that the state is illegitimate, we mean both its possession of a monopoly over coercion, and its actual use of coercion, are illegitimate.
What are some of the justifications for the state’s claim to power, and how can we deconstruct them?
One argument that defends the legitimacy of state power is that individuals in society have voluntarily consented to it. If individuals do not consent to the state, then it is illegitimate. Obviously, very few have consented to the state under which they live. Most people find themselves citizens of whatever country they happen to be born in, so have they actually consented to live under that jurisdiction? To make things worse, many of today’s nation-states are the creation of colonial powers, which simply enclosed various ethnic groups into a single territory while splitting others into two or more states.
In order to solve this crucial problem, John Locke, a 17th century political philosopher, invented the concept of “tacit consent”. Locke’s argument infers consent from silence; that merely walking on a highway in a country, for example, gives tacit consent to that country’s government. This clearly betrays the actual meaning of consent as a deliberate, voluntary act – for something to be consensual there must be the freedom to refuse. With such a misuse of language and logic here, we cannot help but conclude that the state is illegitimate with respect to the individuals who have not voluntarily consented to it.
Another justification for the state may be the nature of humankind and the conditions under which people live. We could argue that the state is necessary to remedy human beings’ violent, greedy and self-destructive ways; to ensure the welfare of the poor, the sick, the uneducated, and so on. Let’s say the nature of humankind is indeed deplorable. The false reasoning occurs, however, when observations about society’s condition are divorced from any culpability of the state. This assumes that society’s condition is in no way a by-product of the state’s current influence.
Nevertheless, let’s say that humankind is inherently violent, greedy and untrustworthy. The conclusion that the state is the logical remedy for this condition is unfounded because the state’s government is comprised of these same inherently violent, greedy, untrustworthy humans. Therefore, giving the state a monopoly over coercion is to centralise and magnify humankind’s worse traits (violence, greed, deception, etc.) and to concentrate power in the hands of a few who unleash deadly force, “legitimately”, with a claim to moral superiority. As such, oppression is legitimised as a natural consequence of statehood.
Nevertheless, let’s say that humankind is inherently violent, greedy and untrustworthy. The conclusion that the state is the logical remedy for this condition is unfounded because the state’s government is comprised of these same inherently violent, greedy, untrustworthy humans.
Another argument for the necessity of the state is to establish justice. Locke believed that an impartial system of justice is needed to avoid a vengeful society where everyone has a right to punish. Whether Locke was working from a high or low view of humankind’s nature is irrelevant. (The “high view” sees humans as naturally rational beings who are prone to peace and order. The “low view” sees humans as a naturally ignorant bunch who are prone to war and chaos.) If it was a high view, a coercive system would still be unnecessary to deal with matters of justice because such people would not need to be coerced into doing the right thing.
If it was a low view, a coercive system would still be unnecessary for two reasons. First, as mentioned before, the system would be totally comprised of partial members, and an impartial system made up of partial creatures can never be impartial. Ascribing traits to the state that are not found in its human agents appears ludicrous. If humankind is partial and self-interested, the system naturally devolves into the same, no matter the intentions.
Second, if human beings are really an ignorant and violent bunch, wouldn’t the injustices perpetuated by the state’s “justice system” (since the system is comprised of partial creatures) cause ordinary people to pursue their own private justice in a vengeance system? And if they pursue their own justice because of injustices perpetuated by the state, what is the point of granting the state a monopoly over legitimate coercion in the first place? It appears, then, that a state would be unnecessary.
A final argument for the necessity of the state is social coordination. The argument is that in a land where resources belonging to or affecting the whole of a community are limited, there is a need for coercion to ensure that individuals do not use their liberty to deplete these resources. This argument presupposes that a mutual agreement for a quota is ineffective because one’s own integrity has to be weighed against the possibility that others are forsaking the agreement – a situation that does not yield any foreseeable benefit to the individual. Therefore, depletion (a tragedy) occurs. It means that a coercive force is needed to counteract the self-interests of members of the community and to stave off the assured destruction from everyone’s greed and duplicity.
The problem with this argument is that it assumes that such a coercive force acts without self-interest. As long as this coercive force is comprised of individuals who live in the community and who each share a particular interest for themselves and for their families to have access to the resources (and not comprised of foreigners who have no vested interest in the resources), it follows then that this coercive force would be a small conglomerate of interests that ultimately have the authority to dismiss the interests of the general public, or who can be swayed by special interests that go against the interests of the general public. In other words, the state becomes an apparatus by which a particular interest for a particular individual or group is championed with complete legitimacy. (We are familiar with the results of this from government corruption scandals all around the world.) And if the coercive force is not greedy and selfish, but is benevolent and responsible, then why can’t this attribute be extended to the individuals that it purports to represent? In other words, if the enforcers can be trusted, why can’t the members of the community who are cooperating be trusted?
My view is that the very institution of the state betrays its key institutional goals of liberty, justice, and peace. This vehicle is unnecessary as well as inefficient because while seeking to protect liberty it forces liberty to be relinquished; while seeking peace it goes to war against individuals with its monopoly of coercion; while seeking justice it is only those who are most valuable to the state’s interests (i.e. the rich and powerful) who find it. Does much have to be said about the “tragedy of the state” in the twentieth century during which democide occurred in insane proportions?
The key to all these tragedies is revealed in the fact that the very notion of a coercive hierarchical arrangement is to propose a stratification of human equality across a matrix of domination. The tyrannical propensities of the state are embedded, then, within hierarchical subordination. It is the underlying reason why the enforcers of a quota, located at the top of the hierarchy, can be trusted (with resources, weapons, power, etc.) while the community, at the bottom, is suspect.
Ultimately, we must look beyond the state to arrive at a virtuous condition—to arrive at liberation.
The key to all these tragedies is revealed in the fact that the very notion of a coercive hierarchical arrangement is to propose a stratification of human equality across a matrix of domination. The tyrannical propensities of the state are embedded, then, within hierarchical subordination.
The word “anarchy” typically conjures up images of fire, savagery, and destruction. In common parlance it is synonymous with chaos, and is antithetical to civilisation. However, this characterisation is probably a legacy of colonial thought, which sought to justify the imposition of rule over indigenous populations who lived in communal settings. Such communities were thought to be savages by European scholars, among other reasons, because they did not form a state—indeed, they were “stateless societies”.
These societies (and there were many in pre-colonial Africa) represent anarchistic precedents in the African continent. How ironic that the imposition of coercive government (read: colonialism) carried with it the greatest acts of savagery and destruction against such societies.
The word anarchy originates from the Greek an – (“without”) – archy (“rulers”). It does not mean to be without laws or without government. It simply means a society that lacks the coercive elements of a state. Anarchists do not propose an orderless society, but one where order arises from voluntary cooperation and self-ruling communities. I personally like Bertrand Russell’s description of anarchy:
“[It is] the theory which is opposed to every kind of forcible government. It is opposed to the state as the embodiment of the force employed in the government of the community. Such government as anarchism can tolerate must be free government, not merely in the sense that it is that of a majority, but in the sense that it is assented to by all.”
Within Russell’s description is a critique of the cherished democratic system where the will of the majority is forced upon the minority. Analytically, we know that this arrangement produces oppression; when we look around the globe, minorities in various democratic governments are suffering at the hands of the majority because they lack participation in the decision-making process, and sometimes even lack recognition by their respective institutions of government. Even those who are numerically in the majority are often held hostage by a cabal of private interests that have a monopoly over state power.
I do not pretend that anarchy does not have its valid critiques. And, for the most part, historically, anarchy as a revolutionary concept has been an abysmal failure. Like most philosophies, anarchism lacks a transcendent element by which the population may be energised into action. I believe that the person of Jesus Christ—that apocalyptic prophet—offers a framework from which to imagine such action.
The apocalyptic Christ
When we refer to Jesus as the “apocalyptic Christ” we are, of course, drawing from the contributions of historical Jesus scholarship, which posits that Jesus was an apocalyptic prophet whose message primarily concerned the imminent end of the world (i.e. “age” Grk: aion). In historical Jesus scholarship, this message is over and above his message of being the Messiah, which some scholars (for example, Marcus Borg and Robert Funk) assert that he never preached. I call him the apocalyptic Christ instead of the apocalyptic prophet because I believe that his apocalyptic message naturally indicates his Messianic identity.
When Jesus preached, “The time has come…the kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!” (Mark 1:15, NIV), he invited his Jewish audience to imagine salvation through destruction, but this was with nuance.
A prominent number of Jews conceived the coming of the kingdom of God as a time where the Messiah would assume his kingship and destroy the occupational forces of enemy Rome. Jesus was a poor Judean labourer turned itinerant preacher under the rule of Rome. During this time, Rome was in Pax Romana (“Roman Peace”), where the empire enjoyed relative tranquility in the provinces over which it ruled. So, when Jesus says, “the kingdom of God has come near,” it conjured up thoughts of the Messiah about to come and physically cast the yoke of the Roman government from their necks and install his own empire with the same coercive elements as the former. However, as some with even a cursory understanding of Christianity might know, Jesus was quite disappointing to this apocalyptic imagination in that literal sense.
The apocalypticism of Christ was more comprehensive; it not only signaled the destruction of Roman power but it allowed his followers to imagine the breaking down of elite Jewish power as centred at the Temple. We understand that the Temple power network was controlled by the priestly aristocracy who enjoyed excesses by capitulating to Roman influence and power. They used their prestige to oppress the Jews of Judea as well as visiting pilgrims from around the Roman Empire. Where the Temple and its worship of God was supposed to bring the nation together in unity, the Temple power elites found a way to exploit lower class Jews by setting up money-changers (i.e. a capitalist system) in the outer courts of the Temple to which Jesus responded by making a whip of cords and driving them out (John 2).
So, Jesus’s message to “repent because the kingdom is near” is violent rhetoric aimed at the destruction of the system in which his Jewish audience was situated both domestically and abroad. It was a challenge to both the Temple priesthood and the kingship of Caesar. Towards the end of his ministry, Jesus’s message went from the kingdom of God “is near” to the kingdom of God “is within you” (Luke 17:21). This nuance invites his audience to imagine breaking up these institutions and taking away their centralised power, and not replacing them with a similar coercive system of capitalism and state power, but with a system that is disseminated and entrusted within his very audience. This means that the territory and breadth of the kingdom in this new world will not be confined to physical land or be dependent upon resources like in a capitalist framework but will be wholly in the confines of the human being. It means that the kingdom of God is the agency and autonomy of every human being.
So, Jesus’s message to “repent because the kingdom is near” is violent rhetoric aimed at the destruction of the system in which his Jewish audience was situated both domestically and abroad. It was a challenge to both the Temple priesthood and the kingship of Caesar.
Most scholars would agree that Jesus was executed by the Roman state for being a political threat to Caesar and the Roman Peace. The Scriptures say that while he was on the cross, the Temple curtain, which kept ordinary people from the space where God was dwelling (the Holy of Holies), was torn in half by destructive earthquakes (Matthew 27:51). This description invited early Christian communities to imagine that the execution of Jesus via state power incited God to break the hierarchical barrier separating the masses from God, where God would no longer be centralised and hidden away for the enjoyment of a few elites. This decentralising and disseminating force declares that the powers that be were illegitimate; and, vests the human being, every human being, with a sacred majesty characterised by agency and autonomy. Our bodies become the temple and empire of God and thus the jurisdiction of God. Therefore, no state can legitimately encroach or impose its power upon the sacred—the human being. It is a merging of both flesh and spirit, which elevates the once downtrodden and oppressed into a position of power, not to coerce but to extend the voluntary divine community.
“All the believers were together and had everything in common. They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts.” (Acts 2:44-46, NIV).
“All the believers were one in heart and mind. No one claimed that any of their possessions was their own, but they shared everything they had.” (Acts 4:32).
The apocalyptic Christ challenges us today to be steadfast with the message against state power and really, all coercive arrangements in whatever forms they appear. His apocalypticism allows us to imagine liberation not as synonymous with installing coercive state power, or even participating within the state, but rejecting coercion altogether as an affront to the sacredness of individual human beings and the rule of God. We may declare not that the kingdom of God is coming, but that it is here right now, and we are free to realise such liberation through building voluntary and cooperative societies just as the early Christians did.
When we think of reimagining this liberation today, we must grapple with what modern institutions, such as schools, banks and hospitals, or even a criminal justice system, might look like in a stateless society. It is important to remember that individual autonomy is at the core of anarchy. Therefore, when we reimagine these social arrangements, we are not limited to just one vision or iteration, but a vision of many because every community would be free to forge its own voluntary system marked by its own unique variation. Hence, for example, there is no one “anarchist school” per se, but various arrangements in numerous communities where children are free to come and go as they please and are taught in a cooperative, integral fashion such principles as liberty, fraternity, equality, and solidarity.
When we think of reimagining this liberation today, we must grapple with what modern institutions, such as schools, banks and hospitals, or even a criminal justice system, might look like in a stateless society. It is important to remember that individual autonomy is at the core of anarchy.
There are copious amounts of literature on anarchist educational systems, economics (e.g. blockchain technology has the considerable potential of subverting the state), healthcare, and justice systems (such as restorative justice, private justice, and even Rwanda’s gacaca courts to some extent) that may help us reimagine an ordered society without the state. In many ways it has already been happening, except that informal arrangements (such as in the chama/ stoekvel/ informal banking systems that keep many African communities financially afloat) are maligned as inferior to state alternatives. (It is important to reiterate that each community has the right to self-determine the best approach to operating these voluntary institutions.)
Ultimately, the claims of the state to possess legitimate coercion must be denied at every turn. The rhetoric we use should contain the same urgency as Jesus’s, where we cast visions of a world in which the coercive power of governments around the globe are doomed to pass away. The apocalyptic Christ allows us to imagine that individuals and communities can be trusted, because God entrusted God’s power in our very beings over which no state or person can rule without our consent.
The Real Story Behind the Dams Scam
7 min read. President Uhuru Kenyatta’s decision to cancel the tender for the construction of the Kimwarer dam but to allow for the Arror dam project to proceed at half the original cost has been viewed as a commendable action in the fight against graft. However, ALESSANDRO DA ROLD and LORENZO BAGNOLI suggest that there could more than meets the eye in what is known as the “dams scam”.
Since the 1970s, Kenya has been considered by convicted Italian criminals as a safe haven – a place to hide from justice. A recent tide has, however, occurred and now some of these criminals have been extradited after spending years enjoying the “good vibes” of the Kenyan sea shores, especially in their stronghold Malindi. It seems to be the end of an era marked by impunity as Kenyan authorities have started pursuing alleged felonies committed by Italians living in Kenya. The authorities are not just going after individuals, but companies as well.
On the 29th of July this year, the Milimani Chief Magistrate’s court in Nairobi allowed Kenya’s Director of Public Prosecutions (DPP), Noordin Haji, to issue an arrest warrant for the Italian citizen Paolo Porcelli, the CEO of CMC (Cooperativa Muratori e Cementisti) from Ravenna. Porcelli is charged with abuse of office, bid-rigging and misuse of public funds and could face jail time if he returns to Kenya. With him on the list of the indicted there is also the Italian joint venture between the Italian companies Itinera (Gavio Group) and CMC.
Porcelli declined to appear in court twice. “Porcelli is a fugitive. Despite being given the opportunity, he hasn’t presented himself in court for a second time,” DPP Special Prosecutor Taib Ali Taib told the court. “The Italians think they can break the law and get away with it contemptuously. They believe nothing will come out of it. Don’t allow it, your honour”.
Porcelli’s lawyers have a different opinion on his judicial status in Kenya: they explained that the indictment has charges only against the Kenyan top officials involved in the case. “It is not clear, and it is not explained [by the investigators] why Mr Porcelli and the joint venture CMC-Itinera could be indicted for the only charges they have, namely cashing in the deposit on the construction as it was agreed upon the contracts.”
The arrest warrant issued to the Italian manager is the latest development in a long saga reported in the international media as the “dams scam”. This story has many facets: the alleged criminal conduct of the Italian company in Kenya (CMC declines any involvement, claiming its innocence); the blatant lies and unfulfilled promises to the local population living around the proposed dams area; and the way local politicians turned Kenya’s natural assets into a personal gold mine.
The CMC’s long nightmare
CMC is a giant company in the field of construction globally. Wherever there is an important tender, the company is among the bidders. However, the glorious history of the company didn’t guarantee CMC’s success – construction is a competitive sector around the world. Sometimes to be awarded a tender, managers have to cross the line between lobbying and corruption.
In 2014, CMC signed a consultancy contract with Primo Greganti, a businessman and former politician who was arrested for alleged corruption: he would have helped some companies to be granted tenders for the construction of the site of Expo Milan 2015, the world food exhibition hosted in the Italian city. The trial ended in a plea: in the Italian judiciary system, it means there is no verdict on the culpability of the defendant.
This story has many facets: the alleged criminal conduct of the Italian company in Kenya; the blatant lies and unfulfilled promises to the local population living around the proposed dams area; and the way local politicians turned Kenya’s natural assets into a personal gold mine.
The company was effectively granted a six million euro tender for the recovery of the land of the so called “plate”, the foundation for the exhibition facilities. At the end of the work, the final cost skyrocketed to 30 million euros because of differences caused by unexpected changes in the project. These extra costs were heavily criticised by the Expo 2015 board members because there were no grounds for justifying them. But because time for the construction at the site was running out, nobody within the board could reject the CMC’s requests. CMC was also awarded the tender for the construction of one of the French pavilions at the exhibition.
In May 2018, the company issued a press release on its financial situation. Under “total turnover” it reads: “Decreased from €289.0 million to €258.2 million. In particular, construction revenue decreased from €278.0 million to €236.7 million, due to a €23.0 million reduction overseas and an €18.3 million reduction in Italy. A significant increase is expected from certain projects achieving full production stage and from the start of the new project secured in recent quarters.”
In another press release issued in November last year, the company stated: “The Board unanimously concurred that, in a market context that was already structurally problematic, for reasons that arose spontaneously without any predictability, linked to non-receipts of orders and/or the state of progress of work, the Company is facing a moment of cash-flow tension.”
The main “non-receipts of order” at that time was Anas, the Italian company partially controlled by the state and in charge of maintaining and managing Italian highways. With the Kenya dams tender, it seemed that the cash flow problem might be solved. Kenya and Nepal were at that point considered as possible anchors that could recover the company’s accounts. One of the primary goals of the managers, therefore, was to immediately cash in on the advances made on work yet to be carried out. And this is when new problems arose.
The masterminds targeted by the investigation
CMC in Kenya has been granted contracts worth almost 800 million euros for the construction of the dams at Arror and Kimwarer. The awarding of the tender was officially presented during a meeting between the former Italian Prime Minister, Matteo Renzi, and President Uhuru Kenyatta. Both projects were expected to provide water to the population of the Rift Valley. According to the 2017 annual budget of CMC, Kenya was among the list of countries that contributed to expand the productivity of the company. Two years later, the situation is totally different.
In Italy, the authors of this article have since March been investigating the Kenyan dams case for La Verità, a right wing newspaper. The newspaper discovered a contract signed in 2013 between CMC and Stansha Limited, the company associated with the Lamu West MP, Stanley Muthama who was arrested on 28th June for tax evasion. It is a consultancy contract granting Muthama a fixed fee of 3 per cent in case CMC signs a contract with local development authorities in Kenya.
CMC in Kenya has been granted contracts worth almost 800 million euros for the construction of the dams at Arror and Kimwarer. The awarding of the tender was officially presented during a meeting between the former Italian Prime Minister, Matteo Renzi, and President Uhuru Kenyatta.
In that case, it was the Itare dam, another project to supply water in the Rift Valley, which apparently is not included in the current investigation. The investigation went silent until 22nd July when 28 other people were arrested on a different charge: international corruption. Among them was the Italian CEO, Paolo Porcelli, and Kenya’s Treasury Cabinet Secretary, Henry Rotich. The Italian prosecutor Lucia Lotti is handling the case in Rome, with the option to file a new investigation in Italy as well.
As is everything in Kenya now, this case could be framed as the battle between Uhuru and his number 2 in the 2022 election campaign, William Ruto. It has been suggested that Ruto could be using the Italian company for political support. Ruto’s daughter, June Chepchirchir, holds a senior position as the second counselor at the Kenyan embassy in Rome, Italy.
A key moment in diplomatic relations
The investigation on CMC Itinera is happening at a sensitive moment. Kenya and Italy are trying to collaborate on the Silvia Romano kidnapping. The 23-year-old Italian volunteer, who worked for the Italian charity Africa Milele, was abducted on 20th November last year from Chakama village in Kilifi County. But since then there has been no substantial information on her situation, apart from the trial of Gababa Wariu and Moses Lwari Chende, who confessed to aiding Romano’s abduction. But the investigation so far has not resulted in finding her.
In Italy the absence of updates on Silvia Romano’s health conditions are considered very alarming. At the same time, there is a new ongoing effort in Italy to have Romano released. The Kenyan head of public prosecutions, Noordin Haji, and Italian prosecutors in Rome are discussing a common strategy on the issue. If no positive results are achieved, the predictable outcome could be the cooling down of business and diplomatic relations between the two countries, at least in the initial stages.
The investigation on CMC Itinera is happening at a sensitive moment. Kenya and Italy are trying to collaborate on the Silvia Romano kidnapping. The 23-year-old Italian volunteer, who worked for the Italian charity Africa Milele, was kidnapped on 20th November last year from Chakama village in Kilifi County.
While Italy is grappling with the dams scandal and the search for Silvia Romano, France is trying to find a foothold in East Africa by signing new contracts with the Kenyan government. Rivalry in bilateral relationships in Africa is always a hot issue within the European Union (EU) member states, who have been unable to come up with a single comprehensive strategy for how EU member states should deal with African governments.
A possible read on the dams case is that William Ruto was the guarantor for the Italians and he can’t assure them anymore because he is currently dealing with bigger challenges related to his re-election campaign, which has been marred by corruption scandals implicating individuals from his political camp.
For additional information on the Arrow and Kimwarer Dams saga see links below.
Contract Agreement between KVDA and CMC di Ravenna – Itinera Joint Venture for Kimwarer Dam
A contract agreement (KVDA/RPF/39/2014-15) between Kerio Valley Development Authority and CMC di Ravenna – Itinera Joint Venture signed on 5th April 2017 for works on the Kimwarer Multipurpose Dam Development Project on River Kimwarer.
Contract Agreement between KVDA and CMC di Ravenna – Itinera Joint Venture for Arror Dam
A contract agreement (KVDA/RPF/36/2014-15) between Kerio Valley Development Authority and CMC di Ravenna – Itinera Joint Venture signed on 5th April 2017 for works on the Arror Multipurpose Dam Development Project on River Arror.
A consultancy agreement between C.M.C. di Ravenna South Africa Branch and Stansha Limited (a company registered in Kenya) for the general purposes to provide consultancy services for the Itare Dam and Ruiru II Dam project under Athi Water Service Board.
DPP’s press statement on investigations concerning KVDA and Rift Valley Water Services Board
Following complaints to the Government of Kenya has been exposed to the loss of billions of shillings arising out of manipulation of the tendering process of several dam projects including the Arrow dam, Kimwarer dam, Itare dam, Embobut multi-purpose dam, Lower Turkwell irrigation scheme et.al the DPP’s office constituted a team of prosecutors to ensure the investigations of the aforementioned projects were carried out.
Freedom Fighter or Ruthless Dictator? Unravelling the Tragedy that was Robert Gabriel Mugabe
8 min read. Admired by Pan-Africanists for his anti-imperialist rhetoric but loathed at home for his authoritarian tendencies, Robert Mugabe was a man full of contradictions. TINASHE L. CHIMEDZA reflects on the controversial life of Zimbabwe’s longest-serving leader.
Robert Gabriel Mugabe, Zimbabwe’s leader for nearly four decades. died on the 6th of September 2019 in a hospital in Singapore. Mugabe’s death, like his life, has generated animated debate, the very first irony being that after nearly four decades in office he died in a foreign hospital. Some have praised Mugabe for being a “liberation icon”, and a “great Pan-Africanist”. Former South African president Thabo Mbeki called him “a fellow combatant”. Others have charged Mugabe with being a “tyrant” who collapsed his country and fanned “genocidal” ethnic divisions.
However, in order to fully understand this complex character, we have to put Mugabe into a broader historical purview. Mugabe was educated by Jesuit Catholics. Initially trained as a teacher, he would remain deeply religious his entire life. It was in the maelstrom of liberation contests that Mugabe’s oratory skills came to the fore and he became the target of the vicious Rhodesian state that threw him and other nationalists, into detention.
Mugabe used his time in jail to get qualifications in law and economics. With his release from the Rhodesian jail, after almost eleven years, he headed straight to the liberation war front by escaping the country and crossing into Mozambique. There he became the voice on Radio Zimbabwe, and fronted media engagements. His star was shining as he became the forceful voice leading liberation delegations first at the failed Geneva Conference of 1976 and then at the Lancaster House settlement in 1979 in London.
When Mugabe was prime minister and then president, there were geopolitical factors that worked against the success of Zimbabwe. South of the Limpopo, apartheid South Africa destabilised the whole region. Importantly, the Rhodesian political economy was constructed for a few white settlers and the black majority government that Mugabe led had inherited an economy that was stable but very parochial.
The 1980s, considered by some as the happy years, were also full of contradictions. Education and health were expanded but in the western part of the country, Mugabe’s comrades were brutalising a whole region into subservience. Young men labelled “dissidents” were tortured, murdered in cold blood, and buried in mass graves. The violence was so macabre it brought nationalist leader Joshua Nkomo to near tears. He escaped to London and wrote The Story of My Life (1984). This was only settled in Mugabe’s favour when they signed the Unity Agreement of 1987.
That sordid part of Zimbabwe’s post-colonial history provided a script into the 1990s and 2000s. But what most political biographers of Zimbabwe leave out is that the Rhodesian settler-state inherited by the nationalist movement was a war machinery built to defend white settler interests. Ken Flower, who was the first director of the vicious Central Intelligence Organisation (CIO), wrote about the “exploits” of the white-security state apparatus in a book titled Serving Secretly. The 1980 Lancaster House Constitution at Zimbabwe’s independence left this state-security apparatus unreformed and years later Mugabe would boast that “he had degrees in violence” and that the “gun was mightier than the pen”.
The 1980s, considered by some as the happy years, were also full of contradictions. Education and health were expanded but in the western part of the country, Mugabe’s comrades were brutalising a whole region into subservience.
The ruling political class dealt with opponents ruthlessly and Mugabe’s rise and demise as leader was tightly linked to the military. Professor Jonathan Moyo argued that Mugabe was the victim of Zimbabwe’s “militarists”’. It was a military declaration in 1975 called the Mgagao Declaration that put Mugabe at the apex of the liberation movement in Mozambique. It was the military that kept him in power and that took him out of power via the putsch of November 2017. He was replaced with a man chosen by the military – Emerson Mnangagwa aka the crocodile, a name bequeathed to him because of his ruthlessness.
Scattered ideological orientations
Mugabe blundered from one political ideology to another but at the core of the project was power retention at any cost. In the 1970s Mugabe preached socialism and dabbled in some incoherent half-understood Marxist-Leninism. But when young guerillas attempted to build a Marxist political movement, they were thwarted and thrown into prison.
One young military commander from then, Wilfred Mhanda, wrote about the experience in his memoir Dzino: Memories of a Freedom Fighter (20011 – Weaver Press). In the early 1980s, Mugabe articulated variant forms of socialism and Marxism but only to court allies, given the global geopolitical contests of the Cold War era. The ZANU-PF manifestos of the 1980s discussed socialism in theory but there was no attempt to build a socialist economy and by the end of the 1980s any pretence to building socialism was abandoned – the road to socialism was closed off. In another memoir, Re-living the Second Chimurenga: Memories from Zimbabwe’s Liberation Struggle (2006), Fay Chung would state that Mugabe was a devoted Roman Catholic and it’s possible that this closed off any concrete inclination towards Marxism or Maoism.
In the 1990s Mugabe walked into neoliberalism, embraced structural adjustment programmes (SAPs), and took loans from the International Monetary Fund (IMF). But the policy move was disastrous. Social and public services collapsed, informality set it and the industrial base melted away, provoking resistance from the labour, women and student movements. The crisis of falling incomes, unemployment, inflation, adventure into the DRC war and the increased debt levels knocked the economy down. This was made more acute by the seizure of white-owned farms, which led to the collapse of the agriculture sector.
Mugabe then veered into a radical indigenisation programme. To keep all these threads from exploding, he entrenched a political system of shredding the Constitution and making himself an imperial, almost feudal-aristocratic president. Zimbabweans mass migrated into the region and a passport, to escape anywhere, became a prized possession in a country that has become what Dambudzo Marechera called “The House of Hunger”.
The 2017 coup and the militarists
When Zimbabwe’s generals staged a coup in 2017, they pointed out that ZANU-PF was corrupt and needed to be rescued from itself. The whirlwind that consumed Mugabe was in the seeds that he had sown. When the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) emerged in 1999, he had allowed the chief of defence forces to say “the presidency was a straightjacket” and in 2008 he had allowed the military to take over the running of the election under the Joint Operations Command (JOC) – a relic of the Rhodesian military state.
The political nose that Mugabe had used to strangle the opposition and to brutalise civil society into subjugation was now turned on his neck. Professor Jonathan Moyo, now in exile, has argued that Mugabe was a mere “spokesperson” of the military system that harbours, in his words, the “repugnant ideology” that the “gun commands politics”. To claim that Mugabe, after almost half a century at the helm of the nationalist movement, was a mere “mouth” of the military is the grandest of revisionism.
In the 1990s Mugabe walked into neoliberalism, embraced structural adjustment programmes (SAPs), and took loans from the International Monetary Fund (IMF). But the policy move was disastrous. Social and public services collapsed, informality set it and the industrial base melted away, provoking resistance from the labour, women and student movements.
But Mugabe also went beyond violence as a means of political rule. Using his oratory skills, he presented himself as a Pan-African liberation fighter, and often riled against imperialism and stirred the ideological support of nationalist movements. In Zimbabwe, the political system became dominated by what Professor Ranger called “patriotic history”. In a way the system of political rule was a complex combination of authoritarianism, ideological narrative and patronage networks. Jonathan Fisher and Nic Cheeseman have pointed out more clearly that “authoritarian regimes rely on ideas, not just guns”:
“The more resilient of Africa’s authoritarian regimes, for example, have bought support from powerful local elites, soldiers, particular ethnic groups or political influencers through building them into extensive patronage structures where state resources are cascaded down chains of patron-client links. In so doing, they may assemble a large, and often diverse, group of communities who rely on the regime’s survival for their prosperity.” (Mail and Guardian, 6 November 2019)
In dealing with his opponents within and outside his party, Mugabe was scheming and coldly ruthless, but he also built ideological narratives and patronage networks, and controlled the public memory to place himself – not other nationalists – at the centre of history. Mugabe compared the nationalist leader Joshua Nkomo to “a snake whose head must be crushed”.
In the 1990s, when his former comrade Edgar Tekere opposed the “one-party state”, he was thrown out of the party and his supporters were accusing of “courting death”. Years after that the famed guerilla leader, Rex Nhongo, Zimbabwe’s first army general, died in a suspicious fire. Rex Nhongo was suspected of first supporting Simba Makoni and then his wife Joyce Mujuru to challenge Mugabe. A few years later, Emerson Mnangagwa was kicked out as Mugabe played one political faction against the other in Machiavellian style. Nearly all of Zimbabwe’s opposition leaders were charged of “subversion”. (Morgan Tsvangirai has written about his trials and tribulations is his memoir At the Deep End.)
When Mugabe was president, the opulence of his and his family’s lifestyle was on display at their home called “The Blue Roof”. Nepotism and cronyism were rife. Those networked with the Mugabes worked their way into economy. In Mazowe, just outside Harare, poor farmers who had been allocated land were kicked out and some were only saved by High Court orders. Nephews, nieces, uncles, children and the president’s immediate family amassed vast amounts of wealth. Mining claims, multiple farms, fuel cartels and contracts with the government is how this wealth was amassed. One of Mugabe’s nephews boasted “if you want to be rich join ZANU PF”. Public enterprises were looted with reckless abandon. Before being deposed, the Mugabes were going to build a Robert Mugabe University to the tune of US$1billion. Even in death Mugabe will be buried in a mausoleum possibility costing millions.
Of Kwame Nkrumah, Mwalimu Nyerere and Nelson Mandela
Robert Mugabe left no condensed publication of his thoughts, which means his intellectual footprint is only found in speeches and scattered interviews. For a president whose education varied from law, economics and education, this is rather disappointing.
In dealing with his opponents within and outside his party, Mugabe was scheming and coldly ruthless, but he also built ideological narratives and patronage networks, and controlled the public memory to place himself – not other nationalists – at the centre of history.
It was at continental and global forums that Mugabe attracted the affinity of Black Africa, and where he mesmerised the Global Pan-African movements and other social and political forces. He went to United Nations General Assembly meetings religiously. There he made scathing comments about racism, demanded equality at the UN Security Council, railed against economic exploitation of Africa and raised his voice to throw spears at imperialism. An articulate black president from a small former African colony who repossessed land, who was placed under sanctions, and who made stinging statements against inequitable global power relations is what the Pan-Africanist movement was lacking and some sections praised Mugabe for this.
Compared to the other towering intellectuals, theorists and revolutionaries of Pan-Africanism, Robert Mugabe’s legacy withers. Kwame Nkrumah was a thinker and an intellectual who penned treatises that dealt with the African condition. Mwalimu Nyerere was a nation-state builder who forged the disparate social groups of Tanzania into a cohesive stable polity and who retired into a modest life. Nelson Mandela pulled the strands of a nation traumatised by the violence of apartheid into a “Rainbow Nation”. Having had a “long walk to freedom”, Nelson Mandela subjected the country to constitutional democracy. Thomas Sankara forged an everlasting revolutionary legacy. He placed women at the centre of politics and development, tackled illiteracy, and invested in health. The young captain lived a modest life, shunned decadent opulence and boldly set into motion the belief that the “future can be invented”.
Broad strokes of history
They say history is written in broad strokes. Mugabe’s anti-colonial credentials will shine; he stayed in prison for over a decade, the radical land repossession will also burn bright but this will be blighted by the brutality, the ruthlessness, the corruption and the repugnant politics of polarity authored by Mugabe. Of Mugabe’s politics, the Pan-Africanist Tajudeen Abdul-Raheem had this to say:
“Zimbabwe and President Mugabe are a situation we cannot in all good conscience continue to pussyfoot about anymore. It is indefensible that one man, no matter his contribution to the country, should be holding the people to ransom…Mugabe is no longer the part of the problem of Zimbabwe: he is now the problem (Speaking Truth to Power: Selected Pan-African Postcards, 2010)
Mugabe built a surveillance state of Stalinist proportions that was littered with impunity, arrogance of power, extrajudicial killings, a rapacious propaganda system, and a personality cult that exacted worship and fear from the man and woman on the street. The long motorcade, ambulance in tow, imported cavalcade of cars, gun-toting soldiers, loud police sirens, police motorbikes, traffic cleared from the road and armoured cars that ferried Mugabe have died down. The putsch of 2017 ushered in the country’s militarists who remain in control of a vicious perpetuum mobile – a kleptocratic military class that has melted away any respect for the constitutional edicts of the country.
We from Zimbabwe will remember Mugabe for a dream that could have been possible but instead was collapsed into what Professor Sabelo Gatsheni-Ndlovu called “grotesque nationalism”.
Why South Africa Should Not Do a Zimbabwe: Demerits of the Proposed Land Expropriation Law
8 min read. A law to allow the seizure of white-owned land could have a profoundly negative impact that goes well beyond the violation of fundamental human rights. Its consequences could be catastrophic on the industrial, agricultural, and banking sectors in South Africa.
Some time has passed since South African President Cyril Ramaphosa’s highly controversial announcement of a new land reform law that would allow for the expropriation of land without compensation. Accused by some of racism, and by others of populism, the president is trying to address the pressing requests of the vast majority of blacks who still feel oppressed after white minority rule ended in 1994. According to a recently released parliamentary media statement, this bold move should fix “the historical wrongs caused by arbitrary dispossession of land, and in so doing ensure equitable access to land and further empower the majority of South Africans to be productive participants in ownership, food security, and agricultural reform programmes.”
Apparently, in a country where the white minority account for just over 9 per cent of the population but which owns over 70 per cent of the land, such a law seems to be a fair way to balance the scales of social justice. However, on the other side of the barricade, there are thousands of white Afrikaners descended from Europeans who colonised South Africa who claim that they worked hard to obtain that land. These people are human beings as well, and many of them are only paying the price of a segregation regime imposed by their fathers and grandfathers.
This bitter battle between these two sides is rooted in apartheid, a terrible word that does more than just bring back bad memories. It is an ugly concept that speaks to us of racial segregation, and inhumane treatment. And even if now the faces (and colours) of the protagonists may have swapped, the dehumanising cruelty behind it has probably not.
The controversial amendment to section 25 of the Constitution
To date, the African National Congress (ANC), the country’s leading political party since the end of apartheid, has redistributed land following a “willing seller, willing buyer” model. In a nutshell, the government buys white-owned farms and then redistributes them to black farmers. The idea was to return at least 30 per cent of the land that was expropriated from black farmers to their legitimate owners by 2014. However, today less than 10 per cent of commercial farmland has been redistributed. Exponents of the South African Homeless People’s Association claim that the “willing seller, willing buyer” model only widened the social divide, bringing more poverty to the masses.
The law proposed by Ramaphosa aims at amending section 25 of the Constitution to make the expropriation of land without compensation an explicitly legitimate option. In other words, the government could take this land away from white hands without paying them anything, as long as the reform doesn’t cause any damage to the nation’s economy, agricultural production, and food security.
This law was supported by a small radical party led by Julius Malema, the newly-created Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF). However, not all the white owners got their land by means of coercion during the previous century. Many claim they legitimately bought it through the hard work of their ancestors and defined this law as grossly immoral and inhumane. Some threatened to wage war to defend their farms, bringing back the sad memories of the recent land expropriation policies enforced in Zimbabwe. Some other “softer” reforms have been proposed, such as paying “just and equitable” compensation that is well below market price to landowners, or banning foreigners from buying agricultural lands.
Racism: the legacy of a century of apartheid in South Africa
Unlike other countries where racism is a tremendous plague that crawls hidden in the very fabric of society, in South Africa racism and discrimination against blacks were explicit laws. During the last century, European colonialists simply institutionalised them as part of the nation’s legal infrastructure. Similar to the racial laws that forced Jews to lose their jobs just because of their heritage, during apartheid in South Africa, a series of laws were put in place to enforce white dominance. It was the Parliament itself that decided that black people had to be inferior human beings and had, therefore, limited access to rights.
In 1913, the South African’s colonialist administration passed the Natives Land Act, a law which stripped nearly all black people of their right to own land. Although 72 per cent of the population consisted of black people, this law limited land ownership among blacks to a mere 8 per cent of the country. White South Africans literally gave land to themselves, a capital offence that created a terrible precedent as many black people were forcefully evicted from their farms.
The law proposed by Ramaphosa aims at amending section 25 of the Constitution to make the expropriation of land without compensation an explicitly legitimate option. In other words, the government could take this land away from white hands without paying them anything, as long as the reform doesn’t cause any damage to the nation’s economy, agricultural production, and food security.
Other laws, such as the Reservation of Separate Amenities Act of 1953 and the Group Areas Development Act of 1955, further reinforced these policies of segregation. Blacks were forced into unproductive land and underdeveloped regions, which excluded them from amenities such as parks, schools, and hospitals that only whites could access. Blacks could not obtain formal training for skilled jobs, which denied them the right to study, and barred them from equal employment and development opportunities. Together with many other racial laws, apartheid drove the black community into poverty, prevented them from expressing their opinions freely, and stripped them of their properties.
When the apartheid formally saw its end in 1994, many who suffered from these disparities imposed by this regime rejoiced, hoping for reforms that would bring back some justice in their lives. However, as often happens in politics, many of these promises of equity and equality quickly turned into empty words and vain declarations. The resources that the South African government allocated for land reform were vastly insufficient, never exceeding a mere 1 per cent of the national budget. Even today, land reform doesn’t look like a priority, with the amount allocated to it being just 0.4 per cent of the national budget. Racial inequalities persist in many sectors, including in the mining and industrial sectors, which constitute the backbone of the nation’s economy. The majority of the most profitable companies remain controlled and managed by whites, and the whole labour market still suffers from substantial polarisation.
The snowball effect of nearly 400 years of colonialism left the black community in dire poverty, ripe with nearly-illiterate individuals who had no chances to become competitive in the upcoming century of globalisation. According to the World Bank, 25 years after the end of apartheid, South Africa is still one of the most unequal countries in the world. In 2017, the unemployment rate was still high and growing at 27 per cent, with many people lacking tangible prospects for a better life. Race still has a tremendous impact on an individual’s chances of finding a job, as well as on the wages received once employed. A bitter divide between white Afrikaners and black people has kept growing and has become the core of all social or political debate in this tormented country.
Despite the country’s huge potential for growth, the economy kept stagnating during the nine years of Jacob Zuma’s presidency. Characterised by rampant corruption and continuous scandals, Zuma’s administration came under pressure as the masses started asking for policies that would address unemployment, disparities, and poverty.
The resources that the South African government allocated for land reform were vastly insufficient, never exceeding a mere 1 per cent of the national budget. Even today, land reform doesn’t look like a priority, with the amount allocated to it being just 0.4 per cent of the national budget.
Eventually, after an extremely unpopular cabinet reshuffle, Zuma was forced to resign and was replaced by Cyril Ramaphosa in February 2018. The new president cracked down on corruption and kicked out many inept ministers while Zuma was indicted for money laundering and racketeering. However, the damage that Zuma inflicted to the party’s credibility was so severe that it had to rely on radical parties such as the EFF to gain some traction.
The ANC lost so many voters in the 2016 local elections that the 2019 ones may be in jeopardy. Some argue that Ramaphosa is simply pushing the Land Expropriation Act as a populist ploy aimed at recovering a significant portion of the voters’ trust. The nation’s poor, in fact, make up the majority of the electorate, and addressing their plight will certainly provide him with the political stability his government needs so much.
The human, social, and economic consequences
ANC’s and EFF’s new land reform tastes like nothing but a bloody policy of revenge inspired by populism and driven by a desperate need to win the elections. But blood always calls for blood, and may easily throw South Africa into a new civil war, no matter how justified this law may seem. The French Revolution, the recent Zimbabwe land expropriation laws, and even the Communist Revolution all teach us a fundamental lesson – that legislation that allows a state to violate property rights only creates new privileged elites rather than equalising the social fabric.
A law to allow the seizure of land has a profoundly negative impact that goes well beyond the violation of fundamental human rights. Its consequences can be catastrophic on the industrial, agricultural, and banking sectors as well, and neighbouring Zimbabwe is a prime example. Just like Venezuela, another country where land was redistributed from the rich to the poor, today Zimbabwe needs to import nearly all the food it needs rather than producing most of it, as it did 20 years ago.
Distributing land “fairly and equally” to all people means creating a large number of smallholder farmers who will have to face tremendous costs to grow and be competitive. An entire nation of small farmers will have a really hard time competing with the larger players of globalised agriculture unless they have access to the latest methods and technologies. Yet, once again, has the government thought and planned a strategy to provide these future landowners with the necessary means to survive in such a harshly competitive environment? Worst case scenario: this may lead to large-scale deforestation by owners who will start selling their wood cheaply to foreign companies – a process that has already devastated Kenya, Uganda, and Ethiopia.
However, we may have a very different scenario – one where land is handed down to a smaller amount of black people who will quickly become rich at the expenses of others. A new handful of privileged individuals who will simply substitute former white owners with other newer sons and daughters of uncontrolled capitalism. Their faces may change, but the inequality will bring the country to its knees in the same exact way. Whether their skin tone is darker won’t make them any better than their colonialist predecessors, nor will make the whole act of seizing land be more just or justifiable by any means.
On top of all that, a scenario of harsh social tensions and violent clashes is a bomb that is about to explode. Following some cases of brutal and murderous attacks of white farmer that got the attention of the media, some Afrikaners called out for international aid, claiming there was a “white genocide” going on. And while smart people may easily understand that the numbers are no way as high as to justify the choice of this vastly exaggerated terminology, this alarmist rhetoric is bound to have serious global consequences.
Distributing land “fairly and equally” to all people means creating a large number of smallholder farmers who will have to face tremendous costs to grow and be competitive. An entire nation of small farmers will have a really hard time competing with the larger players of globalised agriculture…
In an era where the rise of neo-fascism, fake news, gross misinformation, and distorted nationalisms represent a serious threat to all societies, this may be a spark that would ignite an uncontrollable chain reaction. Black people around the world are often unjustly identified as enemies by organisations and parties who willfully manipulate information. Knowing there’s a country where a murderous government justifies their violent persecution will only fuel a hate that is certainly more detrimental than beneficial to the black cause.
History cannot be corrected by doing the wrong thing, and the ANC’s policy means nothing but repeating the same mistake over and over again. South Africans deserve having the right to cultivate their lands once again, they deserve to live in a fair country, they deserve peace. It is totally understandable that poverty must be fought with all means, and that the current situation is all but just or fair.
But enforcing the rights of black people with violence won’t restore the justice and equality this country so desperately needs. It will only open a gaping wound across the nation that will widen the divide even more. It may reach the point of breaking any bridge built so far between all those human beings whose sole difference is the colour of their skin and the heredity of their ancestors.
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