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This Too Is Kenya: How the deCOALONIZE Campaign Challenged a Politicised Bureaucracy and Legal System

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The campaign to stop the construction of a coal-fired plant in Lamu encountered many hurdles. PRIYANKA DESOUZA and ALEXANDER IKAWAH document the various challenges facing the campaign and how they were successfully overcome.

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This Too Is Kenya: How the deCOALONIZE Campaign Challenged a Politicised Bureaucracy and Legal System
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On June 26, 2019, in a landmark verdict, the National Environment Tribunal (NET) halted the construction of Kenya’s first proposed coal-fired electricity-generating plant in Lamu, ruling that the National Environment Management Authority (NEMA) had failed to do an adequate environmental and social impact assessment (ESIA) of the plant. Specifically, the public’s views had not been included in the ESIA study, and the ESIA itself had failed to incorporate several important environmental impacts of the proposed plant.

This judgement is a massive victory for environmental campaigns in Kenya, where too often, large political interests tend to prevail. Members of deCOALonize, the umbrella coalition group against the coal industry in Kenya that filed an appeal at NET in 2016, have had to deal with the propagation of “fake news”, intimidation, the convenient shuffling of Kenyan bureaucratic systems, and much more, which makes their win truly noteworthy. What makes this verdict even more incredible is that other environmental campaigns challenging the adequacy of the ESIA on similar, large Chinese-funded infrastructure projects, such as Save Nairobi National Park (NNP), for example, which have been branded by the government as crucial for development, have not achieved similar success.

Many researchers have questioned the need for a coal plant in the first place in Kenya when the country currently faces a power surplus. Further they argue that at the moment Kenya actually is generating a surfeit of electricity. In fact, many thermal plants in Thika and along the Athi river are currently idle. Although proponents of coal argue that more energy generation capacity is needed to meet projected demand in the future, international experts, such as Daniel Kammen from Berkeley, have shown that coal is not the cheapest technology to meet future energy needs. Very recently, the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis also produced an independent study questioning the economics of building a coal plant in Kenya.

Therefore the real question with these large infrastructure projects, is not development at what cost, but at what cost to whom?

The proposed Lamu coal plant is a Sh200 billion project that serves powerful private commercial interests (such as Centum Investments and Gulf Energy Kenya, which joined forces as Amu Power, the developer of the project) who have well-known connections to the very top of the executive branch of Kenya. These connections are reflected in the favourable terms and conditions of the power purchase agreement (PPA) between the Government of Kenya and the developers. The PPA essentially commits the government to buying electricity from the plant for the next 25 years at a favourable price (regardless of whether the electricity is used or needed). Coal is expected to arrive from South Africa to power the Lamu coal plant.

The Government of Kenya has repeatedly stressed that the Lamu plant will provide jobs for the community. However, like with the other large Chinese-financed infrastructure projects, most of the labour comes from China. The fact that most of the fishing community near the Lamu coal plant do not have a secondary education means that most of them are not qualified to be able to work at the plant, although their livelihoods will be most affected by the pollution from the plant.

The proposed Lamu coal plant is a Sh200 billion project that serves powerful private commercial interests who have well-known connections to the very top of the executive branch of Kenya.

Therefore, it is unlikely that the community would have benefited from the construction of this plant.

Furthermore, most of the community around the plant already have electricity from solar PV, and therefore there is no need of electricity from the plant. Importantly, and as stated several times in the NET judgement, the community was not involved in the decision to build the coal plant in Lamu and deCOALonize members were not invited to meetings held by Amu Power; the meetings were held in locations difficult to reach by most of the community. Therefore, their interests were not represented in the siting and planning of the plant.

Interestingly, we were told by a deCOALonize organiser that a few years previously, a coal plant was slated to be sited in Kilifi. However, the county government there is powerful, and the plan was ultimately dropped. The decision to locate a coal plant in Lamu, one of Kenya’s most marginalised counties with much less political power, does not appear, in light of this, to be accidental. The community in Lamu is well aware of this and spoke about how few roads in the North-West region of Kenya are tarmacked and low literacy rates prevail. A lot of large extractive projects have been initiated in the region. In addition to the Lamu Port and Lamu-Southern Sudan-Ethiopia Transport Corridor (LAPSSET) and the Lamu coal plant, natural gas exploration has been underway on Pate island. (It has only recently been abandoned.)

Given all of the many obstacles the campaign has had to face, how has deCOALonize managed to be so successful?

This is the central question of this article. It is important to document victories in Kenya. Too often, we only hear stories of failure and corruption. We need to challenge these hegemonic narratives by detailing how Kenyans have been winning critical battles for change.

Now, although deCOALonize won its case in court, campaigners have cautioned that the battle against the Lamu coal plant is not over. Amu Power can conduct a new ESIA and apply for a new licence, which means a new fight will ensue. The lead lawyer for deCOALonize, Lempaa Suyianka, only a few days ago was arrested on an arguably flimsy charge, and although he was released, his phone was impounded by the police. This event does not bode well for the campaign, and members of the public must continue to be vigilant to ensure that deCOALonize members do not suffer the wrath of powerful interests embroiled in this case.

In addition, the Lamu coal plant is only one of the many mega infrastructure projects in Lamu. LAPSSET, and the building of the Lamu-Garissa-Isiolo road are still underway, and have caused a lot of damage to the region, with many farmers displaced by access roads without being granted compensation, as well as acres of mangroves in the area being cleared. The public must continue to fight for the people of Lamu to ensure that compensation is disbursed to the people affected.

Still, the deCOALonize’s recent court win has set a new precedent for environmental cases in Kenya and warrants further examination. In order to do this, we first list the strategies deCOALonize activists used, as well as the challenges the campaign faced.

Raising awareness 

deCOALonize runs a transparent campaign and uploads videos of court proceedings, documents and press reports on its website. 

Kenyan scholar Nanjala Nyabola’s much-acclaimed book, Digital Democracy, Analogue Politics, charts how social media tools such as Twitter are creating spaces for Kenyans to protest and create new narratives. deCOALonize has leveraged these tools successfully to raise awareness at the local, national and international levels.

Some activists believed that the awareness about the coal projects they had generated at the international level through sustained posts on social media, participation in climate summits and street demonstrations would lead to divestment by external organisations, which would lead to the Lamu coal plant project stalling. The Industrial and Commercial Bank (ICBC) of China has agreed to finance 75 per cent of the Lamu coal plant to the tune of $2 billion, but the Government of Kenya needed to find a backer for the remaining 25 per cent needed. deCOALonize’s campaign has been successful in influencing the African Development Bank and the Standard Bank of South African, both of which have pulled out of financing the project. However, General Electric (GE) is still considering investment in the project

In addition, deCOALonize has presented evidence to UNESCO about the impact the coal plant would have on Lamu, which is a World Heritage Site. UNESCO has also recently come out strongly against the construction of the coal plant.

Partners of the campaign also believed that awareness at the national level was important. Activists said they did this to prevent the government from shifting the construction of the coal plant to another county. They particularly focused on holding a variety of public forums, photography exhibitions, protests, and other events in Nairobi, the political centre. They were successful in getting some progressive politicians, such as Boniface Mwangi, to make stopping coal part of their political campaigns.

Furthermore, at public events organisers connected the plans for building the Lamu coal plant with the broader theme of energy justice. Ordinary Kenyans are affected by the economics of the energy sector. Kenya Power and Lighting Company (KPLC) holds a monopoly on electricity transmission through the national grid. It’s cartel-like practices of inflating electricity bills at random and giving poor services have resulted in campaigns such as #SwitchOffKPLC in 2018 that have unleashed a massive backlash against the company. Cries for energy justice have made energy a topic that people are paying close attention to, and therefore, there was hope that this would catalyse a national backlash against the Lamu coal project.

One of the major tactics the government deployed in its war against deCOALonize was misinformation to the community. High-level leaders promised the community jobs and compensation, glossing over the deleterious impacts of coal. For example, Deputy President Ruto assured the community of Lamu that the coal plant would not have any impact on their health, despite evidence to the contrary.

The Kenyan government even went as far as branding Save Lamu, a member of the deCOALonize coalition, as a terrorist organisation. Save Lamu received several grants from international agencies to continue its work in fighting for the rights of the residents in Lamu affected by the building of the Lamu port and coal plant. The government claimed that the money was sent to Save Lamu to conduct terrorist activities, and ransacked their offices. The government accused Save Lamu of being involved in the 2014 massacre carried out by Al Shabaab in Mpeketoni and Pormoka in Lamu County to discredit them. It is a testament to the deep ties Save Lamu has with the community. It is still a trusted and valued organisation in the area. Save Lamu’s partnership with organisations able to provide legal representation was also crucial for it to contest these charges.

Amu Power also repeatedly stressed that it would be using the best coal technology available to reduce the environmental impacts of the coal plant. It tried to build connections with the local community by installing a water tank near the farms, among other small projects, which we witnessed first-hand when we went to Lamu.

The Kenyan government even went as far as branding Save Lamu, a member of the deCOALonize coalition, as a terrorist organisation.

However, official documents collected by deCOALonize activists have indicated that Amu Power — the special purpose vehicle formed by the developers to own and operate the Lamu coal plant – was given the right to import equipment that did not meet quality standards and a waiver on the need to pay taxes on construction. This has made many activists wonder whether, despite Amu Power protestations about taking measures to reduce adverse environmental impacts, in reality equipment from old coal power plants in China was being exported to and dumped in Kenya. Indeed, when we spoke to an activist at the actual proposed site of the coal plant, we were told that although Amu Power said they were going to use cooling technology, such as “once through cooling systems”, which they tried to sell to the community as cutting edge, when in fact this was not the case. The activist told us that he knew the details about these technologies through his conversations with communities affected by coal plants in Gujarat, India.

Despite the sustained misinformation, deCOALonize has been extremely successful in making information available to the respective local communities. They did so through holding public meetings in local languages, regularly updating their website and making resources and short summaries publicly available. Members of the coalition have recorded the court proceedings, and held events that were made accessible via Facebook live, so that the community knew what was happening.

Providing a pipeline of information from the community to the courtroom: Engaging the community proactively

Importantly, local organisations, such as Save Lamu and the Centre for Human Rights and Civic Education (CCHRCE), have been able to channel community concerns into the courtroom and to react quickly.

For example, we learnt when were in Lamu that when the community reported that an access road was being built through their farms to connect the proposed coal plant site with that of the port without an ESIA being carried out, the representative of deCOALonize on the ground was able to feed this information to the legal team, who went to NET to get a stop order for the road. This pipeline of information proved to be extremely important as the local branch of NEMA in Mokowe town in Lamu County (where the coal plant has been slated to be built) was often kept in the dark about such constructions. Instead, for mysterious reasons, officials not based in Lamu were often responsible for making decisions that would affect Lamu. deCOALonize’s information intervention was crucial in bringing government regulators on the same page.

Save Lamu has also been able to engage the community to map natural resources in Lamu to better understand the impacts of proposed projects on different groups of people, such as the Bajun, the Sanye, the Aweer and Swahili communities, so that they can speak with one voice. CCHRCE has mapped perceptions of the community whose land is part of the mining area. They have also mapped the community resources, such as schools and hospitals, currently on the land to document the costs of razing this area.

Such engagement has been extremely useful in both communities learning about the impacts of coal as they had no experience with this fuel previously. Women in Kitui experimented with using coal to heat their sufurias and noted that it caused their sufurias to melt. Both Save Lamu and CCHRCE took community members and members of their respective County Assemblies (MCAs) to other countries, such as South Africa, so they could see for themselves the impact of coal on the site. They have created a documentary on these visits to archive this knowledge. All of this has led to a true grassroots movement against coal.

Importantly, we learned that these exchanges have allowed for the transnational sharing of resources and knowledge. For example, South African activists helped facilitate some connections between climate experts and activists from Lamu in order to bolster their case in court.

deCOALonize members have come strongly out for renewable energy as an alternative to coal.

Lobbying the government at multiple levels

President Uhuru Kenyatta gave speeches about his ambitions to move Kenya 100 per cent to renewable energy by 2020. There was hope that this would lead to the halting of plans to build the coal plant as Kenya couldn’t possibly become 100 per cent reliant on renewable energy if it still depended on coal. This hope was bolstered by the National Electrification Strategy released in 2018, which explicitly supported decentralised renewable energy technologies.

However, despite President Kenyatta’s pronouncements about renewable energy in Kenya, Kenya’s Power Generation and Transmission Master Plan 2015-2035 states that coal will have a place in Kenya’s future. Moreover, the Kenyan energy regulator had approved the coal-fired Lamu plant.

The contradictions made by various levels of government fueled uncertainty and anxiety in the campaign. Nevertheless, deCOALonize engaged with different government officials to try and gain their support against the coal industry in Kenya. For example, their conversations with the former Minister of Environment, Judy Wakhungu, led to her opposing the proposed coal plant publicly.

The campaign also engaged with the county government because they recognised the power that the county government had in approving the allocation of land for the coal plant, as well as to putting pressure on the national government to abandon such projects.

In order to educate county government officials about the potential effects of coal mining, deCOALonize facilitated county government officials going to visit communities that lived near coal plants so that they would understand the true impacts of such projects. They tried to get the officials to understand the effect such a construction could have on tourism, an important source of income in Lamu. Importantly, Samia Omar, the Trade, Tourism, Culture and Natural Resources Executive, publicly resigned after voicing her opposition to the Lamu plant.

However, despite President Kenyatta’s pronouncements about renewable energy in Kenya, Kenya’s Power Generation and Transmission Master Plan 2015-2035 states that coal will have a place in Kenya’s future.

When we were in Lamu, we heard from multiple independent sources that many tourists demanded their money back when they were promised pristine clear waters to snorkel in, but instead found the water in long-time snorkeling spots muddied because of all the construction in Lamu.

The engagement with the county government, plus Natural Justice and Save Lamu’s transparency and efforts to bring all government bodies on the same page, have resulted in county government officials walking out of meetings with the National Land Commission and LAPSSET when they found out that acres of land were claimed without them being notified. Thus deCOALonize’s strategy has been productive

CCHRCE has been doing great work, teaching the community how to avail of the various constitutional means at their disposal to petition the government and be heard. CCHRCE plays an important role in Kitui, imparting civic education.

Fighting for due procedure to be followed in court

This set a precedent for external costs to be considered for any large project. deCOALonize’s recent victory on June 26, 2019 has set an important precedent for the carrying out of environmental and social impact assessments for projects in East Africa.

The fight in court was not easy. The judiciary and the bureaucracy faced extensive political interference. In Kenya, the executive branch of the state has the most control over shaping patronage networks through its power of disbursing bureaucratic appointments and resources. Kenya has a long history of corruption scandals. Joe Khamisi’s explosive book, Looters and Grabbers: 54 Years of Plunder by the Elite, 1963-2017, details in painstaking detail the systematic pillaging of the country by people right at the top.

The advent of devolution has restructured the institutional landscape. However, efforts to “get the institutions right” have been foiled by flaws in the current legal processes, corruption, low institutional capacity, as well as the lack of cooperation of formal administrative mechanisms. Other researchers have found that devolution, instead of putting a stop to corruption, might only have led to a new mindset of “its everyone’s turn to eat”.

Activists we spoke to told us that NET is a politicised organization with its own agenda. Court files have mysteriously been misplaced. Court dates and places were changed at the last moment, making it very difficult for the organisers. This happened multiple times when the court members coming from Mombasa said at the last minute that they were indisposed. For example, on May 9, 2019, NET, without warning, postponed the much-awaited judgement. Petitioners from Lamu had spent time and money to travel to Nairobi to hear the judgement and had to wait a month to receive the judgement. The most costly incident happened when Save Lamu paid for the flights for international consultants to fly to Nairobi to testify against the plant, and the hearing was postponed at the very last moment.

In addition, since 2017, Parliament has proposed an amendment to the Environment, Management and Coordination Act (EMCA), such that even if an appeal is filed against a project in court, such a legal proceeding will not automatically halt the project, as was the case earlier. A separate appeal would need to be filed to prevent the project from proceeding. Activist Omtatah filed an objection. It is yet to see whether these amendments will go through. This meant that if Amu Power was able to raise the remaining 25 per cent of the project financing, the construction of the coal plant could go ahead. This highlights the importance of the other tactics that deCOALonize has deployed in its fight against the Lamu coal plant.

There have been other complex ways in which the legal process has been thwarted. Because elites in the county, especially those from Nairobi, were aware of the impending coal project before the local residents, they bought land from the residents at throw-away prices, knowing full well that once the project started they would receive compensation for their newly bought land. We heard a similar story about land in Kitui. On visiting some of the newly bought plots in Lamu, we saw that some of the owners had erected make-shift structures that they termed as “hotels” and “restaurants” in order to increase the amount of compensation they would receive.

Restaurant/hotel built on the proposed site of the coal plant in Lamu, now damaged by the elements, to increase the value of the land (Photograph by Alexander Ikawah)

Restaurant/hotel built on the proposed site of the coal plant in Lamu, now damaged by the elements, to increase the value of the land (Photograph by Alexander Ikawah)

This created a tension in the community, as many of the new landowners wanted the project to go through to obtain compensation. On speaking to residents of Mokowe county, we were told that in many cases there were many irregularities in the documenting of the area of affected farms by the National Land Commission to allocate appropriate compensation (as the community did not have formal land tenure), resulting in land being allocated to elites/outsiders not from the area.

There have been other complex ways in which the legal process has been thwarted. Because elites in the county, especially those from Nairobi, were aware of the impending coal project before the local residents, they bought land from the residents at throw-away prices, knowing full well that once the project started they would receive compensation for their newly bought land.

The process of allocating compensation for land in Kenya is a complicated one, and more monitoring of current processes and institutions is required. Lamu, in particular, has been subject to many land grabs in the past.

This is Kenya

In an article published in The Elephant, Keguro Macharia dissects the phrase, “This is Kenya”. He describes it as a site of “violation and exhaustion” – a tool used by the rich to perform the “gatekeeping” function of naturalising a system that marginalises the poor and a tool used by the poor to express frustration at an opaque system that repeatedly denies them anything but the most meagre of existences. In other words, “This is Kenya” draws a granite boundary between what can be fought, and possibly changed, and that which cannot. This granite box contains new more equitable realisations of Kenya from bursting through.

As we spoke to deCOALonize activists to learn about the different strategies they were using to fight coal, despite their success, we inevitably got the response: “This is Kenya”. Their use of the phrase indicated that they perceived the limits of the space in which they could mount their opposition. The interior of the bounds of “This is Kenya”, or the space in which they operated, corresponded to ensuring that mechanisms of due procedure as specified by the Constitution and the laws were followed by bureaucrats and the courts. The space outside of this, separated by “This is Kenya”, comprised one that was moulded and shaped by powerful political interests over which the activists had no control. And yet, this distinction was in many ways artificial.

We unsurprisingly learnt that the boundaries implied by “This is Kenya” belies the fact that outside politics seeps into this interior politicised bureaucracy and legal system. What is the point of documenting how a politicised bureaucracy and an imperfect legal system are actually experienced and navigated? Does this mean documenting the same tired corruption scandals?

Well, for one, in this case deCOALonize actually won this critical battle in court! We hope that by detailing how this heroic campaign managed to win, we can prevent ourselves from being boxed in by “This is Kenya”, and instead see deCOALonize’s victory in court as “This too is Kenya!”

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Priyanka deSouza is a PhD student at the Department of Urban Studies and Planning at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology where she probes the different ways of understanding air pollution and its effects. Twitter: @PDez90 Alexander Ikawah is a writer and filmmaker living and working in Nairobi, Kenya. He was shortlisted for the Commonwealth Short Story prize in 2013. Twitter: @FilmKenya

Politics

African Continent a Milking Cow for Google and Facebook

‘Sandwich’ helps tech giants avoid tax in Africa via the Netherlands and Ireland.

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Algorithmic Colonisation of Africa
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Google’s office at the airport residential area in Accra, Ghana, sits inside a plain white and blue two-storey building that could do with a coat of paint. Google, which made more than US$ 160 billion in global revenue in 2019, of which an estimated US$ eighteen billion in ‘Africa and the Middle East’, pays no tax in Ghana, nor does it do so in most of the countries on the African continent.

Google Street View of the building registered as Google's office in Accra

Google Street View of the building registered as Google’s office in Accra

It is able to escape tax duties because of an old regulation that says that an individual or entity must have a ‘physical presence’ in the country in order to owe tax.  And Google’s Accra office clearly defines itself as ‘not a physical presence.’ When asked, a front desk employee at the building says it is perfectly alright for Google not to display its logo on the door outside. ‘It is our right to choose if we do that or not’. A visitor to the building, who said she was there for a different company, said she had no idea Google was based inside.

Facebook is even less visible. Even though practically all 250 million smartphone owners in Africa use Facebook, it only has an office in South Africa, making that country the only one on the continent where it pays tax.

Brick and mortar

The physical presence rule in African tax laws is ‘remnant of a situation before the digital economy, where a company could only act in a country if it had a “brick and mortar” building’, says an official of the Nigerian Federal Inland Revenue Service (FIRS), who wants to remain anonymous. ‘Many countries did not foresee the digital economy and its ability to generate income without a physical presence. This is why tax laws didn’t cover them’.

Tax administrations globally have initiated changes to allow for the taxing of digital entities since at least 2017. African countries still lag behind, which is why the continent continues to provide lucrative gains for the tech giants. A 2018 PriceWaterhouseCoopers report noted that Nigeria, Africa’s largest economy, has seen an average of a thirty percent year-on-year growth in internet advertising in the last five years, and that the same sector in that country is projected, in 2020, to amount to US$ 125 million in the entertainment and media industry alone.

‘Their revenue comes from me’.

William Ansah, Ghana-based CEO of leading West African advertising company Origin 8, pays a significant amount of his budget to online services. He says he is aware that tax on his payments to Facebook and Google escapes his country through what is commonly referred to as ‘transfer pricing’ and feels bad about it. ‘These companies should pay tax here, in Ghana, because their revenue comes from me’, he says, showing us a receipt from Google Ireland for his payments. During this investigation we were also shown an advert receipt from a Nigerian Facebook ad that listed ‘Ireland’ as the destination of the payment.

Like Google, Facebook does not provide country-by-country reports of its revenue from Africa or even from the African continent as a whole, but the tech giant reported general revenue of US$ sixty billion as a whole from ‘Rest of the world’, which is the world minus the USA, Canada, Europe and Asia.

Facebook revenue by user geography

Facebook revenue by user geography

Irish Double

The specific transfer pricing construction Google and other tech giants such as Facebook use to channel income away from tax obligations is called an ‘Irish Double’ or ‘Dutch Sandwich’, since both countries are used in the scheme. In the construction, the income is declared in Ireland, then routed to the Netherlands, then transferred to Bermuda, where Google Ireland is officially located. Bermuda is a country with no corporation tax. According to documents filed at the Dutch Chamber of Commerce in December 2018, Google moved US$ 22,7 billion through a Dutch shell company to Bermuda in 2017.

Moustapha Cisse, Africa team lead at Google AI

Moustapha Cisse, Africa team lead at Google AI

An ongoing court case in Ghana — albeit on a different issue — recently highlighted attempts by Google to justify its tax-avoiding practices in that country. The case against Google Ghana and Google Inc, now called Google LLC in the USA, was started by lawyer George Agyemang Sarpong, who held that both entities were responsible for defamatory material against him that had been posted on the Ghana platform. Responding to the charge, Google Ghana contended in court documents that it was not the ‘owner of the search engine www.google.com.gh’; that it did not ‘operate or control the search engine’ and that ‘its business (was) different from Google Inc’.

Google Ghana is an ‘artificial intelligence research facility’.

Google Ghana describes itself in company papers as an ‘Artificial Intelligence research facility’. It says that its business is to ‘provide sales and operational support for services provided by other legal entities’, a construction whereby these other legal entities — in this case Google Inc — are responsible for any material on the platform. Google Ghana emphasised during the court case that Ghana’s advertising money was also correctly paid to Google Ireland Ltd, because this company is formally a part of Google Inc.

Rowland Kissi, law lecturer at the University of Professional Studies in Accra describes Google’s defence in the Sarpong court case as a ‘clever attempt’ by the business to shirk all ‘future liability of the platform’. Kissi is cautiously optimistic about the outcome, though: while the case is ongoing, the court has already asserted that ‘the distinction regarding who is responsible for material appearing on www.google.com.gh, is not so clear as to absolve the first defendant (Google Ghana) from blame before trial’. According to leading tax lawyer and expert Abdallah Ali-Nakyea, if the ‘government can establish that Google Ghana is an agent of Google Inc, the state could compel it to pay all relevant taxes including income taxes and withholding taxes’.

Cash-strapped countries

Like most countries, especially in Africa, Nigeria and Ghana have become more cash-strapped than usual as a result of the COVID 19 pandemic. While lockdowns enforced by governments to stop the spread of the virus have caused sharp contractions of the economy worldwide, ‘much worse than during the 2008–09 financial crisis’, according to the International Monetary Fund, Africa has experienced unprecedented shrinking, with sectors such as aviation, tourism and hospitality hardest hit. (Ironically, in the same period, tech giants like Google and Facebook have emerged from the pandemic stronger, due to, among others, the new reality that people work from home.)

With much needed tax income still absent, many countries have become even more dependent on charitable handouts. Nigeria recently sent out a tweet to ask international tech personality and philanthropist, Elon Musk, for a donation of ventilators to help weather the COVID 19 pandemic: ‘Dear @elonmusk @Tesla, Federal Government of Nigeria needs support with 100-500 ventilators to assist with #Covid19 cases arising every day in Nigeria’, it said. After Nigerians on Twitter accused the government of historically not investing adequately in public health, pointing at neglect leading to a situation where a government ministry was now begging for help on social media, the tweet was deleted. A government spokesperson later commented that the tweet had been ‘unauthorised’.

Cost to public

The criticism that governments often mismanage their budgets and that much money is lost to corruption regularly features in public debates in many countries in Africa, including Nigeria. However, executive secretary Logan Wort of the African Tax Administration Forum ATAF has argued that this view should not be used to excuse tax avoidance. In a previous interview with ZAM Wort said that ‘African countries must develop their tax base. It is only in this way that we can become independent from handouts and resource exploitation. Then, if a government does not use the tax money in the way it should, it must be held accountable by the taxpayers. A tax paying people is a questioning people’.

‘A tax paying people is a questioning people’

Commenting on this investigation, Alex Ezenagu, Professor of Taxation and Commercial Law at Hamad Bin Khalifa University in Qatar, adds that in matters of tax avoidance by ‘popular multinationals such as Facebook and Google, it is important to understand the cost to the public. If (large) businesses don’t pay tax, the burden is shifted to either small businesses or low income earners because the revenue deficit would have to be met one way or another’. For example, a Nigerian revenue gap may cause the government to increase other taxes, Ezenagu says, such as value added tax, which increased from five to seven and a half percent in Nigeria in January. ‘When multinationals don’t pay tax, you are taxed more as a person’.

Nigeria has recently begun to tighten its tax laws, thereby following in the footsteps of Europe, that last year made it more difficult for the digital multinationals to use the ‘Irish Double’ to escape tax in their countries. South Africa, too, in 2019 tailored changes to its tax laws in order to close remaining legal loopholes used by the tech giants. These ‘could raise (tax income) up to US$ 290 million a year’ more from companies like Google and Facebook, a South African finance source said. With US$ 290 million, Ghana’s could fund its flagship free senior high school education; Nigeria could fully fund the annual budget (2016/2017 figures) of Oyo, a state in the south west of the country.

Interior view of the Facebook office in Johannesburg, South Africa

Interior view of the Facebook office in Johannesburg, South Africa

Waiting for the Finance Minister

Nigeria’s new Finance Act, signed into law in January 2020, has expanded provisions to shift the country’s focus from physical presence to ‘significant economic presence’. The new law leaves the question whether a prospective taxpayer has a ‘significant economic presence’ in Nigeria to the determination of the Finance Minister, whose action with regard to the tech giants is awaited.

In Ghana, digital taxation discussions are slowly gaining momentum among policy makers. The Deputy Commissioner of that country’s Large Taxpayer Office, Edward Gyamerah, said in a June 2019 presentation that current rules ‘must be revised to cover the digital economy and deal with companies that don’t have traditional brick-and-mortar office presences’. However, a top government official at Ghana’s Ministry of Finance who was not authorised to speak publicly stated that, ‘from the taxation policy point of view, the government has not paid a lot attention to digital taxation’.

He blamed the ‘complexity of developing robust infrastructure to assess e-commerce activity in the country’ as a major reason for the government’s inaction on this, but hoped that a broad digital tax policy would still be announced in 2020.” Until the authorities get around to this, he said he believed that, ‘Google and Facebook will (continue to) pay close to nothing in Ghana’.

Comment

Google Nigeria did not respond to several requests for interviews; Google Ghana did not respond to a request for comment on this investigation. Neither entities responded to a list of questions, which included queries as to what of their activities in the two countries might be liable for tax, and whether they could publish country by country revenues generated in Africa. When reached by phone, Google Nigeria’s Head of Communications, Taiwo Kola Ogunlade, said that he couldn’t speak on the company’s taxation status. Facebook spokesperson Kezia Anim-Addo said in an email: ‘Facebook pays all taxes required by law in the countries in which we operate (where we have offices), and we will continue to comply with our obligations’.

Note: The figure of eighteen billion US$ as revenue for Google in ‘Africa and the Middle East’ over 2019 was arrived at as follows. Google’s EMEA figures for 2019 indicate US$ 40 billion revenue for ‘Africa, Europe and the Middle East’ all together. According to this German publication, Google’s revenue in Europe was 22 billion in 2019This leaves US$ eighteen billion for Africa and the Middle East.

This article was first published by our partner ZAM Magazine.

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Politics

An Unlikely Alliance: What Africa and Asia can teach each other

Once African and Asian leaders looked towards each other for guidance. What possibilities can a renewed cross-continental solidarity offer?

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An Unlikely Alliance: What Africa and Asia Can Teach Each Other
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When independent Congo’s first prime minister, Patrice Lumumba, was assassinated in 1962, over 100,000 people protested in Beijing Workers’ Stadium. Thousands more protested in New Delhi and Singapore.

When Sudan lacked a formal plaque at the 1955 Bandung Conference, where the leaders of Asia and Africa declared the Third World project, India’s Jawaharlal Nehru wrote “Sudan” on his handkerchief, ensuring Africa’s then largest country a seat.

It was a time when Asia and Africa, home to almost 80 percent of humanity, found kinship in their shared trauma and conjoined destiny. Both were always spoken of in tandem. Martin Luther King Jr.’s “Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” drew inspiration from what he saw overseas: “The nations of Asia and Africa are moving with jet like speed toward gaining political independence.”

Too often we forget that the most defining event of the 20th century was not World War II or the Cold War, but the liberation of billions in Asia and Africa between the 1950s and 1980s as citizens of almost 100 new-born countries.

It also marked the revival of an ancient, pre-European connection. Historically, Asia and Africa were enmeshed centers of wealth and knowledge and the gatekeepers of the most lucrative trade routes. The Roman Empire’s richest region was North Africa, not Europe. A severe trade imbalance with South Asia forced Roman emissaries to beg spice traders in Tamil Nadu to limit their exports.

Western Europeans left their shores in desperation, not exploration, in the 1500s to secure a maritime route to the wealthy Indian Ocean trading system that integrated Asia and Africa. Somali traders grew rich as middlemen transiting coveted varieties of cinnamon from South Asia to Southern Europe. The Swahili coast shipped gold, ivory, and wildlife to China. Transferring the world economy to the Atlantic first required Portugal’s violent undoing of the flow of goods and peoples between Asia and Africa.

In Bandung, Indonesia’s Sukarno declared “a new departure” in which peoples of both continents no longer had “their futures mortgaged to an alien system.”

Yet that departure became a wide divergence that is complex to comprehend. Over the last few years, I’ve shuttled between the megacities of Asia to East and Central Africa. I also grew up in four Asian countries—India, Thailand, Philippines, and Singapore—and lived through Southeast Asia’s exponential rise.

The gap between Africa and East Asia, including Southeast Asia, is perplexing because we share much in common—culture, values, spirit, and worldview. I’m reminded of this in Somalia, Sudan, Uganda, or Ghana, where I’ve felt an immediate sense of fraternity.

It’s now a familiar story: 70 years ago, African incomes and literacy rates were higher than East Asia, then an epicenter of major wars. But in one generation, East Asia achieved wealth, human development, and standards of living that rival a tired, less relevant Western world.

The shockingly inept response by many Western countries to a historic pandemic has only amplified calls for Africa to abandon the Western model and learn from its once closest allies. A new book titled Asian Aspiration: How and Why Africa Should Emulate Asia, hit stores this year, co-authored by former Nigerian and Ethiopian heads of state. An op-ed in Kenya’s Star newspaper even prior suggested Kenyans shift their gaze from the supposed advancement of Westerners to “the progress of our comrades in the East.”

The incessant idea that Africa’s future lies in models not of its own making can be patronising. But Africa can indeed learn from the successes and pitfalls of East Asia, the world’s most economically dynamic region also built from scratch, while imparting wisdom of its own.

Many who previously pondered this gap came up with multiple theories, but often ignored a simple reality: Africa’s geography. Like Latin America, Africa is bedeviled by a predatory power to its north that siphons capital, talent, labor, and hope. By contrast, East Asia, even with several U.S. bases, is an ocean away from the United States and a 12-hour flight from Western Europe.

Europe’s proximity to Africa also cultivated a perennial barrier to development: the Western aid industry. Whether I’m in Haiti or Chad, the sheer domination of Western NGOs, development agencies, aid convoys, and all manner of plunder masquerading as goodwill—$40 billion more illicitly flows out of Africa than incoming loans and aid combined—is something I never saw even 25 years ago in Southeast Asia. Industries look for growth opportunities. Developed societies with robust public systems in East Asia offer few for saviors. The streets of Bangkok and Hanoi are lined with Toyotas and tourists, not wide-eyed youths in armored vehicles guided by white burden. The development industry and most of its participants I’ve had the misfortune of meeting are toxic. Large swaths of Africa remain under occupation of a different kind.

For much of the 20th century, Africa also faced a virulent settler colony in its south which destabilized the region and was so hateful of Black Africans that its mercenaries set up a series of bogus health clinics to surreptitiously spread HIV under the guise of charitable healthcare.

East Asia’s settler colony, Australia, was never able to replicate South Africa’s belligerence. It did lay waste to Papua New Guinea (where it continues to imprison asylum-seekers) but Australia never invaded or occupied Indonesia or the Philippines.

Another fallacy explaining African inertia is poor leadership. Leadership is paramount, but Africa produced a generation of independence era leaders whose values and decency the world desperately needs today. All were killed or overthrown by the West—because Africa is a far deeper reservoir of resources than East Asia.

South Korea, Singapore, and Taiwan are not resource rich. Thailand was never even colonized. An Asian country afflicted by similar conditions to Africa is mineral-rich Myanmar, closed to the wider world and progress for decades. Showcases of democracy aside, its kleptocratic, authoritarian political culture, like many African countries, was inherited from British rule. George Orwell’s less referenced book Burma Days, a recount of his time as a police officer in colonial Burma, called the British Empire “a despotism with theft as its final object.”

Resources prevented African leaders from towing a middle road that kept Western powers happy while investing in their society. The choice was resource nationalism or authoritarian acquiescence “with theft as its final object.” It was either Lumumba or Mobutu.

East Asian success stories worked within the global capitalist system and conducted deft diplomacy to placate Western superiority complexes while fortifying relationships with the rest of the global South. At independence, Singapore dispatched diplomats around the world, including several African countries, to build trade ties. Its manufacturing companies provided cassette tapes for Sudan’s then booming music industry. It hired Israeli advisors to train its military while staying in the good books of neighbors and Arab partners who stood with the Palestinians. These maneuvers are only possible when you aren’t sitting on $24 trillion worth of minerals.

Geography aided East Asia. Colonial borders, with a few exceptions, resembled some form of community that came before the nation-state. Consider both the Malay and Korean Peninsulas. Thailand’s borders, while amended as concessions to imperial powers, conformed largely to the cultural and linguistic boundaries of ancient Siam.

Africa’s artificial borders concocted nation-states with no experience as a community of any kind. The nation-state model creates fissures even in Europe, with the Yugoslav wars and constant, violently suppressed demands for statehood by the Basques and Catalans in Spain, not to mention a referendum by the Scots. Partitions across Africa, a special kind of cartographic violence, congealed animosity for generations.

So while Africans were marginally better off at independence than East Asians, structurally they actually did not have a head start. But Africa still thrived in the 1970s. It is only now reaching average income levels akin to half a century ago. To dismiss the continent’s record since independence as a perennial failure is a historically illiterate point of view. Its cultural output and musical dynamism were astonishing—arguably unrivaled—during this era. Liverpool and Manchester? Try Luanda and Mogadishu.

Africans were well aware of the right course but were thwarted more viciously than East Asia’s most developed states. Perhaps the West is more tolerant of Asian success because of racial hierarchies, just as the US parades Asian-American affluence as a symbol of the universality of the US-led Western model but violently responds to the smallest hint of actual wealth creation in Black-American communities.

Now, amid a precarious coming decade, East Asia indeed offers prescriptions for not only natural allies like Africans but societies worldwide seeking transformation in record time.

First off, it’s all about networks. Do the rules of your country facilitate local, regional, and international networks? A new Harvard study concluded that brisk business travel has the single biggest impact on building networks, diffusing knowledge, and birthing new industries. Europe’s own development benefited from its small land space, which tailored expansive, tight-knit networks that rapidly spread ideas revolutionizing everything from the sciences to football tactics.

Frequent trips to any major city in East Asia connect you to lucrative networks half a world away. Business travel (at least before the chaos of coronavirus) to East Asia is accessible, affordable, and hassle-free. The right infrastructure and laws—state-of-the-art airports, good accommodations, low-cost, high-speed telecommunications, rapid transportation links and whole scale visa liberalization—are needed to accommodate network-building travelers of every stripe and budget. African countries should follow suit, and streamline business travel, which would allow African travelers to build dense regional and continental networks—currently a tough ask when pre-pandemic flights from Nairobi to London were far cheaper than to neighboring capitals.

Since the 1980s, the Anglo-American West, ideologically intoxicated by deregulation, abdicated their society’s fate to self-interested individuals and free markets alone. East Asian countries enacted hardcore capitalist policies but never bought into this demented idea. The US and UK spent the last four decades dismantling their states; East Asian countries meanwhile reinforced their capacity with vast investments in education, telecommunication, and especially healthcare.

Thailand abandoned the neoliberal approach to healthcare in the early 2000s for a private-public model that guaranteed universal coverage and secured its place as the first country in Asia to eliminate HIV transmission from mother to child. Both Singapore and Hong Kong have the most efficient healthcare systems in the world. Sharply guided public health policies underwrote East Asia’s masterful management of COVID-19. Vietnam and Laos had zero deaths from coronavirus while Germany, somehow a celebrated success story in the Western press, has over 9,000 deaths.

Recently, Kenya sought Thailand’s expertise in revamping a typically price-gouged private healthcare system. Ethiopia invited Vietnamese telecommunication companies to make its systems reliable, fast, and, like much of Southeast Asia, affordable.

In the Nigerian and Kenyan corners of Twitter, “The Singapore Solution” resonates. People yearn for a Lee Kuan Yew figure. Lee once told an Indian audience that Singapore’s model cannot be adopted by India, which, according to him, “is not a real country…Instead it is thirty-two separate nations that happen to be arrayed along the British rail line.”

The same can be said about Nigeria and Kenya. Singapore is an entrepot state of a few million at the gateway to the Malacca Straits, the world’s busiest shipping lane, with deep ancestral ties to China and India, the world’s richest economies for 1,800 of the last 2,000 years.

Each country’s trajectory is highly contingent on a set of unique circumstances and should never be applied wholesale. With the immense benefit of hindsight, Africans can choose from the best, most fitting lessons from the region, while staying vigilant of and mitigating many pitfalls.

For every one of me, inheritors of East Asia’s boom, there are, like New York City and London in the early 1900s, millions trapped as cheap labor servicing endless growth, forced to compete over scraps in unforgiving cities. East Asian inequality is nauseating. South Korea has the highest elderly poverty rate in the OECD, with almost half of its senior citizens condemned to destitution rather than retirement. Only disparities that torture the soul can create award-winning films like Parasite.

This is a feature, not a bug, of East Asia’s rapid growth. Opening up to global capitalism inevitably instills hierarchies and racialized aspirations. When I see advertisements for new luxury condominiums, possibly the most prevalent hoardings in Southeast Asia, it’s an image of a white man with his East Asian wife and mixed-race child. The message is clear. As Frantz Fanon wrote, “you are rich because you are white, you are white because you are rich.”

East Asia may not have the levels of violent, heartless racism on brazen display in Western societies, but the 1990s were a turning point. East Asians began to look down on those modernization taught them to distrust. You don’t go from mourning an assassinated Congolese leader by the thousands to treating African expatriates as diseased in one generation without a drastic, very recent shift.

Some Westerners, like washed up drunks screaming profanities at a bar, might be tempted to repeat the mantras falsely underlining their sense of superiority to make preposterous demands of such young countries pieced together overnight. They might ask, “Well what of democracy? Human rights? Freedom of the press? Free markets?” These are all wonderful things, if they actually existed.

Not a single Western country was a democracy during its development. Western Europe had a fascist government in Spain until 1975. France and Britain fought horrific wars to deny Algeria and Kenya independence even after defeating Nazism. You can’t be a democracy when you deny democracy to others. European colonies were run as totalitarian dictatorships and lasted well into the late 20th century.

Freedom of the press? Try criticizing Israel in the mainstream US or German media.

Human rights? Europe lets migrants drown by the thousands in the Mediterranean. Australia has offshore camps for asylum seekers where abuse and rape are rampant. The US has kids in cages and its cops murder young Black men for sport.

Free markets? Both the US and Britain were viciously protectionist societies that relied on massive state intervention, and overwhelming military force, to mint its corporations.

The marriage of free markets to supposedly liberal democracy gave us Brazil’s Jair Bolsonaro, India’s Narendra Modi, the Philippines’ Rodrigo Duterte, and kept war criminal Benjamin Netanyahu as Israel’s longest serving leader. The Western liberal order, Indian writer Pankaj Mishra meticulously reveals, is an “incubator for authoritarianism” because it’s premised on fairy tales.

An open society, a vibrant marketplace, and a respect for human dignity are of course worthy and necessary goals. More representative forms of government, hopefully devised by us rather than imported from Cornwall, England, will arrive. We need not be “Jeffersonian Democrats”; we can surely do better than a system championed by slave owners. As Deng Xiaoping said when China opened up after its century of humiliation, “Let some people get rich first,” which should be interpreted as a call to enrich societies as a whole before succumbing to obnoxious Western moralizing about values they rarely practice themselves.

Advancement need not only be predicated on economic growth and democratic politics and Africa need not only be the student and Asia the mentor. Asia has much to learn from Africa’s grand investments in culture in its earliest days. Aside from Vietnam, whose communist government funded the arts, and South Korea, which subsidized its K-Pop industry, most East Asian countries pay little attention to their cultural prowess on the world stage.

When kids in Djibouti listen to songs on their phone, it’s Somali music or Nigerian hits. Hop in a taxi in Accra or Khartoum and you hear that country’s sound. Africans listen to their own music. Southeast Asia does not. The richest music is derided as a pastime of lower classes, unfit for well-heeled urban elites. Talent gets lost in the never-ending roster of cover bands for top 40 American pop.

In Jakarta’s many behemoth malls, “you will not hear Indonesian music,” wrote journalist Vincent Bevins. “You will not hear Japanese music, or anything from Asia… It will all have been packaged and sold in the USA.” It’s the same story anywhere in the region.

This may seem trivial, but a country’s image is vital to any lasting progress. In a world no longer able to “identify with, let alone aspire to, Hollywood’s white fantasies of power, wealth and sex,” wrote Fatima Bhutto in New Kings of the World: Dispatches from Bollywood, Dizi, and K-Pop, “a vast cultural movement is emerging from the global South… Truly global in its range and allure, it is the biggest challenge to America’s monopoly of soft power since the end of the Second World War.”

African countries laid the foundations in the ‘70s to fill this vacuum. Their image will be defined in the next decades by their stellar music, set to be in our lifetimes the global staple and standard. Independent labels and corporate players like UMG and Sony, now with headquarters in Lagos and Abidjan, have ensured unprecedented international access to Africa’s abundance of music, past and present.

African literary festivals have also blossomed, adding to an impressive six percent growth in the industry. It’s only a matter of time before small and multinational publishing houses scout a new cadre of young African writers to make household names, as they did in South Asia. Africa hosts over 35 annual literary festivals, even in struggling cities like Mogadishu, while East Asia only enjoys 21.

Economic engines inevitably slow. Southeast Asia in particular must emulate African pride in its own music and related expressions of culture to seize on openings left behind by a once omnipotent cultural hegemony in full retreat. South Korea understood this early and enjoys a powerful, beloved global brand molded by pop music and films, not per capita income.

Even if Africa and Asia swap carefully selected approaches, ultimate success is only possible from a unity akin to the 1955 Bandung Conference. When we again mingle and ally, when we mourn each other’s dead, when we scribble names on napkins as acts of solidarity, we will again realize our lasting success. The final phase to complete the process of decolonization will have to be done jointly, in unison, or never at all.

This post is from a new partnership between Africa Is a Country and The Elephant. We will be publishing a series of posts from their site once a week.

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Fear and Loathing in Kenya’s Parliament

Parliament’s failure to enact laws to bring women into elected national leadership has only exposed its soft underbelly, revealing a combination of narcissism and incompetence.

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Fear and Loathing in Kenya’s Parliament
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A month before Chief Justice David Maraga advised the president to dissolve parliament, legislators were toying with plans to delete the constitutional requirement that would include women in national political leadership.

“You cannot compel citizens to elect either men or the other gender,” said Justin Muturi. Speaking at a parliamentary retreat, the Speaker of the National Assembly appeared to have lost whatever empathy he previously harboured for affirmative action legislation to promote women’s participation in elected leadership in June 2016.

Following the CJ’s September 21 advice, Muturi mobilised the Parliamentary Service Commission, which he chairs, to mount a court challenge against it. He remarked: “The clamour to pass legislation to ensure [the] two-thirds gender principle potentially violates the sovereign will of the electorate at least to the extent that such legislation will demand top-ups or nominations of women”.

Jeremiah Kioni, who chairs the Constitution Implementation Oversight Committee, told the parliamentary retreat that politicians only agreed to include the clause on the inclusion of women in elective leadership in the 2010 constitution “to stabilise the country and cool tempers”.

Unknown to many at the time of the retreat debate, the Speakers of the National Assembly and the Senate had received an August 3 letter from Chief Justice David Maraga informing them that he was considering six different petitions asking him to advise the president to dissolve parliament as provided for in the constitution. The letter followed up on a 25 June 2019 one inquiring about the progress made by Parliament in enacting laws to increase women’s participation in leadership.

In August, Muturi cautioned members of parliament that there was a real risk of dissolution over failure to enact the law on including women in leadership, but since Maraga delivered his coup de grâce on September 21, the Speaker has gone on the warpath.

Although the constitution – which was passed by 68.6 per cent adult suffrage in August 2010 – gave parliament independence, it contains a suicide clause giving the president the power of dissolution should it fail to enact laws that bring the constitution into application. The clause kicks in if the High Court certifies and declares that parliament has failed to pass a law within the required timelines.

The constitutional provision requiring that no gender should constitute more than two thirds of any elective or appointive body has been successfully implemented in county assemblies, but it has remained a sticking point at the national level. Elections for the National Assembly and the Senate in 2017, and the subsequent allocation of special seats, gave women only 23 per cent of the share of legislative leadership at the national level – a 9 per cent improvement on the 2013 elections.

A 2018 National Democratic Institute survey of gender participation in politics found that “[w]omen who had served in specially nominated positions, for example, were more likely to win an election than those who had never held office at all”.

A combination of political chicanery, slothful self-interest and duplicitous male chauvinism has repeatedly thwarted efforts to create an inclusive national legislature. The laws required to cash the promissory note given to women when the country passed the Constitution have never been passed because neither the National Assembly nor the Senate has been able to muster the two-thirds quorum required to debate a constitutional amendment.

The National Gender and Equality Commission documents the Journey to Gender Parity in Political Representation, noting the four floundering attempts to enact laws that would increase the number of women in national legislatures.

In each instance, the bills proposed to become law had already been developed off-site, complete with a costing of what each option would mean for the taxpayer, and all that was required of MPs was for them to show up and make the quorum for the bills to come under consideration.

The last effort at passing the gender law had been stepped down from the order paper in November 2018 over fears that there would be lack of quorum to consider it since it touched on the constitution. The bill was the product of painstaking negotiation, bargaining, and deal making involving over 50 organisations and that had lined up President Uhuru Kenyatta, political party leaders Raila Odinga and Kalonzo Musyoka.

When the proposed law was put to the National Assembly in February 2019, the headcount came in at 174 MPs – 59 short of the 233 required to consider a law relating to the constitution. Earlier, under the hammer of the High Court in 2016 to pass a similar law, Speaker Muturi innovated a way to get round the requirement for constitutional amendment law proposals to wait 90 days, fast-tracked the bill through the 11th Parliament – only for it to fail because there was no quorum to consider it.

Frustrations over the repeated failure to pass laws that promote women’s increased participation in elective politics have triggered a record number of court petitions. The most consequential of these is the petition filed by the Centre for Rights Education and Awareness, from which the High Court issued a declaration that parliament had indeed failed to perform its duty to enact a law to promote the participation of women in national elective leadership.

The Speaker of the National Assembly lost an appeal against the 2017 High Court decisionordering parliament to enact the law providing for inclusive leadership within 60 days.

Last year, on 5 April, the Court of Appeal observed that the repeated failure to get a quorum to pass the law “does not speak of a good faith effort to implement the gender principle”, noting that Parliament had already exhausted the option of extending for a year the deadline for enacting the gender law.

That decision confirmed parliament’s failure to perform its duty, and within two months inspired five petitions requesting the Chief Justice to advise that it be dissolved. The Law Society of Kenya lodged its petition with the Chief Justice in June this year.

Ken Ogutu, who teaches law at the University of Nairobi, analogises the current dilemma to a construction project where the main contractor has completed the main structure of a new house and a subcontractor is then left to do the finishing to ensure the house is completed to the required standards. “The main contractor gives the subcontractor a schedule of the finishing he must do and by when, and if the subcontractor fails to complete these tasks within the specified timelines, he is fired and a new one hired to do the work”.

Parliament has argued that it has passed all the other laws and should not be punished for not enacting the gender inclusion laws.

The Chief Justice’s advice to dissolve Parliament will likely expose the institution’s hidden weaknesses. Its failure to enact laws to bring women into elected national leadership has only exposed its soft underbelly, revealing a combination of narcissism and incompetence.

Beneath the shining veneer of success, evident in the passage of 47 out of the 48 laws required to implement the constitution as outlined in its Fifth Schedule, there is plenty of evidence that parliament is still stuck in the old constitutional order. Some argue that parliament has been the weak link in turning Kenya into a constitutional democracy.

Since 2011, Kenya Law Reports has documented 48 statutes or amendments to the law that the courts have struck down for being unconstitutional. Eight of the controversial laws struck down by the High Court or the Court of Appeal relate to the management of competition in elections.

Judges sitting singly or in panels of three in the High Court, or in the Court of Appeal, have struck down parliament’s attempts at power grabs by avoiding public participation and making laws that violate the constitution. It is even more worrying that the 48 are only those laws that citizens or organisations have challenged, meaning that there could be a great deal of unconstitutionality hidden in other laws.

For example, commenting on the attempt to sinecure seats for political party leaders in the election law, appellate judges Festus Azangalala, Patrick Kiage and Jamilla Mohammed wrote in their judgment: “[F]ar from attaining the true object of protecting the rights of the marginalized as envisioned by the constitution, the inclusion of Presidential and Deputy Presidential candidates in Article 34(9) of the Elections Act does violence to all reason and logic by arbitrary and irrational superimposition of well-heeled individuals on a list of the disadvantaged and marginalized to the detriment of the protected classes or interests”.

Other judges have described some of the legislative attempts as “overreach” or “no longer [serving] any purpose in the statute books of this country”. Judge Mumbi Ngugi, commenting on the anti-corruption law passed by parliament, remarked: “The provisions […], apart from obfuscating, indeed helping to obliterate the political hygiene, were contrary to the constitutional requirements of integrity in governance, were against the national values and principles of governance and the principles of leadership and integrity in . . . the Constitution . . . [and] entrenched corruption and impunity in the land”.

The low quality of laws emanating from parliament since the promulgation of the constitution in 2010 arises from several factors, among them competence gaps and self-interest, and despite the inclusion of an entire chapter on integrity in the constitution, the country’s politics is weighed down by poor political hygiene. Similarly, the law on qualification for election as a member of parliament sets a very low threshold while the one for recalling elected leaders is impossible to apply.

Data aggregated from the parliamentary website shows that 72 per cent of all members of the National Assembly are university graduates, but many of the qualifications listed appear to be shotgun degrees from notorious religious institutions acquired in the nick of time to clear the hurdle for election. The modest intellectual heft of members in the National Assembly especially makes the institution unsuited for the task of navigating a Western-style democracy in the design of the constitution.

Some 40 MPs have law degrees, but the Kenya Law Reform Commission, the Attorney General’s office, and various interest groups carry out much of the legislative drafting. Parliament is then often left with the duty of playing rubber stamp.

At moments of national crisis, legislative initiative has tended to emanate from outside parliament, whose members are then invited to endorse whatever deal has been agreed. Cases in point from recent history include the resolution of the stalemate over changing the composition of the Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission in 2017, and the political détente in the aftermath of the putative 2017 presidential election.

In a global first of game-warden-turned-poacher, the Public Accounts Committee, Kenya’s parliamentary watchdog, was disbanded over allegations of corruption. The Conflict of Interest Bill was only published last year and is yet to reach the floor of parliament. It was not the only instance of members of parliament literally feathering their nests. Legislators have been most voluble in defending the benefits they feel entitled to, and clinging onto the control of the constituency development fund, which they have turned into a pot of patronage.

The constitution refashioned parliament as an independent institution with law-making, oversight and budgeting powers. The institution has not acquitted itself in watching over public institutions and spending, often playing catch-up with reports of the Auditor General. Its lax fiscal management and oversight has resulted in the country’s debt stock growing from Sh1.78 trillion in 2013 to the current Sh6.7 trillion. Only this year, the Sh500 billion contract for the construction of the standard gauge railway using Chinese loans was found to have been illegal.

Its review of the annual reports from the judiciary and the 14 constitutional commissions has been lacklustre, with the worst case being the parlous state of the Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission. One of the concerns raised about dissolving parliament is around the readiness of the commission to undertake nationwide parliamentary elections, given that four of the seven commissioners have resigned and have not been replaced, and that the institution does not have a sufficient budget to undertake its work.

Another anxiety around the dissolution of parliament has been that the electorate would not cure the gender imbalance in the national legislature through an election. That anxiety is a misapprehension.

On 20 April 2017, in deciding a case filed by Katiba Institute, Justice Enock Mwita ordered that political parties formulate rules and regulations to bring to life the two-thirds gender principle during nominations for the 290 constituency-based elective positions for members of the National Assembly and the 47 county-based elective positions for members of the Senate within six months. He added that if they failed to do so, the IEBC should devise an administrative mechanism to ensure that the two-thirds gender principle is realised within political parties during nomination exercises for parliamentary elections.

The August 2017 High Court judgment requires the IEBC to ensure that party lists contribute to the realisation of the gender principle. The decision has not been appealed or vacated. Given the parliament’s proclivity to pursue the interests of its members in increasing their pay even when not allowed to do so, it is not unlikely that MPs, detained by their own fear of political competition, have refused to see how affirmative action legislation would increase women’s participation in politics.

For now, the Chief Justice’s advice to the president to dissolve parliament has been challenged in court by two citizens, with Judge Weldon Korir certifying that the case raises constitutional questions that need to be adjudicated by an uneven number of judges. It is not unlikely that the matter could go all the way to the Court of Appeal, meaning that the earliest a final position could be settled is February next year.

The dissolution saga will likely highlight the distance yet to be covered in realising the parliament Kenyans wanted to establish through the constitution. Although parliament has a five-year term, it can be extended in times of war or emergency for a period of one year each time, for a maximum of one year. The corollary is that its term can be shortened if it fails to live up to constitutional expectations.

Bereft of any real power or competence and unable to cut the umbilical cord binding it to the executive, parliament will be President Uhuru Kenyatta’s poodle waiting on his charity. And as the president concludes the political calculation of the costs and benefits of dissolving parliament, the country will be assessing its legislature’s performance not just on gender but on everything else.

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