“The waste of scarce resources in Africa’s energy systems remains stark and disturbing. Current highly centralized energy systems often benefit the rich and bypass the poor and are underpowered, inefficient and unequal. Energy-sector bottlenecks and power shortages cost the region 2-4 per cent of GDP annually, undermining sustainable economic growth, jobs and investment. They also reinforce poverty, especially for women and people in rural areas. It is indefensible that Africa’s poorest people are paying among the world’s highest prices for energy.” ~ Excerpt from the Foreword by Kofi Annan in the AFRICA PROGRESS REPORT 2015
“… and all consumers know, when the producers name the tune, the consumer has to dance.” ~ Gil Scot Heron, B-Movie
The Kenya power sector is many things to many people. For some, it is a shining African example of a successful power sector while for others, it is a scandal-ridden den of thieves. For some, it is one of the world’s leaders in green energy and for others it is an unapologetic advocate of coal power. As with many countries, amidst the conflicting politically-driven narratives, it is often hard to separate truth from opinion. Tabled plans serve complicated and disguised agendas of both local and international interests.
Currently, Kenya has an installed capacity of about 2600 MW. This is about one-twentieth the size of South Africa’s grid and more than twice that of Uganda’s.
Despite the bad press, there is much in Kenya’s power sector to be upbeat about. Compared to others in the region, the sector has performed well. Kenya Power has a reputation as a credit-worthy off-taker. The sector is, to a large degree, privately owned, funded and operated. It is “open for business” and, eventually, it gets projects done. Much of the time (but not all) companies in Kenya’s power sector are profitable. By fortuitous accident of location and resource availability (geothermal, wind and hydro), the sector is mostly green. The sector has been able to innovate, complete projects and grow power generation with steady increases in supply and demand over 20 years. With donor support for the Last Mile Programme, it has managed a massive expansion, doubling its customer base in 10 years. Kenya Power, KenGen, the Energy Regulatory Commission (ERC), parastatal agencies and independent power producers (IPPs) have talented staff who enjoy competitive salaries and benefits.
Currently, Kenya has an installed capacity of about 2600 MW. (Ministry of Energy online statistics do not include recent solar, wind and geothermal projects.) This is about one twentieth the size of South Africa’s grid and more than twice that of Uganda’s. Recent additions of wind (300 MW from Turkana) and solar (50 MW from Garissa) have ratcheted down fossil fuel-fired thermal generation and greatly increased capacity to meet peak demand, as shown in Table 1.
Whether the reputation is deserved or not, Kenya’s electricity sector is much-liked by African energy investors. With over 1100MW of power-producing wells, Kenya is in the global top ten of geothermal electricity producers. Turkana Wind is the single largest sub-Saharan wind power project on the continent. At 50MW, Garissa solar is the largest solar project in the East Africa region. Today, tabled investments in geothermal, wind and solar are under way that will double Kenya’s power output in 10 years and most of these are environmentally-friendly (the proposed Lamu coal plant notwithstanding). With 60 per cent of the population connected to the grid, Kenya has the highest electricity access in the region and a higher per capita electricity consumption than Nigeria.
Exceptionally expensive electricity
So, from the above, everything would seem to be satisfactory with the Kenya power sector. But not all is well. In a 2015 assessment, Power Africa lists major “bottlenecks”: inadequate early stage capital for project financing, land/right-of-way risks (i.e. for transmission projects) and IPP “procedural” and process issues. In addition, it points out that the inadequate transmission and distribution infrastructure prevents optimal deployment of the available power resource.
Kenyan industrialists put it more bluntly. For them, exceptionally expensive electricity is among the main causes of manufacturer and investor migration to neighbouring countries. Given the comparatively low-cost hydro and geothermal power in the system, they have long expected reduced power costs. And this is a something the government has long promised but been unable to deliver.
Although murky deals have much to do with the problem, two factors drive continued high consumer power prices. First, we can thank the unbundled power sector. In 1996, at the behest of the international community, Kenya unbundled its power sector. According to a logic pushed by the World Bank, separate companies would independently manage costs, raise finance and increase competition. They would build management efficiency and help to overcome corruption and debt accumulation. Separated entities would enable Kenya Power to place the burden of electricity costs firmly on the shoulders of consumers as there is no subsidy in the payment formulas used to calculate consumer bills.
The unbundling of the power sector and the incorporation of IPPs had a number of positive outcomes. But they did not put to rest the central problems facing the Kenya power sector, nor did they reduce energy costs.
Second, for high power prices, we can thank diesel-fueled thermal power generators. These generators, which are necessary to meet peak loads and supply power when drought reduces hydropower output, add disproportionate long-term costs to power supply. Though they usually supply less than 15 per cent of the overall supply capacity, their costs to consumers (via fuel cost charges) make up an outsized part of the monthly consumer bill.
Kenya Power: An ignoble history
The unbundling of the power sector and the incorporation of IPPs had a number of positive outcomes. But they did not put to rest the central problems facing the Kenya power sector, nor did they reduce energy costs. To understand the situation today, it helps to review the sector’s past and how the donor-sanctioned unbundling of power altered its course.
At independence, East Africa Power Company Limited (EAPCL), a Nairobi Securities Exchange-listed company, included generation systems in Nairobi, Mombasa and the Tanganyika Electricity Supply Company (that became Tanesco). In 1954, the Kenya Power Company had built transmission lines to connect Kenya to Uganda’s Owen Falls Dam. In 1964, EAPCL sold its stake in Tanesco and it was much later renamed Kenya Power and Lighting Company (KPLC). Initially, most of its power generation was from the Tana River Development Company and hydropower accounted for 72 per cent of the country’s electricity.
The development of Kenya’s vast geothermal potential began in 1981 when the European Investment Bank kick-started the drilling of the Olkaria wells. After the first successful geothermal projects, many other financiers followed.
During the Daniel arap Moi era, high-level cartels used the energy sector investments to build political power and business empires and to fund political campaigns. Between 1983 and 1992, the power sector was plagued by scandals that had repercussions on the rest of the economy and which affected relationships with donor partners and investors. Multiple shady deals from the period, such as the Turkwell Gorge and the Ewaso Ngiro dam feasibility (it was never built), are still debated. Whatever the reality of these still-disputed deals, an outcome of the mismanagement was the withdrawal of donor support for the power sector. Following the Turkwell Gorge saga, a consultative donors’ group meeting (which included the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund) imposed an embargo on Kenya’s energy sector, which stalled international power project investments for almost a decade.
The World Bank and the donor community re-engaged with Kenya in 1996 with a plan to restructure the energy sector. The programme, which was part of global World Bank liberalisation initiatives, would pressure state-owned electricity companies to “unbundle” production, distribution, transmission and regulation. This resulted in the privatisation of power production to KenGen and independent power producers. KPLC was responsible for distribution and transmission and for creating an Energy Regulatory Commission to oversee the sector. The international community anticipated that unbundling would improve the overall management of the sector, increase transparency, expand opportunities for international investment in power projects, and lower prices.
Unlike other regional power sectors (e.g. South Africa, Tanzania, and Ethiopia), Kenya eagerly went along with unbundling, perhaps because it saw business prospects in this restructuring. However, under the new rules, the same cartels responsible for tarnished projects in the previous decade contrived new opportunities for themselves. Focusing on thermal power, insiders profited hugely from the entrance of new IPPs into the unbundled sector.
Contracts for thermal generation companies are attractive; it is almost impossible for IPP players to lose money. First, simply for being there, IPPs receive a “capacity charge”, paid according to the size of the generator. Whether or not they are deployed, contracts stipulate that the IPP is paid for being on standby and ready to supply power. Secondly, all thermal IPPs are paid per kilowatt-hours supplied at a fixed rate that is well above that paid for hydro or geothermal power providers. Thirdly, IPPs receive a “fuel pass-through payment” to cover the costs of fuel purchased. (Unsurprisingly, most thermal IPP companies come from the same business ecosystems as petroleum companies.)
From the very start, the processes of awarding thermal IPP contracts were contentious. There were conflicts of interest in ownership, unusual tendering procedures and allegations of insider trading. During poor rainfall periods in 1999 and 2000, diesel plants made money and consumers suffered. In 2000, while KPLC and KenGen flirted with insolvency, the government had to take an emergency $72 million loan to pay for fuel for generator IPPs. A 2003 parliamentary investigation committee blamed KPLC for mismanaging water from dams and creating artificial power shortages to boost thermal power generator sales.
Starting in 2008, and with the support of donor partners, the government introduced standard feed-in tariffs for wind, solar, geothermal, biomass and biogas, which would attract renewable IPPs. However, the feed-in tariffs did not fast track wind or solar. Instead, between 2008 and 2016, petroleum-fueled IPP and KenGen generation rose from 22 per cent to 35 per cent of the overall generation capacity, while by 2016 wind (from Ngong) amounted to less than 1 per cent of the installed capacity.
If the objectives of unbundling of the sector was to open up opportunities, in the 15 years that followed, it was mainly IPP thermal generation players that benefited from these opportunities. As noted earlier, geothermal power sources also increased significantly during this period, but consumers mostly were impacted by the costs of the long-term agreements signed with thermal IPPs that continue to haunt the sector until today.
Under pressure from the private sector to reduce prices and improve sector performance, the Jubilee administration has made some progress. Several new geothermal plants have been added, Turkana wind and Garissa solar are in place, and there is a considerable pipeline of projects on the way. But the litany of power sector maladministration continues. Sector agencies have been accused of procurement abuses on goods that range from poles to transformers, prepaid meters and drilling rigs. Employees set up “tenderpreneur” companies to do inside deals. On what seems like a daily basis, journalists report on the corruption and leakages in the sector.
From the very start, the processes of awarding thermal IPP contracts were contentious. There were conflicts of interest in ownership, unusual tendering procedures and allegations of insider trading.
So, even though power purchase agreements are being signed, capacity is being added and poles are being strung, the sector’s leaders have not brought down prices. Kenya’s power is still three times as expensive as power in Ethiopia and sector governance remains opaque and inefficient. Consumers are being warned by the regulator that prices are likely to rise.
Centralised or decentralised power: That is the question
The Kenyan government’s plan to address expensive power is to increase supply and to renegotiate unwieldy Power purchase agreements (PPA). However, in response to high prices and continued supply problems, and, in a trend that may foreshadow the future, local industry is exploring alternatives that allow them to control their own power supplies.
If the grid doubles in size in five years, Kenya Power will have to buy this power and sell it to consumers. With recent solar, wind and geothermal additions, and with another 400 MW from Ethiopia, the Kenya grid will have a growing oversupply of power.
Jubilee’s Big 4 industrial agenda requires low-cost electricity for urbanisation, population growth and economic development. Its political platform promised major power supply additions from the start, and its Least Cost Power Development Plan calls for 3000 MW additions that will double the current grid size by 2024. This includes scores of planned KenGen and IPP projects in wind (Kipeto, Ngong Phase III, Chania, Prunus, Meru), solar (Kopere, Alten Malindi, Quaint, Gitaru and others), geothermal (over 1000MW) and coal (Lamu). But even if all of the above power projects can be completed more cost-effectively and with less political influence than in the past, it is not clear that increased supply will reduce power costs. In 2019, current peak demand is just above 1800MW, compared to a healthy production capacity of about 2500MW.
If the grid doubles in size in five years, Kenya Power will have to buy this power and sell it to consumers. With recent solar, wind and geothermal additions, and with another 400 MW from Ethiopia, the Kenya grid will have a growing oversupply of power. Globally, few economies anywhere have expanded fast enough to double power demand in less than a decade and Kenya’s economy today is not poised for double-digit growth. An oversupply of power will create more, not less, problems for Kenya Power and its consumers. This comes at a time when Uganda and Ethiopia also have oversupplies and are looking to sell their surplus power. Common sense says that if the economy took 60 years to grow demand for a 2600MW grid, it will not be able to absorb an additional 3000MW in less than a decade.
Meanwhile, unhappy with expensive and often unreliable power, big customers have begun to produce power on site for their own needs at financed prices that are more attractive than Kenya Power rates. On the order of 25MW of embedded power has been installed in Kenya in the past five years, mostly in the form or solar PV but also from biogas and geothermal sources. In 2019, an additional 20 MW is likely be added. Malls, flower farms, factories, tea estates and universities are taking up embedded solar systems because they are reliable, they help control costs, they meet growing consumer demand for green power and they increase productivity. As shown in Table 2, companies are finding that they can manage their energy costs in ways that support their bottom line – at prices that are lower than Kenya Power rates.
Although thus far the tally of embedded solar power projects is relatively small, the trend should be of concern to power sector leaders. This is because the top 6,000 power consumers (i.e. those consuming 15,000 kWh/mo) account for about 60 per cent of Kenya Power revenues. These players are watching the early adopters and meeting with the financiers and installers of embedded power systems. Trends for self-production of power will not go away.
With the rapidly decreasing costs of solar, wind, biogas and energy storage technologies, producing one’s own power is increasingly viable. Globally, scores of companies are developing technologies and raising finance that can make consumers energy independent and enable them to sell excess power to the grid. Indeed, embedded solar and biogas and, increasingly, battery storage, are being actively promoted for industries, commercial establishments and households in developed countries. National power production profile curves in California, Germany and Australia now show impressive inputs from wind and solar power. A large portion of these are from household and commercial systems. As batteries get cheaper, more customers will opt to manage their own energy supply. As technology improves and costs go down, decisions will increasingly be driven by company (and household) bottom lines.
A Green New Deal for Kenya?
Although Kenya’s new Energy Act allows for net metering and distributed generation (i.e. self- production of power and sales of excess to the grid), the government and Kenya Power have been less enthusiastic about promoting embedded power. As elaborated above, the government’s focus is on centralised generation projects. This is unfortunate because it is clear that, globally, a tipping point is near. Lower-cost renewables and storage are changing things quickly, enabling large companies and developments to fully manage their own power production and, moreover, to remove part of the financing burden from the state and IPPs.
The biggest question facing the power sector is this: How will it lower costs, compete and improve overall performance for a population promised 100 per cent electricity access in a global business environment where customers can increasingly generate their own power more efficiently than the power company? To survive, the power sector must anticipate changing technologies and business models or it is likely to suffer some of the same consequences that land line telephones did when they were overwhelmed by cellular technology.
Globally, whether East Africa likes it or not, the world is entering the sunset stages of the fossil fuel age and power sector business environments are unfolding very differently than they were just a few years ago. They are moving toward distributed power technologies that can improve grid stability, create jobs and add economic value. In order to fight climate change and clean up the environment, international leaders are looking to green technologies, electric cars and renewably-powered smart and decentralised grids. The good news is that this is no longer science fiction – it is reality.
Rather than fight the inevitable, Kenya – which already has a reputation for having a “green power sector” – should become a regional leader for decentralised clean energy and plan for it. Just as was done with cellular phone networks, power sector planners should rethink their strategies so as to embrace the new realities.
First, power sector planners should move away from IPP-driven exclusively large-scale project approaches that are top-down, opaque and, increasingly outdated. Though economies of scale and stable power requirements demand that there will always be large-scale power suppliers, there is also a need to recognise the developing niches for smaller decentralised power providers and the ways in which they can help improve the overall grid.
Second, planners should give consumers a larger stake in the sector and encourage them to finance and produce their own energy. Large consumers using decentralised solar, geothermal and storage should be incentivised to supply their own power and to sell their excess power to the grid. Since such large consumers make up the bulk of Kenya Power’s demand, their decisions will increasingly affect the prices and power generation choices of millions of smaller commercial and household consumers.
Thirdly, by opening up the sector, and setting targets for smaller-scale decentralised and embedded solar, wind, biogas, geothermal and storage, planners will create jobs for the financiers, developers, manufacturers and installers of these technologies. In developed economies, decentralised solar players create far more jobs than large-scale power projects, jobs that are high quality and available for local small and medium enterprise players. Given the right policy environment, the Kenyan private sector is well-equipped to move into this space and to develop new efficient business models.
Fourth, the power sector should focus on its core business: efficiently distributing and transmitting power. Many recognise that unless considerable improvements are made in the country’s distribution and transmission infrastructure, generation capacity will be added in vain. Kenya Power – and the central investments in its infrastructure – need to be targeted at poorly performing parts of the distribution and transmission system. By allowing decentralised producers to add needed capacity, the power sector can simultaneously refocus its investments on Transmission and distribution improvements and reduce the need for expensive upgrades to sites where energy is self-produced.
Finally, Kenya should seek to be the hub for international electrification connections between Ethiopia, Uganda, Tanzania and SADC markets. By building up the transmission connections between these countries, it will increase local electricity supplies, lower prices and increase income opportunities from the wheeling of electricity between countries. Lower priced electricity, especially from Ethiopia, will force down prices and enable local industry, and eventually stimulate the inevitable transition to electric transport.
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Doing Democracy Without Party Politics
Our various peoples had clear democratic practices in their pre-colonial political formations without the inconvenience of political parties. It is high time we learned from our indigenous heritages.
The formation of factions is part of group dynamics, and is therefore to be found in every society. However, it was 18th century Western Europe and its North American corollary that invented the idea of institutionalising factions into political parties — groups formally constituted by people who share some aspirations and who aim to capture state power in order to use it to put those aspirations into practice. Britain’s Conservative Party and the Democratic Party in the US were the earliest such formations. Thus party politics are an integral part of representative democracy as understood by the Western liberal democratic tradition. Nevertheless, Marxist regimes such as those in China, Cuba, the former Soviet Union and the former East Germany also adopted the idea of political parties, but in those countries single party rule was the norm.
The idea of political parties gained traction in the various colonial territories in Africa beginning with the formation of the African National Congress (ANC) in South Africa in 1912. The founders of the ANC were influenced by African American political thinkers with whom they associated in their visits to the US.
Political organisations during the colonial period in Kenya
Kenya’s first indigenous political organisation, the East African Association (EAA), formed in 1919, had a leadership comprising different ethnic groups – Kikuyu, Luo, Kamba, the various communities later subsumed under “Luhya”, and some Ugandans, then the dominant ethnic groups in Nairobi. Its political programme entailed protests against the hut-tax, forced labour, and the kipande (passbook). However, following the EAA-led Nairobi mass action of 1922 and the subsequent arrest and deportation of three of EAA’s leaders, Harry Thuku, Waiganjo Ndotono and George Mugekenyi, the colonial government seemed to have resolved not to encourage countrywide African political activity, but rather ethnic associations. The subsequent period thus saw the proliferation of such ethnic bodies as the Kikuyu Central Association, Kikuyu Provincial Association, Kavirondo Tax-payers Association, North Kavirondo Tax-payers Association, Taita Hills Association, and the Ukamba Members Association.
In 1944, the colonial government appointed Eliud Mathu as the African representative to the Legislative Council (LegCo). On the advice of the governor, the Kenya African Study Union (KASU) was formed as a colonywide African body with which the lone African member could consult. However, the Africans changed its name to the Kenya African Union (KAU), insisting that their grievances did not need study but rather organisation.
In 1947, James Gichuru stepped down as chairman of KAU in favour of Jomo Kenyatta whose mandate was to establish it as a countrywide political forum. However, there were serious disparities in political awareness, and the colonial government continued to encourage the masses to think of the welfare of their own ethnic groups rather than that of the country as a whole. Besides, KAU’s links with other communities were often strained because of what was perceived as Kikuyu domination of the organisation. By 1950, KAU was largely moribund because, through the Mau Mau Uprising, Africans challenged the entire basis of colonial rule instead of seeking piecemeal reforms. In June 1953, the colonial government banned KAU after it concluded that radicalisation was inevitable in any countrywide African political organisation.
From 1953 to 1956, the colonial government imposed a total ban on African political organisation. However, with the Lyttelton Constitution — which provided for increased African representation — in the offing, the colonial government decided to permit the formation of district political associations (except in the Central Province which was still under the state of Emergency and where the government would permit nothing more than an advisory council of loyalists). Argwings-Kodhek had formed the Kenya African National Congress to cut across district and ethnic lines, but the government would not register it, so its name was changed to the Nairobi District African Congress.
Consequently, the period leading up to independence in 1963 saw a proliferation of regional, ethnic and even clan-based political organisations: Mombasa African Democratic Union (MADU), Taita African Democratic Union (TADU), Abagussi Association of South Nyanza District (AASND), Maasai United Front Alliance (MA), Kalenjin Peoples Alliance (KPA), Baluhya Political Union (BPU), Rift Valley Peoples Congress (RVPC), Tom Mboya’s Nairobi People Convention (NPC), Argwings-Kodhek’s Nairobi African District Council (NADC), Masinde Muliro’s Kenya Peoples Party (KPP), Paul Ngei’s Akamba Peoples Party (APP) later named African Peoples Party (APP) and others.
However, between 1955 and 1963, there developed a countrywide movement led by non-Mau Mau African politicians who appealed to a vision of Kenya as a single people striving to free themselves from the shackles of colonialism. Nevertheless, it was a fragmented movement, partly because the different peoples of Kenya had an uneven political development, becoming politically active at different times. The difficulties of communication and discouragement from the colonial government also contributed to the weakness of the movement.
Nevertheless, on the eve of Kenya’s independence in 1963, the numerous ethnically-based political parties coalesced into two blocks that became the Kenya African National Union (KANU), whose membership mainly came from the Kikuyu and the Luo, and the Kenya African Democratic Union (KADU) which mainly had support from the pastoralist communities such as the Kalenjin, Maasai, Samburu, and Turkana, as well as the Giriama of the Coast and sections of the Luhya of Western Kenya. During the 1963 elections, on the eve of independence, KADU only secured control over two out of the eight regions, namely, the Rift Valley and the Coast.
KANU under Jomo Kenyatta
Although at his release from detention in 1961 Jomo Kenyatta was not keen to join KANU, he ended up as its leader through the machinations of its operatives. He ascended to state power on its ticket at Kenya’s independence, first as Prime Minister, then as President. As Prime Minister, Kenyatta was directly answerable to Parliament, and it is this accountability that he systematically undermined.
First, the KANU government initiated a series of constitutional amendments and subsidiary legislation that concentrated power in the hands of the central government at the expense of the regional governments entrenched in the Independence Constitution. This KANU easily achieved because KADU was greatly disadvantaged numerically in Parliament. Thus within the first year of independence, KANU undermined the regional governments by withholding funds due to them, passing legislation to circumvent their powers, and forcing major changes to the constitution by threatening and preparing to hold a referendum if the Senate – in which KADU could block the proposals – did not accede to the changes.
It was clear to KADU that it was outnumbered and outmanoeuvred, and that the prospects for enforcing the compromise federalist Independence Constitution were grim. It was also clear to KADU that it was highly unlikely that it would win power through subsequent elections. Consequently, KADU dissolved and joined KANU, resulting in Kenya becoming a de facto single-party state at the beginning of 1964. These amendments produced a strong provincial administration which became an instrument of central control.
Second, with the restraining power of the opposition party KADU out of the way, KANU initiated amendments that produced a hybrid constitution, replacing the parliamentary system of governance in the Independence Constitution with a strong executive presidency without the checks and balances entailed in the separation of powers. Thus KANU quickly created a highly centralised, authoritarian system in the fashion of the colonial state.
In 1966, Oginga Odinga, the Luo leader at the time, who had hitherto been the Vice President of both the country and KANU, lost both posts due to a series of political manoeuvres aimed at his political marginalisation. Odinga responded by forming a political party — the Kenya Peoples Union (KPU) — in April of the same year. KPU was a loose coalition of KANU-B “radicals” and trade-union leaders. Although a fifth of the sitting MPs initially supported it, KPU was widely perceived as a Luo party. This was mainly due to the fact that Kenyatta and his cohorts, using the hegemonic state-owned mass media, waged a highly effective propaganda war against it.
Kenyatta took every opportunity to promote the belief that all his political opponents came from Oginga Odinga’s Luo community. Through a series of state-sponsored machinations, KPU performed dismally in the so-called little elections of 1966 occasioned by the new rule, expediently put in place by KANU, that all MPs who joined KPU had to seek a fresh mandate from the electorate.
During the 1969 General Election, KANU was for the first time unopposed. Those who were nominated by the party in the party primaries — where they were held — were declared automatically elected as MPs, and in the case of Kenyatta, President. Thus during the 1969 general election, Kenyatta also established the practice where only he would be the presidential candidate, and where members of his inner circle would also be unopposed in their bids to recapture parliamentary seats.
During Kenyatta’s visit to Kisumu in October 1969, just three months after the assassination of Thomas Joseph Mboya (Tom Mboya), a large Luo crowd reportedly threatened Kenyatta’s security, and was fired on by the presidential security guards in what later came to be known as the “Kisumu massacre”, resulting in the death of forty-three people. In an explanatory statement, the government accused KPU of being subversive, intentionally stirring up inter-ethnic strife, and of accepting foreign money to promote “anti-national” activities. Soon after this incident, the Attorney-General, Charles Njonjo, banned KPU under Legal Notice No.239 of 30th October 1969, and Kenya again became a de facto one-party state. Several KPU leaders and MPs were immediately apprehended and detained.
In 1973, the Gikuyu, Embu and Meru Association (GEMA) was formed with Kenyatta’s consent. In a chapter in Ethnicity and Democracy in Africa, the immediate former Attorney-General Prof. Githu Muigai, explains that GEMA had a two-pronged mission: to strengthen the immediate ethnic base of the Kenyatta state by incorporating the Embu and Meru into a union with the Kikuyu, and to circumvent KANU’s party apparatus in the mobilisation of political support among these groups. While posing as a cultural organisation, GEMA virtually replaced KANU as the vehicle for political activity for most of the Kikuyu power elite. Consequently, many other ethnic groups formed “cultural groups” of their own such as the Luo Union and the New Akamba Union. As Prof. Muigai further observes, with the formation of GEMA, the façade of “nationalism” within KANU had broken down irretrievably.
In October 1975, Martin Shikuku, then MP for Butere, declared on the floor of Parliament that “anyone trying to lower the dignity of Parliament is trying to kill it the way KANU has been killed”. When Clement Lubembe, then Assistant Minister for Tourism and Wildlife, demanded that Shikuku substantiate his claim that KANU had been killed, the then Deputy Speaker, Jean-Marie Seroney, stated: “According to Parliamentary procedures, there is no need to substantiate what is obvious.” Consequently, Shikuku and Seroney were detained without trial, and were only released after Kenyatta’s death in 1978.
KANU under Daniel arap Moi
Two years before Kenyatta’s death, more than twenty MPs sought to amend the section of Kenya’s constitution which stipulated that the vice president would become the interim president should the incumbent become incapacitated or die. Although the “Change the Constitution Movement” involved MPs from across the country, members of GEMA were among the most vociferous in seeking to block Daniel arap Moi’s succession in this way. Thus, upon assuming the Presidency, Moi set about reducing the influence of GEMA, especially its leaders who had been closest to his predecessor. Whereas Kenyatta had by-passed KANU, Moi revitalised and mainstreamed it, using it as the institution through which his networks would be built. By so doing, he undercut the power of established ethno-regional political leaders, and made the party an instrument of personal control.
Besides, Moi persecuted advocates of reform among university lecturers, university students, lawyers and religious leaders, many of whom were arrested, tortured, detained without trial, or arraigned in court to answer to tramped up charges and subsequently face long prison sentences, and all this forced some of them into exile.
Furthermore, Moi co-opted into KANU the Central Organisation of Trade Unions (COTU), Maendeleo ya Wanawake (the countrywide women’s organisation), and any other organisation that he viewed as a potential alternative locus of political power. At one point during Moi’s reign, the provincial administration even harassed people who did not have KANU membership cards in their possessions in markets, bus stops and other public places. I remember my father purchasing these cards to give to all his grown-up children in a bid to help them avoid such harassment. MPs lived under the fear of being expelled from KANU — which would mean automatic loss of their parliamentary seats — and so outdid one another in singing Moi’s and KANU’s dubious praises inside and outside Parliament. On the Voice of Kenya (VOK), the state-run radio station which enjoyed a monopoly, songs in praise of Moi and KANU and others castigating dissenters were played after every news broadcast.
Moi only conceded to restore multi-party politics at the end of 1991 due to the effects of his mismanagement of the economy coupled with the end of the Cold War, both of which increased internal and external pressure for reform. Nevertheless, he declared that people would understand that he was a “professor of politics”, and went on to emphasise that he would encourage the formation of as many parties as possible — a clear indication that he was determined to fragment the opposition in order to hang on to power for as long as possible. Indeed, the opposition unity that had influenced the change was not to last, as ethnically-based parties sprang up all over the country, enabling Moi to win both the 1992 and 1997 elections. Furthermore, the Moi regime was reluctant to put in place the legal infrastructure for a truly multiparty democracy, and the same was later to prove true of the Kibaki regime that took over power on 30th December 2002.
Parties as obstacles to democratisation
In a chapter in A Companion to African Philosophy, Makerere University philosophy professor Edward Wamala outlines three shortcomings of the multi-party system of government in Ganda society in particular, and in Africa in general.
First, the party system destroys consensus by de-emphasising the role of the individual in political action. Put simply, the party replaces “the people”. Consequently, a politician holding public office does not really have loyalty to the people whom he or she purportedly represents, but rather to the sponsoring party. The same being true of politicians in opposing parties, no room is left for consensus building. We have often witnessed parties disagreeing for no other reason than that they must appear to hold opposing views, thereby promoting confrontation rather than consensus.
Second, in order to acquire power or retain it, political parties act on the notorious Machiavellian principle that the end justifies the means, thereby draining political practice of ethical considerations that had been a key feature of traditional political practice. We are thus left with materialistic considerations that foster the welfare not of the society at large, but rather of certain suitably aligned individuals and groups.
Third, as only a few members at the top of a party wield power, even the parties that command the majority and therefore form the government are in reality ruled by a handful of persons. As such, personal rule, after seeming to have been eliminated by putting aside monarchs and chiefs, makes a return to the political arena of the Western-type state. Thus the KANU-NDP “co-operation” and ultimate “merger” was the result of the rapprochement between Daniel arap Moi and Raila Odinga; the Grand Coalition Government was formed as a result of the decision of Mwai Kibaki and Raila Odinga; The Handshake and the Building Bridges Initiative was the result of private consultations between Raila Odinga and Uhuru Kenyatta. In all these cases, party organs were only convened to ratify what the party leaders had already decided, and dissenters threatened with disciplinary action. We have very recently seen the same approach in the debate on the allocation of revenue, where what was supposed to be the opposition party acquiesced to the ruling party’s view simply because of the Handshake and the Building Bridges Initiative.
In my youth, I was convinced that if only multi-party rule would be restored in Kenya, autocracy would be a thing of the past. With hindsight, however, it is now clear to me that just as middlemen enjoy the bulk of the fruit of the sweat of our small-scale farmers, so party leaders enjoy the massive political capital generated by the people. In short, party politics, whether with one, two or many parties in place, hinder true democratisation by perpetuating political elitism and autocracy.
Towards a no-party system of governance
In Cultural Universals and Particulars, the Ghanaian philosopher Kwasi Wiredu advances the view that the no-party system has evident advantages over the multi-party system:
When representatives are not constrained by considerations regarding the fortunes of power-driven parties they will be more inclined in council to reason more objectively and listen more open-mindedly. And in any deliberative body in which sensitivity to the merits of ideas is a driving force, circumstances are unlikely to select any one group for consistent marginalisation in the process of decision-making. Apart from anything else, such marginalisation would be an affront to the fundamental human rights of decisional representation.
However, Yoweri Museveni’s “no-party system” which he instituted when he took power in Uganda in 1986 was simply a one-party system in disguise. Indeed, in his Sowing the Mustard Seed, Museveni unintentionally reveals a party orientation in his analysis of his electoral victory in 1996: “Although I was campaigning as an individual, I had been leading the movement for 26 years. Therefore, the success of the NRM and my success were intertwined.”
Our various peoples had clear democratic practices in their pre-colonial political formations without the inconvenience of political parties. For example, Prof. Wamala, in the chapter already cited, informs us that the Kabaka of the Baganda could not go against the decision of the Elders. It is high time we learned from our indigenous heritages.
Life at the End of the American Empire
The poverty of ideas in America’s political arena reflects the barbarism of our historical moment. While Trump’s minions promote authoritarianism and jingoism, their ideological opponents within the Democratic Party offer equally bankrupt solutions, from a return to “civility” to the rebuilding of national “unity” all the while forgetting the critical lesson: White supremacy does not love White folks.
Americans have a knack for demonstrating, in spectacular fashion, that they possess neither the political language nor the maturity to address the crises of our time.
As the climate catastrophe hurtles past the point of return, US pundits are content to debate “cancel culture.” As levels of economic inequality soar from the obscene to the unfathomable, half the political class obsesses over Russian meddling while the other half nurtures conspiracy theories about the “deep state.”
Critics have long characterised American politics as a form of mass paranoia. Witnessing recent events, one is reminded that American identity itself is an act of self-deception. As a society we remain trapped in petulant adolescence, incapable of and uninterested in developing any real awareness of ourselves.
For decades this willful ignorance made the US an especially dangerous superpower. Now, as the decline of US empire accelerates, our practiced innocence is fueling a sense of collective disorientation and despair.
Critics have long characterised American politics as a form of mass paranoia. Witnessing recent events, one is reminded that American identity itself is an act of self-deception
To grasp our predicament we must recognise modern American politics as a clash between competing delusions. The populist insurgents of the right pursue one set of ideological fantasies while elite apologists for the status quo pursue another. Even as political polarisation increases, both camps embrace the myths of American virtue that perpetuate our national blindness.
The mob that recently stormed the Capitol is a toxic outgrowth of the cult of lies on the right. Among those lies is the assertion that “Blue Lives Matter.” Americans who watched footage of the Capitol invaders pummeling cops with flags and other objects (one officer was bludgeoned to death with a fire extinguisher) might wonder whether “Blue Lives Matter” is actually a principled declaration of support for police, rather than a cynical effort to subvert Black Lives Matter and justify racist state terror.
Many antiracists have long known the truth. Many of us recognise, as well, something that few Americans will ever discover; namely, that White supremacy does not love White folks. Whiteness is simply a method of conquest. It is a necessarily antihuman mode of domination. When the hordes at the Capitol called for the head of Mike Pence, a great White patriarch, and erected gallows outside the halls of Congress, they were enacting a philosophy not of tribal loyalty but of capricious and unrelenting violence.
If the forces on the right wing are driven by lies, the moderate defenders of liberal democracy are no less devoted to deception. Business and political elites condemned the Capitol siege in the wake of the attack. Yet they routinely launch their own “raids” on the commons through the practice of corporate sovereignty and unrestrained capitalism. Some members of the ruling class have framed Trump’s departure from the White House as an opportunity to restore the rule of law and the prestige of American democratic institutions. They cannot be serious. The net worth of US billionaires has risen by a trillion dollars since the pandemic began. Precisely which democracy are Americans supposed to reclaim?
In reality, US plutocrats can offer only a more polished racial capitalism as a remedy for the vulgarity of Trumpism. Their revitalized America will continue to imprison legions of black people, hunt undocumented immigrants, and wage unrelenting war on brown populations abroad. But it will do so under an African American woman vice president and a rainbow cabinet. Voila. White supremacy lite.
If the forces on the right wing are driven by lies, the moderate defenders of liberal democracy are no less devoted to deception. Business and political elites condemned the Capitol siege in the wake of the attack. Yet they routinely launch their own “raids” on the commons through the practice of corporate sovereignty and unrestrained capitalism.
The poverty of ideas in the political arena reflects the barbarism of our historical moment. While Trump’s minions promote authoritarianism and jingoism, many of their ideological opponents within the Democratic Party offer equally bankrupt solutions, from a return to “civility” to the rebuilding of national “unity.” (We are asked to forget that it was decades of “unity” between the Democrats and the billionaire class that helped produce the social and economic dystopia we now inhabit.)
Thus do the reigning forces in American political life—the populist right and the liberal center—sustain their crusades of disinformation. Both factions brandish the bloody flag of patriotism. Both long for the revival of a glorious order. Both preach fundamentalist creeds, whether they use the jargon of White evangelicalism or that of underregulated markets. And both are doomed. They are combatants on the deck of a sinking ship.
In truth, the disintegration of American civilisation has been evident for some time. The perverse murders of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor were symptoms of deeper pathologies. Our trillion dollar military budget, our gleeful binge of fossil fuels, our support for the occupation and degradation of the Palestinian people—all signal the malignancy of a decadent and cruel nation.
In reality, US plutocrats can offer only a more polished racial capitalism as a remedy for the vulgarity of Trumpism. Their revitalized America will continue to imprison legions of black people, hunt undocumented immigrants, and wage unrelenting war on brown populations abroad.
Meanwhile our intellectual decay intensifies. Capitalism was never going to be satisfied with just seising our social wealth. It has gutted our cultural and educational institutions as well. Small wonder most Americans are strangers to critical thought, and are unable to perceive or meaningfully address the social contradictions that shape their lives. Absorbing the ideas of their religious and political leaders, they find themselves searching for meaning in gospels of prosperity and theories of lizard men.
There may still be an alternative to bewilderment and depravity for the American masses. Recent months and years have witnessed promising countersigns. Popular antiracist and environmental movements reinvigorated our traditions of dissent. Attempts to organize Amazon warehouses, fast food chains, the ridesharing and tech industries and other stubbornly antiunion establishments raised the prospect of renewed worker power. Despite the social devastation of the coronavirus, a period of extreme isolation and anxiety spawned mutual aid projects and tenant struggles.
Progressive dissidents and workers may yet draw on these expressions of solidarity to reconstruct a fractured republic. As feckless Joe Biden takes office, he and his administration should be greeted by waves of radical agitation. We should expand resistance to austerity and endless war, even as we escalate campaigns for climate repair, Medicare for all, living wages, student debt cancellation, and equitable vaccine distribution. Quests for human rights and dignity may not heal America, but they may well preserve some semblance of grace as our society collapses under the weight of its lies.
The Souls of White Folk Revisited
At another historical inflection point, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. recognized white Americans’ delusions as the property of the West more broadly.
When US Congress members resumed deliberations on the Electoral College vote after a pro-Trump mob violently stormed and temporarily occupied the Capitol building on January 6, many of them expressed shock and dismay that such an event had occurred in the United States. The scene was certainly abominable. More than fifty people were injured, and five people died in the attack, including a Capitol police officer. But the greatest damage had been inflicted upon the feeble facade of American exceptionalism and white innocence.
In a revealing display of historical delusion, the mantra in Congress that evening and throughout the following day was that the barbaric attempt to subvert the outcome of the election was an aberration in US political history and culture. “This is not who we are,” members of congress repeated. Instead of introspection, there was deflection. “This is how election results are disputed in a banana republic—not our democratic republic,” former President George W. Bush related through a formal statement, without any apparent awareness of his own irony and racism.
And there were even boasts. Vice-President Mike Pence, in his address to the reconvened Senate envisioned a world in awe of the US. “The world will once again witness the resilience and strength of our democracy,” he said. New York Senator Chuck Schumer, revealing the limits of his historical literacy, was aghast that this aberrant event will stain America’s image. “Unfortunately,” he said to his colleagues, “we can now add January 6, 2021 to that very short list of dates in American history that will live forever in infamy.”
A half a century ago, at another historical inflection point, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. wisely recognised these delusions as the property not simply of the United States, but of the West more broadly. The US, he discovered, shared with European states and their imperialist outposts in Africa and the Caribbean a near pathological determination to dress up labour exploitation, gross materialism, militarism, and white supremacy as democracy. We are at a similar historical moment.
This myth of exceptionalism and white superiority continues to yoke the white working class in the US and elsewhere—France, Britain, Brazil, and in South Africa, among other places—to an economic system that is destroying them. King, in his time, implored us to recognize this fact. Today, he would remind us that what Americans saw on January 6 was a domestic variant of a world problem of persistent adherence to white supremacy casually cloaked in political and economic grievance.
The US, like South Africa, needed collective myths to fuel its national pride, and allow its leaders the self-assurance they displayed. Their myopic sense of exceptionalism fueled their claims to superiority vis-à-vis the rest of the world. The same internal inhibitors to self-reflection allowed Donald Trump to label country’s “shitholes” and former President Bush to dismiss others as “banana republics.” This absence of self-reflection compounded by delusion inspired the pro-Trump white-nationalist mob to attack the US Capitol building in an act of domestic terrorism.
We can learn from King’s prescient admonition for white Americans, Western Europeans generally, to recognise the inevitable calamity that will result from the ease with which they hold aloft the banner of racial superiority, while they trod aggressively toward an all-encompassing conflagration. King offered an alternative path forward borne of his engagement with non-violent movements in Asia and Africa to end of European imperialism, and the movement in the US against racial segregation and economic exploitation.
King’s analysis of global white supremacy grew increasingly astute in the early 1960s, through his involvement in initiatives to end white-minority rule in southern Africa. King was not alone in his thinking. He espoused a philosophy that was in the tradition of the Black social gospel theologians who mentored him, such as Benjamin E. Mays, Howard Thurman, and King’s father, Martin Luther King Sr. The inspiration they derived from Mahatma Gandhi’s nonviolence was immense, first in his struggle for Indian rights in British-ruled South Africa and then, after 1915, in India, toward its independence from Britain. Others, such as W.E.B. Du Bois, Ida B. Wells, Mary McLeod Bethune, and South Africa’s Albert Luthuli, shaped the rich, internationally-oriented intellectual and political environment that nurtured King and shaped his political outlook.
King’s goals for the Civil Rights Movement were also consistent with those of his contemporary radical activists who were unsatisfied with arguments for integration into an unaltered American society. His Black social gospel predecessors, as would King himself, insisted that the US social and economic system be understood in its global context, which would evince the necessity of a radical reordering. The global perspective that King and his contemporaries in the Civil Rights Movement gained through their involvement in the struggle against white-minority rule in southern Africa, equipped them to discern the global dimensions of capitalism, white supremacy and resulting forms of creeping authoritarianism.
Part of King’s brilliance and his usefulness for understanding the current political moment was his capacity to link culture, philosophy, and national politics within broad, global economic and political structures. In his speech to the First Conference on New Politics Chicago in 1967, King derided the persistent myth of the US as a paragon of justice, equality, and freedom. He diagnosed America’s social malady as a “triple-prong sickness that has been lurking that is the sickness within our body politic from its very beginning. That is the sickness of racism, excessive materialism and militarism. Not only is this our nation’s dilemma, it is the plague of Western civilisation.”
King did not issue diagnoses without prescriptions for a more healthful body politic. He strove toward the realisation of what he referred to as the “Beloved Community,” built on justice and equality. Toward that end, we must be honest about and learn from our own history.
King warned that it was detrimental to the US to continue to deny that “capitalism was built on the exploitation and suffering of black slaves,” and demanded the acknowledgement that capitalism “continues to thrive on the exploitation of the poor, both black and white, both here and abroad.” Again, his antidote for this sickness was not mere social integration, but true social justice, which required a radical remaking of American society. “The problems of racial injustice and economic injustice,” he argued, “cannot be solved without a radical redistribution of political and economic power.” What he called for, in other words, was a social revolution.
King’s internationalism and the deepening sophistication of his social analyses in a global context were most fully displayed in his Human Rights Day address at Hunter College in 1965, in which he warned that the delusion of superiority and exceptionalism among white South Africans was propelling that country toward internal violence, as he feared it would among whites in the US. The prospect of white violence prompted King to muse on the image of the African savage in the European imagination, reinforced by innumerable books, motion pictures, and magazine photos. He lamented that this figment of Africa as home to backward savages had persisted for more than a century despite the nimiety of facts that controverted it.
King contrasted the African-savage narrative with Europe’s well-documented economic and political savagery on the African continent: “Africa does have spectacular savages and brutes today, but they are not black. They are the sophisticated white rulers of South Africa who profess to be cultured, religious, and civilised, but whose conduct on philosophy stamp them unmistakably as modern-day barbarians.”
He feared that the persistence of these brutes, these barbarian white rulers would propel South Africa toward a race war, as Africans exhausted all peaceful routes to liberation and self-determination. To forestall or, even better, prevent such an outcome, King called for an international moral coalition against white-minority rule in southern Africa. “The leaders of South Africa’s openly and virulently racist regime were very specific about their intention to secure and maintain white dominance in the country. Quoting Prime Minister Verwoerd [of South Africa]: ‘We want to keep South Africa white.’ Keeping it white can only mean one thing, namely white domination, not ‘leadership,’ not ‘guidance,’ but control, supremacy.”
King neatly summed up apartheid’s corrosive efficiency for securing white political and economic power in the country, while ensuring a stable reserve of cheap Black labor. Rather than a southern outpost of Western civilization, as many South African leaders claimed, their country’s social and economic system made it, as King put it, “a formidable adversary of human rights.”
He emphasised his endorsement of international sanctions against South Africa, in this speech. Although the push for sanctions in the US would fail to shift the US government’s position on South Africa until the 1980s, King recognised the potential for a sanctions campaign, beyond the specifics of its immediate goal to cripple the apartheid regime, to form the basis of a global movement; what he called an “international alliance of all peoples of all nations against racism.”
As the minister extolled the virtues of sanctions, he singled out the US for its hypocritical and economically gratuitous embrace of South Africa. There had always been quick and deliberate US action in international events when the US believed its interests were at stake. He said that when the US invaded the Dominican Republic, which took place that year, it showed what it was capable of doing if willing. “We inundated that small nation with overwhelming force, shocking the world with our zealousness and naked power.” But toward South Africa, he bemoaned, “our protest is so muted and peripheral, it merely mildly disturbs the sensibilities of the segregationists, while our trade and investments substantially stimulate our economy to greater heights.”
Such is the hypocrisy of exceptionalism. The US would not condemn South Africa at the height of its own hypocrisy on race relations, because to do so would indict both countries. They mirrored each other, with their racist economic and political systems, hyper militarism and historical delusions. “Colonialism and segregation,” he wrote in an essay published that year in the New York Amsterdam News in 1962, “are nearly synonymous; they are children in the same family, for their common end is economic exploitation, political domination and the debasing of human personality.”
King would have recognised the raiding of the US Capitol building as a stark reflection of what America has always been. Like the white rulers of South Africa during the 1950s and 60s “who profess to be cultured, religious, and civilized,” US leaders have conjoined mythology and delusion to blind themselves to the fact that the marauding horde that brought such shame to the US Capitol on January 6 and, indeed, to the US, acted in the long and dependable tradition of white nationalism in America and in the indomitable spirit of global white supremacy.
King endeavoured to steer whites from the course on which their historical delusion had fixed them and that would lead them inevitably toward violence. His legacy inspires a clear-eyed examination of movements like Marine Le Pen’s National Front (National Rally), Boris Johnson’s Brexit, and Trumpism, to understand their deep-rootedness in the ethos and praxis of white supremacy. Naming it, as King counseled, will allow for self-reflection and an opportunity for true exceptionalism. Success within this process will enable US politicians to recognize the marauding horde wandering the corridors of the Capitol building as themselves and a product of their history.
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