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Citizen Miguna

8 min read.

Loud and boisterous, tall and intimidating, Miguna’s militant opposition laid bare the crisis of legitimacy facing Jubilee. ‘Deportation’, that tried and tested silencing tactic of so many colonial and post-colonial regimes, was employed. But it only deepens the crisis. For many young people in the aftermath of the August elections, Miguna’s unambiguous resistance to the establishment has stirred a deep-seated radicalism that will not easily disappear. By KWAMCHETSI MAKOKHA

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Citizen Miguna
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At 6’4”, and with an even bigger ego, Miguna Miguna has never been one to shrink from a fight. His latest confrontation with the authorities may have began with Raila Odinga’s swearing in on January 30, 2018 but the authorities’ attempts to target the lawyers who participated in the swearing-in has turned, in Miguna’s case and by the government’s acts both of impunity and incompetence, into a fundamental question of the meaning of citizenship.

On February 1, 2018, police arrested lawyer and Ruaraka Member of Parliament Tom Joseph Kajwang and charged him for participating in the swearing-in event. His arrest provoked the legal team that prosecuted Raila’s presidential election petition at the Supreme Court into action, convinced that who might be targeted after Kajwang. Miguna was high on the list.

Lawyers John Khaminwa, James Orengo, Julie Soweto, Nelson Havi and Cliff Ombeta had begun preparing applications for anticipatory bail, but a curve ball was heading their way.

At dawn on February 2, 2018, police raided 486 Runda Meadows, Miguna’s home. Miguna would later say that they used an explosive device to blast open his front door; shards of stained glass lay strewn at the entrance. A video circulated of neighbours and relatives in the aftermath of the police raid, protesting Miguna’s arrest while surveying the extensive damage done to the property.

A day earlier, police chief inspector Joseph Gichuki had obtained a warrant from the chief magistrate’s court at Milimani, Nairobi, to search Miguna’s residence for weapons and anti-government materials. Miguna was seized but no returns for the search have ever been filed in court.

Fearing that the police would attempt to hold Miguna over the weekend, his lawyers went before Justice James Wakiaga by 10 am on the day of his seizure and secured anticipatory bail, together with orders for his production in court on February 5. Makadara MP George Aladwa had also been arrested the previous day and released without charge, but Miguna was the big catch.

This was not the first time Miguna’s citizenship had been questioned. Back in January 2010, Party of National Unity spokesman Moses Kuria wrote to then Prime Minister Raila Odinga demanding that Miguna be fired from his position as advisor on grand coalition affairs since he held a Canadian passport.

Police refused to release Miguna despite the court order, and declined to disclose the place of detention, forcing a frustrated and futile search of police stations in Kiambu County over the weekend. His lawyers were informed that he was in a bad way at Lari Police Station but had no access to him.

It would mark the start of a five-day cat-and-mouse game that culminated in Miguna’s forcible removal from Kenya aboard a KLM flight to Toronto, via Amsterdam, and a repeat performance nearly two months later.

Public anger was swift in coming. One man was shot dead by police in protests to demand Miguna’s release in Ahero, Kisumu. For the army of young people, the millions unemployed, the slum-dwelling kibarua youth who forfeited their daily wages to take part in the NASA protests and had been radicalised by police brutality after the August 8 elections, they now increasingly identified with Miguna’s brand of radical politics: loud, direct and unambiguously, eloquently anti-Jubilee.

This was not the first time Miguna’s citizenship had been questioned. Back in January 2010, Party of National Unity spokesman Moses Kuria wrote to then Prime Minister Raila Odinga demanding that Miguna be fired from his position as advisor on grand coalition affairs since he held a Canadian passport. Miguna fought off those allegations, saying he had done what he needed to do to take on a dictatorial regime, and was defended by Immigration minister Otieno Kajwang, who said Miguna had never renounced his Kenyan citizenship.

The abrasive 55-year-old lawyer and author, who unsuccessfully contested the governor’s seat in Nairobi in 2017, fled into exile in 1988 after he was expelled from the University of Nairobi for his activism. He did not have a Kenyan passport. He became a naturalised Canadian after Kenya denied him a passport, and that citizenship was for years the only document standing between him and statelessness. His seizure at dawn was not only meant to detain him but also to revisit his passport issue, notwithstanding that the new constitutional regime allows for dual citizenship.

In the same week that Miguna was waging battles in court, the Director of Immigration suspended the passport of 15 senior NASA officials. Miguna’s personal travails were now part of a State’s agenda to punish collectively the opposition’s leadership. And in attacking Miguna’s right to Kenyan citizenship, they had headed in a direction beloved of failing republics in Africa.

Deportation, involuntary exile and banishment are stock-in-trade tactics of independent African nations. Bequeathed to them by their colonial predecessors, these are effective instruments for decapitating the organic leadership of restive populations. In the early colonial era, recognizing that they were not yet then strong enough to crush African resistance without provoking a wider revolt, the nascent colonial administrations routinely employed these tactics to subdue the African political leadership.

The record of deportations in colonial and post-colonial East Africa is long and infamous. To wit: Waiyaki wa Hinga, leader of the Kikuyu stood up to colonial officials: sentenced to deportation in Mombasa (he died at Kibwezi en route from Nairobi. It is said that he was buried alive and sitting); Mekatilili wa Menza and Wanje wa Mwadorikola: arrested in October 1913 for resisting labour conscription among the Giriama – deported to Mumias in western Kenya, but escaped a few months later and walked back home to continue with the resistance; Harry Thuku, founder and secretary of the Kikuyu Central Association: deported to Kismayu in Somalia in 1922 for agitating for improved living conditions for Africans. Here, we see a successful case of regime conversion. Thuku returned a changed man, conservative and pro-government and, to the end of his days in independent Kenya, deeply suspicious of African liberation.

Similar tactics were employed against Kabaka Muwanga of the Kingdom of Buganda, and Omukama Kabalega of the Bunyoro-Kitara kingdom. Both kings were deported to the Seychelles for resisting British occupation in the 1890s. Interestingly, their deportation officer, Frederick Lugard, was the same man who as a company man for the Imperial British East African Company at Fort Smith in Dagoretti, had made a treaty of friendship with Waiyaki wa Hinga, leader of the Kikuyu. When Lugard was forced to leave suddenly to organise the colonial forces in the Battle of Mengo in Buganda, his replacement at Fort Hall, George Wilson, abrogated the terms of the treaty, which included formal terms for the procurement of food and livestock, and turned Waiyaki into a rebel.

In the independence era, President Daniel arap Moi revoked journalist Salim Lone’s Kenyan citizenship for ‘disloyalty’ in 1982 before it was restored a year later. President Milton Obote cancelled Prof Mahmood Mamdani’s Ugandan citizenship after he gave an address at a Red Cross conference in 1985. Changes in constitutions appear to have done little to wean African states off the colonial instinct.

Banishment became a regular form of silencing dissent in apartheid South Africa, famously at its Robben Island Prison, as well as in the native Bantustans and the so-called free states.

In the independence era, President Daniel arap Moi revoked journalist Salim Lone’s Kenyan citizenship for ‘disloyalty’ in 1982 before it was restored a year later. President Milton Obote cancelled Prof Mahmood Mamdani’s Ugandan citizenship after he gave an address at a Red Cross conference in 1985.

Changes in constitutions appear to have done little to wean African states off the colonial instinct. When Miguna landed aboard an Emirates flight on March 26, his right of return backed by a slew of court orders, the full complement of the public service and the police were summoned to deal with him. The first sign of what the government planned to do was revealed when immigration lawyer Fred Ngatia reached out to Nelson Havi, one of Miguna’s lawyers, proposing that just the two of them meet Miguna on the airside. This was a suggestion that went against the court’s explicit orders, which had directed that officials of the Kenyan National Commission on Human Rights observe the process of re-entry. During the next three days, as the stand-off against Miguna raged, the KNCHR would be systematically frustrated as they attempted to gain access to Miguna.

Two months after his first illegal deportation, Miguna was methodical in his dealings with the government. Arriving at the Jomo Kenyatta International Airport at about 2.30 pm, Immigration officials wanted him to hand in his Canadian passport – they were willing to give a visa gratis, but he declined, insisting that they comply with the various court orders.

Accepting to enter Kenya on a visa was made to appear like a small price for Miguna to pay: Officials had offered him the visa gratis, sweetened by making it for an unlimited time, and with no restrictions – and ultimately said they only wanted his passport to note down a case number.

James Orengo – as one of Miguna’s lawyers he was a regular presence at the JKIA – believed that Miguna could postpone his fight with immigration officials. That is, until he spoke to some officials. Had Miguna handed in his passport, he would have been deported immediately, says Julie Soweto, a member of his legal team.

Unknown to Miguna’s lawyers, the immigration officials had already purchased a ticket for his flight on the 8.40 pm Emirates flight to Dubai. Officials had disobeyed all the other court orders and were only seeking to comply with one requiring him to use his Canadian passport in default. At 8 pm, any pretense at diplomacy fell away. Suddenly there were a lot more police at the airport; a commando unit either of the Administration Police or the GSU also arrived with Emirates cabin crew to take Miguna to the aircraft.

NASA leader Raila Odinga had arrived, apparently convinced that he could spring Miguna from the airport. But the police locked down the terminal. Odinga was reduced to sitting in a chair in the baggage hall, from where he made ineffectual phone calls. The image of the NASA leader helplessly trying to stop Miguna’s seizure by the police is perhaps the most eloquent summary of his influence in the wake of the ‘handshake’ deal with Uhuru Kenyatta.

Another Emirates flight was departing at 10.40 pm, but it was delayed for an hour. At 11.34 pm, police officers in jeans and t-shirts stormed the baggage hall and seized Miguna, frisking him in the hope of taking his passport. He had rehearsed this part, careful to avoid arrest. With one foot in the cabin, and the other outside the aircraft, he let rip: “Where are [sic] my luggage? Where is my passport?”

Indeed, immigration lawyer James Nyikuli called Havi to ask for Miguna’s passport, which he did not have. Miguna could not be placed on an aircraft against his will; and the pilot could not fly with a screaming passenger shouting, “I am not boarding.” Loud and boisterous, tall and intimidating, a lone ranger prone to going it alone, Miguna is an inconvenient victim – and many people have condemned him for not yielding ground. Yet, allowing his Canadian passport to be stamped on entry would have amounted to surrendering his Kenyan citizenship, even if only symbolically — a prospect he was unwilling to countenance.

James Orengo believed that Miguna could postpone his fight with immigration officials. That is, until he spoke to some officials. Had Miguna handed in his passport, he would have been deported immediately.

On Twitter, he would write: “In 1962, @RailaOdinga fled to East Germany on a Tanzanian passport. In 1991 @RailaOdinga fled to Norway on a Ugandan passport. Ngugi wa Thiong’o fled to the UK in 1982 on a Ghanaian passport. But they were not forced to return to Kenya as foreigners. Am I a second class citizen?”

With his deportation aborted, Miguna’s lawyers returned to court on March 27 and obtained further orders for his release and production in court – all to no avail. Justice George Odunga, as duty judge, issued new orders for Miguna’s production and the personal appearance of Dr Matiang’i, the Inspector General of Police Joseph Boinnet and Immigration Permanent Secretary Gordon Kihalangwa. When they did not show up or produce Miguna in the afternoon, he ruled that them in contempt but invited them to hear their sentence the following day. That order too, was ignored.

Advocates who went to the airport to serve Odunga’s orders ran into a wall of 50 heavily armed police officers. Restaurants were shut, the doors to the terminal were blocked, and the lawyers faced off with the police. They were reading out the court orders, complete with a Kiswahili translation, when a lorry-load of police drove in at high speed, abruptly putting an end to this latest attempt to force the government to comply with the courts.

At 6 am the following day, Miguna called one of his lawyers. His speech was slurred but he reported that over 30 people had stormed into the toilet where he had been confined, pinned him down, sedated him and put him on a flight to Dubai in the United Arab Emirates.

Memes of Miguna’s trademark skullcap and glasses on a black background now immortalize the struggle of conscience versus state power. But the emblem is also a reminder of the difficulties of attempting revolutions by using the law. Miguna has stirred a deep revolutionary instinct in the restless Kenyan youth.

Despite the government’s attempts to trivialise Miguna’s experience, the desperation that has driven it to its present actions now hides in plain sight. Although designed to psychologically break the spirit of resistance, the consequences of deportation always outlive the crises that set them off in the first place, and sometimes fuel and spark bigger fires.

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Kwamchetsi Makokha
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Kwamchetsi Makokha is a journalist with over two decades on the frontline of the struggle for human dignity. Co-editor (with Arthur Luvai) of the East African poetry anthology, 'Echoes across the Valley', he escapes into literature, the performing arts and agriculture. He is currently Programme Advisor at Journalists For Justice.

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Another False Start: The Green Revolution Myths that Africa Bought

The flaws and dire consequences of India’s Green Revolution should have warned policymakers of the likely disappointing results of GR in Africa.

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Another False Start: The Green Revolution Myths that Africa Bought
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Since the Alliance for a Green Revolution in Africa (AGRA) was launched in 2006, crop yields have barely risen, while rural poverty remains endemic, and would have increased more if not for out-migration. With funding from the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation and the Rockefeller Foundation, AGRA was started with the objective of raising yields and incomes for 30 million smallholder farm households while halving food insecurity by 2020. There are no signs of significant productivity and income boosts from promoted commercial seeds and agrochemicals in AGRA’s 13 focus countries. Meanwhile, the number of undernourished in these nations increased by 30 per cent.

When will we ever learn?

What went wrong? The continuing protests by Indian farmers — despite the COVID-19 resurgence — highlight the problematic legacy of its Green Revolution (GR) in frustrating progress to sustainable food security. Many studies have already punctured some myths of India’s GR. Looking back, its flaws and their dire consequences should have warned policymakers of the likely disappointing results of the GR in Africa. Hagiographic accounts of the GR cite “high‐yielding” and “fast-growing” dwarf wheat and rice spreading through Asia, particularly India, saving lives, modernising agriculture, and “freeing” labour for better off-farm employment.

Many recent historical studies challenge key claims of this supposed success, including allegedly widespread yield improvements and even the number of lives actually saved by increased food production. Environmental degradation and other public health threats due to the toxic chemicals used are now widely recognised. Meanwhile, water management has become increasingly challenging and unreliable due to global warming and other factors.

Ersatz GR2.0 for Africa

Half a century later, the technology-fetishizing, even deifying AGRA initiative seemed oblivious of Asian lessons as if there is nothing to learn from actual experiences, research and analyses. Worse, AGRA has ignored many crucial features of India’s GR. Importantly, the post-colonial Indian government had quickly developed capacities to promote economic development. Few African countries have such “developmental” capacities, let alone comparable capabilities. Their already modest government capacities were decimated from the 1980s by structural adjustment programmes demanded by international financial institutions and bilateral “donors”.

Ignoring lessons of history

India’s ten-point Intensive Agricultural Development Programme was more than just about seed, fertiliser and pesticide inputs. Its GR also provided credit, assured prices, improved marketing, extension services, village-level planning, analysis and evaluation. These and other crucial elements are missing or not developed appropriately in recent AGRA initiatives. Sponsors of the ersatz GR in Africa have largely ignored such requirements. Instead, the technophile AGRA initiative has been enamoured with novel technical innovations while not sufficiently appreciating indigenous and other “old” knowledge, science and technology, or even basic infrastructure. The Asian GR relied crucially on improving cultivation conditions, including better water management. There has been little such investment by AGRA or others, even when the crop promoted requires such improvements.

From tragedy to farce

Unsurprisingly, Africa’s GR has reproduced many of India’s problems. As in India, overall staple crop productivity has not grown significantly faster despite costly investments in GR technologies. These poor productivity growth rates have remained well below population growth rates. Moderate success in one priority crop (e.g., wheat in Punjab, India, or maize in Africa) has typically been at the expense of sustained productivity growth for other crops. Crop and dietary diversity has been reduced, adversely affecting cultivation sustainability, nutrition, health and wellbeing. Subsidies and other incentives have meant more land devoted to priority crops, not just intensification, with adverse land use and nutrition impacts. Soil health and fertility have suffered from “nutrient-mining” due to priority crop monocropping, requiring more inorganic fertilizer purchases. Higher input costs often exceed additional earnings from modest yield increases using new seeds and agrochemicals, increasing farmer debt.

Paths not taken 

AGRA and other African GR proponents have had 14 years, and billions of dollars, to show that input-intensive agriculture can raise productivity, net incomes and food security. They have clearly failed. Africans —  farmers, consumers and governments —  have many good reasons to be wary, especially considering AGRA’s track record after a decade and a half. India’s experience and the ongoing farmer protests there should make them more so. Selling Africa’s GR as innovation requiring unavoidable “creative destruction” is grossly misleading. On the other hand, many agro-ecology initiatives, which technophiles decry as backward, are bringing cutting-edge science and technology to farmers, with impressive results. A 2006 University of Essex survey, of nearly 300 large ecological agriculture projects in more than fifty poor countries, documented an average 79 per cent productivity increase, with declining costs and rising incomes. Published when AGRA was launched, these results far surpass those of GRs thus far. Sadly, they remind us of the high opportunity costs of paths not taken due to well-financed technophile dogma.

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SAPs – Season Two: Why Kenyans Fear Another IMF Loan

The Jubilee government would have us believe that the country is economically healthy but the reality is that the IMF has come in precisely because Kenya is in a financial crisis.

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Never did I imagine that opposing an International Monetary Fund (IMF) loan to Kenya would be viewed by the Kenyan authorities as a criminal act. But that is exactly what transpired last week when activist Mutemi Kiama was arrested and charged with “abuse of digital gadgets”, “hurting the presidency”, “creating public disorder” and other vaguely-worded offences. Mutemi’s arrest was prompted by his Twitter post of an image of President Uhuru Kenyatta with the following caption: “This is to notify the world . . . that the person whose photograph and names appear above is not authorised to act or transact on behalf of the citizens of the Republic of Kenya and that the nation and future generations shall not be held liable for any penalties of bad loans negotiated and/or borrowed by him.” He was released on a cash bail of KSh.500,000 with an order prohibiting him from using his social media accounts or speaking about COVID-19-related loans.

Mutemi is one among more than 200,000 Kenyans who have signed a petition to the IMF to halt a KSh257 billion (US$2.3 billion) loan to Kenya, which was ostensibly obtained to cushion the country against the negative economic impact of COVID-19.  Kenya is not the only country whose citizens have opposed an IMF loan. Protests against IMF loans have been taking place in many countries, including Argentina, where people took to the streets in 2018 when the country took a US$50 billion loan from the IMF. In 2016, Eqyptian authorities were forced to lower fuel prices following demonstrations against an IMF-backed decision to eliminate fuel subsidies. Similar protests have also taken place in Jordan, Lebanon and Ecuador in recent years.

Why would a country’s citizens be against a loan given by an international financial institution such as the IMF? Well, for those Kenyans who survived (or barely survived) the IMF-World Bank Structural Adjustment Programmes (SAPs) of the 1980s and 90s, the answer is obvious. SAPs came with stringent conditions attached, which led to many layoffs in the civil service and removal of subsidies for essential services, such as health and education, which led to increasing levels of hardship and precarity, especially among middle- and low-income groups. African countries undergoing SAPs experienced what is often referred to as “a lost development decade” as belt-tightening measures stalled development programmes and stunted economic opportunities.

In addition, borrowing African countries lost their independence in matters related to economic policy. Since lenders, such as the World Bank and the IMF, decide national economic policy – for instance, by determining things like budget management, exchange rates and public sector involvement in the economy – they became the de facto policy and decision-making authorities in the countries that took their loans. This is why, in much of the 1980s and 1990s, the arrival of a World Bank or IMF delegation to Nairobi often got Kenyans very worried.

In those days (in the aftermath of a hike in oil prices in 1979 that saw most African countries experience a rise in import bills and a decline in export earnings), leaders of these international financial institutions were feared as much as the authoritarian Kenyan president, Daniel arap Moi, because with the stroke of a pen they could devalue the Kenyan currency overnight and get large chunks of the civil service fired. As Kenyan economist David Ndii pointed out recently at a press conference organised by the Linda Katiba campaign, when the IMF comes knocking, it essentially means the country is “under receivership”. It can no longer claim to determine its own economic policies. Countries essentially lose their sovereignty, a fact that seems to have eluded the technocrats who rushed to get this particular loan.

When he took office in 2002, President Mwai Kibaki kept the World Bank and the IMF at arm’s length, preferring to take no-strings-attached infrastructure loans from China. Kibaki’s “Look East” economic policy alarmed the Bretton Woods institutions and Western donors who had until then had a huge say in the country’s development trajectory, but it instilled a sense of pride and autonomy in Kenyans, which sadly, has been eroded by Uhuru and his inept cronies who have gone on loan fishing expeditions, including massive Eurobonds worth Sh692 billion (nearly $7 billion), which means that every Kenyan today has a debt of Sh137,000, more than three times what it was eight years ago when the Jubilee government came to power. By the end of last year, Kenya’s debt stood at nearly 70 per cent of GDP, up from 50 per cent at the end of 2015. This high level of debt can prove deadly for a country like Kenya that borrows in foreign currencies.

When the IMF comes knocking, it essentially means the country is “under receivership”.

The Jubilee government would have us believe that the fact that the IMF agreed to this loan is a sign that the country is economically healthy, but as Ndii noted, quite often the opposite is true: the IMF comes in precisely because a country is in a financial crisis. In Kenya’s case, this crisis has been precipitated by reckless borrowing by the Jubilee administration that has seen Kenya’s debt rise from KSh630 billion (about $6 billion at today’s exchange rate) when Kibaki took office in 2002, to a staggering KSh7.2 trillion (about US$70 billion) today, with not much to show for it, except a standard gauge railway (SGR) funded by Chinese loans that appears unable to pay for itself. As an article in a local daily pointed out, this is enough money to build 17 SGRs from Mombasa to Nairobi or 154 superhighways like the one from Nairobi to Thika. The tragedy is that many of these loans are unaccounted for; in fact, many Kenyans believe they are taken to line individual pockets. Uhuru Kenyatta has himself admitted that Kenya loses KSh2 billion a day to corruption in government. Some of these lost billions could actually be loans.

IMF loans with stringent conditions attached have often been presented as being the solution to a country’s economic woes – a belt-tightening measure that will instil fiscal discipline in a country’s economy by increasing revenue and decreasing expenditure. However, the real purpose of these loans, some argue, is to bring about major and fundamental policy changes at the national level – changes that reflect the neoliberal ethos of our time, complete with privatisation, free markets and deregulation.

The first ominous sign that the Kenyan government was about to embark on a perilous economic path was when the head of the IMF, Christine Lagarde, made an official visit to Kenya shortly after President Uhuru was elected in 2013. At that time, I remember tweeting that this was not a good omen; it indicated that the IMF was preparing to bring Kenya back into the IMF fold.

Naomi Klein’s book, The Shock Doctrine, shows how what she calls “disaster capitalism” has allowed the IMF, in particular, to administer “shock therapy” on nations reeling from natural or man-made disasters or high levels of external debt. This has led to unnecessary privatisation of state assets, government deregulation, massive layoffs of civil servants and reduction or elimination of subsidies, all of which can and do lead to increasing poverty and inequality. Klein is particularly critical of what is known as the Chicago School of Economics that she claims justifies greed, corruption, theft of public resources and personal enrichment as long as they advance the cause of free markets and neoliberalism. She shows how in nearly every country where the IMF “medicine” has been administered, inequality levels have escalated and poverty has become systemic.

Sometimes the IMF will create a pseudo-crisis in a country to force it to obtain an IMF bailout loan. Or, through carefully manipulated data, it will make the country look economically healthy so that it feels secure about applying for more loans. When that country can’t pay back the loans, which often happens, the IMF inflicts even more austerity measures (also known as “conditionalities”) on it, which lead to even more poverty and inequality.

IMF and World Bank loans for infrastructure projects also benefit Western corporations. Private companies hire experts to ensure that these companies secure government contracts for big infrastructure projects funded by these international financial institutions. Companies in rich countries like the United States often hire people who will do the bidding on their behalf. In his international “word-of-mouth bestseller”, Confessions of an Economic Hit Man, John Perkins explains how in the 1970s when he worked for an international consulting firm, he was told that his job was to “funnel money from the World Bank, the US Agency for International Development and other foreign aid organisations into the coffers of huge corporations and the pockets of a few wealthy families who control the planet’s resources”.

Sometimes the IMF will create a pseudo-crisis in a country to force it to obtain an IMF bailout loan.

The tools to carry out this goal, his employer admitted unashamedly, could include “fraudulent financial reports, rigged elections, payoffs, extortion, sex and murder”. Perkins showed how in the 1970s, he became instrumental in brokering deals with countries ranging from Panama to Saudi Arabia where he convinced leaders to accept projects that were detrimental to their own people but which enormously benefitted US corporate interests.

“In the end, those leaders become ensnared in a web of debt that ensures their loyalty. We can draw on them whenever we desire – to satisfy our political, economic or military needs. In turn, they bolster their political positions by bringing industrial parks, power plants, and airports to their people. The owners of US engineering/construction companies become fabulously wealthy,” a colleague told him when he asked why his job was so important.

Kenyans, who are already suffering financially due to the COVID-19 pandemic which saw nearly 2 million jobs in the formal sector disappear last year, will now be confronted with austerity measures at precisely the time when they need government subsidies and social safety nets. Season Two of SAPs is likely to make life for Kenyans even more miserable in the short and medium term.

We will have to wait and see whether overall dissatisfaction with the government will influence the outcome of the 2022 elections. However, whoever wins that election will still have to contend with rising debt and unsustainable repayments that have become President Uhuru Kenyatta’s most enduring legacy.

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Haiti: The Struggle for Democracy, Justice, Reparations and the Black Soul

Only the Haitian people can decide their own future. The dictatorship imposed by former president Jovenel Moïse and its imperialist enablers need to go – and make space for a people’s transition government.

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Haiti: The Struggle for Democracy, Justice, Reparations and the Black Soul
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Haiti is once again going through a profound crisis. Central to this is the struggle against the dictatorship imposed by former president Jovenel Moïse. Since last year Mr. Moise, after decreeing the dismissal of Parliament, has been ruling through decrees, permanently violating Haiti’s constitution. He has refused to leave power after his mandate ended on February 7, 2021, claiming that it ends on February 7 of next year, without any legal basis.

This disregard of the constitution is taking place despite multiple statements by the country’s main judicial bodies, such as the CSPJ (Superior Council of Judicial Power) and the Association of Haitian Lawyers. Numerous religious groups and numerous institutions that are representative of society have also spoken. At this time, there is a strike by the judiciary, which leaves the country without any public body of political power.

At the same time, this institutional crisis is framed in the insecurity that affects practically all sectors of Haitian society. An insecurity expressed through savage repressions of popular mobilizations by the PNH (Haitian National Police), which at the service of the executive power. They have attacked journalists and committed various massacres in poor neighborhoods. Throughout the country, there have been assassinations and arbitrary arrests of opponents.

Most recently, a judge of the High Court was detained under the pretext of promoting an alleged plot against the security of the State and to assassinate the president leading to the illegal and arbitrary revocation of three judges of this Court. This last period has also seen the creation of hundreds of armed groups that spread terror over the entire country and that respond to power, transforming kidnapping into a fairly prosperous industry for these criminals.

The 13 years of military occupation by United Nations troops through MINUSTAH and the operations of prolongation of guardianship through MINUJUSTH and BINUH have aggravated the Haitian crisis. They supported retrograde and undemocratic sectors who, along with gangsters, committed serious crimes against the Haitian people and their fundamental rights.

For this, the people of Haiti deserve a process of justice and reparations. They have paid dearly for the intervention of MINUSTAH: 30 THOUSAND DEAD from cholera transmitted by the soldiers, thousands of women raped, who now raise orphaned children. Nothing has changed in 13 years, more social inequality, poverty, more difficulties for the people. The absence of democracy stays the same.

The poor’s living conditions have worsened dramatically as a result of more than 30 years of neoliberal policies imposed by the International Financial Institutions (IFIs), a severe exchange rate crisis, the freezing of the minimum wage, and inflation above 20% during the last three years.

It should be emphasized that, despite this dramatic situation, the Haitian people remain firm and are constantly mobilizing to prevent the consolidation of a dictatorship by demanding the immediate leave of office by former President Jovenel Moïse.

Taking into account the importance of this struggle and that this dictatorial regime still has the support of imperialist governments such as the United States of America, Canada, France, and international organizations such as the UN, the OAS, and the EU, the IPA calls its members to contribute their full and active solidarity to the struggle of the Haitian people, and to sign this Petition that demands the end of the dictatorship as well as respect for the sovereignty and self-determination of the Haitian people, the establishment of a transition government led by Haitians to launch a process of authentic national reconstruction.

In addition to expressing our solidarity with the Haitian people’s resistance, we call for our organisations to demonstrate in front of the embassies of the imperialist countries and before the United Nations. Only the Haitian people can decide their future. Down with Moise and yes to a people’s transition government, until a constituent is democratically elected.

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