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A Quarrel in Ali Baba’s Cave

8 min read. With the suspension of the IEBC chief, Ezra Chiloba, over questionable procurement deals, the Commission’s collapse is now all but certain. Triggered by avarice and resurrecting the ghosts of August 2017, a change of guard at the electoral body will only further delay the search for electoral justice. How then, to deal with the original sin of Executive capture? By KWAMCHETSI MAKOKHA

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A Quarrel in Ali Baba’s Cave
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A decision last week by the plenary of the IEBC to send chief executive officer Ezra Chiloba on forced leave to pave way for a 90-day audit by the Kenya National Audit Office blasted open the simmering rivalries that have dogged this Commission’s tenure since it came to office in January 2017. As accusations and counter-accusations fly, it is now apparent that conflicts of interests over procurement tenders, rather than political factionalism or even the struggle to establish the truth of the August elections last year, will be the IEBC’s comeuppance.

Chiloba’s suspension triggered the resignations of commissioners Connie Nkatha Maina, who was the vice-chair, Margaret Mwachanya and Paul Kurgat. The trio’s departure, in addition to the dramatic resignation of commissioner Roselyn Akombe ahead of the October 26, 2017 presidential election re-run, denies the seven-member commission the necessary quorum of four to convene. Simply put, the Commission is paralysed.

Paralysis at the Commission will, among other things, throw a spanner in the works of the rumoured referendum on a constitutional amendment to replace the current presidential system with a parliamentary one – supposedly the end-game of the March 9 handshake between Uhuru Kenyatta and Raila Odinga.

While Ruto may have been the puppet-master who engineered the commissioners’ resignations – the influence of Ruto’s faction of the Jubilee party on the Commission has long been whispered – ostensibly to protect both his current position and his 2022 presidential ambitions, two other important casualties could well go down with a moribund IEBC: the truth of the August 2017 elections, and serious attempts at long-term electoral reform. These things, as we shall see, are not unrelated.

But first, to the ongoing drama at the Commission. Chiloba first found himself in trouble with his commissioners last year, in the messy aftermath of the presidential elections annulment, as the Commission prepared for a fresh poll. It is well worth noting that his latest suspension arises from some of the questions Chebukati raised in his leaked September 1, 2017 memo. Investigating five procurement tenders, the IEBC’s five-member Audit and Risk Committee found that Chiloba as the Commission’s chief accounting officer, committed serious violations of the Public Procurement Act in at least two instances.

While Ruto may have been the puppet-master who engineered the commissioners’ resignations – the influence of Ruto’s faction of the Jubilee party on the Commission has long been whispered – ostensibly to protect both his current position and his 2022 presidential ambitions, two other important casualties could well go down with a moribund IEBC: the truth of the August 2017 elections, and serious attempts at long-term electoral reform.

The first involved a Ksh 275 million contract with Oracle Technology Systems (Kenya) Ltd to provide election database solutions. The Audit Committee noted that: “There was no contract for provision of Oracle Database and Security Solution…between IEBC and Oracle Technology Systems (Kenya) Ltd drawn by [the Commission’s Directorate of Legal and Public Affairs] and signed by IEBC and Oracle Representatives. Instead, signed ordering documents drawn by Oracle…were provided [as evidence of a contract].”

Observing earlier that there had been no tender award notification, the committee described this situation as ‘High Risk’. More seriously, noted the committee, full implementation of the Oracle database system was only finalised on February 14, 2018, six months after the elections.

The second, once again, is tech-related: a Ksh 913 million contract, with Airtel Kenya Ltd, for the delivery of 1,553 Thuraya satellite modems – to be used for results transmission in remote areas. Signed just three weeks before the August 8 elections, in its acceptance letter, Airtel Kenya indicated that it could only deliver 1,000 modems in time. “Nonetheless,” notes the committee in the report, “the Commission proceeded to execute an agreement for 1,553 devices. Inquire why the Commission purchased 553 devices – despite the correspondence.”

The remaining 553 devices arrived two-and-a-half weeks after the elections.

IEBC chairman Wafula Chebukati and Dr Akombe lost a plenary battle to force Chiloba out of the commission following the Supreme Court’s annulment of the August 8 presidential election. At the time, attempts to obtain some answers from Chiloba for the disastrous August elections were fought off by Deputy President William Ruto, who claimed in a television interview that all the answers to the questions being raised had been provided. When Chiloba’s suspension looked irreversible last week, we are reliably informed, the three resigning commissioners consulted Ruto before taking the leap.

With Chiloba’s suspension now underway and the National Audit Office stepping in, the corruption investigation will only complicate the mystery around the 2017 elections – and further delay any efforts to fix the IEBC. Disputed elections in Kenya have nurtured a culture of rewarding suspected wrongdoers instead of punishing them. The Samuel Kivuitu-led Electoral Commission of Kenya, which presided over the disputed 2007 elections, was booted out of office at a cost of Sh68 million. Its successor, the Isaack Hassan-led Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission received Sh315 million to leave office a year early.

Law scholar Muthomi Thiankolu observes that electoral malpractice does not occur by itself; that there are human beings behind it. “We have, since 1962, ignored them through legal sophistry. The courts’ refusal to personally sanction malpractice gives life to this perverse incentive.”

While the Kriegler Commission recommended root-and-branch electoral reforms after the 2007 elections debacle, the fact that the IEBC’s report on the 2013 elections was rejected by Bunge – there is to this day no comprehensive accounting of what happened in 2013 – suggests that even the piecemeal reforms eventually instituted under Kriegler were sabotaged by Executive capture. Accountability for electoral malfeasance remains Kenya’s political bugbear. Ironically, neither a Jubilee-run parliament, nor a demand for a popular referendum (á la the opposition’s Okoa Kenya initiative) submitted to a captured IEBC is likely to succeed.

With the resignation of the commissioners at the IEBC, a referendum appears out of the question, given the history that the opposition Coalition for Reforms and Democracy had with the Okoa Kenya (Save Kenya) initiative. After a year of public mobilization, the IEBC ruled that the referendum bill was dead on arrival because the movement had not collected the requisite one million signatures to warrant its presentation to the county assemblies for a vote.

CORD resorted to mass action outside the IEBC offices that ended in a Sh315 million buyout of the commissioner’s contract remainders, achieving the replacement of new commissioners seven months to the election.

The Audit Committee noted that: “There was no contract for provision of Oracle Database and Security Solution…between IEBC and Oracle Technology Systems (Kenya) Ltd drawn by [the Commission’s Directorate of Legal and Public Affairs] and signed by IEBC and Oracle Representatives. Instead, signed ordering documents drawn by Oracle…were provided [as evidence of a contract].”

With both the parliamentary and referendum routes to electoral justice closing, a managerial housecleaning may seem an acceptable compromise, but there are few guarantees that, as happened during the bipartisan Windsor Reform exercise, that it will not be scuttled by an Executive desperate to cling to power. Senate minority leader James Orengo and National Assembly majority leader Aden Duale appear to agree that the whole IEBC team needs to go, but none has reckoned with how long their replacements will be in coming. More dangerously, it will be harking back to the tried and failed methods of piecemeal changes to the electoral management body attempted over time.

Demands for political dialogue have significantly featured on the agenda electoral justice questions, which would entail acknowledgment of wrongdoing, punishment for election crimes, restitution for harms suffered and guarantees of non-repetition following similar disputes in the 2007, 2013 and 2017 elections.

Parliament, which has been riven by disputes over the unresolved August 2017 presidential election, was clearly doing the bidding of State House when it passed amendments to the Elections Act in the run-up to the repeat presidential election in October 2017. The amendments, which were aimed at weakening Wafula Chebukati’s authority among the commissioners, were struck down by the High Court as unconstitutional early this month. A captured Commission had by that time already unanimously endorsed Uhuru Kenyatta’s victory.

With a majority of 268 seats to NASA’s 127, Jubilee’s dominance in Parliament is not only guaranteed, it is likely to be bolstered if the trend of abortive election petitions continues. Consequently, any possibility that Bunge could become the site of genuine electoral reform is closed for the foreseeable future.

By mid February 2018 when a summary of court decisions in 244 petitions challenging the results of various races in the August 8, 2017 polls was published, Parliament had been closed off as a site of reform, turning the dream of electoral justice into a political chimera.

Over half of the 388 petitions challenging various elections had floundered for a variety of reasons — none of which had anything to do with what had happened at the ballot: Fourteen petitions were withdrawn before trial; another 14 dismissed for being filed out of time, 10 thrown out because the case papers were not served on victors; nine failed to take off because security for costs was not paid; and two could not proceed because the petitioner or their lawyers were not in court. One election winner died.

A paltry 14 petitions against the election of Members of the National Assembly and one against a governor had succeeded. Not only were the numbers in the Senate going to hold, with the Jubilee Party enjoying a majority, but the 14 by-elections for National Assembly seats posed the risk of reducing the Opposition minority from its 127.

If an incumbent has a direct interest in capturing the electoral management body to manipulate the results, then the EMB is also under pressure from crony oligarchs interested in profiting from procurement deals. Furthermore, the absence of formally funded political parties has created a gap for these very oligarchs to take control of and shape political movements. Elections in Kenya thus become a democracy auction, in which the highest bidder bags the prize.

Despite the enactment of the Political Parties Act in 2012, which provides that 0.3 per cent of all revenue should go to the Political Parties Fund to resources parties, Treasury has only allocated 0.03 per cent of revenue each year. Last year, the High Court agreed that the Orange Democratic Movement should have been paid the Sh4.1 billion owed to it from the fund, but ruled that claiming it late put the party at fault.

Nothing illustrates the desperation around the award of specific tenders and contracts more graphically than the last-minute litigation by the IEBC against the cancellation of the Sh2.5 billion ballot-printing contract to Al Ghurair of the United Arab Emirates. After contesting every court decision over eight months, the IEBC prevailed because the Court of Appeal realized that the country had run out of time to appoint a new supplier for the ballot materials.

The 2010 referendum on the draft constitution, considered one of the cleanest electoral events in recent history, gave birth to the Chickengate scandal, in which British printer Smith & Ouzman padded the cost of ballot papers in order to raise bribes for Kenyan officials awarding the tender. The British Crown Court fined the company Sh52 million and jailed its director. For its part, Kenya received the Sh52 million fine and spent it on ambulances. Three people were charged in connection with receiving bribes last year, a month to the elections.

If an incumbent has a direct interest in capturing the electoral management body to manipulate the results, then the EMB is also under pressure from crony oligarchs interested in profiting from procurement deals. Furthermore, the absence of formally funded political parties has created a gap for these very oligarchs to take control of and shape political movements. Elections in Kenya thus become a democracy auction…

The sheer scale of electoral operations has created a micro economy out of elections in Kenya, attracting a gaggle of sleaze-balls into election management. Questions have been raised over the award of Sh2.4 billion technology contracts to OT Morpho, the firm at the centre of the crisis involving the presidential election results, as well as the multi-million shilling supply of satellite phones for results transmission redundancy. Additionally, IEBC has been forking out billions of shillings in legal fees despite having a fully staffed legal department.

Instructively, criminal cases against former IEBC chief executive officer James Oswago, his deputy Wilson Shollei and managers Edward Karisa and Willy Kamanga over the purchase of Sh1.3 billion of biometric voter identification kits are still in court, six years after the Supreme Court recommended investigation and prosecution.

From the 2017 elections, a handful of election officials have been charged with petty offences relating to altering results in 2017, but accountability for major electoral breaches still remain the stuff of the political circuit.

Lucre is the reward for election managers to look the other way as politicians steal the vote. Still, with all its election problems, Kenya is already so far ahead of the pack in the region that, not unlike its steeplechase runners, it can afford to slow down the pace to allow those behind to catch up.

As it is, elections cannot be challenged in Tanzania once results are announced; in Uganda, courts can find elections flawed and still uphold the results. In Rwanda and Burundi, it never gets that serious. Unfortunately, the failure to debate and tackle questions of electoral justice loads them with grievances about exclusion of ethnicities, constructs narratives of marginalization and makes for less stable societies.

Kenya has unsuccessfully experimented with a representative commission bringing together political parties and a professional outfit, to no avail. Like the male praying mantis approaches an act of mating with the knowledge of its inevitable fate, so too have electoral commissions in Kenya come to conduct polls knowing that their heads will be shortly bitten off.

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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South Africa: Xenophobia Is in Fact Afrophobia, Call It What It Is

5 min read. Anti-African violence in South Africa is fuelled by exclusion, poverty and rampant unemployment. This isn’t black-on-black violence. This is poor-on-poor violence.

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South Africa: Xenophobia Is in Fact Afrophobia, Call It What It Is
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Written in May 2008, as African bodies burned on the streets of South Africa, Ingrid De Kok’s throbbing poem Today I Do Not Love My Country poignantly captures the mood of an Afrophobic nation fluent in the language of violence and name-calling.  (I say Afrophobic because South Africa does not have a xenophobia problem. We don’t rage against all foreigners—just the poor, black ones from Africa.)

The irony of South Africa’s most recent attacks on African immigrants is that they happened in the wake of the African Continental Free Trade Agreement which positions the country as an economic gateway to the continent. As the debris is cleared off the streets of Johannesburg after a week of violent looting and attacks against African migrant-owned businesses that saw eleven people killed and almost 500 arrested, Pretoria now faces calls to boycott South African-owned businesses on the continent.

Zambia and Madagascar cancelled football matches. Air Tanzania has suspended flights to South Africa. African artists are boycotting South Africa. Should an Afrophobic South Africa lead the African Union next year?

The irony of South Africa’s most recent attacks on African immigrants is that they happened in the wake of the African Continental Free Trade Agreement which positions the country as an economic gateway to the continent

The South African government has remained steadfast in its denial of Afrophobia, opting instead to condemn “violent attacks” and highlight the criminal elements involved in looting African-owned businesses. The police attributed the attacks to “opportunistic criminality”. By denying that these are Afrophobic attacks, everyone can deny the role of South Africa’s political leadership in fomenting the hatred.

The Afrophobic attacks are not spontaneous criminal mobs preying on foreigners. They are the result of an orchestrated, planned campaign that has been fuelled by the ongoing anti-immigrant rhetoric of South African politicians.

The All Truck Drivers Forum (ATDF), Sisonke People’s Forum and Respect SA stand accused of orchestrating last week’s violence. ATDF spokesperson, Sipho Zungu, denied that his group had instigated the violent looting, saying that “the nation is being misled here.” Zungu did stress, however, that South African truck drivers “no longer have jobs” and the government “must get rid of foreign truck drivers.”

Zungu echoes the sentiments of many poor South Africans, and their views are the end result of a drip-feed of anti-immigrant messages from South African politicians, particularly in the run-up to this year’s elections.

Anti-African violence in South Africa is fuelled by exclusion, poverty and rampant unemployment. This isn’t black-on-black violence. This is poor-on-poor violence.

One-third of South Africans are unemployed. Thirteen per cent of South Africans live in informal settlements, and a third of South Africans don’t have access to running water. The problems are a combination of the country’s apartheid past and rampant corruption and mismanagement within the ANC-led government. Crime is climbing, mainly due to corrupt and dysfunctional policing services, high unemployment and systemic poverty.

By denying that these are Afrophobic attacks, everyone can deny the role of South Africa’s political leadership in fomenting the hatred.

South African politicians from across the spectrum have blamed immigrants for the hardships experienced by poor South Africans. Political parties tell voters that foreigners are criminals flooding South Africa, stealing their jobs, homes and social services, undermining their security and prosperity.

Even the government sees poor and unskilled African migrants and asylum seekers as a threat to the country’s security and prosperity. Approved in March 2017, its White Paper on International Migration, separates immigrants into “worthy” and “unworthy” individuals. Poor and unskilled immigrants, predominantly from Africa, will be prevented from staying in South Africa by any means, “even if this is labelled anti-African behaviour” as the former Minister of Home Affairs, Hlengiwe Mkhize, pointed out in June 2017. The message is simple: there is no place for black Africans in South Africa’s Rainbow Nation.

In November 2018, Health Minister Aaron Motsoaledi claimed in a speech at a nurses summit that undocumented immigrants were flooding South Africa and overburdening clinics and hospitals. When immigrants “get admitted in large numbers, they cause overcrowding, infection control starts failing”, he said.

Johannesburg—the epicentre of the anti-African violence—is run by the Democratic Alliance (DA), the second-largest political party in South Africa after the ruling African National Congress (ANC). DA mayor, Herman Mashaba, has been leading the war against African immigrants.

In a bid to attract more support, Mashaba and the DA have adopted an immigrant-baiting approach straight out of Donald Trump and Jair Bolsonaro’s playbooks.

Mashaba has described black African migrants as criminals and has spoken of the need for a “shock-and-awe” campaign to drive them out.

In February 2019, Mashaba diverted attention away from protests against his administration’s poor service delivery in Johannesburg’s Alexandra township by tweeting that foreigners had made it difficult to provide basic services.

On August 1, police operations in Johannesburg to find counterfeit goods were thwarted by traders who pelted law-enforcement authorities with rocks, forcing the police to retreat. Social media went into overdrive, with many accusing the police of being cowards running away from illegal immigrants. Mashaba was “devastated” by the police’s restraint. A week later over 500 African immigrants were arrested after a humiliating raid, even though many said they showed police valid papers.

In 2017, South Africa’s deputy police minister claimed that the city of Johannesburg had been taken over by foreigners, with 80% of the city controlled by them. If this is not urgently stopped, he added, the entire country “could be 80% dominated by foreign nationals and the future president of South Africa could be a foreign national.”

None of this anti-immigrant rhetoric is based on fact. Constituting just 3% of the South African population, statistics show that immigrants are not “flooding” South Africa. They aren’t stealing jobs from South Africans and nor are they responsible for the high crime rate. South Africa’s crime problem has little to do with migration, and everything to do with the country’s dysfunctional policing services, unemployment and poverty.

Johannesburg—the epicentre of the anti-African violence—is run by the Democratic Alliance (DA), the second-largest political party in South Africa after the ruling African National Congress (ANC). DA mayor, Herman Mashaba, has been leading the war against African immigrants.

But South African politicians don’t let facts get in the way.  After all, it’s easier to blame African immigrants rather than face your own citizens and admit that you’ve chosen to line your own pockets instead of doing your job. If you can get others to shoulder the blame for the hopeless situation that many South Africans find themselves in, then why not?

South Africans are rightfully angry at the high levels of unemployment, poverty, lack of services and opportunities. But rather than blame African immigrants, frustration must be directed at the source of the crisis: a South African political leadership steeped in corruption that has largely failed its people.

The African Diaspora Forum, the representative body of the largest group of migrant traders, claimed that the police failed to act on intelligence that it had provided warning of the impending attacks. It took almost three days before Cyril Ramaphosa finally issued weak words of condemnation and for his security cluster to meet and strategise.  All of this points to a government refusing to own its complicity and deal with the consequences of its words.

South Africa has fallen far and hard from the lofty Mandela era and Thabo Mbeki’s soaring “I am an African” declaration.

Senior political leaders in South Africa are blaming vulnerable Africans for their failure to adequately provide a dignified life for all South Africans. Until this scapegoating stops, violent anti-African sentiment will continue to thrive, and South Africa will entrench its growing pariah status on the continent.

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A New Despotism in the Era of Surveillance Capitalism: A Reflection on Census 2019

6 min read. In the creeping securocratisation of every sphere of the State, the incessant threats and arbitrary orders, the renewed quest for that elusive all-encompassing kipande, and even the arbitrary assignment of identity on citizens, Montesquieu would see a marked deficiency of love for virtue, the requisite principle for a democratic republic.

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A New Despotism in the Era of Surveillance Capitalism: A Reflection on Census 2019
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The just concluded census 2019 brought with it many strange occurrences including the official classification of my good friend Rasna Warah as a Mtaita, a community to which she is only very remotely connected by virtue of being married to a husband whose mother is a Mtaveta. The Taita and Taveta, who give their home county Taita-Taveta its name, are two related but distinct ethnic groups. Rasna’s ethnicity is unambiguous, she is a Kenyan Asian, which should be one of the ethnicities available on the census questionnaire.

In standard statistical practice, people’s racial and ethnic identity are self-declared and the identity questions usually have options such as “other” and “mixed” as well as the choice not to disclose. But Rasna was not given a choice, as she recounts here. While this may seem like a trivial matter, the undercurrents of racism and patriarchy in this action are disturbing. It is, I think, even more alarming that the enumerators, given a little authority, felt that they had the power to exercise discretion on the matter.

Past censuses have been rather uneventful statistical exercises. This one had the aura of a security operation. In the run-up, we were treated to all manner of threats and arbitrary orders from the Internal Security Cabinet Secretary, the Jubilee administration’s energetic and increasingly facile enforcer. On the eve of the census, the government spokesman added to the melodrama by issuing a statement informing the public that census enumerators would be asking for personal identification details, including national ID and passport numbers and, ominously, huduma namba registration status. There are few issues as controversial right now as huduma namba and to introduce that question was a sure way of heightening suspicion and undermining the credibility of the census.

More fundamentally, anonymity is a canon of statistical survey work. In fact, the law prohibits dissemination of any information which can be identified with a particular respondent without the respondent’s consent. For this reason, censuses and statistical surveys are usually designed and the data maintained in such a way as to ensure that the respondents remain anonymous.

In October last year, the Government gazetted the census regulations that include a schedule of the information that would be collected. Identity information is not listed in the schedule. In January this year, the Keya National Bureau of Statistics (KNBS) issued a media briefing, still on their website, that also listed the information that would be collected. It too does not mention identity information. That it was the Government spokesman—and not the KNBS—who appraised the public, and only on the eve of the census, is telling.

The response to the protestations that met the disclosure was vintage Jubilee—dishonest and inept. The spokesman explained that the personal identity information would be removed to restore the anonymity of the data. If indeed the purpose was to establish registration coverage, the professional statisticians would have asked respondents to state their registration status. Moreover, for planning purposes, professional statisticians would have designed a comprehensive module that would have included other critical information such as birth registration status.

The draconian zeal with which huduma namba is being pursued—including the proposed legislation—is all the more perplexing because, since all the functions listed are those that are currently served by the national ID, the sensible thing to do would be to upgrade the national ID. Seeing as we have already had three national ID upgrades since independence, it seems to me unlikely that a fourth upgrade would have generated the heat that the huduma namba has.

In The Spirit of the Laws, Montesquieu classified political systems into three categories, namely republican, monarchical and despotic. He defined a republican system as characterised by citizenship rights. A republican system is democratic if political equality is universal, and aristocratic if the rights are a privilege that is denied to some members (e.g. slaves). In monarchical systems, the rulers have absolute authority governed by established rules. In a despotic system, the ruler is the law.

Montesquieu postulated for each system a driving principle, ethos if you like, on which its survival depends. The driving principle of a democratic republic is love of virtue— a willingness to put the public good ahead of private interests. He opined that a republican government failed to take root in England after the Civil War (1642-1651) because English society lacked the required principle, namely the love of virtue. The short-lived English republic, known as the Commonwealth of England, lasted a decade, from the beheading of Charles I in 1649 to shortly after the death Oliver Cromwell in 1659. The driving principle of monarchical systems is love of honour and the quest for higher social rank and privilege. For despotism it is fear of the ruler. The rulers are the law, and they rule by fear.

In The Spirit of the Laws, Montesquieu classified political systems into three categories, namely republican, monarchical and despotic. He defined a republican system as characterised by citizenship rights.

Identity documents are a key element of the apparatus of despotism. Our own identity card has its origins in the colonial kipande (passbook). As Juliet Atellah narrates in Toa Kitambulisho! Evolution of Registration of Persons in Kenya,

“The Kipande was worn around the neck like a dog collar. The Kipande contained the wearer’s tribe, their strengths and weaknesses and comments from his employer on his competence, therefore, determining his pay or whether or not he would be employed. The government used the Kipande to curtail freedom of Africans and monitor labour supply. It also empowered the police to stop a native anywhere and demand to be shown the document. For Africans, the Kipande was like a badge of slavery and sparked bitter protests.”

In essence, the kipande was a surveillance tool for an indentured labour system which enabled the settler economy to suppress wages. But it was not perfect. Keren Weitzberg, a migration scholar and author of We Do Not Have Borders: Greater Somalia and the Predicaments of Belonging in Kenya, makes an interesting and insightful contextual link between huduma namba and the colonial quest to better the kipande revealed in a recommendation that appears in a 1956 government document:

“Consideration should be given to the provision of a comprehensive document for Africans, as is done in the Union of South Africa and the Belgian Congo. This should incorporate Registration particulars, payment of Poll Tax, and such other papers as the African is required to carry or are envisaged for him, e.g. Domestic Service record and permit to reside in urban areas. Eligibility under the Coutts proposals for voting might also be included in the document. The document would then become of value to the holder and there would be less likelihood of its becoming lost or transferred, as is the case with the present Identity document.” 

The purpose of the huduma namba is the same as that of the “comprehensive document for Africans”—to instill in people the sense that Big Brother is watching. But despotism is not an end in itself. The raison d’être of the colonial enterprise was economic exploitation. This has not changed.

The 2001 Nobel Prize for Economics was shared by George Akerlof, Michael Spence and Joseph Stiglitz for their analysis of markets with asymmetric information. A market with asymmetric information is one where material attributes of a good or service are private information known only to the seller and not observable by the buyer; the seller has an incentive to conceal the attributes. In essence, it is a market where the buyer cannot be sure that they will get what they pay for. Asymmetric information problems are pervasive in labour and credit markets.

Identity documents are a key element of the apparatus of despotism. Our own identity card has its origins in the colonial kipande (passbook). As Juliet Atellah narrates in Toa Kitambulisho! Evolution of Registration of Persons in Kenya

A potential employer cannot tell in advance whether a worker is a performer or not, or even whether he or she is dishonest—they only get to know that after hiring the worker, and at considerable cost if they get it wrong. We know that job seekers go out of their way to misrepresent themselves, including faking qualifications and references, and concealing adverse information such as previous dismissals and criminal records. To mitigate the problem, employers go out of their way to obtain and check out references including certificates of good conduct from the police.

The original kipande, as Atellah notes, included information on the bearers “strengths and weaknesses and comments from his employer on his competence.” It does not require too much imagination to see how errant natives would have made for a severe labour market information asymmetry problem, motivating the settler economy to invent this seemingly innocuous but probably effective labour market information system.

Similarly, a potential borrower’s creditworthiness is not observable to lenders. Lenders only get to sort out good and bad borrowers from experience. A customer’s credit history is a lender’s most valuable asset. A public credit reference system, such as the Credit Reference Bureaus, is a device for mitigating credit market information asymmetry. The parallel with the kipande character reference is readily apparent.

In essence, the kipande was a surveillance tool for an indentured labour system which enabled the settler economy to suppress wages.

As a credit information system, the digital panopticon envisaged by huduma namba is priceless, and as one of the country’s leading mobile lenders, the Kenyatta family-owned Commercial Bank of Africa (CBA) is the primary beneficiary. Indeed, well before the public was informed about it, huduma namba featured prominently in a CBA-led mobile lending platform project called Wezeshafeatured in this column—that was subsequently rebranded and launched as Stawi.

Nine years ago this week, we promulgated a new constitution. Since its enactment the political and bureaucratic establishment has spared no effort to restore the unfettered discretion and apparatus of rule by fear that the new constitutional dispensation is meant to dismantle. Early in its term, the Jubilee administration sought to pass a raft of security-related legislation that would have clawed back most of the civil liberties enshrined in the Bill of Rights. Uhuru Kenyatta is on record, in one of the pre-election TV interviews, attributing his underwhelming performance to the constraints on his authority by the 2010 Constitution. He went on to express nostalgia for the old one.

In the creeping securocratisation of every sphere of the State, the incessant threats and arbitrary orders, the renewed quest for that elusive all-encompassing kipande, and even the arbitrary assignment of identity on citizens, Montesquieu would see a marked deficiency of love for virtue, the requisite principle for a democratic republic.

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Africa and Palestine: A Noble Legacy That Must Never Be Forgotten

4 min read. Today’s generation of African leaders should not deviate from that the solidarity between Africa and Palestine. Indeed, writes RAMZY BAROUD If they betray it, they betray themselves, along with the righteous struggles of their own peoples.

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Africa and Palestine: A Noble Legacy That Must Never Be Forgotten
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Europe’s “Scramble for Africa” began in earnest in 1881 but never ended. The attempt at dominating the continent using old and new strategies continues to define the Western relationship with this rich continent. This reality was very apparent when I arrived in Nairobi on June 23. Although I had come to address various Kenyan audiences at universities, public forums and the media, I had also to learn. Kenya, like the rest of Africa, is a source of inspiration for all anti-colonial liberation movements around the world. We Palestinians can learn a great deal from the Kenyan struggle.

Although African countries have fought valiant battles for their freedom against their Western colonisers, neocolonialism now defines the relationship between many independent African countries and their former occupiers. Political meddling, economic control and, at times, military interventions – as in the recent cases of Libya and Mali – point to the unfortunate reality that Africa remains, in myriad ways, hostage to Western priorities, interests and dictates.

In the infamous Berlin Conference of 1884, Western colonial regimes attempted to mediate between the various powers that were competing over Africa’s riches. It apportioned to each a share of the African continent, as if Africa were the property of the West and its white colonists. Millions of Africans died in that protracted, bloody episode unleashed by the West, which shamelessly promoted its genocidal oppression as a civilisational project.

Like most colonised peoples in the southern hemisphere, Africans fought disproportionate battles to gain their precious freedom. Here in Kenya, which became an official British colony in the 1920s, Kenya’s freedom fighters rose in rebellion against the brutality of their oppressors. Most notable among the various resistance campaigns, the Mau Mau rebellion of the 1950s remains a stark example of the courage of Kenyans and the cruelty of colonial Britain. Thousands of people were killed, wounded, disappeared or were imprisoned under the harshest of conditions.

Palestine fell under British occupation, the so-called British Mandate, around the same period that Kenya also became a British colony. Palestinians, too, fought and fell in their thousands as they employed various methods of collective resistance, including the legendary strike and rebellion of 1936. The same British killing machine that operated in Palestine and Kenya around that time, also operated, with the same degree of senseless violence, against numerous other nations around the world.

While Palestine was handed over to the Zionist movement to establish the state of Israel in May 1948, Kenya achieved its independence in December 1963.

At one of my recent talks in Nairobi, I was asked by a young participant about “Palestinian terrorism”. I told her that Palestinian fighters of today are Kenya’s Mau Mau rebels of yesteryear. That if we allow Western and Israeli propaganda to define Paestine’s national liberation discourse, then we condemn all national liberation movements throughout the southern hemisphere, including Kenya’s own freedom fighters.

We Palestinians must however shoulder part of the blame that our narrative as an oppressed, colonised and resisting nation is now misunderstood in parts of Africa.

When the Palestine Liberation Organisation committed its historical blunder by signing off Palestinian rights in Oslo in 1993, it abandoned a decades-long Palestinian discourse of resistance and liberation. Instead, it subscribed to a whole new discourse, riddled with carefully-worded language sanctioned by Washington and its European allies. Whenever Palestinians dared to deviate from their assigned role, the West would decree that they must return to the negotiating table, as the latter became a metaphor of obedience and submission.

Throughout these years, Palestinians mostly abandoned their far more meaningful alliances in Africa. Instead, they endlessly appealed to the goodwill of the West, hoping that the very colonial powers that have primarily created, sustained and armed Israel, would miraculously become more balanced and humane.

When the Palestine Liberation Organisation committed its historical blunder by signing off Palestinian rights in Oslo in 1993, it abandoned a decades-long Palestinian discourse of resistance and liberation.

However, Washington, London, Paris, Berlin, etc., remained committed to Israel and, despite occasional polite criticism of the Israeli government, continued to channel their weapons, warplanes and submarines to every Israeli government that has ruled over Palestinians for the last seven decades. Alas, while Palestinians were learning their painful lesson, betrayed repeatedly by those who had vowed to respect democracy and human rights, many African nations began seeing in Israel a possible ally. Kenya is, sadly, one of those countries.

Understanding the significance of Africa in terms of its economic and political potential, and its support for Israel at the UN General Assembly, right-wing Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has launched his own “Scramble for Africa”. Netanyahu’s diplomatic conquests on the continent have been celebrated by Israeli media as “historic”, while the Palestinian leadership remains oblivious to the rapidly changing political landscape.

Kenya is one of Israel’s success stories. In November 2017, Netanyahu attended the inauguration of President Uhuru Kenyatta. Netanyahu was seen embracing Kenyatta as a dear friend and ally even as Kenyans rose in rebellion against their corrupt ruling classes. Tel Aviv had hoped that the first-ever Israel-Africa summit in Togo would usher in a complete paradigm shift in Israeli-African relations. However, the October 2017 conference never took place due to pressure by various African countries, including South Africa. There is still enough support for Palestine on the continent to defeat the Israeli stratagem. But that could change soon in favour of Israel if Palestinians and their allies do not wake up to the alarming reality.

The Palestinian leadership, intellectuals, artists and civil society ambassadors must shift their attention back to the southern hemisphere, to Africa in particular, rediscovering the untapped wealth of true, unconditional human solidarity offered by the peoples of this ever-generous continent.

Kenya is one of Israel’s success stories. In November 2017, Netanyahu attended the inauguration of President Uhuru Kenyatta. Netanyahu was seen embracing Kenyatta as a dear friend and ally even as Kenyans rose in rebellion against their corrupt ruling classes

The legendary Tanzanian freedom fighter, Mwalimu Julius Nyerere, who is also celebrated in Kenya, knew very well where his solidarity lay. “We have never hesitated in our support for the right of the people of Palestine to have their own land,” he once said, a sentiment that was repeated by the iconic South African leader Nelson Mandela, and by many other African liberation leaders. Today’s generation of African leaders should not deviate from that noble legacy. If they betray it, they betray themselves, along with the righteous struggles of their own peoples.

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