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Ethnic Barons, Handshake Politics and Raila’s Accidental Legacy

9 min read. Kenya’s history has, since KADU merged with KANU in 1964, been about elite pacts. Controlled behind the scenes by old and new imperial masters, these politics effectively came to an end on March 9, 2018 when Raila Odinga bequeathed Kenya with the last betrayal. Has a new leftist politics been birthed? By WILLY MUTUNGA. 

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Ethnic Barons, Handshake Politics and Raila’s Accidental Legacy
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The handshake between President Uhuru and Raila Odinga on March 09, 2018 was not the first of baronial handshakes we have seen nor will it be the last. But the last of them will be when an alternative political leadership that can imagine our freedom and emancipation takes the reins of political power in our country.

“When Baba told us he was leading us to Canaan we did not know he meant the Office of the President!” one Kenyan tweeted, expressing the views held by many including public intellectuals who did not see this turn of events coming.

Hitherto, the narrative had been that the National Super Alliance (NASA) was the lesser of the two political evils, but the truth is they are both pawns in the hands of the imperialisms of the West and East. Indeed, their shared vision of looting the country can never set them apart.

However, I believe the swearing-in of Raila Odinga as the People’s President on January 30, 2018, is the straw that broke the camel’s back.

The narrative had been that the National Super Alliance (NASA) was the lesser of the two political evils, but the truth is they are both pawns in the hands of the imperialisms of the West and East. Indeed, their shared vision of looting the country can never set them apart.

The ceremony confirmed Odinga as a leader of the new national opposition with a following to be reckoned with. Proving he had the capacity to mobilise millions could not be taken lightly or ignored.

I saw a clear parallel from the past when Jaramogi Odinga resurrected our hopes of fighting the Moi-KANU dictatorship and the heralding of the so-called second liberation. Speaking in Bondo in his trademark shrill voice he warned Moi: “Moi-i-i-i, you do not have the title deeds to Kenya.”

I believe the current Jubilee dictatorship saw this too and negotiations started soon after with meetings booked in order to “maintain the peace”. Apparently, the staff at the Office of the President who saw Odinga walk in feared he had decided to physically evict President Uhuru from his official seat!

My issue is how often we get bamboozled by day-to-day political distractions by the Kenyan elite!. Succession, political gossip and alliances for the 2022 elections are classic political diversions to distract the majority of Kenyans from demands of their basic necessities and material needs.

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With blessings bestowed by the British Empire to subvert the nationalist movement led by the Kenya African National Union (KANU) there were handshakes between British settlers and the Kenya African Democratic Union (KADU). One could argue these early political gestures were the alliance between the British Empire, the British settlers in Kenya, and the Kenyan Homeguards (those Kenyans with vested interests in the Empire and favoured its continuation) to subvert our freedom and independence.

Clearly, the celebrated handshake was when the conservative KADU joined KANU within a year of our 1963 independence. Ngugi wa Thiong’o is right in arguing that the effect of that handshake was to strengthen the conservative forces in KANU while isolating the nationalist forces in KANU. Two publications during this period tell this story: William Hollingworth Attwood’s, The Reds and the Blacks: A Personal Adventure and Jaramogi Oginga Odinga’s Not Yet Uhuru.

Attwood was the first American ambassador to Kenya. Odinga was the first Vice-President of the Kenyan Republic. The KANU-KADU handshake took place in the backdrop of the Cold War reflecting the truism that elite conflicts reflect foreign interests which these days is euphemistically called the “international community.” One can only imagine the role the international community played in forcing the March 9th handshake in the interests of “peace, stability and democracy”!

The KANU-KADU handshake clearly strengthened the KANU-Kenyatta dictatorship. As Attwood narrates that alliance weakened the Kenya People’s Union (KPU) led by Jaramogi Odinga, Bildad Kagia and other nationalists. Attwood in that book more or less celebrates the assassination of Pinto on February 24, 1965.

That handshake after independence was the political trajectory that led KANU to become a one-party dictatorship. In 1969 the Kenyatta-KANU dictatorship banned KPU and detained its leaders (except Kaggia). Kenya became a de facto one-party state becoming a de jure one through a constitutional amendment in 1982. The KANU-Kenyatta-Moi dictatorships had strong support from the West until the collapse of the Soviet Empire and of the Berlin Wall in 1989. The ethnic barons excluded from political participation by the KANU dictatorships were the force behind the so-called second liberation.

Forces from the international community supported the new political movement and in the case of Kenya, Smith Hempstone’s book, The Rogue Ambassador: An African Memoir gives a glimpse of the role played by them in support of multi-partyism. “The international community” has enhanced the stability of its interests by supporting the political narrative through baronial alliances they believe can keep Kenya stable, even supporting dictatorships in Kenya since independence.

The Forum for the Restoration of Democracy (FORD) movement as the political initiative that sparked agitation for multi-partyism, was merely a baronial alliance between the excluded elites from the Moi-KANU dictatorship. The FORD Party could have brought down that dictatorship in the 1992 elections if it were not for the divisions between the various barons. Odinga, Matiba, and Kibaki were at the centre of these divisions. Those divisions persisted and Moi won the 1997 elections yet again.

In 1997 there was yet another handshake, nay a stump shake, between the Social Democratic Party (SDP) led by the late Apollo Njonjo and now Governor Peter Anyang Nyong’o and Hon Charity Kaluki Ngilu who became the party’s presidential candidate. Ngilu lost the election, but SDP won some parliamentary seats. SDP, with some German support, mainly from the German Social Democratic Party, was successful in the creation of a baroness in the Kamba community setting up intra-baronial conflicts that continue in Ukambani until today.

By far the biggest handshake was in 1997 called the Inter-Parties Parliamentary Group (IPPG), between Moi’s KANU dictatorship and opposition political parties. Before this happened there was an alliance between civil society groups and the opposition political parties that had given birth to the National Convention Executive Council (NCEC) which pushed for a new constitution to reflect the democratic ideals of multi-partyism. The opposition found it difficult to organize and mobilize resistance because Moi/KANU refused a level playing field. However, the mass action in 1997 became a genuine threat to the dictatorship. When NCEC declared the formation of a constituent assembly in August 1997, the dictatorship quickly conceded some minimal electoral reforms to the opposition through the IPPG. Moi thereafter called an election that he won.

I tell this story in my book Constitution-Making from the Middle: Civil Society and Politics of Transition, 1992-1997. It is worth noting that IPPG was supported by foreign interests in Kenya. Grouped under Development Governance Group (DGG) these interests made it clear to the civil society leadership in NCEC that the IPPG reforms were adequate. They opposed further mass action. I remember I wrote an article in the Daily Nation describing the DGG position as racist, perfidious, and hypocritical. I was naive to expect the DGG’s position to be different. The DGG supported baronial alliances of the Kenyan elite and not the promise of democracy that the civil society advocated.

Grand handshakes necessarily involve political chicanery: betrayals and behind-the-scenes strategising, which should never be underestimated. Indeed, those who talk of alternative political leaderships must study these baronial alliances, conflicts, and the elite imperial masters behind them. For example, it is widely believed that Kibaki’s Democratic Party (DP) was Moi’s “project” in 1992 and in 2002 Kibaki once again was a continuation of that project. Kalonzo, it is believed, was Kibaki’s project in 2002 and the March 9th handshake must also be about the 2022 elections.

The drama of baronial handshakes and betrayals in 2002 was without parallel. The National Alliance for Change (NAC) was a coalition of civil society groups and three opposition political parties led by Mwai Kibaki, Charity Ngilu, and the late Michael Wamalwa Kijana. Out of this coalition the National Alliance Party of Kenya (NAK) was born in July 2002 that claimed Mwai Kibaki as its presidential party candidate in the 2002 elections. Meanwhile, what the late William Ole Ntimama called “Kisirani Kasarani” happened.

Raila’s National Development Party had merged with KANU forming New KANU. New KANU met at Kasarani Stadium to pick its presidential candidate for the 2002 presidential elections. Moi picked Uhuru as the candidate and New KANU imploded. Raila led the political orphans of Old KANU and New KANU to NAK and a new party, the National Rainbow Coalition (NARC), was born. The famous handshake then was “Kibaki Tosha”. These were Odinga’s words at Uhuru Park, and they gave rise to the first united opposition front in Kenya.

The drama of baronial handshakes and betrayals in 2002 was without parallel. The National Alliance for Change (NAC) was a coalition of civil society groups and three opposition political parties led by Mwai Kibaki, Charity Ngilu, and the late Michael Wamalwa Kijana. Out of this coalition the National Alliance Party of Kenya (NAK) was born in July 2002 that claimed Mwai Kibaki as its presidential party candidate in the 2002 elections. Meanwhile, what the late William Ole Ntimama called “Kisirani Kasarani” happened.

NARC won the 2002 elections and Mwai Kibaki became president. Conflicts within NARC did not end and a clear split between Odinga and Kibaki was reflected in the 2005 referendum over the draft constitution. Kibaki lost that referendum, a political curtain raiser for the 2007 elections and its murderous aftermath, followed by a bloody handshake that gave birth to the Grand Coalition. One can trace the invisible hand of interests, national and foreign, in these alliances and stabbings.

The 2013 and 2017 elections had two baronial alliances coalescing in the Coalition on Reform and Democracy (CORD that became NASA in 2017), and Jubilee. Jubilee won both elections. CORD and NASA “won” both elections. The barons won! Whatever political party is in power is a baronial alliance and that’s the extent of our democratic choices.That narrative as this article shows, has been in play for over five decades. That narrative has kept Kenya recolonized, dominated, oppressed and exploited by the baronial elites and their imperialist foreign masters. Everything is for sale in Kenya as long as the price is right!

But let us not forget that there has always been a cadre of authentic liberation forces in Kenya, primarily in the opposition, that has resisted this status quo from the underground and from the margins above ground.

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KPU can be said to have been part of this opposition in the sense of its vision of reimagining freedom and emancipation. KPU opposed what Odinga in his book, Not Yet Uhuru, called the “invisible government”. He was referring to the foreign interests that rule Kenya. The British never left, and to reinforce our recolonization other interests, American, Japanese and European came in. And now of course, we have the Chinese.

KPU opposed the land policies of KANU, and its political blueprint contained in Sessional Paper number 10 – ‘African Socialism and its Application to Kenya’. KPU was not socialist, but could be described as a liberal democratic party with some deep social democratic concerns. KPU was definitely the home of the Kenyan Left at that moment.

Upon KPU’s banning, other radical formations emerged: first, The December Twelfth Movement, later Mwakenya; and during the 1980s as leftist forces went into exile, other movements based abroad. In 1997, NCEC had some significant leftist thinkers. Some of them would unfortunately abandon those credentials in NARC and other political formations. In 1997, when the IPPG deal was underway, there was a serious discussion to completely delink leftist formations from opposition political parties. It was felt that such alliances would only be useful if there were alternative political movements and parties. Indeed, after the IPPG, there was a serious debate within the NCEC about starting an alternative movement that would nurture a radical political leadership that transcended baronial politics. Of course those who were behind that thinking lost out, but the idea did not die.

KPU opposed the land policies of KANU, and its political blueprint contained in Sessional Paper number 10 – ‘African Socialism and its Application to Kenya’. KPU was not socialist, but could be described as a liberal democratic party with some deep social democratic concerns. KPU was definitely the home of the Kenyan Left at that moment.

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I hope history will record that the fundamental political importance of the March 9th handshake marked the end of this politically naive position by the Kenyan left that radical political ideas can find a home in baronial opposition parties.

Raila has vacated his space in the national political opposition that he has occupied for decades. I believe the narrative of the “lesser of the two evils” is dead. I believe the imagination of alternative politics transcending baronial politics of division and polarization has deepened. I believe the decadence of baronial politics is now exposed. I believe baronial politics cannot claim to lead Kenya to a national, just, equitable, free, and prosperous society. I believe we have a great political opportunity to envision a new Kenya. The progressive pillars of our 2010 Constitution can be a great mobilisation force while rescuing it of its fundamental weakness: an inbuilt narrative that legitimises the status quo.

The material that will dismantle our dirty politics is within our grasp: corruption, looting, escalating national debt, poverty and stark inequalities, the destruction of public goods (education, health, housing, food, environment, the rights and freedoms, clothing etc). All that seems to be missing is a political home for an authentic opposition in Kenya. That home can never be in the houses of baronial political parties. After five decades the falseness of this narrative has been ruthlessly exposed.

Raila has vacated his space in the national political opposition that he has occupied for decades. I believe the narrative of the “lesser of the two evils” is dead. I believe the imagination of alternative politics transcending baronial politics of division and polarization has deepened. I believe the decadence of baronial politics is now exposed. I believe baronial politics cannot claim to lead Kenya to a national, just, equitable, free, and prosperous society. I believe we have a great political opportunity to envision a new Kenya.

The unintended result of the March 9th handshake might be that it has at last given birth to the consolidation of alternative politics in Kenya. Ironically, Raila’s legacy may end up being that, having played a major role in more political handshakes than any other Kenyan politician, he is the one who has now inadvertently bequeathed the mother of all handshakes – the one that signalled the end of baronial politics in Kenya – and birthed the dawn of alternative politics in Kenya that concretely imagines our freedom and emancipation.

What is to be done? Let us continue building patriotic, alternative politics for a free, just, equitable, democratic, united, and prosperous Kenya. We have nothing to lose but our oppression, poverty and exploitation at the hands of a baronial dominant elite. The handshake has given us a great political opportunity to build on this patriotic vision.

** The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author.

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Mutunga is the former Chief Justice of Kenya.

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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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