The National Youth Service “Season Two” scandal, in which Ksh 9 billion might have been lost or stolen, has left many wondering whether President Uhuru Kenyatta’s rather belated attempts to stamp out corruption in the country are akin to fixing a leaking ship with Elastoplast. Kenyans, including the president himself, are now admitting that corruption in the country has reached unprecedented levels, with procurement departments in government ministries attracting the largest number of thieves. Estimates of the total amount of money lost, unaccounted for or stolen since the Jubilee government assumed power in 2013 range from between $6 billion and $20 billion – more than the combined cost of the newly-built Standard Gauge Railway and the upcoming Nairobi-Mombasa expressway. With a new scandal emerging almost every day, it is likely that these figures are grossly underestimated.
While it is generally acknowledged that no Kenyan government since independence has had a clean record, there is something about graft under the current administration that makes the crooks in previous governments’ appear tame and modest when it comes to looting. As someone commented to me recently, “At least past governments did not steal the entire country – they left some of it for the rest of us.”
Things are so bad that even officials at the Kenya Bureau of Standards – the entity that is tasked with ensuring food and beverage safety standards – have been implicated in allowing and facilitating the distribution of contaminated and highly toxic imported sugar into the Kenyan market.
Corruption is quite literally, killing Kenyans.
President Uhuru Kenyatta blames rogue elements within various ministries for these daylight robberies but fails to see the role that he, his deputy William Ruto, Kenya’s electoral body and voters played in opening wide the doors to corruption, dishonesty and theft. I believe the rain truly started beating Kenyans when the Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission (IEBC) – the body mandated to vet candidates in elections and determine their suitability – ignored Chapter Six of the Constitution on Leadership and Integrity.
The IEBC gave a clean bill of health to both Kenyatta and Ruto prior to the 2013 election, even though the duo were facing charges of crimes against humanity at the International Criminal Court at the time. Rather than disqualifying them from running for the highest office in the land, the IEBC and Kenya’s chauvinistic voters viewed their candidacy as a “referendum against the ICC” – the very ICC that not too long before that been perceived by a majority of Kenyans as the only court that could deliver justice to the people who were killed, maimed, raped and displaced following the disputed the 2007 election.
President Uhuru Kenyatta blames rogue elements within various ministries for these daylight robberies but fails to see the role that he, his deputy William Ruto, Kenya’s electoral body and voters played in opening wide the doors to corruption, dishonesty and theft. I believe the rain truly started beating Kenyans when the IEBC ignored Chapter Six of the Constitution on Leadership and Integrity.
I am not a big fan of the ICC, which I believe tends to deliver selective justice based on political considerations. I am also convinced that Mwai Kibaki and Raila Odinga should have borne the greatest responsibility for the post-election violence of 2007-2008, given that Kibaki controlled the government security apparatus that unleashed much of the violence and considering that his opponent Odinga did little to quell the killings and torture, and did not even visit or mourn with the bereaved whose kith and kin had died in his name. Naming Kenyatta and Ruto (who was then a leading member of the ODM party and a staunch ally of Odinga) and four others as bearing the most responsibility for the violence smacked of disingenuousness and mischief on the part of the ICC.
Nonetheless, by ignoring Chapter 6 of the Constitution, specifically Article 73, which says that state officers should promote public confidence in the integrity of the office, and Article 75 that states that state officers should avoid any conflict between personal interests (the “personal challenge” that Kenyatta talked about when he referred to his case at the ICC during the 2013 campaigns) and public or official duties, the IEBC essentially trashed the very constitution that established it.
Rather than disqualifying them from running for the highest office in the land, the IEBC and Kenya’s chauvinistic voters viewed their candidacy as a “referendum against the ICC” – the very ICC that not too long before that been perceived by a majority of Kenyans as the only court that could deliver justice to the people who were killed, maimed, raped and displaced following the disputed the 2007 election.
The High Court further muddied the waters when the candidacy of Kenyatta and Ruto was challenged by civil society groups. The Court argued that if criminal investigations against an individual are still open or a criminal case has not been concluded, then that individual should be presumed innocent until proven guilty, and therefore, should be free to vie for political or public office. This allowed all manner of criminals and shady characters to pursue political office either because a court had not found them guilty or because their cases were still pending in Kenya’s sluggish legal system. In short, people tainted with corruption and other scandals were whitewashed by the IEBC.
In addition, when the results of the election were challenged, the Supreme Court, to the surprise and dismay of at least half the country which believed that the 2013 election was rigged, determined that the election was free and fair. This judgement was a significant turning point for Kenya – the line between legality and illegality, integrity and dishonesty became irreversibly blurred. “It was like something had died, like something had been killed,” commented literary critic Keguro Macharia a few weeks after the Supreme Court ruling.
Civil society activists felt betrayed by the Supreme Court’s decision; some described Kenya’s new political dispensation as the return of dictatorship, as both Kenyatta and Ruto were associated with the repressive Daniel arap Moi regime. Ruto was plucked out of obscurity to work for the notorious Youth for Kanu team that Moi had established to garner support for his party among young voters prior to the 1992 election. Kenyatta, while less tainted, came with the baggage of being the son of the first president of Kenya, who had been linked to various historical injustices, including land grabs and political assassinations. The younger Kenyatta was also a protégé of Moi and was the flag bearer and presidential candidate of Kanu in the 2002 elections, which he lost to Kibaki.
Meanwhile, supporters of the “UhuRuto” presidency deluded themselves that the economy was safe in the hands of the same ethnic Kikuyu and Kalenjin elite that had dominated the economy since the days of Jomo Kenyatta and his successor Moi – and that Kenyatta and Ruto, unlike people who belonged to politically or economically marginalised ethnic groups, would be less tempted to steal because they had already benefited from stolen wealth.
“Although the problem is in fact of elites writ large, Kenyan corruption is traditionally viewed in terms of economic rivalry among the country’s main ethnic groups. A presidency under ethnic Luo leader contender Raila Odinga, the argument went, back in 2013, carried the risk of unprecedented ‘eating’ by a long-sidelined group, hungry for the perks of office,” commented British journalist Michela Wrong, whose book Our Turn to Eat exposed corruption during the Kibaki era. Kenyans assumed that since the Kikuyu and Kalenjin had already “eaten” when their tribesmen were in power, Kenyatta and Ruto would be less greedy while in office, an assumption, Wrong noted, that mistook the nature of human greed.
Broken windows theory
Some argue that corruption is in the DNA of Kenyans and that the entry of the Jubilee government into power has little to do with Jubilee and more to do with how Kenyans are wired. This may be so but I believe that the 2013 and 2017 elections confirmed what is known as the “Broken Windows Theory”. First proposed by social scientists George L. Kelling and James Q. Wilson in 1982, this theory has been used to successfully fight crime in cities such as New York. Kelling and Wilson argued that when crime, anti-social behaviour and civil disorder are allowed to fester, it encourages further crime and disorder. The “broken windows” theory came from their observations that when a broken window in a building is not repaired, there is a tendency for vandals to break a few more of the building’s windows. And if those windows are not repaired either, eventually the vandals may break into the building itself and become squatters. But if the windows are repaired immediately after they are broken, it serves as a deterrent to vandals and other criminal elements.
Similarly, as has been observed in many cities around the world, when people are allowed to litter streets, the streets soon start looking like huge rubbish dumps. People carelessly begin throwing plastic bottles, chewing gum, cigarette butts and even food without considering the health and welfare or fellow street users. But if litter is collected regularly by the authorities and litter-gathering devices, such as rubbish bins, are placed at convenient locations along streets, the level of littering reduces significantly. In some countries, such as Singapore, littering carries heavy fines, which further serves as a powerful deterrent.
First proposed by social scientists George L. Kelling and James Q. Wilson in 1982, the theory has been used successfully to fight crime in cities such as New York. Kelling and Wilson argued that when crime, anti-social behaviour and civil disorder are allowed to fester, it encourages further crime and disorder. The “broken windows” theory came from their observations that when a broken window in a building is not repaired, there is a tendency for vandals to break a few more of the building’s windows.
The IEBC, and dare I say, the Supreme Court, did not repair the window that broke when Kenyatta and Ruto vied for the presidency in 2013. This allowed other windows to be broken, and unleashed the corruption that we are now witnessing in almost every government ministry and department. The IEBC gave Kenyans the licence to loot. By allowing suspected war criminals to vie for public office (regardless of whether or not they were innocent), it opened the flood gates of criminality. Some might even argue that by allowing the 2013 elections to be stolen, the IEBC set a precedent for thieves in other government and so-called independent institutions. And since no one suffered for alleged past criminal behaviour (even the ICC withdrew the cases against Kenyatta and Ruto due to lack of evidence – evidence that the ICC’s chief prosecutor Fatou Bensouda believes was deliberately tampered with), the looting spree continued unabated.
Upon assuming office, Uhuru Kenyatta immediately went on a massive spending spree. His first official visit was to China where a $5 billion “aid and investment” deal (which in reality favoured mostly China) was signed. On the domestic front, he issued a directive instructing ministries to award 30 per cent of all government tenders to youth, women and the disabled (regardless of whether or not they were qualified for the job or whether they had a track record in delivering supplies or services to the government). This directive was construed by many as a licence to steal; shady youth and women registered fake companies for the sole purpose of looting. One relative of the president even had the audacity to say that she deserved a tender she had been awarded because she is a woman. This is also probably why so many of the faces of corruption you see in the NYS and other scandals are young females – though it has yet to be determined if their godfathers and the main beneficiaries of the loot are male and within government.
And despite their “choices have consequences” rhetoric prior to the 2013 election, Western governments, notably Britain, recanted their earlier positions. Soon after the 2013 election, British Prime Minister David Cameron invited Uhuru Kenyatta to the London Conference on Somalia. The United States took a more cautious approach; President Barack Obama skipped Kenya on his 2013 Africa tour, preferring to go to neighbouring Tanzania instead. However, he too ended up sanitising the UhuRuto presidency by making a splashy official visit to Nairobi in 2015.
Having gained the legitimacy it required, the Jubilee government felt emboldened enough to throw caution to the wind. Soon more windows began breaking. Sports officials charged with looking after our star athletes at the Rio Olympics absconded with funds meant for the athletes – and suffered no consequences. A cabinet secretary in charge of NYS funds that were stolen during her tenure (the so-called “Season One”) even got herself elected as a county governor.
Uhuru Kenyatta claims that this time he is serious about corruption – that ending corruption within government will be the legacy of his last term in office. However, as lawyer Wachira Maina commented in a recent article in the Sunday Nation, the president has allowed graft to seep so deep into his administration that he is now unable to undo this “institutionalised perfidy”.
Raila Odinga’s rapprochement with Uhuru Kenyatta has further legitimised the Jubilee government and has had the net effect of diluting, if not neutering, the opposition, which will make the fight against corruption even harder because by allying themselves to the government, Odinga and his party have in effect abdicated their watchdog role. That’s another window broken.
The president’s anti-corruption stance also appears hollow, and could go the way of other pledges and promises he made when he took office. Many of the changes he promised in his first term have never materialised. For instance, after promising far-reaching reforms in parastatals, Kenyatta ignored the recommendations of a task force he himself had commissioned, which recommended trimming the number of parastatals and bringing in people with integrity to head them. In typical African Big Man fashion, he then went on to appoint his relatives and loyal cronies in key parastatals (a trend that seems to have continued in the Raila-Uhuru ‘Handshake’ era, with some of Raila’s loyal supporters securing key positions in various parastatals – an ominous sign that suggests that even if he would have been declared the winner in the 2013 elections, Raila might not have fixed any windows, unless public pressure forced him to do so).
Moreover, Raila Odinga’s rapprochement with Uhuru Kenyatta has further legitimised the Jubilee government and has had the net effect of diluting, if not neutering, the opposition, which will make the fight against corruption even harder because by allying themselves to the government, Odinga and his party have in effect abdicated their watchdog role. That’s another window broken.
In short, since 2013, Kenya’s political establishment has not just been breaking more windows, it has been occupying the entire building, which it will no doubt cannibalise until there is nothing left to break or loot – unless, of course, a window-fixer comes along and reverses the situation.
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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.
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.
Deconstructing the Whiteness of Christ
While many African Christians can only imagine a white Jesus, others have actively promoted a vision of a brown or black Jesus, both in art and in ideology.
When images of a white preacher and actor going around Kenya playing Jesus turned up on social media in July 2019, people were rightly stunned by the white supremacist undertone of the images. They suggested that Africans were prone to seeing Jesus as white, promoting the white saviour narrative in the process. While it is true that the idea of a white Jesus has been prevalent in African Christianity even without a white actor, and many African Christians and churches still entertain images of Jesus as white because of the missionary legacy, many others have actively promoted a vision of Jesus as brown or black both in art an in ideology.
Images of a brown or black Jesus is as old as Christianity in Africa, especially finding a prominent place in Ethiopian Orthodox Church, which has been in existence for over sixteen hundred years. Eyob Derillo, a librarian at the British Library, recently brought up a steady diet of these images on Twitter. The image of Jesus as black has also been popularised through the artistic project known as Vie de Jesus Mafa (Life of Jesus Mafa) that was conducted in Cameroon.
The most radical expression of Jesus as a black person was however put forth by a young Kongolese woman called Kimpa Vita, who lived in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth century. Through the missionary work of the Portuguese, Kimpa Vita, who was a nganga or medicine woman, became a Christian. She taught that Jesus and his apostles were black and were in fact born in São Salvador, which was the capital of the Kongo at the time. Not only was Jesus transposed from Palestine to São Salvador, Jerusalem, which is a holy site for Christians, was also transposed to São Salvador, so that São Salvador became a holy site. Kimpa Vita was accused of preaching heresy by Portuguese missionaries and burnt at the stake in 1706.
It was not until the 20th century that another movement similar to Vita’s emerged in the Kongo. This younger movement was led by Simon Kimbangu, a preacher who went about healing and raising the dead, portraying himself as an emissary of Jesus. His followers sometimes see him as the Holy Spirit who was to come after Jesus, as prophesied in John 14:16. Just as Kimpa Vita saw São Salvador as the new Jerusalem, Kimbangu’s village of Nkamba became, and still is known as, the new Jerusalem. His followers still flock there for pilgrimage. Kimbangu was accused of threatening Belgian colonial rule and thrown in jail, where he died. Some have complained that Kimbangu seems to have eclipsed Jesus in the imagination of his followers for he is said to have been resurrected from the dead, like Jesus.
Kimbangu’s status among his followers is however similar to that of some of the leaders of what has been described as African Independent Churches or African Initiated Churches (AICs). These churches include the Zionist churches of Southern Africa, among which is the amaNazaretha of Isaiah Shembe. Shembe’s followers see him as a divine figure, similar to Jesus, and rather than going to Jerusalem for pilgrimage, his followers go to the holy city of Ekuphakameni in South Africa. The Cameroonian theologian, Fabien Eboussi Boulaga, in his Christianity Without Fetish, see leaders like Kimbangu and Shembe as doing for their people in our own time what Jesus did for his people in their own time—providing means of healing and deliverance in contexts of grinding oppression. Thus, rather than replacing Jesus, as they are often accused of doing, they are making Jesus relevant to their people. For many Christians in Africa, therefore, Jesus is already brown or black. Other Christians still need to catch up with this development if we are to avoid painful spectacles like the one that took place Kenya.
In Magufuli’s Shadow: The Stark Choices Facing Tanzania’s New President
One immediate concern is what steps Hassan will take on the pandemic, and whether she will change direction.
The sudden death of Tanzania’s President John Pombe Magufuli has thrown the East African nation into a period of political uncertainty.
Vice-president, Samia Suluhu Hassan, has been sworn in as his successor, making her Tanzania’s first woman president.
The transition is all the more challenging given the major rupture – both political and economic – caused by Magufuli’s presidency. Magufuli, who won a second term in October 2020, dramatically centralised power and pursued an interventionist economic policy agenda. He courted controversy on a number of fronts, most recently, by claiming that Tanzania – contrary to mounting evidence – was Covid-free.
Hassan has called for unity and counselled that now is not the time to look at what has passed but rather to look at what is to come.
Despite the 61-year-old leader’s forward-looking stance, questions remain about how Magufuli’s legacy will shape her time in office.
The authoritarian turn
Magufuli oversaw the marginalisation of opposition parties and a decline in civil liberties. His first term was defined by heightened intimidation and violence against opposition leaders, including disappearances and physical attacks.
Thanks to five years of repression, the October 2020 general elections saw the opposition all but wiped out of elected office. The ruling Chama Cha Mapinduzi now controls all local government councils. It also holds 97% of directly elected legislative seats, up from 73% in 2015.
But Magufuli’s authoritarian tendencies were not unprecedented in Tanzania. For instance, the rule of his predecessor Jakaya Kikwete was also marred by human rights abuses as well civil society and media repression. Kikwete also cancelled Zanzibar’s 2015 election due to a likely opposition victory.
It remains to be seen whether Hassan will adopt a more liberal approach, loosening restrictions on opposition parties, the media and civil society. Even if she does, the damage will take time to repair. Opposition parties, for instance, may well struggle to regain their strength. Among other setbacks, they have lost almost all local elected representatives – a core element of their organisational infrastructure built up painstakingly over decades.
Centralising power in the party
Another key pillar to Magufuli’s legacy is the centralisation of power within the Chama Cha Mapinduzi.
In the early years under founding president Julius Nyerere, Tanzania’s ruling party was dominated by the president and a hierarchy of appointed state and party officials. But, following economic liberalisation in the 1980s and Nyerere’s retirement from politics, the party became steeped in factional rivalries. These were spurred by new political alliances and an emerging private sector business elite.
This factionalism reached its height under Kikwete amid accusations of widespread corruption. Magufuli’s nomination as party presidential candidate only occurred because the rivalry among these factions left him as the unexpected compromise candidate.
Once in office, though, Magufuli quickly signalled he would be nobody’s puppet. He used his position as ruling party chairman to create a “new” Chama Cha Mapinduzi. This involved breaking with party heavyweights, including Kikwete, suppressing factional organising, and consolidating his own support base.
Magufuli’s new base was a cohort of freshly appointed party officials as well as civil servants and cabinet ministers. His loyalists likened these changes to a revival of Nyerere’s Chama Cha Mapinduzi. But, in our view, the comparison is misleading.
Like Magufuli before her, Hassan will be taking office – and party leadership – without her own political base. She will also have to contend with revived factional manoeuvring as sidelined groups try to regain an upper hand.
Hassan could align with a loyal Magufuli faction, which includes influential figures within the party. But, early indications suggest she intends to follow the advice of “party elders”, notably Kikwete. The former president reportedly attended the party’s most recent central committee meeting on Hassan’s invitation.
Aligning herself with Kikwete will likely lead to the reemergence of the internal factional rivalries that characterised the former president’s tenure.
Implications for economic policy
If president Hassan does continue to take a political steer from Kikwete, one likely outcome is that there will be a change in economic policy. In particular, a return to growth that’s led by a more business-friendly approach to the private sector.
Calls are already being made for such a course of action..
A careful reassessment of the Magufuli era is needed to guide future policymaking.
Magufuli used his control over the ruling party to pursue an ambitious policy agenda. This was also linked to his political project of centralising power.
Although this trend actually began under Kikwete, Magufuli accelelrated a move towards more state-led investment. Under his leadership, both state-owned and, increasingly, military-owned enterprises were offered strategic contracts.
Many state enterprises remained cash-starved, relied on government financial support, and registered losses.
Alongside state investment, the president also sought to discipline private sector actors. Some observers suggest that this led to more productive investment, notably by domestic investors. But others point to renewed crony capitalist ties.
Magufuli’s most high profile corporate battle was against Canadian-owned Barrick Gold and its former subsidiary, Acacia Mining. From the two, he demanded USD$190 billion in tax arrears and a renegotiation of operating terms.
Many saw this resource-nationalist approach as an inspiration and a model for African countries seeking to take greater control of their mineral wealth. But in the end – partly due to externally imposed legal and economic constraints – Magufuli walked back on some of his demands. Instead he opted for cooperation rather than confrontation.
He negotiated a joint venture in which Barrick took a majority stake of 84% and Tanzania the remaining 16%. Key elements of the nationalistic mining legislation passed in 2017 were also reversed.
On the plus side gold overtook tourism as Tanzania’s biggest foreign-exchange earner. In addition, some small-scale miners saw their livelihoods improve. Results were more mixed elsewhere, especially for Tanzanite miners in the country’s north.
Ultimately, Magufuli leaves behind a mixed economic legacy. It combines misdirected authoritarian decision-making with positive efforts to pursue an active industrial policy. Reining in unproductive domestic investors and renegotiating adverse contracts with foreign investors were part of this agenda.
There is a risk, given this complex mix, that Tanzania’s policymakers may learn the wrong lessons from his presidency, leading back to the flawed model existing before.
The pandemic and beyond
One immediate concern is what steps Hassan will take on the pandemic, and whether she will change direction.
Whatever she does, the health emergency and associated economic crisis will likely define her presidency. It could indeed define the economic trajectory of the African region in years to come.
Both Kikwete and Magufuli ruled through an economic boom period. Commodity prices were high and access to international finance was fairly easy. This gave them latitude to choose between various development approaches.
If Tanzania reverts to the status quo of the Kikwete years, the risk is a reemergence of rent-seeking but without the same highly favourable economic growth conditions. Indeed, as external conditions worsen, Hassan may find her options far more limited.
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