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Jubilee’s Broken Windows: A Chronology of Kenya’s Moral Collapse

9 min read.

The rot set in when institutional gate-keepers failed to act ethically and courageously to prevent Uhuru Kenyatta and William Ruto, two ICC indictees, from running for office in 2013. Propped up by ethnically chauvinistic voters, the gates were then opened wide for the looting observed today. By RASNA WARAH.

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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.

Rasna Warah
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Rasna Warah is a Kenyan writer and journalist. In a previous incarnation, she was an editor at the United Nations Human Settlements Programme (UN-Habitat). She has published two books on Somalia – War Crimes (2014) and Mogadishu Then and Now (2012) – and is the author UNsilenced (2016), and Triple Heritage (1998).

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What Kenyans Have Always Wanted is to Limit the Powers of the Executive

As Kenya’s political class considers expanding the executive branch of government, no one seems to be talking about restricting its powers.

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The tyranny of numbers, a phrase first applied to Kenyan politics by one of Kenya’s most well-known political commentators, Mutahi Ngunyi, was repeated ad nauseum during the week of waiting that followed Kenya’s 2013 general elections.

In ads published in the run-up to the 2013 elections by the Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission (IEBC), people were told to vote, go home and accept the results. Encouraged by a state that had since the 2007 post-electoral violence dominated public discourse and means of coercion, the military pitched camp in polling stations. Many streets in Kenya’s cities and towns remained deserted for days after the polls closed.

According to Ngunyi, the winner of the 2013 elections had been known four months earlier, that is, when the electoral commission stopped registering voters.

In a country whose politics feature a dominant discourse that links political party and ethnicity, the outcome of voter registration that year meant that the Uhuru Kenyatta and William Ruto-led coalition, the Jubilee Alliance, would start the electoral contest with 47 per cent of the vote assured. With these statistics, their ticket appeared almost impossible to beat. For ethnic constituencies that did not eventually vote for Uhuru Kenyatta – the Jubilee Alliance presidential candidate in 2013 – a sense of hopelessness was widespread.

For them, a bureaucratic, professionalised, dispassionate (even boring) discourse became the main underpinning of the 2013 elections.

This was not the case in 2017.

Uhuru Kenyatta, pressured by opposition protests and a Supreme Court ruling that challenged his victory and ordered a re-run, met with Raila Odinga – his challenger for the presidency in the 2013 and 2017 elections – and offered a settlement. It became known as the Building Bridges Initiative (BBI).

In his 2020 Jamhuri Day speech, Uhuru reiterated that the purpose of the BBI process is to abolish the winner-takes-all system by expanding the executive branch of government.

As he explained it, the challenge to Kenya’s politics is the politicisation of ethnicity coupled with a lack of the requisite number of political offices within the executive branch that would satisfy all ethnic constituencies – Kenya has 42 enumerated ethnic groups.

The revised BBI report that was released on 21 October 2020 (the first was published in November 2019) has now retained the position of president, who, if the recommendations are voted for in a referendum, will also get to appoint a prime minister, two deputy prime ministers and a cabinet.

Amid heckles and jeers during the launch of the revised BBI report, Deputy President William Ruto asked whether the establishment of the positions of prime minister and two deputy prime ministers would create the much sought-after inclusivity. In his Jamhuri Day speech, the president conceded that they wouldn’t, but that the BBI-proposed position of Leader of Official Opposition – with a shadow cabinet, technical support and a budget – would mean that the loser of the presidential election would still have a role to play in governance.

One could not help but think that the president’s statement was informed by the fact that Odinga lost to him in both the 2013 and 2017 presidential elections –  this despite Odinga’s considerable political influence over vast areas of the country.

The 2010 constitution’s pure presidential system doesn’t anticipate any formal political role for the loser(s) of a presidential election. Raila held no public office between 2013 and 2017, when he lost to Uhuru. This did not help to address the perception amongst his supporters that they had been excluded from the political process for many years. In fact, Raila’s party had won more gubernatorial posts across the country’s 47 counties than the ruling Jubilee Alliance had during the 2013 elections.

While Raila’s attempts to remain politically relevant in the five years between 2013 and 2017 were largely ignored by Uhuru, the resistance against Uhuru’s victory in 2017 wasn’t.

The anger felt by Raila’s supporters in 2017 following the announcement that Uhuru had won the elections – again – could not be separated from the deeply-entrenched feelings of exclusion and marginalisation that were at the centre of the violence that followed the protracted and disputed elections.

The reading of Kenyan politics that is currently being rendered by the BBI process is that all ethnic constituencies must feel that they (essentially, their co-ethnic leaders) are playing a role in what is an otherwise overly centralised, executive-bureaucratic state. This is despite the fact that previous attempts to limit the powers of the executive branch by spreading them across other levels of government have often invited a backlash from the political class.

Kenya’s independence constitution had provided for a Westminster-style, parliamentary system of government, and took power and significant functions of government away from the centralised government in Nairobi, placing significant responsibility (over land, security and education, for instance) in the hands of eight regional governments of equal status known in Swahili as majimbo. The majimbo system was abolished and, between 1964 to 1992, the government was headed by an executive president and the constitution amended over twenty times – largely empowering the executive branch at the expense of parliament and the judiciary. The powers of the president were exercised for the benefit of the president’s cronies and co-ethnics.

By 2010 there was not a meaningful decentralised system of government. The executive, and the presidency at its head, continued to survive attempts at limiting their powers. This has continued since 2010.

As Kenya’s political class considers expanding the executive branch of government, no one seems to be talking about restricting its powers.

Beyond the minimum of 35 per cent of national revenue that the BBI report proposes should be allocated to county governments, it is less clear whether the country’s leaders are prepared to decentralise significant powers and resources away from the executive, and away from Nairobi.

Perhaps the real solution to the challenges of governance the BBI process purports to address is to follow the prescriptions of the defunct Yash Pal Ghai team – it went around the country collecting views for constitutional change in 2003-2004.

According to a paper written by Ghai himself, the Ghai-led Constitution of Kenya Review Commission (CKRC) had no doubt that, consistent with the goals of the review and the people’s views, there had to be a transfer of very substantial powers and functions of government to local levels.

The CKRC noted – much like Uhuru Kenyatta and Raila Odinga now have – that the centralised presidential system tends to ethnicise politics, which threatens national unity.

Kenyans told the CKRC that decisions were made at places far away from them; that their problems arose from government policies over which they had no control; that they wanted greater control over their own destiny and to be free to determine their lifestyle choices and their affairs; and not to be told that they are not patriotic enough!

Yes, the BBI report has proposed that 5 per cent of county revenue be allocated to Members of County Assemblies for a newly-created Ward Development Fund, and that businesses set up by young Kenyans be exempted from taxation for the first seven years of operation. However, this doesn’t amount to any meaningful surrender of power and resources by the executive.

In emphasising the importance of exercising control at the local level, Kenyans told the CKRC that they wanted more communal forms of organisation and a replacement of the infamous Administration Police with a form of community policing. They considered that more powers and resources at the local level would give them greater influence over their parliamentary and local representatives, including greater control over jobs, land and land-based resources.  In short, Kenyans have always yearned for a dispersion of power away from the presidency, and away from the executive and Nairobi. They have asked for the placing of responsibility for public affairs in the hands of additional and more localised levels of government.

This is what would perhaps create the much sought-after inclusivity.

But as the BBI debate rages on, the attention of the political class is now on the proposed new positions within the executive branch. And as the debate becomes inexorably linked to the 2022 Kenyatta-succession race, questions centring on political positions will likely become personalised, especially after the political class cobbles together coalitions to contest the 2022 general elections.

Meanwhile, ordinary Kenyans will be left battling the aftermath of a pandemic, and having to deal with the usual stresses brought on by a political class seeking their votes for another round of five years of exclusion.

The more things change, the more they remain the same.

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Democracy for Some, Mere Management for Others

The coming election in Uganda is significant because if there is to be managed change, it will never find a more opportune moment.

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Democracy for Some, Mere Management for Others
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Western powers slowly tied a noose round their own necks by first installing Uganda’s National Resistance Movement regime, and then supporting it uncritically as it embarked on its adventures in militarism, plunder and human rights violations inside and outside Uganda’s borders.

They are now faced with a common boss problem: what to do with an employee of very long standing (possibly even inherited from a predecessor) who may now know more about his department than the new bosses, and who now carries so many of the company’s secrets that summary dismissal would be a risky undertaking?

The elections taking place in Uganda this week have brought that dilemma into sharp relief.

An initial response would be to simply allow this sometimes rude employee to carry on. The problem is time. In both directions. The employee is very old, and those he seeks to manage are very young, and also very poor and very aspirational because of being very young. And also therefore very angry.

Having a president who looks and speaks like them, and whose own personal life journey symbolises their own ambitions, would go a very long way to placating them. This, if for no other reason, is why the West must seriously consider finding a way to induce the good and faithful servant to give way. Nobody lives forever. And so replacement is inevitable one way or another.

But this is clearly not a unified position. The United Kingdom, whose intelligence services were at the forefront of installing the National Resistance Movement/Army (NRM/A) in power nearly forty years ago, remains quietly determined to stand by President Yoweri Museveni’s side.

On the other hand, opinion in America’s corridors of power seems divided. With standing operations in Somalia, and a history of western-friendly interventions in Rwanda, the Democratic Republic of Congo, South Sudan, and even Kenya, the Ugandan military is perceived as a huge (and cut-price) asset to the West’s regional security concerns.

The DRC, in particular, with its increasing significance as the source of much of the raw materials that will form the basis of the coming electric engine revolution, has been held firmly in the orbit of Western corporations through the exertions of the regime oligarchs controlling Uganda’s security establishment. To this, one may add the growing global agribusiness revolution in which the fertile lands of the Great Lakes Region are targeted for clearing and exploitation, and for which the regime offers facilitation.

Such human resource is hard to replace and therefore not casually disposed of.

These critical resource questions are backstopped by unjust politics themselves held in place by military means. The entire project therefore hinges ultimately on who has the means to physically enforce their exploitation. In our case, those military means have been personalised to one individual and a small circle of co-conspirators, often related by blood and ethnicity.

However, time presses. Apart from the ageing autocrat at the centre, there is also a time bomb in the form of an impoverished and anxious population of unskilled, under-employed (if at all) and propertyless young people. Change beckons for all sides, whether planned for or not.

This is why this coming election is significant. If there is to be managed change, it will never find a more opportune moment. Even if President Museveni is once again declared winner, there will still remain enough political momentum and pressure that could be harnessed by his one-time Western friends to cause him to look for the exit. It boils down to whether the American security establishment could be made to believe that the things that made President Museveni valuable to them, are transferable elsewhere into the Uganda security establishment. In short, that his sub-imperial footprint can be divorced from his person and entrusted, if not to someone like candidate Robert Kyagulanyi, then at least to security types already embedded within the state structure working under a new, youthful president.

Three possible outcomes then: Kyagulanyi carrying the vote and being declared the winner; Kyagulanyi carrying the vote but President Museveni being declared the winner; or failure to have a winner declared. In all cases, there will be trouble. In the first, a Trump-like resistance from the incumbent. In the second and the third, the usual mass disturbances that have followed each announcement of the winner of the presidential election since the 1990s.

Once the Ugandan political crisis — a story going back to the 1960s — is reduced to a security or “law and order” problem, the West usually sides with whichever force can quickest restore the order they (not we) need.

And this is how the NRM tail seeks to still wag the Western dog: the run-up to voting day has been characterised by heavy emphasis on the risk of alleged “hooligans” out to cause mayhem (“burning down the city” being a popular bogeyman). The NRM’s post-election challenge will be to quickly strip the crisis of all political considerations and make it a discussion about security.

But it would be strategically very risky to try to get Uganda’s current young electorate — and the even younger citizens in general — to accept that whatever social and economic conditions they have lived through in the last few decades (which for most means all of their lives given how young they are) are going to remain in place for even just the next five years. They will not buy into the promises they have seen broken in the past. Their numbers, their living conditions, their economic prospects and their very youth would then point to a situation of permanent unrest.

However, it can be safely assumed that the NRM regime will, to paraphrase US President Donald Trump, not accept any election result that does not declare it the winner.

Leave things as they are and deal with the inevitable degeneration of politics beyond its current state, or enforce a switch now under the cover of an election, or attempt to enforce a switch in the aftermath of the election by harnessing the inevitable discontent.

Those are the boss’ options.

In the meantime, there is food to be grown and work to be done.

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Uganda Elections 2021: The Elephant Website Blocked Ahead of Poll

For about a month now, some of our readers within Uganda have been reporting problems accessing the website. Following receipt of these reports, we launched investigations which have established that The Elephant has been blocked by some, though not all, internet service providers in the country.

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Uganda Elections 2021: The Elephant Website Blocked Ahead of Poll
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Dear Readers/Viewers,

For four years now, The Elephant has been one of the premier online sources of news analysis in the East African region with a fast-growing readership across the African continent and beyond.

For about a month now, some of our readers within Uganda have been reporting problems accessing the website. Following receipt of these reports, we launched investigations which have established that The Elephant has been blocked by some, though not all, internet service providers in the country.

We have further ascertained that the directive to do so came from the Uganda Communication Commission (UCC) and was implemented beginning 12 December 2020, when we noticed a sudden traffic drop coming from several providers in Uganda, including Africell and Airtel. A forensics report, which provides technical details on the blocking, is available here.

We have written to the UCC requesting a reason for the blocking but are yet to receive a response.

The Elephant wholeheartedly condemns this assault on free speech and on freedom of the press and calls on the Ugandan government to respect the rights of Ugandans to access information.

We would like to assure all our readers that we are doing everything in our power to get the restrictions removed and hope normal access can be restored expeditiously.

As we do this, to circumvent the block, a Bifrost mirror has been deployed. Readers in Uganda can once again access The Elephant on this link.

Thank you.

Best Regards

John Githongo
Publisher

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