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You Can’t Digitise Integrity: Lessons from the Politics of the Belly

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No state in sub-Saharan Africa has a better organised anti-corruption infrastructure than Kenya. In a society where theft is a political strategy normalised among wananchi, Uhuru Kenyatta’s latest push against graft may end up being no more than a fig leaf to secure an uncertain legacy unless he starts to unravel sixty years worth of ossified patronage-related relationships. By JOHN GITHONGO

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Late last year the country was briefly captivated by an audacious heist by two brothers, Halford Munene Murakaru, 32, and Charles Mwangi Murakaru, 30, and their cousin Julius Ndungu Wainaina, 30, who’d allegedly dug a 30 meter long underground tunnel into the strong room of the Thika town branch of the Kenya Commercial Bank (KCB). They then crept in on Sunday the 19th of November and made off with Ksh.52 million (US$520,000). The theft itself was unsurprising to Kenyans. It was the ingenuity and patience behind the tunnel that caught the public imagination. My own attention was piqued by later comments attributed to their father Titus Murakaru Githui, 59, aka Kahiga.

When interviewed about the conduct of his sons he was totally relaxed and unsurprised about it. As unusually frank as his comments were, they contained some wisdom about Kenyan society and attitudes around theft. He reportedly told local dailies that the actions of his sons were part of a wider societal problem. He argued that they had been ‘inspired’ by the current Kenyan condition that sees major scandals such as those that take place at the NYS and Ministry of Health happen and the public officials allegedly involved not only get off scot-free, but are also allowed to prosper as a result. Quite frankly he was not too far off the mark.

Last week public consternation lit up social media when the former Managing Director of the scandal-prone Kenya Power company, Ben Chumo, showed up in parliament for vetting by the Finance and Planning Committee, the presidential nominee for chair of the Salaries and Remuneration Commission (SRC). Mr. Chumo is currently in court with other indictees over graft charges involving the alleged theft of KSh 450 million (US$4.5 million) from Kenya Power. He has been photographed smiling broadly from the dock and this apparent lack of any sense of irony or appreciation of the ludicrous contradiction his behaviour implied was apparent during and after he went in for the vetting. Perhaps even more lacking in irony, the Committee rejected Mr. Chumo’s nomination, explaining in deadpan tones: “(Ben Chumo) has integrity issues arising out of the fact that he has been accused of economic crimes and therefore does not satisfy the requirements of Chapter Six of the Constitution on Leadership and Integrity.” (See here)

Chumo has been photographed smiling broadly from the dock and this apparent lack of any sense of irony or appreciation of the ludicrous contradiction his behaviour implied was apparent during and after he went in for the vetting. Perhaps even more lacking in irony, the Committee rejected Mr. Chumo’s nomination, explaining in deadpan tones: “(Ben Chumo) has integrity issues arising out of the fact that he has been accused of economic crimes and therefore does not satisfy the requirements of Chapter Six of the Constitution on Leadership and Integrity.”

A supremely ironic twist because it was parliament in August 2012 that approved the Leadership and Integrity Act and then proceeded to mangle and water down Chapter Six of the Constitution while purporting to operationalise it. The legislative hollowing out of Chapter Six has continued apace over the last six years. It would be unsurprising, in these twisted circumstances, if Mr. Chumo challenged the decision of parliament in court.

I would argue that Mr. Chumo would understandably have been quite taken aback by this rejection and the reasons articulated by the Committee for it. His attitude represents a prevalent culture in Kenya especially as regards the public service and theft from the public service. While the government has embarked on an anti-graft drive complete with a series of arrests, vetting procedures, the anticipated introduction of lie detector machines etc, it is clear corruption in Kenya no longer has a technical fix. Indeed, Kenya has among the most sophisticated anti-corruption infrastructure regimes in Sub Saharan Africa. It has even become the subject of study by academics and other anti-corruption experts from around the world. It’s clear that Kenya doesn’t lack institutions, programmes, officials and initiatives to fight corruption; rather, graft has become part of our political, economic and social framework for understanding ourselves as Kenyans. Theft has been normalized and instrumentalised as a tool for maintaining stability of the Kenyan kind, which means sustaining a tiny elite in power. This hasn’t happened by mistake.

It is a deliberate project that feeds into a culture of political cooptation and compromise designed to undermine any elite solidarity around progressive issues: inequality, fighting poverty, protecting the environment, the rights of women, minorities and marginalized groups etc. These strategies of compromise and cooptation have been resilient: in part, their success is derived from changing the very way people understand power, wealth and access to justice; and in turn how these are acquired and perpetuated. One prospers by ‘getting in on the act’; agreeing to ‘play the game’. Entire institutions can be compromised and sometimes the elites of entire tribes. And so it is that a plethora of laws and statutory agencies find themselves helpless against a culture of theft precisely because they are constructed on a moral and cultural foundation that is inimical to their success.

Kenya has among the most sophisticated anti-corruption infrastructure regimes in Sub Saharan Africa. It has even become the subject of study by academics and other anti-corruption experts from around the world. It’s clear that Kenya doesn’t lack institutions, programmes, officials and initiatives to fight corruption; rather, graft has become part of our political, economic and social framework for understanding ourselves as Kenyans. Theft has been normalized and instrumentalised as a tool for maintaining stability of the Kenyan kind, which means sustaining a tiny elite in power. This hasn’t happened by mistake.

When the solidarity of progressive forces is undermined society is quietly eaten away from within. Among, the unchallenged continental masters of these cynical approaches to governance have included figures like the late Mobutu Sese Seko of Zaire (now Democratic Republic of Congo); Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe and our own Professor of Politics Daniel T. arap Moi.

Mobutu’s relationship with his one-time minister and then political opponent Jean Nguza Karl-i-Bond, nephew of the Katangan secessionist leader, Moise Tshombe, was profoundly illustrative of this approach. Karl-i-Bond served as minister in Mobutu’s regime, then fell out, made up and fell out again. Bond agreed to serve as Mobutu’s Prime Minister in the 1990s even after torture by Mobutu’s agents had left him impotent in 1977 when, regarded as a possible Mobutu heir-apparent, the Guide turned against Nguza and publicly accused the PM of attempting to seduce his wife.

When the solidarity of progressive forces is undermined society is quietly eaten away from within.

Such are the politics of personal rule.

As Zimbabwe comes out of its first post-Mugabe election, a major challenge facing the country shall be how delicately the incoming administration will manage the land issue in the country. When Robert Mugabe lost a constitutional referendum that shredded his legitimacy in 2000, he became a victim of his own ruthless machinations. Led by Chenjerai Hitler Hunzvi, the war veterans leveraged authentic grievances to force a massive pay-off from the Mugabe regime and a land redistribution programme which marked the beginning of the end for Zimbabwe’s economy.

******

Allow me to illustrate Kenya’s case.

I remember a story related to me by a top academic and friend of a trip he made to visit former President Moi one Sunday morning in the 1990s. A peer of his at the university hurriedly arranged the trip. A couple of university vehicles had been rustled up to pick up a largish group of academics all of whom hailed from his ethnic group. This is an important fact, as was to later become apparent. The group was more than peers; they were friends who attended the baptisms, weddings and funerals of family members. They were also part of an intellectual cadre – a group who thought a particular way about Kenya, what it was and where it was going. They were big brains, influential and some of them often critical and questioning of the then stifling status quo under a one-party authoritarian regime. By late morning the three vehicles full of professors, some with their spouses, were headed to the country retreat of the President 100 or so kilometres out of the capital in the scenic Rift Valley.

Though questions were asked about the purpose to which they had been summoned at such short notice, Presidential summonses sufficed as an explanation in and of themselves. On reaching the Rift Valley town the group was first delivered without ceremony to a church. They were directed to pews and handed hymnbooks. Shortly, and again without prior announcement the head of state arrived with his entourage and they took their place at the front. Mass started. My friend and his fellow professors sang along to the hymns. At the end of mass, again without much being said, the entire group was delivered to the Presidential residence nearby for lunch. The meal was served on a long table and the group had been joined by a large collection of senior officials from various departments for what turned out to be a sumptuous meal. Again nothing was said to the academics who found themselves by other high officials enjoying the lunch and making small talk. It was only after lunch when they were directed to a red-carpeted waiting room that some began to ask, “What’s going on here exactly?”. Their colleague who had engineered the entire visit that morning urged patience. Before long they were summoned into a wood-panelled office where they found the President in relaxed spirits. He greeted them all graciously and then proceeded to lecture them on the singular responsibility that fell on their shoulders as the moulders of the country’s university students who were the nation’s future leaders.

At the end of this speech, without responses being sought the head state informed them that he intended to reimburse them for the travel and trouble that Sunday. He pulled out a bag and gave each of the male professors, say, US$1,000. They all respectfully and thankfully accepted his handout. Then, abruptly as if he had not realized some of them had come to with their spouses he exclaimed, “Oh, you have some of your Mamas here too?” He then proceeded to give each of the women $500 and they grovelled appropriately in gratitude. Then in a final gesture the head of state gave $5,000 to the professor who had rustled up the others and told them, “you go and divide that among yourselves.”

The group retreated to a nearby hotel to discuss the day’s events and share out the $5,000. Things went wrong when two things happened. First, one of the academics who had been unable to travel with his wife because she’d been at church when the van came to pick him up protested. “Why wasn’t I told to come with my wife? If I had come with her I would have $1,500 now! So compensate me for the difference from the $5,000!” My friend made things worse complaining with disgust, “This whole experience was a violation of us! We are individuals with our dignity not to be brought out here for handouts!” He put his $1,000 on the table. Silent confusion reigned. Eventually the group made it back to the capital.

At the end of this speech, without responses being sought the head state informed them that he intended to reimburse them for the travel and trouble that Sunday. He pulled out a bag and gave each of the male professors US$1,000. They all respectfully and thankfully accepted his handout. Then, abruptly as if he had not realized some of them had come to with their spouses he exclaimed, “Oh, you have some of your Mamas here too?” He then proceeded to give each of the women $500 and they grovelled appropriately in gratitude.

It is not clear if the outstanding issues that were raised were ever resolved but something more important had happened. This group of top academics and peers from the same ethnic group; men who in the past were comrades, birds of a feather – they were never the same again. The State House handout and the divisive responses it led to shattered a fundamental and implicit trust that had existed before they met the president. The handout had worked. If that group of ‘radical’ Professors from that tribe had ever harboured any thoughts of political activity that may have undermined the president then their capacity to organise for it had been broken for good.

Untangling this vicious cultural web can’t be done by an agency or a few laws. It requires political creativity and authenticity on a scale only glimpsed thrice in Kenyan history: briefly at independence; briefly again in 1991 when Section 2A of the constitution was repealed; and, in 2003 when the KANU regime was removed from office by the NARC coalition. It is just such a transformative moment that needs to be conjured up in Kenya now for the culture of theft and plunder to be halted.

(Research by Juliet Atellah)

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John Githongo is one of Kenya’s leading anti-graft campaigners and former anti-corruption czar.

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Another False Start: The Green Revolution Myths that Africa Bought

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

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

When will we ever learn?

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

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

Ersatz GR2.0 for Africa

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

Ignoring lessons of history

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

From tragedy to farce

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

Paths not taken 

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

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SAPs – Season Two: Why Kenyans Fear Another IMF Loan

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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