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Legalise It: The Absurd Ban on Marijuana as a Metaphor for Maendeleo-Development

9 min read. Why marijuana remains illegal (in most of Africa) and tobacco legal speaks volumes about the contradictions of capitalism. Why native enterprises remain ‘informal’ while foreign investment is favoured and sought after by African governments is an old, insidious trick of imperialism. DAVID NDII pens an anti-development manifesto.

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Legalise It: The Absurd Ban on Marijuana as a Metaphor for Maendeleo-Development
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A few weeks ago I made what I thought was an innocuous comment on a Twitter news post in response to a news post reporting that police had intercepted a 17 kg marijuana haul, to which I commented “legalize marijuana”, thereby unleashing a tweetstorm that went on for days.

Why is marijuana illegal? Consumption of marijuana is a victimless crime. It has proven therapeutic value, while tobacco is a proven carcinogen that harms both the smoker and third parties through second hand smoke, yet cigarette smoking is legal but marijuana is criminalized? Is it perhaps because, as I opined in the Twitter debate, tobacco is a big global capitalist enterprise, but everyone can roll their own joint?

This article is not about marijuana. It is a critical reflection on the phenomenon we call development. I will be arguing that the phenomenon we call development shares the same historical DNA as the criminalization of marijuana. The case for decriminalization of marijuana is a metaphor for the deconstruction of this thing we call development. This DNA consists of three things: colonialism, Christianity and capitalism. I will reflect on each in turn.

Why is marijuana illegal? Consumption of marijuana is a victimless crime. It has proven therapeutic value, while tobacco is a proven carcinogen that harms both the smoker and third parties through second hand smoke, yet cigarette smoking is legal but marijuana is criminalized? Is it perhaps because, as I opined in the Twitter debate, tobacco is a big global capitalist enterprise, but everyone can roll their own joint?

In her irreverent and hilarious novel, Red Strangers, Espelth Huxley subjects European superiority complex to Kikuyu customary law. When Karue sends his insolent young son to collect a long overdue bride-price debt that was the subject of a running feud, a fight breaks out and the young man is killed. The family sets about collecting the “blood money”, a hundred and seventeen goats, to compensate the Karue clan for the loss of their son. But the white man has already arrived and Matu is arrested for the murder of the young man and taken to Tetu to face the white man’s justice.

Karue testifies against Matu (though he was not at the scene) but to his great consternation, he learns that his clan will not be paid blood money. Even though it is Matu’s brother Muthengi’s sword which killed the young man, they agree that Matu will confess to the crime since they are brothers – it does not matter; it could as well have been Matu – only to learn that Matu will belong to the white man for six seasons:

The phenomenon we call development shares the same historical DNA as the criminalization of marijuana. The case for decriminalization of marijuana is a metaphor for the deconstruction of this thing we call development. This DNA consists of three things: colonialism, Christianity and capitalism.

Matu said nothing, for the words did not seem to make sense. He supposed that the interpreter had made a mistake. Muthengi however asked: “But why is Matu to stay here in Tetu? The affair of the young man’s death is between Karue and my father Waseru. What has the stranger to do with it?”

“That is the stranger’s law. Matu killed the evil man. Therefore he stays with stranger.”

“Does the stranger give him to Karue?” Muthengi persisted.

“No, he stays here.”

“Who gives him food?”

“The stranger gives him food.”

“Then what does Karue receive in compensation for his son, who is dead?”

“He does not receive anything.”

“That I cannot understand!” Muthengi exclaimed. “If a man loses his son, or a child his father, must not his family be given compensation for their loss? How else can justice be done?”

“Stranger’s justice is different,” the interpreter said. “Matu must stay here.”

“Then the stranger gets something for Karue’s loss, and Karue’s clan gets nothing at all,” Muthengi said. “This seems to me to be a very peculiar law, and one with no justice in it at all. Now I understand how these strangers have become so exceedingly rich; when they sit in judgement they award nothing to the injured person, but everything to themselves.”

“That is the law nonetheless.” The interpreter said.

A law with no justice at all. Law without justice is the essence of colonialism.

The Agikuyu also concluded that Gūtirī mūthūngū na mūbīa (the white man and the priest are one and the same), by which they meant that the church was part of the colonizing mission. I can attest to this.

I spent a considerable part of my childhood and youth at my grandparents’ home in Kijabe, a Christian mission hamlet sad to be the third largest missionary centre in the world, run by the African Inland Mission, the parent of the African Inland Church (AIC). It is, to the best of my knowledge, the only alcohol-free community in Kenya. There is not a single bar in the town, and the shops do not stock alcohol and cigarettes either.

The town belongs to the church. With the exception of public schools, all other formal institutions in the town are part of the church establishment. There’s the Kijabe Mission Hospital, a bible school, a radio station, printing press and the Rift Valley Academy, an international school. Formal wage jobs and business opportunities are given on the basis of religiosity.

Kijabe, a Christian mission hamlet sad to be the third largest missionary centre in the world, run by the African Inland Mission…the town belongs to the church…[and] the community is divided into two: the “saved” and the “unsaved.” My grandfather who was a rebel of sorts designated the Holy Joes as either “hinga” (hypocrites) or “njuhiga” (opportunists). The combination of the two he reserved for the clergy.

The community is divided into two: the “saved” and the “unsaved.” My grandfather who was a rebel of sorts (he was a school teacher far away and only came home on occasional weekends and school holidays) designated the Holy Joes as either “hinga” (hypocrites) or “njuhiga” (opportunists). The combination of the two he reserved for the clergy. Four decades on, not much has changed. It is still a place where drunkards are upright, honorable people, and obsequious sanctimonious scoundrels are the pillars of society. Kijabe is a microcosm of the damage that the Church has wrought in Africa.

The Oxford English Dictionary defines capitalism as “an economic system in which a country’s trade and industry are controlled by private owners for profit, rather than the state”. The Marriam-Webster is more elaborate. It defines capitalism as “an economic system characterized by private or corporate ownership of capital goods, by investments that are determined by private decision and by prices, production and distribution of goods that are determined mainly by competition in a free market”.

According to these definitions we would be compelled to conclude that pre-colonial Africa was capitalist. Being largely stateless, trade was unregulated and the means of production privately owned by default. We would be wrong. These dictionary definitions are flawed. What they define are contemporary and mostly Western market economics. The juxtaposition of private and state ownership already points to the capitalism/socialism dichotomy, a 20th century phenomenon.

Capitalism as a distinct economic system was introduced in the political lexicon by Karl Marx. Marx refers to it variously as the “capitalist mode of production” or “capitalist system,” and it is thus defined in the Communist Manifesto co-authored by Marx and Friedrich Engels:

“The directing motive, the end and aim of capitalist production is to extract the greatest possible amount of surplus value, and consequently to exploit labour power to the greatest possible extent.”

Abraham Lincoln, in a speech to the US congress, weighed in on the presumption of capitalism as the default of market economy thus:

“It is not needed, nor fitting here that a general argument should be made in favor of popular institutions; but there is one point, with its connections, not so hackneyed as most others, to which I ask a brief attention. It is the effect to place capital on an equal footing with, if not above, labor, in the structure of government. It is assumed that labor is available only in connection with capital; that nobody labors unless somebody else, owning capital, somehow by the use of it induces him to labor. Now, there is no such relation between capital and labor as assumed, nor is there any such thing as a free man being fixed for life in the condition of a hired laborer. Both these assumptions are false, and all inferences from them are groundless. Labor is prior to, and independent of, capital. Capital is only the fruit of labor, and could never have existed if labor had not first existed. Labor is the superior of capital, and deserves much the higher consideration. Capital has its rights, which are as worthy of protection as any other rights. Nor is it denied that there is, and probably always will be, a relation between labor and capital, producing mutual benefits. The error is in assuming that the whole labor of community exists within that relation.”

Although Lincoln’s speech, given in 1861, predates his famed correspondence with Marx, Lincoln was very likely influenced by his ideas, since Marx was a prolific contributor to the US press in the 1850s.

The dictionary definition’s most dangerous flaw is that of conflating capitalism with a market economy. It gives the market economy a bad name. The defining feature of capitalism is one where capital employs wage labour. A market economy on the other hand, does not prescribe which factor of production employs the other. Capital can hire labour, or labour can hire capital. To illustrate, consider the boda boda industry. One will find riders (labour) who hire motorcycles (capital) at a fixed fee, owner-operators and even riders who have invested in motorcycles that they lease out.

The defining feature of capitalism is one where capital employs wage labour. A market economy on the other hand, does not prescribe which factor of production employs the other. Capital can hire labour, or labour can hire capital.

It is tempting to dismiss the boda boda industry as a jua kali anomaly, an exception rather than the rule. Here in Kenya we have cooperatives and other collective commercial enterprises operating in many sectors, including one of the largest and most successful financial cooperatives (SACCOs) sectors in the world. SACCOs operate in the market economy, for profit, but they really don’t compete with each other—the serve their members. The smallholder farmer-owned KTDA conglomerate is Kenya’s largest manufacturing concern, and the single largest exporter of black teas on the world. These enterprises operate in the market, they really do not compete with each other, they coexist and cooperate, as each seeks to serve their respective members.

Their objective is not to maximize profit but rather, to improve the welfare of their members. It is possible to conceive of a market economy consisting of a boda boda-style industrial organization, cooperatives and KTDA-type concerns. It is also readily apparent that such an economy would not have the malevolent character we associate with modern-day globalized capitalism.

In Marx and Engels’ day, capital meant industrial capital—machinery and equipment. When he talks of mutual benefits, Lincoln is talking about industrial capital. The malevolence of capitalism is rooted in the nature of finance capital — what Costas Lapavistas has termed “profiting without producing”. Financial capitalism separates profits from production and seeks only a return on money. The malevolence of finance capitalism was postulated most forcefully by Lenin in his 1917 essay Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism. E.K Hunt’s textbook History of Economic Thought provides a cogent and most pertinent summary of the thesis:

“When productive capacity grew faster than consumer demand, there was very soon an excess of this capacity and hence there were very few profitable domestic investment outlets. Foreign investment was the only answer. But in so far as the same problem existed in every industrialized capitalist country, such foreign investment was only possible if [the] non-capitalized could be “civilized”, “Christianized” and “uplifted” — that is, if their traditional institutions could be forcefully destroyed, and the people coercively brought under the domain of the “invisible hand” of market capitalism.”

“Uplifted.” Is this not the thing we now call development?

As regards destruction of traditional institutions, it is instructive that when colonialism introduced wage labour, the Agikuyu devised a name for it, guthukuma (verb), as distinct from wiira (work). Gūthūkūma which is most likely a corruption of the swahili word sukuma (to push) conveys involuntary toil. Work was not sold. Even destitute people were not subjected to wage labour. They were adopted as tenants (ahoi), and given an opportunity to work for themselves. When extra hands were needed, such as walling a hut (gūthinga), one invited community members to help (gūtūmana wiira meaning “invitation to work”). The only obligation was to feed the people generously. Even today, if you serve someone a large helping, they might exclaim kari ithinga? (is it for walling work). But over time the distinction disappeared, and wage labour appropriated wiira. People conscripted into servitude and undignified chores resigned themselves to the pragramism of wiira ni wiira, (“work is work”, kazi ni kazi in Kiswahili), which you still hear today. But hidden in the pragmatism is a psychology of resistance that makes Africans problematic wage labour. Deep down, we resent it.

When productive capacity grew faster than consumer demand, there was very soon an excess of this capacity and hence there were very few profitable domestic investment outlets. Foreign investment was the only answer. But in so far as the same problem existed in every industrialized capitalist country, such foreign investment was only possible if [the] non-capitalized could be “civilized”, “Christianized” and “uplifted” — that is, if their traditional institutions could be forcefully destroyed, and the people coercively brought under the domain of the “invisible hand” of market capitalism.

We need not revisit European imperialism to validate the thesis. With its US$ 3.2 trillion trade surplus and excess production capacity at home, China’s unfolding debt imperialism is as textbook a case of Lenin’s capitalist imperative as it can get. It is instructive that China’s imperial ambitions are propelled by the State, rather than private capital — the China Roads and Bridges Corporation is the new Imperial British East Africa Company. This is further repudiation of the dictionary definition of capitalism.

Not to be outdone, the whats-her-name-again Brexit-befuddled British premier was out here hawking “upliftment” aid and investment. The Iron Chancellor, Angela Merkel, is touring West Africa. Last year, Germany published a report proposing a Marshall Plan for Africa. It is a sloppy, callous offensive document, down to dredging up slavery and the 1884 Berlin Conference, as if we need a reminder. That aside, the big idea of the Marshal plan is surprise, surprise, to leverage aid to increase German private investment in Africa.

With its US$ 3.2 trillion trade surplus and excess production capacity at home, China’s unfolding debt imperialism is as textbook a case of Lenin’s capitalist imperative as it can get. It is instructive that China’s imperial ambitions are propelled by the State, rather than private capital — the China Roads and Bridges Corporation is the new Imperial British East Africa Company.

Development is but another name for imperialism.

David Ndii
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David Ndii is serving on the Technical and Strategy Committee of the National Super Alliance (NASA).

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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