The social cost of corruption in this country is incalculable. It has emptied our ethical contents, hemorrhaged our economy, corroded and destabilized our politics. It must be confronted directly and boldly, employing the full panoply of instruments of public education, sanction and restitution. Both administrative and legal measures must be summoned in this fight.
One significant but often ignored truth is that fighting corruption is primarily a political project. The political will leading that fight will only succeed if it is credible. Vehemence, however boisterous and loud; righteous but false indignation, however shrill, are all “a tale told by an idiot full of sound and fury signifying nothing.”
We must ponder. Why did wananchi undertake citizens’ arrest of corrupt officers when NARC (National Rainbow Coalition) came to power? Why did harambees, land allocations and the attendant corruption around public land die during the Kibaki years? If the link between harambees and corruption had long been established (see several Transparency International reports on this subject), why did we resurrect them in 2013, sometimes in total disregard of the law that prohibits public servants from conducting them?
The big question we pose, is do the political elite now leading the fight against corruption have the moral standing sufficient to win public credibility? If they do not then how can they win? My view is the lifestyle audit from the top that was promised a year ago would have come close to conferring that credibility. And that credibility will be long in coming until we clear the dark clouds surrounding issues like Eurobond, the Afya House Scandal, Laptop and Medical equipment leasing to name but a few and make public the sovereign debt for debate.
So, which arm of state is the most corrupt?
This is a false question that is at the core of the blame games being played over the “War on Corruption.”
Over two years ago when I still worked in the Judiciary, Hon Duale, the majority leader in the National Assembly and I, had an interesting spat on Twitter. He had posted a tweet decrying corruption in the Judiciary. I retorted that there was corruption in the Judiciary but not the magnitude found in Parliament. I believe very few people would doubt the enormity of corruption in the Executive and Legislative arms. One only needs to read the Auditor-General reports since independence to confirm this.
Historically, whereas the Judiciary has faced its own independent corruption challenges, part of this problem has been driven by the fact that the Judiciary has been an appendage of the colonial and postcolonial Executive. What is not common knowledge is that until 2010, the Judiciary was closely weaved into the structure and organization of government, listed as a Department of the Attorney General’s Office.
Staff were under the public service and the Judiciary was the place where ‘problematic’ civil servants were banished as punishment.
District Treasuries held Judiciary accounts (some are still in their control even though we began the delinking process). Ironically, since the Judiciary never dared stand up to the Executive, it did the latter’s bidding, but also created spaces for it to shake down litigants, the Judiciary well protected by the Executive in this form of corruption.
The state has always known who the corrupt judicial officers and staff are. The incorruptible ones have had to struggle against the pressure of the Executive and other forces to save their integrity. I believe that is the challenge the Judiciary faces in its quest for integrity and independence. Therefore, the issue is not which of the arms ( of government) is more corrupt but rather how the arms and their organs reflect the integrity and independence decreed by the Constitution.
“War on Corruption” is a National Project
For the “War on Corruption” to be operationally successful, it has to be a national project where the entire justice chain must work in coordination and in concert. This requires that investigation (police), prosecution (Director of Public Prosecution), and the adjudication (Judiciary) should be seamless, effective, incorruptible, and focus on the national interest.
The National Council for the Administration of Justice (NCAJ), which the Honourable Chief Justice chairs, brings together representatives of the Executive (Attorney-General, DPP, Prisons, Inspector-General of Police) and representatives from civil society and the private sector. This provides the institutional framework for the attainment and monitoring of this objective.
It is the arena where approaches to the fight against corruption should be discussed and any outstanding issues resolved. If NCAJ worked properly, the public altercation that we have seen in this fight would not occur. It is the peer review chamber in the administration of justice where each of the agencies can be held to account.
There has been a consistent policy of blame games by the members of this chain for the administration of justice, that does not serve national interest. The investigations are supposed to be as thorough as the prosecution with the Judiciary promising no delays or compromises in its administration of justice. I believe it was also once suggested that the Inspector-General of Police, through the Director of Criminal Investigations, could utilize the services of the lawyers upfront to make sure that all the relevant and admissible evidence was collected. I believe it was also a practice that once the investigations were complete and the suspects given the chance to respond, the Office of the DPP would peruse the file to make sure the charges taken to court were in order and backed by evidence. Bail applications would be dealt with on this basis and there would be no applications for time to complete investigations, secure exhibits and so on. The NYS criminal prosecution (among others) clearly demonstrates the policies of the NCAJ, are not being adhered to.
The integrity of the organs and institutions in the entire chain for the Administration of Justice is premised on the integrity and independence of such organs and institutions. So who protects their independence? It is the organs and institutions themselves, the citizens, and other arms of state, the corporate sector, civil society and international interests.
All these organs and institutions face pressure from different quarters anyway, including ethnic communities, families, friends and other insidious demands. Politicians and their masters, the cartels and foreign interests, do not support the independence and integrity of these institutions and they seek continuously and consistently to capture and enslave them. Rarely, do they talk about their corruption, and politics of division and inhumanity. Indeed, when politicians attack institutions that have integrity they invariably do great job in guarding the integrity and independence of these institutions. The attacks by politicians can be construed as the frustration and failure on their part in their quest to enslave these institutions.
The Constitutional Oath of Office
Officers in the three arms and all organs of the State swear to uphold the Constitution. Yet as soon as you are sworn in to serve, this duty seems to be constantly and summarily forgotten. Most politicians have not read the Constitution. If they did why would they argue publicly that one cannot be granted bail when charged with murder? Why would they be quiet about the right of appeal against decisions granting or denying bail? I am quite sure they could get basic constitutional education from the learned lawyers if they chose to be honest about the issue of bail. I have heard the two main ‘hand-shakers’ attack the Judiciary on issues of bail. How will they protect the integrity and independence of institutions if they constantly abuse and disrespect them? It seems using the Judiciary as a punching bag is not restricted to presidential petitions and their outcomes. The independence and integrity of institutions have to be nurtured by a culture of respect and dialogue.
The speeches of President Uhuru and the Right Honourable Raila Odinga in the recently concluded Multi-Sectoral National Anti-Corruption Conference profiled the Judiciary as the weakest link in the “War on Corruption.” It is a clearly predictable critique because the investigatory and prosecution processes are in the departments controlled by the Executive. Indeed, for the entire chain in the War on Corruption to work seamlessly and effectively the Executive must respect their integrity and independence. The Inspector-General of Police and the Office of the DPP must resist compromising their integrity and independence as decreed by the Constitution. Every institution under the Constitution has delegated powers from the Kenyan people. Protecting the human rights of the Kenyan people in the processes of investigating corruption and prosecuting it are cardinal considerations to bear in mind. Investigations and prosecutions must never be selective or politically motivated.
The speeches of President Uhuru and the Right Honourable Raila Odinga in the recently concluded Multi-Sectoral National Anti-Corruption Conference profiled the Judiciary as the weakest link in the “War on Corruption.”
It pains me when I hear Right Honourable Raila Odinga subvert the Constitution by arguing that suspects of murder and corruption must prove their innocence. The Constitution provides otherwise. Indeed, he knows that the provisions on bail in part are historically explained by the trials and tribulations he and other patriots went through in the courts captured by the Jomo Kenyatta-Moi-KANU dictatorships. I was shocked by his proposal in the said conference that suspects must prove their innocence and the courts, notwithstanding the provisions of the Constitution, must deny such suspects bail. President Uhuru, himself a beneficiary of soft bail from an international court that enabled him to run and campaign for office, earlier criticized the courts for giving soft bail terms. We are told that the courts must decide based on the will of the Executive notwithstanding the provisions of the Constitution and the Oath of Office taken by all judicial officers to uphold the Constitution and protect it. I hope that both our leaders never rue the day they uttered these words in the future. An independent Judiciary is critical to all politicians, as is indeed, to all citizens.
What has always surprised me is how those who attack and refuse to nurture the integrity and independence of institutions forget that they need those institutions more than the ordinary citizens. If as a politician or a cartel you enslave an institution, what guarantees you that your enemies, once in the same privileged position as you, will not use the institution against you? In this regard, all politicians and other interest groups should not influence (in any way) the integrity and independence of the Judiciary. They will not have to yell from the rooftops that “money has been poured (sic) or we are being finished” when their turn comes to answer the crimes they have committed. Judiciaries are temples of justice where the oppressed, discriminated, bullied, tortured, and intimidated run to. You do not want to run there and find your worst enemy at the entrance of the temple of justice!
Paying Lip Service to Corruption
Let us not pay lip service to War on Corruption. Let us not be selective in the prosecutions. Let us be consistent in our narratives in support of the War. What became of lifestyle audits that would start from the very top of our political leadership? Why, in the observation of the constitutional values of integrity, transparency, and accountability should we not make accessible all management and loan agreements, and details of our sovereign debt? Why do citizens have to go to court under Article 35 (freedom of information) of the Constitution to get these agreements and details? What is being hidden from the Kenyan public? It is on the basis of this disclosure that we can have a national dialogue on what these debts are, and who will ultimately pay for them.
I believe some are not even legally recoverable.
Under the 2010 Constitution, the State cannot live to its historical reputation of “Siri Kali/Vicious Secret” on matters of finance, security, investments, and the use of people’s resources. Kenyans must still demand the implementation of the Constitution in its entirety in their quest to change our unacceptable and unsustainable status quo.
The War on Corruption in Kenya is also an intra-elite struggle about looting, succession, corruption, and how fruits of corruption are shared. The War is also about struggles between national cartels and foreign interests. Like any other war it is an industry where profits are found in buying elections, oiling the machinery of state violence, and investing the ill-gotten gains internally and externally. The corrupt have no loyalty to any country or relationship. The elite hate the people they rule. How does one view all these merchants of death in any other way? The so-called illicit economy (money laundering, piracy, terrorism, human trafficking, trafficking in human body parts, counterfeit, corruption, wildlife crimes) co-exists with legitimate ones – there is no distinction. Legal corruption (such as exploitation) is a twin of illegal corruption reflected in the illicit economy. Ultimately, a system that puts profits before people controls and owns both legal and illegal corruption.
Under the 2010 Constitution, the State cannot live to its historical reputation of “Siri Kali/Vicious Secret” on matters of finance, security, investments, and the use of people’s resources.
The War on Corruption must extend to foreign interests and forces (economic, social, military, financial, communications and surveillance, the entire system of imperialism of the West and East) if the War is to be won.
What can we do in the short-term?
Political leaderships the world over and the interests they serve (economic, social, military, financial) are the root cause of corruption. The joint control of resources by leaders and their interests mean that only by bringing, by all means possible, leaderships that are alternative to the current ones can we hope to end corruption, or at least start mitigating it.
In the case of Kenya, we are yet to even occupy the vacuum that exists for authentic opposition. Such opposition is the beginning of this struggle. We have many uncoordinated social movements that need to come together in a national convention against corruption and their delegates elect interim leaders to start the People’s War on Corruption.
This will be a national convention by delegates of all social movements and non-baronial parties and their affiliates. I believe there has been enough discussion on the critiques and consequences of corruption on our development. The national convention should collate and coordinate solutions and actions to achieve them. We have various precedents of national conventions. We had one in Limuru in April 1997. There have been other formats like the one adopted by the Kenya Tuitakayo Initiative.
Public intellectuals will definitely play an important role.
We have many uncoordinated social movements that need to come together in a national convention against corruption and their delegates elect interim leaders to start the People’s War on Corruption.
The convention will also draw a four-year program of activities by social movements and parties and the holding of a yearly national convention. It will have sub-committees to deal with specific issues. I believe all these initiatives can be funded by Kenyans. The convention will determine a funding strategy. And there are many more issues to come out of the convention such as its manifesto, ideology, politics, and membership. It is not rocket science.
The time to end the baronial politics narratives that only the rich who can rule this country is now. The time to reject baronial promises on fighting corruption is now.
We need to protect and secure our national resources. Out of these movements, and political parties that are not captured by baronial elites, a national progressive party can be formed to contest political power over the next ten years. The window of opportunity is now. The time for the politics of issues is now. The opportunity for implementing the Constitution, particularly its fundamental pillars are now. The time to end the baronial politics narratives that only the rich who can rule this country is now. The time to reject baronial promises on fighting corruption is now. This can only be done by political formations that will contest political power and wrestle it away from the barons.
Kenya gained its nominal independence because of the Mau Mau War of Independence and the collapse of the British Empire. There followed the second liberation that resurrected multipartyism. There was the third liberation brought about by the promulgation and implementation of the 2010 Constitution. Together with citizens of the world, we must bring about a humane, peaceful, non-violent and non-militaristic planet that is ecologically safe, equitable, The fourth liberation is about consolidating the gains of all these liberations, rescuing their fundamental weaknesses, and bringing the end of baronial rule in Kenya. just and prosperous.
The fourth liberation is about consolidating the gains of all these liberations, rescuing their fundamental weaknesses, and bringing the end of baronial rule in Kenya.
We in Kenya must start our effort for an alternative world. Let us think freedom and emancipation of our country, our continent, and our planet. To do so we must imagine the defeat of the imperialism of West and East. Such a world cannot exist under these current corrupt systems. Our Constitution’s vision is socially democratic and its implementation will put us into the trajectory of the fourth liberation forming the basis of the fifth liberation to come.
The views expressed are personal to the author and do not in any way reflect those the Office of the Former Chief Justice
What Is Trump’s Only Redemption? That He’s an Utter Coward
There is an element to Trump that is almost tragic if he were not such a buffoon. What happens if the next Trump is just mad and brave enough to really commit and go all the way?
Consider something for a second: how severe could things have gotten, both in America and globally, if Trump weren’t an utter coward?
I can already hear the murmurs of dissent: “How can he be a coward? Trump just tried to overthrow the US government on live television!” Yes, that is entirely true — and yet he didn’t. The entire tenure of his administration seems to have been a series of near misses; flirting with dangerous ideas and flitting back under the umbrella of normalcy just before the precipice. Every disaster that he helped to foist on the world could have been exponentially worse — if only he had been as committed to being the strongman he always boasted to be.
He isn’t. He’s a little daddy’s boy, a frightened man-child who doesn’t have the courage to follow through on the bull he himself spouts in front of adoring supporters. He’s an entitled, rich, spoilt moron and always has been. For all the bluster, when the chips are down, he’s quick to back off. Remember that boastful kid in primary school who was probably dropped off in his family’s C-Class Mercedes and looked down on everyone within insulting distance? He’d puff himself up and spit on others, until one day someone slapped the hell out of him. Upon getting struck, and family power no longer mattering, it became apparent that he didn’t even know how to throw a punch. That’s Trump in a nutshell. But Trump was also the gleeful little sociopath who led the charge in starting a fire only to have it pointed out there could be consequences without Daddy around. Learning of possible repercussions, he was the type to throw others quickly under the bus and backtrack from his own fomented chaos.
To be clear, in the last year especially, Trump absolutely could have gone horrifyingly further than he did. Could you imagine if Trump, the wannabe little dictator that he is, had the convictions (terrible though they are) of a Museveni or an Uhuru? It was within his power to do so, but he kept pulling back. Take for instance the Black Lives Matter movement across the United States in the summer of 2020. Yes, there was horrible police violence, clashes amongst protesters, chaos and destitution. In the midst of all of those charred buildings and the all-pervasive sense of loss in Minneapolis (the city where George Floyd was executed by police), I had a feeling I could not quite shake off as masked marchers swarmed in the streets around me: couldn’t this have been so much worse? To be clear, there absolutely could have been martial law declared but all those Trumpian threats of militarising entire cities never fully materialised beyond a handful of arrests by unidentified officers of questionable loyalties.
Sure, all these things are a horror and an affront to “Western society”. We get it. But all things are relative in politics so imagine if Uhuru had been in Trump’s shoes. Kagame calling the shots. Museveni. What would have happened? Experience tells me that those ugly bruises and lost eyes from rubber bullets would have needed body bags; the amount of live ammunition used would have been innumerable, and the scale of the tragedy would have been of unheard of proportions. Ask a Kenyan university student how their protests tend to wind up; talk to a random Kampala youth about how things shook out a couple weeks after the presidential election. If you can manage to find one, talk to an opposition leader in Rwanda. If there are any brave enough to filter back into Burundi, ask anyone involved in the coup attempt against Nkurunziza a few years back. The point here isn’t to give undue credit to tyrants, but merely to point out that things can always be drastically worse.
What happened in November of 2020 in Kampala? Protests at the arrest of Bobi Wine were met with such utter brutality it was incredible that anyone would dare stick their head out. Officially 54 people were killed but there are claims that the real death toll is in fact far higher. Take the days after the Kenyan re-election of Uhuru Kenyatta back in 2017, when there seemed to be a sort of suspension of what was to come next as the election drama unfolded and the cops came down hard on Kawangware and Kibera. That’s what being a totalitarian looks like. It is cops firing on crowds, social media shutdowns and mass power cuts. Looking back years from now, the reality will prevail that Trump could easily have gone there but didn’t.
That is the essence of Trump, absolutely having the power to be a world-class dictator, but lacking the organisational skills, intelligence, or conviction to jump in all the way. He always dips his toe in at the deep end, but never dives. The waters of reality are always a bit too cold for him, the soup just a bit too hot for his liking. His legacy will be one of having half-assed it in all aspects of his administration, from fascism to COVID-19 vaccine rollouts. I don’t think that it is any real stretch to look at him and state plainly that he’s just too cowardly to really accomplish anything that he aspires to. While Sevo cranks out press-ups on state television, Trump has spent his time cranking out tweets in between bites of “quarter-pounder” cheeseburgers from the comfort of his own bed.
Of course, the Western media will not countenance such comparisons, let alone acknowledge how much worse the situation could have easily become at the US Capitol last January 6th. For the American media, this is (rightly) a major blow to US democracy, but (wrongly) the single worst thing that could have happened. For instance, what if just two more of the thousands of protesters had discharged the firearms they were carrying inside that crowded Capitol Building? What if the pipe bombs planted near the Democratic National Committee and Republican National Committee buildings had exploded? What if the mob had wedged its way into the chambers of the Senate and the House quickly enough to get their hands on members of congress? And what if Trump himself had not backed off and sent out a tepid message to his supporters at the 11th hour?
Think about this: in coup d’état terms, the Trump mob had pulled it off. They had taken the single most important government building in the US and had done so quite easily. Their flags were draped from balconies and their cronies were climbing the ramparts to continue streaming through the doors. They took the seat of government and, for a brief period during the process of transitioning power, successfully interrupted the proceedings and forced all the democratically elected members of congress to scurry into the labyrinth of subterranean tunnels below the Capitol Building to save their very lives. That is a coup. A successful one at that. For one committed to following through on his calls to overthrow the government, this would be a crowning achievement.
Picture this: if three years ago Raila Odinga had called on his supporters to storm State House, and they had successfully done so while Uhuru’s re-election was being certified, forcing members of parliament to flee in their government-issue Prados, what would that be called? I know what the Western media would have said about it, that it is another sad story of a developing country in Africa that just could not get over the hump of real democracy. There probably would have been some backroom deals with international powers, and an intervention from all those British troops that hold the base up on Mount Kenya may not have been entirely out of the question. Perhaps Raila is the most eloquent example as he does have a bit of a track record of stirring up his supporters after controversial elections then backing down “for the sake of the country” after chaos has already erupted.
The coup was complete but Trump pulled out of it quicker than from his marriage to a wife turning 40. Why? Could it be that it is only when his advisors managed to get his ear during cable news commercial breaks that he realised that he might drown in the madness? I for one certainly think so. When he realised that there would be consequences for his little civil war charade, Trump felt what he always feels — fear. Trump didn’t realise there could be ramifications for what he was doing until someone (not named Mike Pence) put the fear deep into him. He backed off, and American democracy continues shakily on into an uncertain future
Now there actually might be consequences — legal ones at that. Banks are cutting ties and media partnerships are being snuffed out in rapid succession. Some Republicans are now actively jumping ship, others have deflected blame or finally acknowledged that there is a central symptom to the American political condition. It is too little, too late of course, and the task of getting Americans locked in a tribal political death embrace to try not to strangle each other is now firmly in the hands of centrist Democrats who may not actually follow through on the massive economic recovery needed for the citizens of the US to survive the coronavirus pandemic and the resulting economic disaster. Is the US still the preeminent superpower as the Trump administration takes the exit? Yes, unfortunately it is. Imperialism is still alive and well, and frankly could have weighed way more heavily on the global community over the last four years.
A lingering question remains, one that hangs like a suspended piano over the heads of the Democratic establishment: what or who will come along next? It is obvious that the cat has been let out of the dark ethers of conservatism for a while now; just how much has that cohort been emboldened? It is a question that I have asked before, but now as flags were draped on the smoldering fences that were brought down around the US Capitol, the core of the issue remains; what happens if the next Trump is just mad and brave enough to really commit and go all the way? There is an element to Trump that is almost tragic if he were not such a showman; he evoked something amongst a huge swath of the public consciousness, only for it to prove illusory for Trump never understood what he had within his grasp in the first place.
Whoever comes next might just push the boundaries further out, might commit to striking Iran, take concentration camps for immigrants to a greater extreme, declare martial law and put armed troops in the streets with a standing “shoot to kill” order. Someone who might take measures to outlaw efforts to combat global warming and do all of this without batting an eyelid or seeing any reason to back down. The part of the iceberg that sunk the Titanic wasn’t what was visible, but the larger mass just below the surface and out of sight. To put it bluntly, next time the United States might not be pulled back from the brink by cowardice.
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.
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.
Uganda: 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.
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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