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
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Unlike the Rest of the UN, Is WHO (Finally) Taking Sexual Abuse Seriously?
A disturbing report on the sexual exploitation and abuse of women and children in the DRC has laid bare the failure of UN agencies to protect vulnerable populations.
It is extremely unfortunate that at a time when the World Health Organization (WHO) is spearheading a campaign to get people vaccinated against COVID-19, and pushing rich countries to donate their vaccines to low-income countries instead of hoarding them, it is confronted with revelations that suggest deep systemic failures within the global health agency that have allowed its employees to get away with sexual exploitation and abuse of vulnerable populations.
Last month, WHO released a report that confirmed that there was sexual abuse of women and children by WHO employees in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) during an outbreak of Ebola in the country’s North Kivu and Ituri provinces between 2018 and 2020. This report was the result of an independent commission’s investigations following an exclusive media report last year that found that dozens of women in the DRC had been sexually exploited by aid workers, including WHO employees. The most disturbing revelation was that some of the perpetrators were medical doctors. Many of the abused women were offered jobs in exchange for sex; others were raped or coerced into having sex against their will. There were also stories of women being forced to have abortions after they were sexually abused. The independent commission stated that its findings showed that 21 of the 83 alleged perpetrators were WHO employees, and that “individual negligence” on the part of WHO staff may have amounted to “professional misconduct”.
This is not the first time that sexual abuse and exploitation of women and children by UN employees has been reported in the DRC. In 2004, UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan ordered an investigation into sexual abuses by UN peacekeepers in the country after it became apparent that such abuse was widespread in this mineral-rich but conflict-ridden country. The investigation detailed various forms of abuse, including trading sex for money and food. It was in the DRC that the term “peacekeeper babies” first emerged. Women who had given birth after being raped by UN peacekeepers spoke about being abandoned by both their families and the peacekeepers who had impregnated them. However, the report had little impact on the UN’s peacekeeping mission in the DRC – none of the perpetrators were brought to book nor were the victims compensated.
Sexual abuse of vulnerable populations, especially women and children, is particularly rampant in UN peacekeeping missions. In 2017, the Associated Press revealed in an exclusive report that at least 134 Sri Lankan UN peacekeepers had exploited nine Haitian children in a sex ring from 2004 to 2007. Many of the victims were offered food or money after they were sexually violated. (These “sex-for-food” arrangements have also been reported in other countries experiencing conflict or disaster.) Although 114 of these peacekeepers were sent home after the report came out, none of them were prosecuted or court-martialled in their countries.
One reason why UN peacekeepers evade the consequences of their actions is that under the Status of Forces Agreement negotiated between the UN and troop-producing countries, UN peacekeepers fall under the exclusive jurisdiction of the country they come from. When cases of abuse are reported, they are either ignored by the countries, or the perpetrators are sent home—no questions asked.
Unfortunately, civilian UN staff who commit crimes such as rape also evade any legal action because the UN accords the UN and its employees immunity from prosecution. This immunity can only be waived by the UN Secretary-General, but the Secretary-General hardly ever waives this immunity even when there is overwhelming evidence against a UN staff member. This means that cases brought against UN employees cannot be tried in national courts, nor can the perpetrators be detained or arrested by national law enforcement agencies.
At a press conference held last month, WHO’s director-general, Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, apologised to the victims of the abuse in the DRC at the hands of WHO employees and promised to take action to prevent such abuse from happening again. “I am sorry for what was done to you,” he said. “What happened to you should not happen to anyone.”
The head of WHO has also promised to review the organisation’s emergency response measures and internal structures and to discipline those staff members who fail to report cases of sexual exploitation and abuse. WHO member states have also called for an “immediate, thorough and detailed assessment of what went wrong”.
I have no doubt that Mr Ghebreyesus is serious about fixing a problem that has plagued the UN for decades. In fact, his response to the sexual abuse allegations is much more honest and sincere than the responses of other heads of UN agencies whose employees have been accused of allowing sexual exploitation and abuse to occur under their watch. One, he established an independent commission to look into the sexual abuse allegations, which rarely happens. (Most UN agencies either ignore the allegations or order an internal investigation, which invariably determines that the allegations “could not be substantiated”.) Two, he has publicly committed to undertake wholesale reforms in WHO’s structures and culture that allow sexual exploitation and abuse of vulnerable populations to go undetected, unreported and unpunished. Three, he has agreed to the independent commission’s recommendation that an independent monitoring group be set up within two months to ensure that the commission’s recommendations are enforced.
“What happened to you should not happen to anyone.”
Most UN agencies would not welcome such intense scrutiny of their operations by independent bodies, so WHO’s efforts in this regard are laudable. WHO’s actions could also be attributed to the fact that, unlike other UN agencies that report to the General Assembly, WHO reports to the World Health Assembly that comprises delegates that have technical competence in health matters and represent their governments’ ministries of health. Because it is a specialised UN agency not governed by the General Assembly, WHO can establish its own rules without deferring to the General Assembly. In this sense, WHO enjoys relative autonomy from the UN system’s gargantuan and highly opaque bureaucracy.
Cover-ups and impunity
WHO’s response is a far cry from the normal tendency of UN bosses to cover up cases of sexual abuse and exploitation taking place under the UN’s watch. In 2014, for instance, when a senior UN official reported to the French government that French peacekeepers operating in the Central African Republic were sexually abusing boys as young as eight years old, his bosses at the Office of the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) responded by asking him to resign. When he refused to do so, they suspended him for “unauthorized disclosure of confidential information”, and, in a typical case of “shooting the messenger”, they directed their internal investigations towards him rather than towards the peacekeepers who had allegedly abused the children. This case, which received wide media coverage, did not lead to significant changes in how the UN handles sexual abuse cases. On the contrary, Anders Kompass, the UN official who reported the abuse, was retaliated against, and eventually left the organisation in frustration.
Cases of UN employees sexually abusing or harassing their colleagues are also brushed under the carpet. In 2018, for example, when an Indian women’s rights activist accused the United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA)’s India representative of sexual harassment, the UN agency said that its preliminary investigations showed that her allegations could not be substantiated. The Code Blue Campaign, which tracks instances of sexual harassment and exploitation by UN employees, dismissed the findings of the investigation, calling them a “cover-up.” (Soon after the activist made her allegation, UNFPA evacuated the accused from India, which further muddied her case.)
This is not an isolated case. In 2004, when a staff member at the UN’s refugee agency accused the head of the organisation of sexual harassment, the UN Secretary-General, Kofi Annan, dismissed her claims. Recently, a woman working at UNAIDS lost her job soon after she filed a complaint of sexual harassment against UNAIDS’ deputy executive director. This was after Michel Sidibé, the then head of UNAIDS, told a staff meeting that people who complain about how the agency was handling sexual harassment “don’t have ethics.”
The UN’s highly patriarchal and misogynistic culture allows such abuse to continue unabated. In 2018, the UN conducted an internal survey that found that one-third of the UN employees surveyed had experienced sexual harassment. It revealed that the most vulnerable targets were women and transgender personnel aged between 25 and 44. Two out of three harassers were male and only one out of every three employees who were harassed took any action against the perpetrator. About one in ten women reported being touched inappropriately; a similar number said they had witnessed crude sexual gestures.
Another survey by the UN Staff Union found that sexual harassment was one among many abuses of authority that take place at the UN. Results of the survey showed that sexual harassment made up about 16 per cent of all forms of harassment. Forty-four per cent said that they had experienced abuse of authority; of these, 87 per cent said that the person who had abused his or her authority was a supervisor. Twenty per cent felt that they had experienced retaliation after reporting the misconduct.
The UN’s highly patriarchal and misogynistic culture allows such abuse to continue unabated.
Since then, the UN has established a new sexual harassment policy and a hot line for victims of sexual harassment. However, remedial actions spelled out in the policy appear to be mediation or counselling exercises rather than disciplinary ones. The emphasis is on psychosocial support and counselling (for the victims, of course) and “facilitated discussions” between the “offender” and the “affected individual”. Disciplinary measures include physical separation of the offender from the victim, reassignment, and temporary changes in reporting lines. Official internal investigations are permitted, but as I have tried to illustrate, most internal UN investigations into cases of sexual harassment and other kinds of wrongdoing inevitably conclude that the sexual harassment or wrongdoing “could not be substantiated.” This leaves victims vulnerable to retaliation.
Perhaps WHO can lead the way in showing the rest of the UN system how to tackle sexual exploitation, abuse and harassment by UN employees. WHO has already terminated the contracts of four of its employees who were accused of sexually exploiting women in the DRC. However, a true test of WHO and the UN’s commitment to end such abuses would be if they reinstated all those who were fired for reporting such cases. I for one am eagerly awaiting the independent monitoring group’s findings on whether or not WHO has taken tangible and impactful measures to protect people from being sexually abused and exploited by its employees and to safeguard the jobs of those who report such abuses.
The Retrospective Application of Constitutional Statutes: Notes From the High Court of Kenya
Katiba Institute adds to the growing comparative discussion around constitutional statutes and therefore ought to be keenly studied by students of comparative constitutional law.
Previously, I have discussed the concept of constitutional statutes. Recall that a constitutional statute is a law that is “enacted in pursuance of the State’s positive obligation to fulfil a constitutional right.” While certain constitutional rights are self-enforcing (such as, for example, the right to free speech ipso facto prohibits the State from engaging in arbitrary censorship), others – by their very nature – require a statutory framework to be made effective. For example, the right to vote cannot be made effective without an infrastructure in place to conduct free and fair elections, including the existence of an independent, non-partisan Election Commission. Insofar as such a legislative framework is not in existence, the state is arguably in breach of its positive obligations to fulfil the right in question. Thus, to refine the definition further, a constitutional statute is a statute that “provides a statutory framework towards implementing a fundamental right, thereby fulfilling the state’s positive obligation to do so.”
What follows from the finding that a particular law is a constitutional statute? On this blog, we have discussed constitutional statutes in the context of amendments to the Right to Information Act, which have sought to undermine the independence of the Information Commissioners. We have argued that, insofar as constitutional statutes stand between the individual and the State, mediating the effective enforcement of rights, legislative amendments that prevent them from fulfilling this function, are thereby unconstitutional. Furthermore, once a constitutional statute has been enacted, the principle of non-retrogression applies – that is, the legislature cannot simply repeal the law and go back to a position where the right in question was unprotected. Another example discussed on this blog is the recent judgment of the Kenyan Court of Appeal in David Ndii, where it was held that the implementation of the Popular Initiative to amend the Kenyan Constitution required a legislative scheme, as also its discussion of the previous judgment in Katiba Institute, where an attempt to reduce the quorum for resolutions of the Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission was held to be unconstitutional.
The judgment of the High Court of Kenya of 14 October 2021 – also titled Katiba Institute – provides an additional, fascinating implication that flows from the finding that a law is a constitutional statute. Katiba Institute arose out of the efforts of the Government of Kenya to implement a national biometric identification system called NIIMS, and the judgment of the High Court with respect to a challenge to the constitutionality of NIIMS (Nubian Rights Forum), which we discussed on this blog back in 2019. Recall that in Nubian Rights Forum, after a detailed analysis, the High Court struck down a part of NIIMS, and allowed the government to go ahead with the rest of the programme subject to the implementation of an effective data protection law. Therefore, as I had noted in that post:
The High Court’s decision – at least in part – is a conditional one, where the (legal) future of the NIIMS is expressly made dependant on what action the government will take. Thus, there remain a significant number of issues that remain open for (inevitable) litigation, even after the High Court’s judgment.
Notably, Kenya had enacted a data protection law in between the hearings and the judgment, but the High Court – in its verdict – was insistent that until the point of effective implementation, the continued rollout of NIIMS could not go on. And this was at the heart of the challenge in Katiba Institute: the applicant argued that NIIMS had been rolled out, in particular, without complying with Section 31 of the Kenyan Data Protection Act, which required a Data Impact Assessment as a pre-requisite to any data collection enterprise. In response, the state argued that the data collection in question had already been completed before the passage of the Data Protection Act, and that therefore – in accordance with the general principle that statutes are not meant to apply retrospectively – Section 31 was inapplicable to this case.
Engaging in impeccable constitutional statute analysis, Justice Jairus Ngaah noted that the Data Protection Act was “enacted against the backdrop of Article 31 of the Constitution.” Article 31 of the Constitution of Kenya 2010 guarantees the right to privacy. As the learned Justice noted, in its very preamble, the DPA stated that its purpose was to “give effect to Articles 31(c) and (d) of the Constitution.” Justice Ngaah then rightly observed, “The need to protect the constitutional right to privacy did not arise with the enactment of the Data Protection Act; the right accrued from the moment the Constitution was promulgated.”
The judgment of the High Court of Kenya provides an additional, fascinating implication that flows from the finding that a law is a constitutional statute.
It therefore followed that, on the balance, an interpretation that gave the DPA retrospective effect was to be preferred over one that did not. A contrary interpretation would mean that the state was entitled to collect data and infringe the right to privacy even in the absence of a legislative scheme. Or, in other words, having failed to implement its positive obligation to enact a constitutional statute to give effect to the right to privacy, the state could then take advantage of its own failure by nonetheless engaging in data collection enterprises anyway. This, naturally, could not be countenanced. And in any event, given that Article 31 had always existed, it followed that:
. . . there was always the duty on the part of the State to ensure that the Bill of Rights . . . is respected and protected. Section 31 of the Act does not impose any more obligation or duty on the state than that which the state, or the respondents . . . have hitherto had to bear.
On this basis, Justice Ngaah therefore held that NIIMS had been rolled out in breach of Section 31, and therefore, first, quashed the rollout itself, and secondly, issued a mandamus restraining the State from rolling it out again without first complying with Section 31.*
The judgment in Katiba Institute does not, of course, answer the number of questions that still remained to be resolved after the Nubian Rights Forum judgment, including some problematic aspects of the DPA itself. Those questions were not, however, before the court in this instance; on the other hand, the court’s finding that constitutional statutes apply retrospectively – and the reasons for that finding – make it a landmark judgment. Katiba Institute adds to the growing comparative discussion around constitutional statutes, Fourth Branch bodies, and “Guarantor Institutions”, and therefore ought to be keenly studied by students of comparative constitutional law.
* One cannot, of course, help comparing this with the judgment of the Indian Supreme Court in the Aadhaar case, where despite the fact that Aadhaar data was collected for more than five years without any law whatsoever, it was retrospectively validated by the Supreme Court.
The Pandora Papers Reveal the Dark Underbelly of the United Kingdom
Through its network of tax havens, the UK is the fulcrum of a system that benefits the rich and powerful.
There’s the role, for instance, played by the British Virgin Islands, an overseas territory of the UK that functions as a tax haven. Czechia’s multimillionaire prime minister used the territory to hide his ownership of a chateau in France. Others, including the family of Kenyan president Uhuru Kenyatta and Vladimir Putin’s PR man, have made similar use of the islands to conceal wealth – while Tony and Cherie Blair reportedly saved £312,000 in stamp duty when they bought a London property from a company registered in the British Virgin Islands in 2017.
Then there’s London itself. The leaked documents show how the King of Jordan squirreled personal cash away in the capital’s property market, as did key allies of Imran Khan, Pakistan’s president.
More details will emerge in the coming days. But one thing is already clear. This isn’t a story about countries on the periphery of the world economy. It is a story about how the British state drives a global system in which the richest extract wealth from the rest.
British through and through
The British Virgin Islands were captured by England from the Dutch in 1672. By then, the indigenous population had already gone – either slaughtered in an unrecorded genocide or fled for fear of one. The islands have been a haven for pirates of various sorts ever since.
But this is just one part of Britain’s offshore network. There are around 18 legislatures across the globe that Westminster is ultimately responsible for. These include some of the worst offenders in the world of money laundering, tax dodging and financial secrecy. The Cayman Islands are British. So is Gibraltar. So are Anguilla and Bermuda.
These places aren’t just British in an abstract sense. Under the 2002 British Overseas Territories Act, their citizens are British citizens. They operate under the protection of the British diplomatic service. And, when need be, they can rely on Her Majesty’s Armed Forces: in the last 40 years, Britain has twice gone to war to defend Overseas Territories. Once was when Argentina tried to claim back the Falklands/Malvinas. The other time was the invasion of Iraq, when the British government claimed that Saddam Hussein’s weapons programme threatened its military bases at Akrotiri and Dhekelia on the island of Cyprus.
This complexity is no accident
In total, experts estimate, Britain and its overseas territories are responsible for facilitating around a third of the total tax dodged around the world. And that’s before we consider money stolen by corrupt rulers, or the proceeds of crime. Not to mention the way that billionaires’ hidden wealth allows them to influence our political systems in secret.
This complexity is no accident. The UK, unlike almost any other country on earth, lacks a written constitution. The rules about how the rules are made are set through ‘convention’, an endless fudge that ultimately amounts to them being made up by our rulers as they go along.
We see this most clearly in how the domestic territories of the British state are governed: Scotland, Wales, Northern Ireland, Greater London and the City of London each has its own arrangements, each absurd in its own way. Each of these messes leaves a different tangled thicket in which the crooks of the world can hide their cash.
Seen from the perspective of international capital, though, it is the Overseas Territories, as well as the Crown Dependencies of Jersey, Guernsey and Mann, which form the most significant part of this complex. They use the malleability of the British constitution to form a network of safes in which the rich can hide their cash.
A new era
Although no one knows for sure how much money is hidden in tax havens, of which the British territories make up a significant chunk, the figures involved are so vast that academics at the Transnational Institute in the Netherlands have described them as “the backbone of global capitalism”.
Seen this way, the constitutional flexibility of the British state isn’t just some post-medieval hangover. It’s a hyper-modern tool in an era of global surveillance capitalism, where the rich can flit around offshore while the rest are forever trapped by borders.
Through its empire, the British state played a key role in inventing modern capitalism. Now, the UK is helping reinvent capitalism once more, by extending the protection of a constitution designed by the powerful, for the powerful, to the billionaires, oligarchs and criminals of the world.
Adam Ramsay is openDemocracy’s main site editor. You can follow him at @adamramsay. Adam is a member of the Scottish Green Party, sits on the board of Voices for Scotland and advisory committees for the Economic Change Unit and the journal Soundings.
This article was first published by Progressive International
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