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Kenya Security Council Bid: David Fighting Goliath, Says Djibouti

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Although endorsed by the African Union, Kenya’s candidacy for one of the non-permanent United Nations Security Council seats reserved for Africa has been challenged by Djibouti and there are no guarantees that the country will get the votes of two-thirds of the Council members in the forthcoming June elections. With both countries arguing that they are the voice of Africa, Kenya will need to defend its track record on matters of international peace and security and address concerns about its reliability as an ally, among other grievances against it. Otherwise, Nairobi may be in for a surprise come June.

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Kenya Security Council Bid: David Fighting Goliath, Says Djibouti
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The next five months are critical for Kenya in its bid to play a central role in matters of international peace and security. In June, the United Nations General Assembly will vote to decide which of Djibouti or Kenya will take up one of the non-permanent Security Council seats for Africa. Whichever country will be elected will serve for two years (2021-2022). It will be the second time for Djibouti to sit on the Council (1993-1994) and the third for Kenya, which previously served in 1973-74 and 1997-98.

African member states have established themselves as one of the most organised groups in the handling of the rotation of the three non-permanent seats allotted to them. The African Group ensures that each of its five sub-regions (East, West, Central, North and South) has a chance at representation in a rotational arrangement. For instance, in 2019, South Africa replaced Ethiopia which had represented East Africa. In 2021-2022, the seat reverts to an East African country. The Executive Council, the second most powerful organ of the African Union (AU), has the responsibility of vetting candidates for the seats and is advised in these functions by a sub-set of ministers who sit on the Ministerial Committee on Candidatures.

Member states interested in Security Council seats inform the chair or dean of their respective sub-regional group. In case a sub-region submits more than one candidate, the AU Commission requests the chair or dean of the sub-region to hold consultations and present a single country. In most cases, the sub-region agrees to either consider the other candidate for upcoming vacancies in other UN or AU organs including the Peace and Security Council or offers them the slot at the next opportunity. Once consensus is reached, the chair of the sub-region submits its candidate to the AU Commission for consideration by the Ministerial Committee on Candidatures, which meets twice a year (January and June).

When the vacancy for the Eastern African sub-region was announced in 2019, the African Union Commission received the candidacies of both Djibouti and Kenya from the dean of the sub-region, Djibouti. Diplomats based in Addis Ababa with knowledge of the deliberations, argue that this was a conflict of interest on the part of Djibouti; given that its candidacy had made it impossible for Djibouti to play its role of finding a consensus candidate, it should have recused itself and handed over the role of dean temporarily to another country. It did not help that the countries of the sub-region were split between Djibouti and Kenya, with neither enjoying overwhelming support from its neighbours. Therefore, instead of the sub-region trying to find a solution, it kicked the can down the road to the Ministerial Committee.

The Ministerial Committee and the Executive Council were unable to agree on a consensus candidate from either of the two countries during the AU Summit that took place in Niamey, Niger in July 2019. The Executive Council mandated the Permanent Representatives to the African Union (the Permanent Representative Committee) to resolve the matter under Egypt’s leadership as the AU Chair but Egypt was unable to resolve the matter through consensus. It therefore resorted to voting, an unprecedented move on matters of candidacy. In a move that should worry Nairobi and which is not accurately reported in the Kenyan media, it took seven rounds of votes for Kenya to garner the two-thirds majority required to be endorsed. On the first occasion, there were four rounds of votes with neither candidate garnering the two-thirds majority. The second occasion had three rounds of votes where on the third round, Kenya garnered the required two-thirds majority by bagging 37 votes to Djibouti’s 13.

There was expectation that Djibouti would bow out of the race after the August 2019 vote. Instead, Djibouti announced that it was still in the race. Diplomatic efforts to have Djibouti stand down in favour of the African Union-endorsed candidate have faltered. President Abdel Fattah el-Sissi of Egypt brought together President Uhuru Kenyatta and President Ismail Omar Guelleh of Djibouti to discuss the matter at the margins of the United Nations General Assembly in September 2019 but this high-level diplomatic attempt failed. Djibouti has gone ahead and received the endorsement of the Organization of Islamic Conference (OIC) and that of the Organisation Internationale de la Francophonie (OIF).

It took seven rounds of votes for Kenya to garner the two-thirds majority required to be endorsed

As it ramps up its diplomatic charm and campaigns for the seat, Djibouti has sought to present itself as the underdog, David fighting Goliath. Djibouti argues that it was the first to declare its candidacy in 2016 and that Kenya has violated the spirit of sovereign equality of states and the practice of rotation of seats. It argues that for its small size, it has deployed more peacekeepers per capita and that it seeks the seat, not for “self-aggrandisement” but rather to serve Africa. In an underhand attack of the perceived transactional nature of Kenya’s diplomacy, Djibouti presents itself as a “reliable partner” which has a record of working with “UN Member States, large and small, permanent and non-permanent members of the Security Council on ways to advance our common priorities”.

On its part, Kenya has presented a ten-point agenda which it aims to fulfil during its tenure. The first is “Building Bridges”, which seems to be a very politically loaded title to use given the ongoing divisive “Building Bridges Initiative’ at the domestic level. Nairobi argues that it is well positioned to bridge differences between the African Union and the Security Council and to be a promoter of the rule-based international system. It touts its role in peacekeeping with over 40,000 troops deployed over the years. Nairobi argues that it is a regional powerhouse on matters of peace and security and a leader in the fight against terrorism and the prevention of violent extremism. The country hopes to promote the women, peace and security agenda as well as the empowerment of young people. It boasts of its role in humanitarian affairs especially in providing refuge to those fleeing war in South Sudan and Somalia. It also includes justice, human rights and democracy in its agenda. And in a nod to the UN Environment Programme hosted in Nairobi, Kenya lists climate change as one of its areas of focus as well as the achievement of the sustainable development goals.

With both countries arguing that they are the voice of Africa, the positions they take on key international issues in the next few months will be critical for their campaigns. Diplomatic sources intimate that although Kenya has the backing of the African Union, it would be naïve to bank on the support of all the African countries. They argue that the same talking points that Kenya used to rally the support of some members of the African Group may backfire when used in the broader United Nations General Assembly membership. For instance, one African country which changed its mind in the last round of the African Union vote to support Kenya, did so because they were persuaded that it would not be a good idea for Africa to be represented at the Security Council by three countries with an Islamic and French-speaking background. Niger and Tunisia are the current members representing West Africa and North Africa, respectively.

Diplomatic sources intimate that although Kenya has the backing of the African Union, it would be naïve to bank on the support of all the African countries

Djibouti may very well turn round the talking points of the Kenyan diplomats and use them to rally a large section of the 57 members of the Organization of Islamic Conference—which has officially endorsed it—to support its bid. Djibouti has a strong record of support to the Question of Palestine and other Middle East issues. It will certainly continue to play up the maritime dispute between Kenya and Somalia to rally Arab and Muslim countries to its side. Djibouti could also play the victim of an anti-Francophone bias to seek the sympathy votes of the 54 French-speaking countries. Of course Kenya has its share of friends in both the OIC and OIF membership, but it cannot afford to lose any Member State.

Kenya’s waning international standing will further complicate its candidacy. Within the African continent, Kenya is no longer at the centre of political or diplomatic initiatives. This has shifted over the years to Addis Ababa. There was a time when you could not speak of a single African political or peace process without it being hosted in Kenya or mediated by a Kenyan. Presidents Mwai Kibaki and Uhuru Kenyatta decided to take a back seat in these efforts which has denied the country the platform it could have used to campaign for the seat. It is worth noting that Ethiopia’s third bid for the Council seat in 2016 (to serve in 2017-2018) was uncontested. That Nairobi’s standing in the region is on the wane was evident in 2017 when Cabinet Secretary Amina Mohammed failed to get elected as the Chairperson of the African Union Commission, losing to Chad. The recent election of Sudan to chair IGAD, instead of the highly anticipated switch to Kenya, should make Nairobi worried about the long-term implications to its foreign policy agenda, if it has one.

Nairobi is also perceived as running a transactional foreign policy. It does not hold principled positions on issues of international peace and security. Many diplomats are quick to note that, with a few exceptions, Nairobi’s position on any issue is based on the price of the highest bidder. As one diplomat put it, “unpredictability is not good in diplomacy. They will say yes today and tomorrow they will take a different position.” There are many countries who worry that Kenya will continue its transactional approach to Security Council issues at the expense of the interests of Africa”.

Within the African continent, Kenya is no longer at the centre of political or diplomatic initiatives

To be fair to Nairobi, although the elected members ostensibly represent Africa, they hold these seats in their national capacities. They definitely put their national interests first, including economic ones, before the positions of the continent. This is especially so in an era when President Donald Trump openly declares that countries that do not do its bidding will have their foreign aid cut. In Africa, there are many countries which have sanctioned their envoys for jeopardising financial aid by taking principled positions on issues. The most dramatic was in 2002 when Ambassador Jagdish Koonjul of Mauritius was recalled in the midst of a Security Council meeting for not openly supporting a United States resolution on Iraq.

Informal discussions with several diplomats indicate that so far, Kenya is a front-runner for the Security Council seat, boosted by the endorsement from the AU, which will probably be confirmed by the Heads of State at its February Summit. However, the endorsement is non-binding and African countries may choose to vote for Djibouti, abstain or be absent on voting day. Kenya’s squabbling with Somalia, its cozy relations with Ethiopia no longer, the mistrust with Tanzania, the on/off relations with Uganda—including the competition to host the UN Global Service Center among other regional rivalries—means that Nairobi goes into the race without any guarantee of receiving votes from its bloc.

In another sign of the waning support for Kenya within its sub-regional bloc, attempts to present a candidate for the position of Assistant Secretary-General at the 9th African, Caribbean and Pacific (ACP) Heads of State and Government meeting in Nairobi last year were met with strong opposition. Diplomats argue that Kenya’s un-strategic move to seek positions in other bodies during its bid for the Security Council only strengthens Djibouti’s contention that Nairobi is only interested in “self-aggrandisement”. Nairobi could learn lessons from the common Swahili adage, mtaka vyote, hukosa vyote, or from the fable of the greedy hyena.

Djibouti and Kenya seem not to have managed to convince any of the veto-wielding council members (China, France, Russia, United Kingdom and United States) to throw their weight behind their candidacies. Both countries are close allies to the major powers. China has been quick to clarify statements from its officials perceived to be supporting either country. Both candidates have constantly reminded those who care to listen of their unique geo-political significance. However, Djibouti’s location by the Red Sea, which straddles both the Middle East and Africa, cannot be underestimated. By being one of the few countries hosting American, Chinese and French military bases, it has a slight advantage with regards to these three veto-holding Security Council members. Kenya, on the other hand, could argue that as a regional economic powerhouse, it would be the better candidate. But one could argue that having a less economically powerful country on the Council would be more convenient for those interested in buying the country’s influence. A cheaper puppet is certainly better than a costly one.

Many diplomats are quick to note that, with a few exceptions, Nairobi’s position on any issue is based on the price of the highest bidder

As the campaign reaches a critical point, Kenya seems to be scoring an own goal. The decision to move Ambassador Monica Juma from the foreign affairs docket in the midst of the campaign was ill-advised. Lobbying for the Security Council seat very much depends on personal relationships built over time, which the new Cabinet Secretary, Ambassador Rachel Omamo, certainly does not have. It does not help that rather than have a dedicated Permanent Representative in New York, Nairobi decided to copy Djibouti and double-hat its affable and experienced Ambassador Lazarus Amayo to cover both New York and Washington DC. This means that there is insufficient political coverage in both these cities which have a central role to play in the June election. Nairobi will have to rely heavily on its highly respected Ambassador Tom Amollo to pick up the baton.

Nairobi will also need to widen its talking points beyond its ten broad themes. There are still many unanswered questions about its track record on matters of international peace and security. What foreign policy gains can be attributed to Nairobi during its term at the African Union Peace and Security Council? What does the country have to show for its five years as the holder of the Executive Secretary post at the International Conference for the Great Lakes Region (ICGLR)? How has it handled peace and security issues as one of the Deputy Executive Secretaries of the East African Community? What does the country have to show for the 11 years of Ambassador Mahboub Maalim tenure as Executive Secretary of IGAD, apart from Ethiopia’s dominance of the organisation?

Failure to effectively counter these questions and address the concerns about reliability as an ally, among other grievances against it, Nairobi may be in for a surprise come June. This is especially because victory requires a vote by two-thirds of the member states. Djibouti’s task will be to embarrass Nairobi into many rounds of votes, with the possibility of neither one receiving the required number of votes. There have been precedents of inconclusive votes the most recent of which was in 2016 when neither Italy nor the Netherlands was able to muster enough votes. They eventually agreed to split the term. Kenya may end up seeking a compromise of splitting the term with Djibouti, if the latter maintains its current stance. Nairobi still has five months to change tack, otherwise it may continue with its streak of faltering bids for international posts.

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Ms. Abraham is a governance and institutional development expert.

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Is Poverty a Political Choice?

Philip Alston, the outgoing UN special rapporteur on extreme poverty and human rights, says that international development organisations got it all wrong: not only are more people likely to be extremely poor in the next decade, but they are likely to remain extremely poor for the rest of their lives because “poverty is a political choice”.

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Is Poverty a Political Choice?
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Before the outbreak of the coronavirus pandemic, forecasters had been predicting that the world was becoming a better place: more people were being lifted out of poverty; more children were enrolled in school; fewer women were dying in childbirth; the internet was changing the lives of communities in the remotest corners of the planet; and if all went according to plan, and with adequate investment in the right science, life-threatening diseases would be a thing of the past.

International development experts and organisations have since at least the 1990s being gathering data to show positive trends in the state of the world’s people. While grim realities often surface, such as the fact that more people today suffer from depression and anxiety than ever before, the general view is that while things are not good for a large chunk of humanity, they will eventually get better for everyone – provided there are sufficient funds and investments (often couched in the language of aid) to ensure that everyone inhabiting this planet leads a reasonably healthy and productive life.

An overriding assumption made by these experts and organisations is that once a country achieves a certain level of per capita income and reduces poverty to single digit figures (i.e., becomes “developed”), issues such as healthcare and education will take care of themselves. But, as has become alarmingly evident in the United States’ COVID-19 infection and mortality rates, wealth alone cannot guarantee good quality public health.

The United Nations and financial institutions like the World Bank have made it their mission to eradicate poverty. Heads of state meet every year at the UN General Assembly to discuss their countries’ progress in various human development indicators, including poverty levels. The goal of ending poverty is renewed every decade or so (remember the Millennium Development Goals of 2000 that morphed into the Sustainable Development Goals in 2015?) but the poor, as they say, will always be with us.

What’s more, now that we have COVID-19, all the gains of the past decades are likely to be reversed. Not only are poverty levels set to increase with rising unemployment, but inequality levels will most likely soar worldwide.

However, before this pandemic, did we really see the progress that international development organisations claimed had been achieved? Or were the statistics plain wrong?

Dodgy statistics

In a highly critical report released early this month, Philip Alston, the outgoing UN special rapporteur on extreme poverty and human rights, says that international development organisations got it all wrong: not only are more people likely to be extremely poor in the next decade but they are likely to remain extremely poor for the rest of their lives (with or without the impact of COVID-19) because “poverty is a political choice” – the result of “longstanding neglect of extreme poverty and the systematic downplaying of the problem by many governments, economists, and human rights advocates”.

In fact, according to Alston, contrary to “over-optimistic assessments”, there has only been “a slight decline in the number of people living in poverty over the past thirty years””

Alston’s scathing final report to the UN Human Rights Council’s forty-fourth session spells out in unflinching detail how the World Bank duped the world into believing that poverty lines across the world were dropping. The report says that the current international poverty line (IPL) is derived from an average of national poverty lines adopted by some of the world’s poorest countries, but its value (US$1.90 purchasing power parity per day) is “explicitly designed to reflect a staggeringly low standard of living, well below any conception of a life with dignity”.

“Almost all of these celebratory accounts rely one way or another on the World Bank’s international poverty line (IPL), under which the number in extreme poverty fell from 1.895 billion in 1990 to 736 million in 2015, and thus from 36 to 10 percent of the world’s population”, says the report. However, “escaping poverty” is not the same as enjoying an adequate standard of living that includes access to healthcare and education. The report proposes abandoning the IPL in favour of a more nuanced and accurate portrayal of poverty.

In 2014, the Standard Bank Group’s researchers made a similar assessment. Their research debunked the myth that Kenya is an emerging economy set to become a robust middle-income country by 2030. The Group’s research showed that – contrary to optimistic projections by Kenya’s Vision 2030 enthusiasts – Kenya still had a long way to go before it is could be classified as middle-income.

According to the Group’s report, only 4 per cent of Kenyan households fell into the middle class category that year, which the Group placed as those that had an income of roughly between Sh60,000 ($600) and Sh300,000 ($3,000) a month. Using this definition, the vast majority of the country’s households – a staggering 92 per cent – were considered low income i.e. those that earned under Sh40,000 ($400) a month. These figures were validated by an Ipsos Limited survey that showed that 93 per cent of Kenyan adults earned less than Sh40,000 a month and 43 per cent earned less than Sh10,000 ($100) a month.

These statistics fly in the face of African Development Bank figures that place Africa’s middle class as those that earn between $4 and $20 a day, or between about Sh12,000 and Sh60,000 a month.

Anyone living in Kenya, where the cost of living is extremely high and where there are very few free or subsidised services, knows that if you earn Sh12,000 a month, you are definitely not middle class, and that if you earn Sh60,000 shillings a month, you are really struggling to pay for food, rent and school fees, and are more likely to live in a slum than in a middle class neighbourhood. Yet, it is these kinds of figures that international financial institutions use to elevate countries to middle-income status.

Alston is also sceptical of the UN’s Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs), which he says are pegged on economic growth and private sector funding. (The SDGS, adopted in 2015, are a set of 17 goals, including eradicating poverty, achieving gender equality, combatting climate change and promoting sustained inclusive and sustainable economic growth by 2030.)

“Instead of promoting empowerment, funding, partnerships, and accountability, too much energy surrounding the SDG process has gone into generating portals, dashboards, stakeholder engagement plans, bland reports, and colourful posters. Official assessments are rarely critical or focused, and they often hide behind jargon”, he says.

He adds that the strategy to achieve the SGDs is focused on privatisation, which is problematic because privatisation often prevents the poorest and the most vulnerable from gaining access to services. In addition, the SDGs underplay the role of governments, which is “often relegated to insuring private investments”. Alston’s critique reflects the neoliberalism that has pervaded the development sector since the 1990s when privatisation and the freeing of markets were considered the solutions to ending economic stagnation and poverty.

Statistics, as Alston illustrates, often conceal more than they reveal. It all depends on who is computing them and for what aim. While statisticians and demographers will claim that their science is neutral, and based purely on verifiable numbers, carefully crafted formulas and accurate calculations, sceptics have wondered whether numbers tell the whole story.

In addition, quite often it is difficult to tell which variable impacted which outcome. Are low maternal mortality rates an indication of women’s equality in society or merely a reflection of better healthcare? Are urban growth rates a reflection of levels of industrialisation or do some urban areas grow spontaneously? Do high literacy rates and low poverty levels correlate with higher rates of happiness?

Creating just and happy societies

Interestingly, these were the questions that bothered King Jigme Wangchuk of Bhutan nearly fifty years ago when he created the Gross National Happiness Index in 1972, and declared that “if the government cannot create happiness for its people, there is no purpose for the government to exist”.

The four key pillars of this index are equitable and sustainable socio-economic development, preservation of cultural values and heritage, conservation of the natural environment and good governance. Economic growth does not feature high in Bhutan’s happiness index because the kingdom’s policymakers consider spiritual and emotional well-being far more important than GDP, which is considered an inadequate tool to measure other intangible – but invaluable – types of wealth, such as culture and nature.

Bhutan has long acknowledged that economic growth without social justice increases levels of unhappiness in society. This reality has been supported by more recent research that shows that highly unequal societies also tend to be unhappy societies, with high levels of dysfunction.

In a ground-breaking study published a few years ago, epidemiologists Richard Wilkinson and Kate Pickett found that levels of mental illness within a society were related to its level of inequality. In the Unites States, one of the most unequal societies in the world, a quarter of the population suffers from some form of mental illness, while in the more egalitarian Japan, less than 10 per cent do. Germany, Belgium and the Netherlands also have less income inequality and less prevalence of mental illnesses, perhaps because these countries invest more in social welfare programmes than others.

In their book The Spirit Level: Why Greater Equality Makes Societies Stronger (2009), Wilkinson and Pickett show how highly unequal societies tend to produce narcissistic individuals – people who are excessively preoccupied with themselves and place a lot of importance on individual success (which could explain the Donald Trump phenomenon).

The epidemiologists also found that in highly unequal countries, people tend to be physically and psychologically unhealthy as well. Obesity, depression and drug addiction are more common in unequal societies. In such societies, homicide and other criminal behavior are also more prevalent.

Because unequal societies tend to produce people prone to violence and crime, they are also fearful. Hence they tend to build gated communities and protect themselves with guns or private security. People thus become more distrustful of each other and lose their sense of community, which increases anxiety levels.

The authors say that instead of curing mental illness through increased use of drugs and psychiatric services, countries should look at making their societies more equal through policies that reduce the income gap and that build people’s resilience.

This echoes the claim that economic growth alone cannot deliver just, cooperative and healthier societies. China’s cities, for example, have become unliveable due to high levels of air pollution because China decided that growth was more important than environmental protection. China also failed to contain COVID-19 in time, which led to it becoming a pandemic, which suggests that the country still has a lot of work to do in the area of public health.

In the United States, shootings in schools and other public places have become more common, perhaps because the attackers feel disconnected from their world. In Kenya, we are building high-rise apartments for the rich but not a single public park has been built since the colonialists left. We are building more roads, but not expanding pavements or bicycle paths. Meanwhile, before the COVID-19 lockdown, motorists in Nairobi were spending more time in traffic than with their families at home.

Inequality was already out of control before the pandemic hit early this year. According to an Oxfam report released in January, in 2019, only 2,153 people had more wealth than 4.6 billion people, 60 per cent of the world’s population. In addition, “the richest 22 men in the world own more wealth than all the women in Africa”.

According to the World Inequality Report 2018, 50 per cent of the world’s population owns less than 2 per cent of the world’s wealth while 40 per cent of the world’s population (the global middle class) owns less than 30 per cent.

Such depressing figures are set to get grimmer in the near future. According to Alston, COVID-19 is projected to push more than 70 million additional people into extreme poverty, and hundreds of millions more into unemployment and poverty.

Alston says that poverty and inequality can only be eradicated if governments invest in social protection for citizens and involve the poor in policymaking. Governments must also take charge of service provision instead of relying mainly on the private sector.

Extreme poverty must be understood as a violation of human rights. “Protestations of inadequate resources are entirely unconvincing given the determined refusal of many governments to adopt just fiscal policies, end tax evasion, and stop corruption”,says Alston.

Alston concludes his report by stating: “Poverty is a political choice and will be with us until its elimination is reconceived as a matter of social justice. Only when the goal of realizing the human right to an adequate standard of living replaces the World Bank’s miserable subsistence line will the international community be on track to eliminate extreme poverty.”

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The Coronavirus Pandemic: A Breath of Life Into the Struggle for the Implementation of the 2010 Constitution?

The pandemic has hastened the national discussion on the formation of alternative political movements and leaderships that will guarantee the national peace that the elite have shown themselves to be incapable of providing.

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The Coronavirus Pandemic: A Breath of Life Into the Struggle for the Implementation of the 2010 Constitution?
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My governor friend and I were discussing the implementation of the 2010 Constitution. He used a metaphor to speak about the progress made thus far: the constitution gave birth to a beautiful child destined to grow and transform all the ideological, social, economic, cultural, spiritual and political aspects of our Kenyan society.

The ultimate goal of this transformation would be to replace the neocolonial status quo with a free, just, equitable and egalitarian, peaceful, prosperous, ecologically safe and democratic society. Such a society would form the basis on which to hold a national discussion of its weaknesses and, based on this dialogue, consequently build a firm foundation for yet another, better society, at which point it would come as no surprise if another new constitution were to be promulgated.

We the people of Kenya, having created the constitution, not only imposed it on the ruling elite but we then proceeded to hand over the baby to the same elite—a political leadership of child and body parts traffickers—to bring it up. A progressive constitution requires a progressive political leadership for its implementation.

The struggles of constitution-making do not end with its promulgation. Its implementation continues the struggles between the anti-constitution forces and those forces that call for its robust implementation and, as we approach the tenth anniversary of the promulgation of the 2010 Constitution on 27 August 2020, the struggle for its implementation continues unabated.

Genesis of the Struggle

The independence constitution gave birth to a neocolonial system that ensured the colonial state remained intact. Indeed, under that constitution, the multi-racial and multi-ethnic ruling elite continued to protect foreign interests, including the British colonial powers that never left Kenya. Therefore, it is not surprising that the independence constitution was resisted right from the time of its promulgation.

The opposition party, the Kenya People’s Union (KPU), opposed the neocolonial status quo. Both Jaramogi Oginga Odinga’s book, Not Yet Uhuru and Bildad Kaggia’s The Roots of Freedom chronicle this fact. Both authors were founding members of KPU. Underground political formations such as The December Twelfth Movement and Mwakenya, and their publications Mwunguzi, Cheche, Pambana and Mpatanishi, also resisted the neocolonial state and its policies.

The so-called Second Liberation movement was premised on the repeal of Section 2A of the constitution that decreed the supremacy of one-party dictatorship. The movement also sought to have a constitution that would be aligned to the promise of a multi-party democracy while civil society organisations and opposition political parties continued the struggle for a new constitution. When the Moi-KANU dictatorship was defeated in 2002, the Kibaki-KANU-NARC dictatorship could not resist the people’s clamour for a new constitution and the 2010 Constitution was promulgated on 27 August 2010.

Gains and Challenges

The vision of the 2010 Constitution makes clear the rejection of the neocolonial status quo and affirms the supremacy and sovereignty of the Kenyan people as those with the powers to recall their representatives in parliament. The constitution provides for gender equity and equality and reiterates that the three arms of government derive their authority from the people. It promotes a political leadership comprised of men and women of integrity and national institutions that are independent and whose authority is derived from the people of Kenya. The constitution eschews the politics of division and calls for institutionalised, de-personalised, and democratic political parties, signaling the end of 47 years of gross electoral injustices.

We have a progressive Bill of Rights running the whole gamut of political, civil, economic, social, and cultural rights: decentralisation and democratisation of the imperial presidency to devolution; holding institutions, particularly those in finance and security, accountable to the power of the constitution; equitable distribution of national resources; the protection of land, our major resource, through the reduction to 99 years of the duration of leases given to foreign interests and the creation of a new land law regime that is communitarian to co-exist with a tenure system under which land is commodified (the co-existence of the two land tenures systems is envisaged as a strategy to build a future system that is based on access and use of land to all).

The neocolonial status quo served strong, dangerous, greedy and corrupt foreign and national interests that saw the promulgation of the 2010 Constitution as an inconsequential hiatus. This position has been resisted, reflecting the continued struggles for its implementation which has seen both progress and retrogression. Firstly, the imperial presidency has not been fully democratised and decentralised. Its restructuring has been resisted. It continues to oversee opaque sovereign debts and corruption and, against the provisions of the constitution, continues to maintain the colonial and neocolonial machinery of violence. Both the Treasury and the security apparatus are still departments of the imperial presidency contrary to the decrees of the constitution. And nor has there been consistent support for devolution from the imperial presidency and some institutions have become less independent while others have become moribund. No strong checks and balances exist.

We have witnessed the return of intra-elite struggles christened with various monikers: Tanga Tanga, Kieleweke, Tinga Tinga, Manga Manga, BBI, Dynasties, Hustlers. These struggles portend possible violence during the elections in 2022. They are also a reflection of a ruling elite that has maintained the politics of division (ethnic, religious, gender, generational, regional, clan, class, occupation and race) and that is extremely callous in its politics of inhumanity. It is an elite that continues to act as the loyal comprador class of foreign interests in the West and East. The forces massed against the implementation of the constitution are headquartered in the bosoms of the Kenyan elite.

Devolution has engendered in Kenyans the belief that resources will be shared equitably, that Kenya will become peaceful and stable, and that projects of state-building and nation-building will be strengthened. Under devolution, baby steps have been taken towards ending the marginalisation of certain counties and communities. In some counties, the sharing of state power with the grassroots through public participation has taken place and in others the leadership has resisted corruption.

Although the jurisprudence on Chapter 6 of the Constitution (Leadership and Integrity) is yet to be settled in the Supreme Court, we have witnessed progressive jurisprudence on the protection of devolution as well as on the implementation of the Bill of Rights (in particular political, civil, housing, evictions and public interest litigation) and on the overall protection of the independence of the judiciary.

We have seen attempts by the imperial presidency and parliament to thwart this positive trend by starving the judiciary of funds. Court orders have been disobeyed, weakening the constitution and the rule of law. Both the imperial presidency and the neocolonial parliament still believe that national resources belong to them and that—as those who hold the taxpayers’ money in trust—they are not accountable to the people from whom both institutions derive their powers.

We have also witnessed robust protection of the constitution from civil society groups, both in the middle class and at the grassroots. We have seen the emergence of movements that are calling for alternative leaderships at the helm of the movements of transformation and political parties. We have also heard the clarion call that “We do not want reforms from the current political leadership; We want the political power to carry out authentic reforms. We are now the authentic people’s opposition”. The emancipatory spirits of Mau Mau, the independence movements, the movements against neocolonialism, Saba Saba and Limuru have been resurrected. In all these movements, the centrality of the Kenyan youth is visibly signaling new political demands from those who have been marginalised by the system.

Coronavirus: Breath of New Life into the Struggle?

Indeed, the pandemic has provided a great opportunity to continue the struggle for the implementation of the 2010 Constitution. I believe the pandemic has brought with it the answer to the ever-present political question in Kenya: Who are the friends and who are the enemies of the Kenyan people?

The pandemic has further exposed the inhumanity of the state and the elite political leadership by their actions during this crisis: extrajudicial killings; demolition of the housing of the poor in Kariobangi Sewerage and at Ruai; disobedience of court orders in regard to the pandemic; refusal to take steps to progressively bring about the realisation of the public good under Article 43 of the Constitution (food, water, education, social security, health, sanitation); and, with the exception of two, a lack of response through social justice philanthropy from the billionaires and multi-millionaires and their infamous foundations.

If any evidence were needed to show how uncaring our state and the ruling class are towards the majority of the population, it is in their demands that the poor wash their hands while failing to provide them with soap and water using the resources that they hold in trust for the people.

To oppress the poor for not wearing masks was callous in the extreme, while lockdowns and curfews became death sentences for those who had no food and those looking for casual jobs to survive. No resources were committed to implementing the right to health for all. Indeed, all we heard were the familiar tales of corruption as the pandemic provided the elite class with another opportunity to indulge their unquenchable thirst for theft and debts.

One positive effect of the pandemic has been to hasten the national discussion on the formation of alternative political movements and leaderships. Many virtual meetings and launches have been convened, events ironically made possible by the very tools developed by surveillance capitalism.

Alternative transformative movements are growing in strength. Embryonic alternative political parties exist, their mobilisation and organisation energised by the pandemic. The merger of these movements and political parties is no longer an abstract idea and, as they move in from the margins, the old normal of before the pandemic—which was neither acceptable nor sustainable—is no longer guaranteed a further lease of life.

Indeed, the pandemic has breathed some life into the struggles for the implementation of the constitution. Calls by the elite to change the constitution have been met with demands to tekeleza katiba, implement the constitution. The good news to me seems to be that this herculean struggle will result in the baronial narrative that has gone unchallenged for the last 57 years facing the resistance of strong counter-narratives. Ironically, it is these counter-narratives, these alternative movements and political leaderships that will protect the baronial elites from themselves and their politics of revenge, and guarantee the national peace that the elite have shown themselves to be incapable of providing.

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Seeds of Neo-Colonialism: Why GMO’s Create African Dependency on Global Markets

Rather than addressing food scarcity, genetically modified crops may render African farmers and scientists more, not less, reliant on global markets.

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Seeds of Neo-Colonialism: Why GMO’s Create African Dependency on Global Markets
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As COVID-19 continues to lay bare the deficiencies in the global food system, imagining new food futures is more urgent than ever. Recently, some have suggested that seeds that are genetically modified to include pest, drought, and herbicide resistance (GMOs) provide an avenue for African countries to become more self-sufficient in food production and less reliant on global food chains. Although we share the desire to build more just food systems, if history is any indicator, genetically-modified (GM) crops may actually render African farmers and scientists more, not less, reliant on global actors and markets.

In a paper we recently published in African Affairs, we trace a nearly 30-year history of collaborations among the agribusiness industry, US government agencies, philanthropic organizations, and African research councils to develop GMOs for African farmers. We found that these alliances, though impressive in scope, have so far resulted in few GMOs reaching African farmers and markets. Why, we ask, have efforts to bring GMOs to Africa yielded so little?

One reason, of course, is organized activism. Widespread distrust of the technology and its developers has animated local and transnational social movements that have raised important questions about the ownership, control, and safety of GM crops. But another issue has to do with the complex character of the public-private partnerships (PPPs) that donors have created to develop GM crops for the continent. Since 1991, beginning with an early partnership between the US Agency for International Development (USAID), the Kenyan Agricultural Research Institute, and Monsanto to develop a virus resistant sweet potato (which never materialized), PPPs have become a hallmark of GMO efforts in Africa. This is mainly so for two reasons. The first is that GM technology is largely owned and patented by a handful of multinational corporations, and, thus, is inaccessible to African scientists and small to mid-sized African seed companies without a partnership agreement. The second is that both donors and agricultural biotechnology companies believe that partnering with African scientists will help quell public distrust of their involvement and instead create a public image of goodwill and collaboration. However, we found that this multiplicity of partners has created significant roadblocks to integrating GMOs into farming on the continent.

Take the case of Ghana. In the mid-2000s, country officials embarked on an impressive mission to become a regional leader in biotechnology. While Burkina Faso had been growing genetically modified cotton for years, Ghana sought to be the first West African country to produce GM food crops. In 2013, Ghanaian regulators thus approved field trials of six GM crops, including sweet potato, rice, cowpea, and cotton, to take place within the country’s scientific institutes.

However, what began as an exciting undertaking quickly ran into the trouble. Funding for the sweet potato project was exhausted soon after it began. Meanwhile, cotton research was put on indefinite hold in 2016 after Monsanto, which had been supplying both funding and the Bt cotton seed, withdrew from its partnership with the Ghanaian state scientific council. Describing its decision, a Monsanto official said that without an intellectual property rights law in place—a law that has been debated in Ghanaian parliament and opposed by Ghanaian activists since 2013—the firm could not see the “light at the end of the tunnel.”

Monsanto was also embroiled in legal matters in Burkina Faso, where their Bt cotton had unexpectedly begun producing inferior lint quality. Meanwhile, Ghanaian researchers working on two varieties of GM rice had their funding reduced by USAID, the main project donor. This left them with insufficient resources, forcing the team to suspend one of the projects. The deferment of both the cotton and one of the rice projects dealt a blow to the Ghanaian scientists who were just a year or two away from finalizing their research.

In many ways, the difficulties presented here from both Ghana and Burkina Faso suggest that efforts to bring agricultural biotechnology to Africa are a house of cards: the partnerships that seem sturdy and impressive from the outside, including collaborations between some of the world’s largest philanthropies and industry actors, are actually highly unstable. But what about the situation in other countries?

Both Nigeria and Kenya have made headlines recently for their approval of GM crops. The news out of Nigeria is especially impressive, where officials recently approved a flurry of GMO applications, including Bt cotton and Bt cowpea, beating Ghana to permit the first genetically modified food crop in West Africa. Kenya also approved the commercial production of Bt cotton, an impressive feat considering the country has technically banned GMOs since 2011. Both countries, which have turned to an India-based Monsanto subsidiary for their GM seed supply, hope that Bt cotton will help revitalize their struggling cotton sectors. While biotech proponents have applauded Nigeria and Kenya for their efforts, it will take several growing seasons and more empirical research to know how these technologies will perform.

As the cases described here demonstrate, moving GMOs from pipeline to field is not simply a matter of goodwill or scientific discovery; rather, it depends on a multitude of factors, including donor support, industry partnerships, research outcomes, policy change, and societal acceptance. This complex choreography, we argue, is embedded in the DNA of most biotechnology projects in Africa, and is often ignored by proponents of the technology who tend to offer linear narratives about biotech’s potential to bolster yields and protection against pests and disease. As such, we suggest the need to exercise caution; not because we wish to see the technology fail, but rather because we are apprehensive about multi-million dollar collaborations that seemingly favor the concerns of donors and industry over those of African scientists and farmers.

The notion of public-private partnerships may sound good, but they cannot dispel the underlying interests of participating parties or the history and collective memory of previous efforts to “improve” African agriculture.

This post is from a new partnership between Africa Is a Country and The Elephant. We will be publishing a series of posts from their site once a week.

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