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Turnover Tax: Days of Extortion, Days of Revolt

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Informal micro and small businesses are being unfairly targeted by a new tax that is considered by many as extortionist and punitive. How can the government morally justify a tax on a sector it has done little to assist? Will the new tax force these businesses to close down or to revolt?

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Turnover Tax: Days of Extortion, Days of Revolt
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Our government has decided to extort money from the smallest businesses and is trying to make a virtue of it. Imposing the 3 per cent turnover tax (TOT) on informal micro and small businesses is monstrous, and an insult to poor Kenyans. Though legal, TOT is IMMORAL. I echo the prophetic declaration: “Woe to those who make unjust laws, to those who issue oppressive decrees, to deprive the poor of their right and withhold justice…” (Isaiah 10:1 NIV)

The micro and small-scale businesses, which include kiosks, small grocery stores, hair salons and small market traders (generally those at the bottom tier of the informal sector) now have to pay TOT. TOT is a new tax demanded of any resident person whose turnover from business does not exceed or is not expected to exceed Sh5,000,000 ($50,000) during any year of income. It will be payable from 1st January 2020. This tax rate is on the gross sales/turnover and is a final tax.

Mrs. Elizabeth Meyo, the Commissioner of Domestic Taxes at the Kenya Revenue Authority (KRA), states that “from January 2020, if one operates a salon, butchery, or grocery store, you will be required to declare your sales online and pay the taxes on the 20th of each month.” And for one to get a business licence from one’s county government, one will have to pay an extra 15 per cent of the permit fees to KRA as presumptive tax. In complying to these new demands, Mrs. Meyo further claims, “the business owners will have fulfilled their patriotic duty for a better Kenya”.

Various economic findings acknowledge the substantial contribution of the informal sector to GDP in most developing countries. The informal sector is one of the biggest employers in Kenya, and accounts for over 80 per cent of employment opportunities. It is a shame that attention is turning to this sector only for their moolah, and to bridge the gap resulting from dwindling revenue from the formal sector. According to a Kenya National Bureau of Statistics survey published in 2016, the monthly expenditure on salaries and wages for unlicenced micro small and medium enterprises (MSMEs) was Sh9 billion, which translates to 25 per cent of total outlays a piece.

The neglected informal sector

The colonial market design continues to define the contours of our economy, which conditions us to think of the informal sector as inferior to the formal sector. We still perceive it as “traditional”, marginal or peripheral, having no links to the formal economy and making no contribution to modern industrial development. We have therefore neglected this sector.

Some economists have argued that the informal sector is a dead-end for a pool of labour comprising workers who could not gain entry into the preferred formal sector. Others, like Jeffery Sachs, have even gone to pronounce the informal sector’s obituary, stating that it would cease to exist once Kenya achieves sufficient levels of economic growth and industrialisation.

The informal sector is one of the biggest employers in Kenya, and accounts for over 80 per cent of employment opportunities. It is a shame that attention is turning to this sector only for their moolah, and to bridge the gap resulting from dwindling revenue from the formal sector.

Others see the potential of the informal sector’s small businesses. In his book, The Mystery of Capital (2001), the Peruvian economist Hernando de Soto views these informal businesses as a sign of entrepreneurial dynamism, a real force in the market. They could also be useful in an industrial take-off due to their resilience and ability to withstand market shocks over the long haul, as Shem Watako observed in his doctoral studies of micro and small businesses in Kariobangi.

This hubris in the informal sector has got the taxman’s attention. But the challenge is in how they will implement the TOT. Mrs Meyo identifies this difficulty while responding to why Kenya resorted to TOT for small businesses. She explained that “lack of formal structures and a tax framework that suits the [informal] sector have been major drawbacks in the taxman’s quest to tap revenue from this sector”.

The ethical reasoning of those calling for micro and small-scale businesses to pay taxes as demanded is implausible because it does not raise the second order question. Is it moral to make these demands on the poorest of Kenyan businesses? Is it moral to treat the poor with partiality when the new tax regime would disenfranchise them?

A turnover tax is like a sales tax or a value-added tax (VAT), with the difference being that it taxes intermediate and capital goods. It is on an ad valorem basis (based on the value of the good in question, rather than being flat taxes), applicable to a production process or stage. TOT makes the poor pay another indirect tax, while those whose turnover exceeds Sh5 million pay direct tax, which is a better tax plan for their businesses.

Let us consider a hypothetical case of Nyamulu Beauty  Salon, a business run by Achieng’ in Kariobangi, a low-income area of Nairobi, to illustrate this point. With her revenue turnover of Sh100,000 for January 2020, she would enlist for TOT.

NYAMULU BEAUTY SALON, KARIOBANGI TRADER SCENARIO

ITEM REVENUE/COST GOVT TAXES &LEVIES  
Revenue 100 clients @ 1000                  100,000    
Less cost      
Electricity                    (5,000) VAT +Levies                (901)
Supplies (oils, hair pieces, etc.)                  (30,000) VAT @16%            (4,800)
Rent for stall                  (12,000) Rent Tax @10% Incl            (1,091)
Casual workers 2 @500 a day                  (30,000)    
Mshwari fees[1]                    (5,850)    
County license                    (1,250) county license            (1,250)
Operating Trade Profit                    15,900 Total Taxes & Levies            (8,042)

Assumptions

VAT is standard rated for all goods and services

SCENARIO 1 -TOT
Operating trade profit                    15,900    
Less Turnover Tax                    (3,000) Total Taxes & Levies          (11,042)
Net Profit                    12,900   11.04%

 

SCENARIO 2- Personal Income Tax (PIT)
Trade Profit                    15,900    
PIT -After Relief                          (362) Total Taxes & Levies            (8,404)
Net Profit                    15,538 Effective Tax Rate 8.4%

 

SCENARIO 3 Personal Income Tax and VAT Registered[2] (PIT + VAT registered)
Operating Trade Profit                    15,900    
Add-Input VAT recovered      
Electricity                            664    
Supplies                       4,800    
Net Profit/Taxable Income                    21,364    
PIT – After Relief                    (1,182) Total Taxes & Levies            (3,760)
Net Profit                    20,182 Effective Tax Rate 3.76%

Scenario 3 encourages small traders to register for VAT, which is passed through to consumers; the net effect is increased transparency and increased VAT collection for KRA.

TOT PIT PIT +VAT Reg
Profit                  12,900                  15,538              20,182
Effective Taxes                  11,042                      8,404                  3,760
Effective Taxes% 11.04% 8.4% 3.76%

An alternative tax plan to TOT would give a different result. If the above scenario described her business, then under scenario one, where she paid TOT, her profit would be Sh12,900. Under scenario two, where she pays personal income tax, her profit would be Sh15,538. And if she were registered for VAT and also pays PIT, she would have made profit of Sh20,182.

The individual tax plan would, therefore, be more favourable to the poor income business groups than the TOT. Notice also that her business has contributed indirectly to the government’s revenue by more than Sh8, 042. Then, if subjected to the TOT of Sh3,000, she would have contributed Sh11,042 to the government coffers.

Is it moral for a tax regime to erode the business capital of the poor?

The start-up capital of small businesses usually comes from family resources. This tends to limit the size of the businesses, the number of workers they hire, and the level of profits they generate. So they have a limited amount available to reinvest.

In 2016, the Kenya National Bureau of Statistics found that licenced micro establishments reported spending 45.3 per cent of their net income on investments, either as reinvestment or investing in new businesses and investment in agriculture, while expenditure on household and family needs accounted for 44.5 pervcent. In 2016, small and medium establishments spent a significantly large part of their net income on investment, at 63.4 per cent and 69.7 per cent, respectively.

The erosion of capital from small business via the TOT will delay their growth. Rather, by allowing them to grow capital we would help debunk the notion held by some, including the International Labour Organisation (ILO), that these businesses are doomed to remain small. Yet a significant number of entrepreneurs in the informal sector earn more, on average, than low-skilled workers in the formal sector, according to some studies.

It is immoral to deny the poor a fair chance to compete in the market by imposing a tax on their businesses.

Governments have used taxes to shut out a section of the economy. N. Cheeseman and R. Griffiths (2005)[3] point out that turnover taxes can also be punitive when designed to create a disincentive for buying particular products. They say that environmental regulations sometimes encourage this practice.

Despite the expansive nature of the informal sector, aiming at the bottom end of the pyramid is suspect. We must keep in mind that the current regime is struggling with a debt burden that is uncreative and evil. TOT could be an attempt to cut off informal sector traders from the market. There are 1.3 million micro and small enterprises in Kenya, which, according to a government survey, employed about 2.4 million people – 17 per cent of the total workforce in Kenya – in 2009. They were engaged in the following: close to two-thirds (64.1 per cent) of all enterprises were in the trade sector; retailing made up 62 per cent of all trading in Kenya; manufacturing comprised 13 per cent, while services accounted for 15 per cent.

It is immoral for the government to burden the poor.

In a liberal democracy, argues Prof. Nicholas Wolterstorff of Yale Divinity School, the state should act impartially when distributing burdens and benefits to its citizens. Our government is absent in the lives of poor citizens because of skewed development priorities. The poor live in squalour with children attending overcrowded schools. They have dismal access to healthcare and are the main users of public transport on what is left of roads.

But the government now finds it expedient to tax these businesses operating on the margins of our nation, either in the slums of our cities and towns or in the rural areas. Yet it is through their businesses that low-income households have managed to improve their lot, not through any government subsidies or incentives.

There are 1.3 million micro and small enterprises in Kenya, which, according to a government survey, employed about 2.4 million people – 17 per cent of the total workforce in Kenya – in 2009.

We can use taxes for the public good, to even out the inequalities in society and to provide essential services to all citizens. Eric Nelson, a Harvard professor, explains the idea that the state should coercively maintain an egalitarian distribution of property because it is the business of the state to engage in the redistribution of wealth through taxation, thus ensuring the welfare of the poor; this idea is the genesis of welfare states in many European countries.

Forcing a blanket tax without considering the business conditions of payees is reminiscent of the colonial administration’s hut and poll tax of the 1920s. Then, local leaders and community representatives defended their people against the colonial extortion. Responding to the tax demands, Luo leaders in Nyanza consulted and convened a a general meeting at Lundha in Gem on 23 December 1921. About 9,000 people attended from all parts of Nyanza to discuss the hut tax. During the meeting, Chief Ogada Odera of Gem in Central Nyanza lamented: “As regards our taxes, they used to be 3 shillings. Mr John Ainsworth [the Nyanza Provincial Commissioner in Kisumu from 1906] told us that the amount would be increased to 5 shillings. We agreed. The government then increased it to 8 shillings. It is very heavy. Besides, we do not want our women taxed.”

Forcing a blanket tax without considering the business conditions of payees is reminiscent of the colonial administration’s hut and poll tax of the 1920s.

Chief Ogada made a perceptive comment: “As regards the word colony, the government came here and found us occupying the land and now it calls us ‘wasumbni’ [their slaves].”

Most commentators on TOT have sided with the government’s position and made a virtue of the extortion of poor businesses by calling the tax fair, patriotic, and easy to compute and complete. I think they are misguided. Kamotho Waiganjo reflected this distorted thinking when he commented in the Standard:  “But the government was getting no tax benefit from these businesses…those who operate in the formal sector, and who are therefore in the taxman’s spotlight…cough up 30 per cent of annual profits as tax…businesses in the informal sector means that many of the operators in this expansive sector escape the taxman’s dragnet. Not anymore.”

This assumption – that the poor in the informal sector churn out a considerable volume of revenue but do not contribute to the tax pool – is erroneous. TOT is an indirect tax on businesses and not a tax based on income from business profits. Informal sector businesses already pay other indirect taxes that are levied on fuel, electricity, VAT on their goods and rent taxes collected from rental income. Shouldn’t their cost of goods, business expenses, and other costs also be considered, as they are with formal businesses?

Most commentators on TOT have sided with the government’s position and made a virtue of the extortion of poor businesses by calling the tax fair, patriotic, and easy to compute and complete. I think they are misguided.

Some argue that the cost of compliance is low and that all that these small businesses need to do is record their sales. Those paying turnover tax will not need to worry about tracking their expenses; their tax is only on turnover. They say keeping proper business records will benefits business owners because proper records would help them evaluate their business performance, monitor purchases and sales, and make crucial business decisions.

However, the consequences of eviscerating small businesses would be catastrophic owing to sector’s significance in the economy. It may arouse two major reactions from the poor:

First, if the small businesses sense extortion, they may disappear into thin air. These businesses are supersensitive to extortion by the authorities and would hibernate, adjusting their operations till conditions change. The damage in the wake of their disappearance could be devastating. Mr. Francis Atwoli, the Secretary-General of the Central Organisation of Trade Unions (COTU), warned that further taxation on small and medium businesses will not only destroy the fastest growing sector of the economy but also render many Kenyans jobless.

The 2016 Kenya National Bureau of Statistics survey shows that approximately 400,000 micro, small and medium enterprises do not celebrate their second birthday. Few reach their fifth birthday, leading to concerns about the sustainability of this vital sector.

Second, if poor business owners interpret this tax as oppression, they will revolt. Implementation of TOT will conjure up the pain of the colonial era. The colonial hut and poll taxes became a heavy burden on the people of Kenya in the 1920s. B A Ogot[4] (2009:772) observes that it was made worse by the method of collection, which was ruthless and arbitrary. In Nyanza, the colonial regime collected the hut tax from all huts in a kraal, including the cattle sheds. When many people refused to pay these taxes, the colonial authorities, including chiefs and tax clerks, resorted to brutal methods of collection, ordering policemen, chiefs and sub-chiefs to raid villages, set houses on fire, and confiscate property or food stuff such as grains, bananas and cassava.

Since TOT will eat into the livelihood of these business owners, they will revolt. But the authorities will crush their revolt due to their lack the organisational capacity, unlike the UK’s anti-poll tax groups of 1990. Introducing an unpopular “poll tax” is credited for forcing Mrs. Margaret Thatcher out of office in November 1990. The Green Paper of 1986, Paying for Local Government, proposed the poll tax, which charged a fixed tax per adult resident for the services provided in their community, hence the term poll tax. It was a change from payment based on the worth of one’s house to a resident individual. The tax was, therefore, criticised as being unfair, and needlessly burdensome on those who were less well-off. What followed were protests and riots that prompted the abolishing of the tax following the change of government in November 1990.

What should KRA do with poorer businesses?

The government and the KRA, the implementing tax collection authority, can act morally and avoid hurting small-scale businesses. They can make it a priority to rationalise the informal sector rather than wipe it out through harsh tax policies.

Turnover tax, as currently enacted, is elective. Therefore, qualifying small businesses can opt to register for the standard tax system. This move would allow them to be recognised like other businesses. And with sound records, they may take advantage of comprehensive inclusion rules and a reduction process that requires maintaining proof of expenditure. We should make efforts in aiding small-scale businesses to maintain proper business records and wean them into an alternative tax regime.

The government and the KRA, the implementing tax collection authority, can act morally and avoid hurting small-scale businesses. They can make it a priority to rationalise the informal sector rather than wipe it out through harsh tax policies.

This government should heed the words of Hubert Humphrey, the former US Vice President, who on November 1, 1977, said: “The moral test of government is how that government treats those who are in the dawn of life, the children; those who are in the twilight of life, the elderly; those who are in the shadows of life, the sick, the needy and the handicapped.”

The tinders are there waiting for something to ignite them. If the poor interpret TOT as extortion, we may as well have ushered in days of revolt.

 

[1] Trader uses Mshwari for working capital, interests at 7.5% per month.

[2] Allow Voluntary registration for traders who are below the threshold for compulsory VAT registration.

[3] Cheeseman, N., & Griffiths, R. (2005). Increasing Tax Revenue in Sub-Saharan Africa: The Case of Kenya. Oxford Council on Good Governance, Economy Analysis, 6.

[4] Ogot BA. 2009: A History of the Luo speaking people of Eastern Africa. Kisumu Kenya Anyange press ltd.

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Rev. Canon Francis Omondi, is a priest of The Anglican Church of Kenya (1998), serving as an attached clergy in the All Saints Cathedral Diocese, Nairobi. Was made Canon of Kampala Diocese in the Anglican Church of Uganda (2008). He is an Adjunct Lecturer at St. Paul’s University, Limuru, Kenya, and International Director of The Sheepfold Ministries.

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What Is Trump’s Only Redemption? That He’s an Utter Coward

There is an element to Trump that is almost tragic if he were not such a buffoon. What happens if the next Trump is just mad and brave enough to really commit and go all the way?

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What Is Trump’s Only Redemption? That He’s an Utter Coward
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Consider something for a second: how severe could things have gotten, both in America and globally, if Trump weren’t an utter coward?

I can already hear the murmurs of dissent: “How can he be a coward? Trump just tried to overthrow the US government on live television!” Yes, that is entirely true — and yet he didn’t. The entire tenure of his administration seems to have been a series of near misses; flirting with dangerous ideas and flitting back under the umbrella of normalcy just before the precipice. Every disaster that he helped to foist on the world could have been exponentially worse — if only he had been as committed to being the strongman he always boasted to be.

He isn’t. He’s a little daddy’s boy, a frightened man-child who doesn’t have the courage to follow through on the bull he himself spouts in front of adoring supporters. He’s an entitled, rich, spoilt moron and always has been. For all the bluster, when the chips are down, he’s quick to back off. Remember that boastful kid in primary school who was probably dropped off in his family’s C-Class Mercedes and looked down on everyone within insulting distance? He’d puff himself up and spit on others, until one day someone slapped the hell out of him. Upon getting struck, and family power no longer mattering, it became apparent that he didn’t even know how to throw a punch. That’s Trump in a nutshell. But Trump was also the gleeful little sociopath who led the charge in starting a fire only to have it pointed out there could be consequences without Daddy around. Learning of possible repercussions, he was the type to throw others quickly under the bus and backtrack from his own fomented chaos.

To be clear, in the last year especially, Trump absolutely could have gone horrifyingly further than he did. Could you imagine if Trump, the wannabe little dictator that he is, had the convictions (terrible though they are) of a Museveni or an Uhuru? It was within his power to do so, but he kept pulling back. Take for instance the Black Lives Matter movement across the United States in the summer of 2020. Yes, there was horrible police violence, clashes amongst protesters, chaos and destitution. In the midst of all of those charred buildings and the all-pervasive sense of loss in Minneapolis (the city where George Floyd was executed by police), I had a feeling I could not quite shake off as masked marchers swarmed in the streets around me: couldn’t this have been so much worse? To be clear, there absolutely could have been martial law declared but all those Trumpian threats of militarising entire cities never fully materialised beyond a handful of arrests by unidentified officers of questionable loyalties.

Sure, all these things are a horror and an affront to “Western society”. We get it. But all things are relative in politics so imagine if Uhuru had been in Trump’s shoes. Kagame calling the shots. Museveni. What would have happened? Experience tells me that those ugly bruises and lost eyes from rubber bullets would have needed body bags; the amount of live ammunition used would have been innumerable, and the scale of the tragedy would have been of unheard of proportions. Ask a Kenyan university student how their protests tend to wind up; talk to a random Kampala youth about how things shook out a couple weeks after the presidential election. If you can manage to find one, talk to an opposition leader in Rwanda. If there are any brave enough to filter back into Burundi, ask anyone involved in the coup attempt against Nkurunziza a few years back. The point here isn’t to give undue credit to tyrants, but merely to point out that things can always be drastically worse.

What happened in November of 2020 in Kampala? Protests at the arrest of Bobi Wine were met with such utter brutality it was incredible that anyone would dare stick their head out. Officially 54 people were killed but there are claims that the real death toll is in fact far higher. Take the days after the Kenyan re-election of Uhuru Kenyatta back in 2017, when there seemed to be a sort of suspension of what was to come next as the election drama unfolded and the cops came down hard on Kawangware and Kibera. That’s what being a totalitarian looks like. It is cops firing on crowds, social media shutdowns and mass power cuts. Looking back years from now, the reality will prevail that Trump could easily have gone there but didn’t.

That is the essence of Trump, absolutely having the power to be a world-class dictator, but lacking the organisational skills, intelligence, or conviction to jump in all the way. He always dips his toe in at the deep end, but never dives. The waters of reality are always a bit too cold for him, the soup just a bit too hot for his liking. His legacy will be one of having half-assed it in all aspects of his administration, from fascism to COVID-19 vaccine rollouts. I don’t think that it is any real stretch to look at him and state plainly that he’s just too cowardly to really accomplish anything that he aspires to. While Sevo cranks out press-ups on state television, Trump has spent his time cranking out tweets in between bites of “quarter-pounder” cheeseburgers from the comfort of his own bed.

Of course, the Western media will not countenance such comparisons, let alone acknowledge how much worse the situation could have easily become at the US Capitol last January 6th. For the American media, this is (rightly) a major blow to US democracy, but (wrongly) the single worst thing that could have happened. For instance, what if just two more of the thousands of protesters had discharged the firearms they were carrying inside that crowded Capitol Building? What if the pipe bombs planted near the Democratic National Committee and Republican National Committee buildings had exploded? What if the mob had wedged its way into the chambers of the Senate and the House quickly enough to get their hands on members of congress? And what if Trump himself had not backed off and sent out a tepid message to his supporters at the 11th hour?

Think about this: in coup d’état terms, the Trump mob had pulled it off. They had taken the single most important government building in the US and had done so quite easily. Their flags were draped from balconies and their cronies were climbing the ramparts to continue streaming through the doors. They took the seat of government and, for a brief period during the process of transitioning power, successfully interrupted the proceedings and forced all the democratically elected members of congress to scurry into the labyrinth of subterranean tunnels below the Capitol Building to save their very lives. That is a coup. A successful one at that. For one committed to following through on his calls to overthrow the government, this would be a crowning achievement.

Picture this: if three years ago Raila Odinga had called on his supporters to storm State House, and they had successfully done so while Uhuru’s re-election  was being certified, forcing members of parliament to flee in their government-issue Prados, what would that be called? I know what the Western media would have said about it, that it is another sad story of a developing country in Africa that just could not get over the hump of real democracy. There probably would have been some backroom deals with international powers, and an intervention from all those British troops that hold the base up on Mount Kenya may not have been entirely out of the question. Perhaps Raila is the most eloquent example as he does have a bit of a track record of stirring up his supporters after controversial elections then backing down “for the sake of the country” after chaos has already erupted.

The coup was complete but Trump pulled out of it quicker than from his marriage to a wife turning 40. Why? Could it be that it is only when his advisors managed to get his ear during cable news commercial breaks that he realised that he might drown in the madness? I for one certainly think so. When he realised that there would be consequences for his little civil war charade, Trump felt what he always feels — fear. Trump didn’t realise there could be ramifications for what he was doing until someone (not named Mike Pence) put the fear deep into him. He backed off, and American democracy continues shakily on into an uncertain future

Now there actually might be consequences — legal ones at that. Banks are cutting ties and media partnerships are being snuffed out in rapid succession. Some Republicans are now actively jumping ship, others have deflected blame or finally acknowledged that there is a central symptom to the American political condition. It is too little, too late of course, and the task of getting Americans locked in a tribal political death embrace to try not to strangle each other is now firmly in the hands of centrist Democrats who may not actually follow through on the massive economic recovery needed for the citizens of the US to survive the coronavirus pandemic and the resulting economic disaster. Is the US still the preeminent superpower as the Trump administration takes the exit? Yes, unfortunately it is. Imperialism is still alive and well, and frankly could have weighed way more heavily on the global community over the last four years.

A lingering question remains, one that hangs like a suspended piano over the heads of the Democratic establishment: what or who will come along next? It is obvious that the cat has been let out of the dark ethers of conservatism for a while now; just how much has that cohort been emboldened? It is a question that I have asked before, but now as flags were draped on the smoldering fences that were brought down around the US Capitol, the core of the issue remains; what happens if the next Trump is just mad and brave enough to really commit and go all the way? There is an element to Trump that is almost tragic if he were not such a showman; he evoked something amongst a huge swath of the public consciousness, only for it to prove illusory for Trump never understood what he had within his grasp in the first place.

Whoever comes next might just push the boundaries further out, might commit to striking Iran, take concentration camps for immigrants to a greater extreme, declare martial law and put armed troops in the streets with a standing “shoot to kill” order. Someone who might take measures to outlaw efforts to combat global warming and do all of this without batting an eyelid or seeing any reason to back down. The part of the iceberg that sunk the Titanic wasn’t what was visible, but the larger mass just below the surface and out of sight. To put it bluntly, next time the United States might not be pulled back from the brink by cowardice.

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What Kenyans Have Always Wanted is to Limit the Powers of the Executive

As Kenya’s political class considers expanding the executive branch of government, no one seems to be talking about restricting its powers.

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What Kenyans Have Always Wanted is to Limit the Powers of the Executive
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The tyranny of numbers, a phrase first applied to Kenyan politics by one of Kenya’s most well-known political commentators, Mutahi Ngunyi, was repeated ad nauseum during the week of waiting that followed Kenya’s 2013 general elections.

In ads published in the run-up to the 2013 elections by the Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission (IEBC), people were told to vote, go home and accept the results. Encouraged by a state that had since the 2007 post-electoral violence dominated public discourse and means of coercion, the military pitched camp in polling stations. Many streets in Kenya’s cities and towns remained deserted for days after the polls closed.

According to Ngunyi, the winner of the 2013 elections had been known four months earlier, that is, when the electoral commission stopped registering voters.

In a country whose politics feature a dominant discourse that links political party and ethnicity, the outcome of voter registration that year meant that the Uhuru Kenyatta and William Ruto-led coalition, the Jubilee Alliance, would start the electoral contest with 47 per cent of the vote assured. With these statistics, their ticket appeared almost impossible to beat. For ethnic constituencies that did not eventually vote for Uhuru Kenyatta – the Jubilee Alliance presidential candidate in 2013 – a sense of hopelessness was widespread.

For them, a bureaucratic, professionalised, dispassionate (even boring) discourse became the main underpinning of the 2013 elections.

This was not the case in 2017.

Uhuru Kenyatta, pressured by opposition protests and a Supreme Court ruling that challenged his victory and ordered a re-run, met with Raila Odinga – his challenger for the presidency in the 2013 and 2017 elections – and offered a settlement. It became known as the Building Bridges Initiative (BBI).

In his 2020 Jamhuri Day speech, Uhuru reiterated that the purpose of the BBI process is to abolish the winner-takes-all system by expanding the executive branch of government.

As he explained it, the challenge to Kenya’s politics is the politicisation of ethnicity coupled with a lack of the requisite number of political offices within the executive branch that would satisfy all ethnic constituencies – Kenya has 42 enumerated ethnic groups.

The revised BBI report that was released on 21 October 2020 (the first was published in November 2019) has now retained the position of president, who, if the recommendations are voted for in a referendum, will also get to appoint a prime minister, two deputy prime ministers and a cabinet.

Amid heckles and jeers during the launch of the revised BBI report, Deputy President William Ruto asked whether the establishment of the positions of prime minister and two deputy prime ministers would create the much sought-after inclusivity. In his Jamhuri Day speech, the president conceded that they wouldn’t, but that the BBI-proposed position of Leader of Official Opposition – with a shadow cabinet, technical support and a budget – would mean that the loser of the presidential election would still have a role to play in governance.

One could not help but think that the president’s statement was informed by the fact that Odinga lost to him in both the 2013 and 2017 presidential elections –  this despite Odinga’s considerable political influence over vast areas of the country.

The 2010 constitution’s pure presidential system doesn’t anticipate any formal political role for the loser(s) of a presidential election. Raila held no public office between 2013 and 2017, when he lost to Uhuru. This did not help to address the perception amongst his supporters that they had been excluded from the political process for many years. In fact, Raila’s party had won more gubernatorial posts across the country’s 47 counties than the ruling Jubilee Alliance had during the 2013 elections.

While Raila’s attempts to remain politically relevant in the five years between 2013 and 2017 were largely ignored by Uhuru, the resistance against Uhuru’s victory in 2017 wasn’t.

The anger felt by Raila’s supporters in 2017 following the announcement that Uhuru had won the elections – again – could not be separated from the deeply-entrenched feelings of exclusion and marginalisation that were at the centre of the violence that followed the protracted and disputed elections.

The reading of Kenyan politics that is currently being rendered by the BBI process is that all ethnic constituencies must feel that they (essentially, their co-ethnic leaders) are playing a role in what is an otherwise overly centralised, executive-bureaucratic state. This is despite the fact that previous attempts to limit the powers of the executive branch by spreading them across other levels of government have often invited a backlash from the political class.

Kenya’s independence constitution had provided for a Westminster-style, parliamentary system of government, and took power and significant functions of government away from the centralised government in Nairobi, placing significant responsibility (over land, security and education, for instance) in the hands of eight regional governments of equal status known in Swahili as majimbo. The majimbo system was abolished and, between 1964 to 1992, the government was headed by an executive president and the constitution amended over twenty times – largely empowering the executive branch at the expense of parliament and the judiciary. The powers of the president were exercised for the benefit of the president’s cronies and co-ethnics.

By 2010 there was not a meaningful decentralised system of government. The executive, and the presidency at its head, continued to survive attempts at limiting their powers. This has continued since 2010.

As Kenya’s political class considers expanding the executive branch of government, no one seems to be talking about restricting its powers.

Beyond the minimum of 35 per cent of national revenue that the BBI report proposes should be allocated to county governments, it is less clear whether the country’s leaders are prepared to decentralise significant powers and resources away from the executive, and away from Nairobi.

Perhaps the real solution to the challenges of governance the BBI process purports to address is to follow the prescriptions of the defunct Yash Pal Ghai team – it went around the country collecting views for constitutional change in 2003-2004.

According to a paper written by Ghai himself, the Ghai-led Constitution of Kenya Review Commission (CKRC) had no doubt that, consistent with the goals of the review and the people’s views, there had to be a transfer of very substantial powers and functions of government to local levels.

The CKRC noted – much like Uhuru Kenyatta and Raila Odinga now have – that the centralised presidential system tends to ethnicise politics, which threatens national unity.

Kenyans told the CKRC that decisions were made at places far away from them; that their problems arose from government policies over which they had no control; that they wanted greater control over their own destiny and to be free to determine their lifestyle choices and their affairs; and not to be told that they are not patriotic enough!

Yes, the BBI report has proposed that 5 per cent of county revenue be allocated to Members of County Assemblies for a newly-created Ward Development Fund, and that businesses set up by young Kenyans be exempted from taxation for the first seven years of operation. However, this doesn’t amount to any meaningful surrender of power and resources by the executive.

In emphasising the importance of exercising control at the local level, Kenyans told the CKRC that they wanted more communal forms of organisation and a replacement of the infamous Administration Police with a form of community policing. They considered that more powers and resources at the local level would give them greater influence over their parliamentary and local representatives, including greater control over jobs, land and land-based resources.  In short, Kenyans have always yearned for a dispersion of power away from the presidency, and away from the executive and Nairobi. They have asked for the placing of responsibility for public affairs in the hands of additional and more localised levels of government.

This is what would perhaps create the much sought-after inclusivity.

But as the BBI debate rages on, the attention of the political class is now on the proposed new positions within the executive branch. And as the debate becomes inexorably linked to the 2022 Kenyatta-succession race, questions centring on political positions will likely become personalised, especially after the political class cobbles together coalitions to contest the 2022 general elections.

Meanwhile, ordinary Kenyans will be left battling the aftermath of a pandemic, and having to deal with the usual stresses brought on by a political class seeking their votes for another round of five years of exclusion.

The more things change, the more they remain the same.

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Uganda: Democracy for Some, Mere Management for Others

The coming election in Uganda is significant because if there is to be managed change, it will never find a more opportune moment.

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Uganda: Democracy for Some, Mere Management for Others
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Western powers slowly tied a noose round their own necks by first installing Uganda’s National Resistance Movement regime, and then supporting it uncritically as it embarked on its adventures in militarism, plunder and human rights violations inside and outside Uganda’s borders.

They are now faced with a common boss problem: what to do with an employee of very long standing (possibly even inherited from a predecessor) who may now know more about his department than the new bosses, and who now carries so many of the company’s secrets that summary dismissal would be a risky undertaking?

The elections taking place in Uganda this week have brought that dilemma into sharp relief.

An initial response would be to simply allow this sometimes rude employee to carry on. The problem is time. In both directions. The employee is very old, and those he seeks to manage are very young, and also very poor and very aspirational because of being very young. And also therefore very angry.

Having a president who looks and speaks like them, and whose own personal life journey symbolises their own ambitions, would go a very long way to placating them. This, if for no other reason, is why the West must seriously consider finding a way to induce the good and faithful servant to give way. Nobody lives forever. And so replacement is inevitable one way or another.

But this is clearly not a unified position. The United Kingdom, whose intelligence services were at the forefront of installing the National Resistance Movement/Army (NRM/A) in power nearly forty years ago, remains quietly determined to stand by President Yoweri Museveni’s side.

On the other hand, opinion in America’s corridors of power seems divided. With standing operations in Somalia, and a history of western-friendly interventions in Rwanda, the Democratic Republic of Congo, South Sudan, and even Kenya, the Ugandan military is perceived as a huge (and cut-price) asset to the West’s regional security concerns.

The DRC, in particular, with its increasing significance as the source of much of the raw materials that will form the basis of the coming electric engine revolution, has been held firmly in the orbit of Western corporations through the exertions of the regime oligarchs controlling Uganda’s security establishment. To this, one may add the growing global agribusiness revolution in which the fertile lands of the Great Lakes Region are targeted for clearing and exploitation, and for which the regime offers facilitation.

Such human resource is hard to replace and therefore not casually disposed of.

These critical resource questions are backstopped by unjust politics themselves held in place by military means. The entire project therefore hinges ultimately on who has the means to physically enforce their exploitation. In our case, those military means have been personalised to one individual and a small circle of co-conspirators, often related by blood and ethnicity.

However, time presses. Apart from the ageing autocrat at the centre, there is also a time bomb in the form of an impoverished and anxious population of unskilled, under-employed (if at all) and propertyless young people. Change beckons for all sides, whether planned for or not.

This is why this coming election is significant. If there is to be managed change, it will never find a more opportune moment. Even if President Museveni is once again declared winner, there will still remain enough political momentum and pressure that could be harnessed by his one-time Western friends to cause him to look for the exit. It boils down to whether the American security establishment could be made to believe that the things that made President Museveni valuable to them, are transferable elsewhere into the Uganda security establishment. In short, that his sub-imperial footprint can be divorced from his person and entrusted, if not to someone like candidate Robert Kyagulanyi, then at least to security types already embedded within the state structure working under a new, youthful president.

Three possible outcomes then: Kyagulanyi carrying the vote and being declared the winner; Kyagulanyi carrying the vote but President Museveni being declared the winner; or failure to have a winner declared. In all cases, there will be trouble. In the first, a Trump-like resistance from the incumbent. In the second and the third, the usual mass disturbances that have followed each announcement of the winner of the presidential election since the 1990s.

Once the Ugandan political crisis — a story going back to the 1960s — is reduced to a security or “law and order” problem, the West usually sides with whichever force can quickest restore the order they (not we) need.

And this is how the NRM tail seeks to still wag the Western dog: the run-up to voting day has been characterised by heavy emphasis on the risk of alleged “hooligans” out to cause mayhem (“burning down the city” being a popular bogeyman). The NRM’s post-election challenge will be to quickly strip the crisis of all political considerations and make it a discussion about security.

But it would be strategically very risky to try to get Uganda’s current young electorate — and the even younger citizens in general — to accept that whatever social and economic conditions they have lived through in the last few decades (which for most means all of their lives given how young they are) are going to remain in place for even just the next five years. They will not buy into the promises they have seen broken in the past. Their numbers, their living conditions, their economic prospects and their very youth would then point to a situation of permanent unrest.

However, it can be safely assumed that the NRM regime will, to paraphrase US President Donald Trump, not accept any election result that does not declare it the winner.

Leave things as they are and deal with the inevitable degeneration of politics beyond its current state, or enforce a switch now under the cover of an election, or attempt to enforce a switch in the aftermath of the election by harnessing the inevitable discontent.

Those are the boss’ options.

In the meantime, there is food to be grown and work to be done.

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