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Securing Kenya’s Electoral Integrity: Regulating Personal Data Use

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The Data Protection Act needs to be fully operationalised As Kenya heads into the 2022 election cycle and a sensitisation exercise undertaken concerning the use of personal data in campaigns.

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Securing Kenya’s Electoral Integrity: Regulating Personal Data Use
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In considering the various threats posed to electoral integrity by digital platforms, it is imperative to discuss the use and regulation of personal data. The link between access to personal data on the one hand and the commission of electoral fraud or voter manipulation on the other has been examined severally in academic articles and news media. The pertinence of this discussion in Kenya is clear considering two major developments have occurred since the last election cycle – parliament enacted the Data Protection Act (DPA) and approved the appointment of a Data Commissioner. The nature of our discussion in this article revolves around whether these changes are likely to result in a positive material change in the conduct of campaigns, and if not, what can be done to ensure this. We focus on the use and regulation of personal data in the context of political messaging/campaigning.

Political communication

Political messaging is central to electoral integrity. How political actors conduct themselves in the dissemination and crafting of their messages can either promote or undermine a democracy. The aim of political messaging is often persuasion. Through their messages, political actors hope to convince voters to support their policy positions or candidature. In the not-so-recent past, political messaging in Kenya—and generally around the world—was aired through traditional broadcast media. Radio, newspapers, and television served as the primary means through which political actors could reach their audiences. The nature of these means of communication, and the context surrounding their use, often meant that political messaging was easily discernible from regular content. In other words, audiences could easily tell when they were looking at a political advertisement due to the overt nature of the means and message. Further, since these are mass forms of communication, there existed little opportunity for targeted messaging – differentiating the type of messages disseminated based on the receiving audience and thereby disguising the political aims sought through the message. This meant that the electorate often had a shared experience of elections because they were subjected to uniform persuasion tactics by political actors.

Nevertheless, even when using one-to-many forms of communication, there were attempts to use targeted messaging. During the 2007/8 elections, for example, some local language radio stations were used to fan the flames of ethnic violence by exploiting the homogeneity of their respective listeners to disseminate messages of hate. In another example, bulk text messages targeted at specific communities were used to divide Kenyans along tribal lines to the extent that the then Safaricom CEO, Michael Joseph, considered blocking text messaging services.

The premise of targeting is simple. With basic demographic information, a person crafting a message can do so in a manner that appeals to specific subsets of the target population with a view to persuading the recipients. The demographic information required for targeting is often clearly observable and easily obtainable—names, ethnicity, age, occupation, etc. Through targeting, the messages disseminated to members of one demographic may vary considerably from messages sent to the rest. Targeting has been shown to be practically effective, and in some cases beneficial. In Wajir, community radio has been used to educate the local community on the effects of climate change as it relates to them. The fact that the information has been presented in the community’s language Somali, coupled with the relation of the messaging to their lived experiences, has led to robust community engagement on the topic. In political contexts, targeted messaging may be used to raise awareness around key policy or legislative decisions to ensure affected individuals are involved in the decision-making process. However, it may equally be used to achieve undesirable outcomes as we noted in relation to the bulk text messages used in the 2007/8 elections.

Targeting and microtargeting: why split hairs?

One election cycle later, political parties involved in the 2013 elections had significantly increased their reliance on digital campaigning and engaged in more detailed targeting. With an increased rate of internet connectivity and smartphone penetration in the country, political actors were better able to reach audiences at an individual level. For example, messaging targeting younger audiences appealed to their concerns about unemployment, while older audiences were informed of candidates’ plans for national stability. This was perhaps aided by the fact that a lot more demographic information was readily available on social media, and there existed no legislation regulating the collection and use of such personal data. However, the use of this ordinary targeting did not reflect the state of technology at the time.

Through the introduction of social media, and the large-scale collection of personal data that takes place on such platforms, the nuance applied to targeting had considerably developed by the 2013 election cycle. The sheer amount and scope of personal data available to political actors through these platforms meant that the precision of targeting could be infinitely refined. Essentially, there was a shift from targeting to microtargeting, with the major difference being the amount and scope of personal data used. While targeting involves using basic demographic data to craft messages for subsets of the target audience, microtargeting makes use of a wider range of data points such as online habits gleaned from trackers on social media platforms. With a broad enough range of data points, individuals conducting microtargeting can create profiles on each audience member and tailor individual messages that are a lot more subtle and convincing than ordinary targeting.

If a political actor were deploying ordinary targeting, their messaging would focus on the homogeneity of the receiving audience, assuming that the factors that would persuade them lie in their homogeneity. In microtargeting, the audience, despite being homogenous, would be further broken down at a granular level, bringing out each individual’s unique profile, and the motivations behind their political positions. The messaging targeted at such individuals is often presented in a seemingly organic manner. For example, by tracking an individual’s social media use either directly or through analytic firms, political actors can create a profile on the said individual and use that to inform the type of online advertisements they would purchase and organically place on the individual’s social media feed. In essence, microtargeting campaigns hone in on the specific trigger points of an individual or small blocs of voters, seeking to influence their behaviour during campaigns and on voting day in subtle ways.

There was a shift from targeting to microtargeting, with the major difference being the amount and scope of personal data used.

There is not enough publicly available evidence to assess the extent to which political actors in Kenya engaged in microtargeting during the 2013 and 2017 election cycles, perhaps other than the documented use of social media advertising. However, in both cycles, it is widely reported that Cambridge Analytica rendered its services to various political actors in the country. Cambridge Analytica’s involvement in Kenya—which it described as “the largest political research project ever conducted in East Africa”—entailed a large-scale gathering of Kenyans’ data through participant surveys. This, coupled with the personal data it had already improperly acquired through Facebook, ostensibly allowed it to carry out microtargeting. It claimed to be able to craft messages specific to individuals as opposed to broad demographics. In particular, it admitted to developing messaging to leverage voters’ fears of tribal violence.

The risk posed to electoral integrity by practices such as microtargeting are clear – an inability on the electorate’s part to discern organic content from political advertising calls into question their democratic autonomy and the legitimacy of political processes. The lexicon adopted by some commentators in relation to these practices—“digital gerrymandering” and “computational politics”—is therefore unsurprising. The progression of political messaging from a relatively transparent and clearly discernible practice which was uniformly applied to the electorate, to a subtle, insidious process which is based on a sophisticated level of differentiation is possible, in large part, due to the unregulated collection and use of personal data.

Personal data use in targeting and microtargeting

The idea that one can sort personal data based on certain traits and analyse it for purposes of targeting is not novel. Neither is the audacity of the attempt. In her book If Then: How One Data Company Invented the Future, Professor Jill Lepore chronicles how Simulmatics Corporation—a company founded in 1959—laid the foundation for the type of microtargeting Cambridge Analytica was engaged in. Simulmatics, through its “People Machine”, purported to be able to predict voter behaviour by making use of predictive models it developed using large swathes of personal data which it categorised into 480 subsets. Their aim was to breakdown voter profiles as granularly as possible, and to predict how each subset would respond to political stimuli. They sought to forecast voter behaviour and influence the 1960 US elections. They failed. In their pursuit of this aim, however, they foreshadowed and contributed to current microtargeting practices, which appear to be significantly more effective. They certainly highlighted the centrality of personal data to the development of such predictive models, long before average voters began publishing vast amounts of personal data on social media platforms.

As we previously discussed, the type and scope of personal data required to conduct regular targeting is basic. In Kenya, such data has previously been easy to obtain, with little-to-no controls on its usage. In everyday life, Kenyans encounter dozens of vectors through which their personal data is collected. From mobile money payments to entry logs at government buildings, Kenyans are forced to part with crucial personal data to obtain various services. The value of this personal data for commercial advertising has been recognised by data brokers who reportedly harvest such data for direct marketing. Political parties have also collected personal data from such brokers for targeting.

The lexicon adopted by some commentators in relation to these practices—“digital gerrymandering” and “computational politics”—is therefore unsurprising.

For political parties and candidates, the avenues through which they can harvest personal data are not limited to brokers. In an article on political microtargeting in Kenya, Hashim Mude helpfully identifies four additional avenues. The first of these is the register of voters which is publicly accessible during election periods by virtue of Section 6 of the Election Act. The second avenue is the membership lists compiled by the political parties themselves by virtue of their compliance obligations under Section 7 of the Political Parties Act (i.e., parties have to demonstrate that their composition is sufficiently representative). More traditionally, political parties also conduct direct collection through their grassroots networks – this is the third avenue. Finally, political parties are also able to collect personal data from other registered parties through the publicly accessible members’ lists under Section 34(d) of the Political Parties Act.

The data collected through these means primarily serves political actors in regular targeting; microtargeting would require them to gather a much broader set of data points to complement the basic demographic data they have access to. While political parties may not be able to gather such specific data sets themselves, they are often able to either contract analytic firms such as Cambridge Analytica to do so, or to leverage the data gathered by social media platforms by purchasing advertising whose audience is curated to fit the needs of the political party. This notwithstanding, evidence suggests that political parties primarily engaged in regular targeting, i.e., crafting and disseminating communications based on broad demographics such as ethnicity.

Despite Cambridge Analytica’s implication that the scope of personal data it harvested enabled it to conduct microtargeting, the evidence that is publicly available seems to suggest that basic targeting through bulk messaging along tribal lines was the primary outcome of their operation. However, one of the material differences arising from their involvement was the vast amount of personal data they collected both directly and indirectly, likely rendering this regular targeting even more potent than usual. They were able to collect such data due to Kenya’s weak regulatory framework. As Cambridge Analytica’s CEO at the time explained, Kenya’s virtually non-existent privacy laws provided them a conducive environment for their activities. This is arguably one of the main reasons political actors have been able to get away with the improper harvesting and use of personal data for both targeting and microtargeting in the past. With the enactment of the DPA, it is hoped that this will change.

Towards regulation: is there a practical difference?

As a starting point, it must be noted that Kenya’s constitution guarantees every person the right to privacy. However, until 2019, Kenya did not have a centralised law detailing how this right should be respected and fulfilled, particularly in an increasingly digital age. The DPA therefore seeks to regulate the processing of personal data. By putting in place restrictions on the collection, use, sharing and retention of data relating to identifiable natural persons, the DPA is expected to mitigate the improper handling of personal data and safeguard the right to privacy. It applies to all persons handling personal data, including political parties and candidates.

Practically, the enactment of the DPA means several things for political actors seeking to make use of personal data. For one, the obligations introduced by the DPA would invariably hamper political actors’ ordinary collection and use of personal data. Since the DPA contains prescriptions at each stage of the data lifecycle (collection, storage, use, analysis, and destruction), political actors have to be a lot more careful. For example, while it was previously easy to collect personal data indirectly and indiscriminately, political actors now have to do so directly seeking the consent of the individuals to whom the data relates (data subjects).

In everyday life, Kenyans encounter dozens of vectors through which their personal data is collected.

The collection and use of personal data would also have to be grounded in a lawful basis. Further, the principles that underpin the DPA would operate to restrict some of the microtargeting practices political actors are engaged in. In requiring that political actors only collect and make use of the minimum amount of data required for the lawful purpose they are engaged in, the DPA forecloses, to some extent, microtargeting which relies on a wide scope of personal data. The DPA also brings the practices around personal data collection and use under the supervision of the Data Commissioner, with whom these political actors would be required to register.

It is not yet clear what tangible effects (if any) the DPA has had, or will have, on the practice of targeting and microtargeting other than, perhaps, a broader awareness of privacy rights among individuals. It is also too soon to measure this because the operationalisation of the DPA is, at the time of writing, still ongoing. To be clear, the DPA is fully in force and is binding. However, key components such as the draft regulations are yet to be put in place; they were only recently developed. Without these, the Data Commissioner would be unable to, among other things, register data controllers and data processors (in our case political parties and candidates) to ensure that their activities are monitored. The proposed regulations, for example, would require individuals and entities involved in canvassing for political support to mandatorily register under the DPA, enhancing the Data Commissioner’s visibility of such actors, and facilitating enforcement action (if required).

The fact that the DPA is yet to be fully operationalised has not prevented Kenyans from relying on it to hold institutions accountable. The Data Commissioner commendably provides the public with an opportunity to file a complaint through its website even though the regulations relating to compliance and enforcement are yet to be enacted. In June of this year, a large number of Kenyans discovered—through the Office of the Registrar of Political Parties’ (ORPP) online portal—that they were registered as members of political parties without their knowledge or consent. After receiving over 200 complaints, the Data Commissioner held a meeting with the ORPP to arrange for the deregistration of those individuals. Less than a month after the ORPP scandal, the guest list of an upscale hotel in Nairobi was leaked online for purposes of revealing that a certain politically connected individual had resided there for a period of time. Shortly thereafter, an advocate filed a public interest complaint with the Data Commissioner. In response, the Data Commissioner indicated that it would look into the possibility of a data breach.

The implications of these complaints to the Data Commissioner are twofold. On the one hand, it is a positive development that Kenyans are aware of the office and its mandate. However, on the other, it is concerning that the improper handling of personal data is still common nearly two years after the enactment of the DPA. Such practices are indicative of either the absence of a sufficient understanding of the DPA and its requirements, or a blatant disregard of those requirements, though the two are not mutually exclusive. Putting in place the systems and infrastructure required to operationalise the DPA is important. However, it may not be very effective if the culture around data use is not reformed.

The fact that the DPA is yet to be fully operationalised has not prevented Kenyans from relying on it to hold institutions accountable.

From the improper handling of personal data, it is apparent that broad sensitisation around digital rights is required. Innovative initiatives such as Nanjala Nyabola’s Kiswahili Digital Rights Project which seeks to “translate and popularise’” key digital rights terms into Swahili may serve as a useful starting point for the sensitisation of individuals. Indeed, one of the Data Commissioner’s functions under the DPA is raising awareness around data protection. Synergistic collaborations with academics, civil society, and even the private sector can greatly contribute to a better understanding of data protection concepts, and how various actors are to conduct themselves. These efforts may also increase the electorate’s understanding of how microtargeting works, and the steps they can take to reduce their susceptibility to targeted messaging, such as using search engines that do not allow trackers for example.

For the use of personal data in campaigns, the involvement of political parties and candidates in these sensitisation efforts is especially crucial. As noted by the UK’s Information Commissioner’s Office (ICO) “the true ethical evolution of political campaigning in the long term will only be possible if political parties recognise that they are drivers in ensuring a high standard of data protection through the whole system”. In fact, the ICO proposed that such sensitisation be carried out by political parties and candidates in collaboration with electoral commissions (in our case the IEBC) and data protection authorities. By consulting with the two authorities, political parties and candidates would also be able to agree on standards that would guide their use of commonly held data such as that derived from the voter register and party membership lists. These efforts could perhaps even dovetail into public commitments by political actors to shun the improper use of personal data in campaigning. An example of such a commitment is the Pledge for Election Integrity developed by the Transatlantic Commission on Election Integrity.

Content regulation

The efforts to improve the culture around personal data use in campaigns could further be supplemented by regulation of the actual political messaging that results from this data use. The result of microtargeting campaigns is often political advertising that is precisely targeted and subtle. Kenya’s legal framework governing political advertising is currently underdeveloped. Aside from the Communication Authority’s (CA) guidelines on bulk messaging, there are no detailed guidelines on how political advertising ought to be carried out and how transparency can be achieved. The CA’s guidelines effectively aim to increase the transparency of political advertising done through bulk text messages. This is the aim of the regulation of political advertising – reclaiming the transparency lost over time through advancements in technology. Considering the subtle nature of messaging derived from microtargeting campaigns, an increase in transparency would likely contribute to restoring (or at least safeguarding) some level of autonomy for the electorate.

The CA guidelines would sufficiently cover the use of ordinary targeting in the form of bulk text messages as we head into the 2022 elections. However, further prescriptions may be required to deal with microtargeting conducted through social media. Such prescriptions could include disclosure obligations on the part of political parties and candidates when running advertisements. They could also include transparency obligations on the social media platforms which host these advertisements. For example, some platforms have taken to labelling accounts which are government-affiliated or are running political advertisements.

There are no detailed guidelines on how political advertising ought to be carried out and how transparency can be achieved.

Armed with the knowledge that a particular piece of content is sponsored by a certain political actor, a voter may at least have an opportunity to question the motives pursued. Authorities such as the IEBC and the Data Commissioner may be able to work with social media platforms to identify appropriate transparency tools that could be deployed in the forthcoming elections. Such a collaboration would have to be alive to unique local contexts. For example, applying labels to the accounts of political parties and candidates may not be sufficient considering the practice of hiring third party groups to push certain messaging online. One such group is known as the 527 militia, its name being derived from the amount of money each member is paid to run with a campaign – KShs527 (approximately US$5).

Heading into the 2022 election cycle, Kenya ought to do a few things. First, the DPA should be fully operationalised. Second, the Data Commissioner should collaborate with political actors and the IEBC to engage in widespread sensitisation around data protection and the use of personal data in campaigns. Third, political parties should commit to the proper use of personal data in their campaigns, perhaps even signing public pledges as a show of goodwill. Fourth, political advertising on social media platforms should be more closely regulated to ensure transparency. Finally, the Data Commissioner and the IEBC should work with social media platforms to develop appropriate tools that would be applied in Kenya to enhance platform accountability and transparency of messaging.

Part 1. Securing Kenya’s Electoral Integrity in the Digital Age

This is the second of a five-part op-ed series that seeks to explore the use of personal data in campaigns, the spread of misinformation and disinformation, social media censorship, and incitement to violence and hate speech, and the practical measures various stakeholders can adopt to safeguard Kenya’s electoral integrity in the digital age ahead of the 2022 elections. This op-ed series is in partnership with Kofi Annan Foundation and is made possible through the support of the United Nations Democracy Fund.

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Abdulmalik is a legal researcher and consultant who holds a law degree from Strathmore University. His research interests include content moderation, intermediary liability and more broadly, the nexus of social media and democracy. Abdulmalik has published academic articles in peer reviewed journals, and has previously consulted for the World Bank. He currently serves as a non-permanent member of the Strathmore Law Clinic’s Oversight Board. Dr. Isaac Rutenberg is a Senior Lecturer and the Director of the Centre for Intellectual Property and Information Technology Law at Strathmore Law School in Nairobi, Kenya. He is also an Associate Member of the Center for Law, Technology, and Society at the University of Ottawa, Canada.

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Kenyan Media and the War in Somalia: In Bed With the Troops

Ten years ago this month Kenyan troops invaded Somalia. Coverage of the incursion by the Kenyan media has consistently and uncritically favoured the Kenya Defence Forces.

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Kenyan Media and the War in Somalia: In Bed With the Troops
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Precisely ten years ago, Kenyans woke up to the news that about 2,000 troops of the Kenya Defence Forces (KDF) had been deployed to fight al-Shabaab, the Somalia-based terror group.

In an invasion dubbed Operation Linda Nchi, the troops made their way into southern Somalia through the semi-arid porous border that divides the two neighbouring nations. The deployment followed news reports that al-Shabaab was behind abductions targeting aid workers in northern Kenya and tourists along Kenya’s coast.

But while there is no shortage of reports on the hidden reasons behind this decision, analysis of how the Kenyan press has constructed the narratives about the conflict for its audiences is limited. Scholars and analysts have scrambled to put forth solid analyses of the dynamics of the Kenyan elites, al-Shabaab, and other actors involved in Somalia yet few have attempted to address the question of how the Kenyan mass media mediates this war.

Further, researchers have undertaken the essential task of informing us how media outlets in the global north cover wars involving troops from their countries’ perspectives. However, analysis on how invasions in countries like Somalia are mediated by news media organizations from invading countries like Kenya remains minimal.

Wars and the news media 

The intersection of news media and conflict is complex. There is consensus in the existing academic research that journalists throw away their professional hats when covering wars involving their home countries. This is explained by the fact that they are guided by military elites who control the information coming in from the frontline. The shared cultures and ideologies with soldiers on the battlefield render journalists sympathetic to their governments’ interests. In short, they remain patriotic and loyal.

As primary agenda setters, the news media remains a powerful force. In Kenya, the existing digital divide reminds us that the traditional press still dominates the dissemination of information across the country. This requires that we explore what shapes the decisions of Nairobi-based editors when bringing the war in Somalia to Kenyan living rooms.

The KDF has participated in numerous peacekeeping missions across the world since its inception. From the Bosnian war in the 90s to the Sierra Leone civil war that ended in the early 2000s and Sudan’s Darfur conflict, the Kenyan government has generously contributed its military troops to UN-led peacekeeping missions. These missions largely go uncovered by the Kenyan press since the country is effectively not at war, and also because distance discourages editors from spending resources on these countries.

However, the October 2011 decision to invade Somalia, a country that shares a border with Kenya, was unprecedented. The unilateral decision by former President Mwai Kibaki’s government opened a decade of countless terror attacks across the country. And for the first time, Kenyan journalists were covering a war in which their own country was prominently involved.

Undoubtedly, Kenya’s hasty decision to invade Somalia cemented al-Shabaab’s prominence as one of the deadliest terror groups in the continent. Helped by Kenya’s weak security system which was a result of rampant corruption and limited resources, al-Shabaab executed some of its worst attacks in the country.

The unilateral decision by former President Mwai Kibaki’s government opened a decade of countless terror attacks across the country.

The group was behind the killing of over 4,000 people across East Africa in 2016 alone. The Garissa University terror incident in early 2015 that led to the deaths of 147 students and staff remains the deadliest attack by the group in Kenya. Inside Somalia, the group was behind the January 2016 massacre in El Adde and the 2017 attacks in Kulbiyow that resulted in the deaths of hundreds of KDF personnel. Thus, the Kenyan mass media found itself covering a war that was killing military personnel in Somalia and Kenyan citizens across the country.

KDF and the media

It is almost impossible not to think about patriotism when discussing the intersection of the Kenyan mass media and the country’s military institutions. Even before its invasion of Somalia, the KDF consistently enjoyed favourable media coverage and, with the exception of the people of northern Kenya who carry the scars of attacks such as the Wagalla massacre perpetrated in Wajir in 1984, Kenyans’ perception of the KDF was positive.

The Kenyan media’s uncritical treatment of the KDF when the invasion commenced was therefore not surprising. Kenyan journalists share cultures and ideologies with the troops and this creates a bias in how they view this war.

We have often seen how citizens of African countries—with Kenyans leading by example—react to Western media misrepresentations of their stories. From #SomeoneTellCNN to #SomeoneTellNewYorkTimes, Kenyans have taken to social media platforms like Twitter to vociferously criticise how the Western press covers terror in their country. And while pushback against misrepresentations and negative portrayals by foreign media is necessary, it is equally important to question how our own news media portrays war and terror in Somalia.

It is common knowledge that US reporters tend to interpret foreign news with American audiences in mind. But this is not only true of Western reporters; journalists across the globe tend to behave this way when they cross their borders to report on a war led by or involving their own country.

Kenyan news media gatekeepers <> through the lens of nationalism when reporting conflict across the border and within the country. Moreover, whether it be the shifta war, the atrocities in Somalia, the Somali refugees in the Dadaab camp, the Kenyan mass media places Somalia and northern Kenya within the same frame, and the published stories are perceived as synonymous with Kenya’s policy in Somalia. Kenyan reporters write these stories with Kenya in mind, creating the ideal environment that enables Kenyan citizens to accept and approve of the conflict.

After conducting a content analysis of how the Daily Nation and Standard newspapers have covered the war, Cliff Ooga and Samuel Siringi conclude that the Kenyan press has “relied a lot on the news from government agencies instead of residents and eyewitnesses accounts of the combat in Somalia.” This cements the argument that the sources used in covering the conflict frame the KDF as the winning side and shape a favourable public opinion that approves the mission.

My findings of an analysis of over 200 articles in Kenyan and US newspapers about the 2013 Westgate Mall attack were consistent with those of scholars who had examined other attacks such as the Garissa University and Dusit Hotel terror attacks. More than 70 per cent of the sampled articles received episodic framing, meaning they were covered as a single event.

This type of framing doesn’t inform the audience about why these attacks are occurring. It lacks in-depth analysis, nuance, and thematic demonstrations of how Kenya found itself in the conflict. Tellingly, these findings were synonymous with how American newspapers covered the same attacks.

Embedded journalism 

The primary reason behind the Kenyan news media’s uncritical reportage of the war in Somalia is embedded journalism. This type of journalism occurs when reporters are invited and attached to military personnel in the battleground to cover conflicts. This approach defeats critical journalistic values—fairness, neutrality, and impartiality are replaced by patriotism, loyalty and empathy. The value of ethical journalism and independence on the battlefields is lost since military personal provide security to these reporters.

Moreover, the military covers the journalists’ costs and sets the ideal timing for combat. The location of the coverage, how and who is interviewed,  these are strategically structured so as to portray Kenya as winning the war, a classic example of public relations through the mass media. Kenyans are presented with news coming in from the battlefield wrapped in such headlines as KDF, No Retreat, No Surrender in Somalia Operation, and The Frontline: KDF Continues to Combat al-Shabaab in Somalia.

The concept of embedded journalism flourished in the 2003 Iraq war. The US military was eager to control information coming out of the oil-rich country. The use of this tactic by American military elites was motivated by the embarrassment it experienced in the Vietnam War, often referred to as the “first television war”. The advent of television technology took journalists to the frontline, a perilous yet enticing undertaking that brought with it recognition among their peers and prestigious prizes that acknowledged their prominence in the realm of journalism.

The primary reason behind the Kenyan news media’s uncritical reportage of the war in Somalia is embedded journalism.

With unrestricted coverage, positive reportage of the Vietnam War soon turned to critical reporting that portrayed the government in a bad light. With journalists having free access to the affected communities, bloody images of innocent victims of the war found their way onto television screens in American living rooms. The footage contradicted “the official war narrative and undermined public support for the war effort” and calls by anti-war activists for the American government to end the war in Vietnam escalated. This is why military elites in Washington DC view the unfettered access of news media to the frontline as a threat that needs to be contained.

In 2003, embedded journalism played a significant role in advancing the interests of the US in the Middle East and beyond. Reporters were given protection by the military in cities across Iraq. This is little more than tourism on the battlefield, where the troops are the tour guides who control journalists during the adventure that is war coverage.

Imitating the West, the KDF employed this tool to deal with the news media. Coverage of Kenya’s invasion of Somalia is Kenyan-centric, with sources comprising of military personal and the personal views of the journalists. Somalis are completely disregarded and the few who are interviewed are beneficiaries of KDF-driven humanitarian efforts such as free medical camps and distribution of foodstuff.

A culture change is needed

How can the Kenyan news media change this culture of violating journalistic values? Can Kenyan journalists redeem themselves by giving us a clear picture of the KDF’s engagement in Somalia?

These questions need immediate attention as we enter the second decade of Kenyan military activity in Somalia. We have witnessed how the lack of critical coverage of war and terror in countries like Somalia, Afghanistan, Iraq, and elsewhere has derailed efforts towards finding durable solutions to end these wars.

Kenyan journalists need to acknowledge that their coverage of Kenya’s incursion into Somalia has uncritically embraced the government’s position and that Kenyans have not been given an accurate picture of the ongoing conflict. Their editors, the decision-makers in the newsroom, should strive to allocate resources for journalists to be deployed independently to cover this conflict. This essential element in the news production process is key to a fair, impartial, and critical coverage of Kenya’s engagement in Somalia.

This is tourism on the battlefield and the troops are the tour guides who control journalists during the adventure that is war coverage.

Journalists covering these stories should strive to reach out to different sources. Including the voices of those in the local communities who face the wrath of both the KDF and al-Shabaab would be a bold step towards constructing clear narratives for citizens in Kenya and elsewhere.

Newsrooms should also hire full-time, Somali-based journalists to cover the conflict; deploying journalists from Nairobi who lack contextual knowledge will make it difficult to produce fair and impartial reporting. Perhaps engaging properly remunerated local correspondents would address some of the challenges of the last ten years.

When news of the invasion was announced a decade ago, elites in Nairobi were quick to promise that it would be a short war. However, our troops are still “fighting terror” that has killed thousands of Kenyans inside and outside Somalia. It is conceivable that critical news coverage of this war by the Kenyan mass media would lead to the long-overdue exodus of KDF from Somalia.

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Open Letter to Kenyans Who Do Not Behave Like Jonah

Democracy is supposed to be this magical space where we come together with our unique individual contributions and make something beautiful to the glory of God and in praise of our ancestors. Democracy is modelled on the arts, and that is why we must do our art.

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Open Letter to Kenyans Who Do Not Behave Like Jonah
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This is an open letter to all of us Kenyans who do not behave like Jonah who tried to evade his divine calling to preach God’s message in Nineveh.

​I know that I speak for many when I say that in Kenya, the arts sector is abusive. To enter it is not for the faint-hearted, and few of us come out of it intact. Many of us, myself included, have experienced depression or panic attacks. A number of us have been shot in the neck or are victims of rape. And each time the violence happens, the public winks and says we should have seen it coming. They say that we brought it on ourselves by talking, dressing or thinking differently.

When we work as artists, our work is demeaned. It is treated as “talent” and therefore not requiring any pay. We are cheated out of our earnings by not being paid at all, or by accountants lying to us that the cheques are not yet signed so that they can buy more time to play with our hard-earned money. When we are asked “What do you do for a living?” and we say that we are writers or painters or photographers or musicians, we are told, “That’s fine, but what do you do from 8 to 5?” When we say that we are studying the arts, we are asked, “So where do you hope to get a job with that?” One of my students studying music was once advised to have a back-up plan.

The only time we get recognized in Kenya is when we succeed abroad or get recognized abroad. Even here, because the politicians have grabbed the cinema halls, the playgrounds and the social halls, we cannot find anywhere where people can gather to watch or listen to a performance. Instead, we find ourselves running to the halls built by foreign embassies in the Central Business District, far from the neighbourhoods where we live.

Why is being an artist so abusive?

I will tell you why. In Kenya, the state, businesses, the church, the media and the education system (the hegemony) are united in making our lives as artists a living hell.

Divine calling

The hegemony hates us because the arts is where human beings suspend institutional rules. In the arts, we privilege listening to God and the universe over listening to human power. When we dance, for instance, we switch off our consciousness about who is looking at us. We concentrate our minds on following the beat and on being in sync with other dancers. This means that, for that moment, we are focused on the arts – we suspend what the church thinks, what the government thinks, what the school thinks or what the media thinks.

In Myth, Literature and the African World, Wole Soyinka says ritual (or what I will call here the arts) is the space in which human beings collectively come to terms with their place in the world. Through the arts, we accept life as it is, both the good and the bad, and at the same time – not like an accounting balance sheet. We accept pain and love, life and death, as inevitable. We also accept that despite being human, the world operates on rules that even we humans cannot change. In the arts, Soyinka argues, we are even allowed to collectively call the gods to account, as Mother Nature and the gods also hold humanity to account.

The hegemony hates us because the arts is where human beings suspend institutional rules.

So the arts is the space where we bend the rules and break the barriers. It is where we reset the cosmic balance and provide justice to the vulnerable and clip the powers of the mighty. In the arts, we love people for who they are despite what the world tells us, and we reflect the image of God through becoming creators ourselves.

All these things I have described defy the human institutions of the hegemony. That is why the hegemony fights back at the arts.

The autocratic foundations of Kenya

In order to understand why Kenya is this way, it is important to understand that Kenya was constructed on a very narrow agenda – to control the resources (including us) for the profit of the few who did not even live here.

How do absentee plantation owners control a proud people with their own histories, identities and livelihoods? By creating a fiction or stories about how we are such degraded human beings who can only be helped to survive by the very same people who get rich from exploiting us. The arts inevitably became the enemy of our exploiters because the arts are where we can suspend these rules and connect to ourselves and to each other as human beings.

If you understand how power was handed over at independence, through careful selection of the Kenyan colonial sympathizers who joined the colonial civil service, then you’ll understand why that system has remained intact to this day.

The colonial rules which we never got rid of are still constructed on a narrow path to “success”, namely going to Western schools, getting employment, joining politics and becoming rich and displaying that wealth with cars, houses, children in foreign schools and other symbols of Western consumerist wealth.

For this system to continue, it also needs the stories that the colonizers told our ancestors. In church, we’re told that God loves the exploiters and that God is disappointed that we are not like them. In school, we are told to learn so that we become the next generation of exploiters, and that the only purpose of learning is to join the market. In the media, we are told that those who are successful are those who make the most money, not those who do the best for society. Meanwhile, the government sees its only role as setting laws and policy to rule us and sending us the police to punish us.

In the arts, we love people for who they are despite what the world tells us, and we reflect the image of God through becoming creators ourselves.

As you probably know, the system supported by these stories is brutal. In school, children are on their feet from 5 a.m. to 10 p.m. In the workplace, the more we work, the more we are insulted and the less we are paid. In the media, we are told that we are irrelevant to development. At church, we are told that God is disappointed in us. The government calls us immoral and the politicians patronizingly call us “talented youth”.

Many Kenyans who go through this brutal system make peace with it. But we artists don’t. And often, that’s not even a decision that we make. It’s just that the fire of God and the universe that burns inside of us is so strong, that we start to ask questions like, “What if God is not as brutal and punitive as we are told? What if we had another definition of success? What if I love the person whom the politician is telling me to hate? What if I dance instead of being miserable? What if I wear orange instead of brown? What if I sing instead of being quiet? What if I admit that I am sad? What if. . . .”

And that scares the people in power, because their power depends on us thinking we have no alternatives. And so, at the pulpits, on the airwaves, in the classroom, at the workplace and in government offices, people are taught to hate us for being different and for refusing to conform. We grow up being told that there is no future in a career in the arts and that we are responsible for immorality and underdevelopment. We are lied to that 80 per cent of students in university are in arts programmes, when the number is below 20 per cent.

Team Courage

So I want to encourage you not to give up. You are on the right track. The road may be difficult now, the system may be abusive, but we are suffering because we reveal the truth about the powerlessness of the system. If we try to suppress the creativity God put in our hearts, God will send a fish to swallow us and spit us out with the command that we must be artists. So we have no choice but to see this through.

We must see our calling through because society depends on it. The arts are the soul of a people. Without the arts, we will feel powerless to change anything, or too much in despair to hope. The arts are the quintessential space for democracy and freedom, because in the arts, we come together collectively but at the same time express our individuality. It is this magic that we know as freedom.

Think of a painting with different colours, or a choir with different voices. Although each colour or each voice is unique on its own and remains unique in the painting or in the singing, the combination of colours produces a sight that is pleasing to the eye and the combination of voices produces a sound that is pleasing to the ear.

That is what democracy is supposed to be. Democracy is supposed to be this magical space where we come together with our unique individual contributions and make something beautiful to the glory of God and in praise of our ancestors. Democracy is modelled on the arts, and that is why we must do our art.

I know that this encouragement does not mean much when courage does not pay the bills or put a roof over our heads. But in my further letters to you, I will explain what we can do to resist the abuse. We have a lot of work to do in terms of education, media, economy and faith. I will talk about how each sector abuses us, but also how we also are sometimes complicit in the abuse.

Joy will come in the morning.

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Towards a Joint Antimilitarist Struggle: From Israel to Europe

The struggle to demilitarize European borders needs to be part of a global antimilitarist struggle that resists agencies like Frontex but also takes on the global military-industrial complex.

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Towards a Joint Antimilitarist Struggle: From Israel to Europe
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By the end of 2020, a total of 82.4 million people worldwide had been forcibly displaced from their homes according to the UNHCR. The number of forcibly displaced persons globally has doubled since 1990 and is likely to increase significantly in the coming decades due to a convergence of factors, including armed conflict and other forms of violence, as well as climate breakdown, which will compound pressures to migrate.

Displacement occurs in the context of a capitalist economic system in which profits are made both through the sale of arms that are instrumental in causing conflicts and wars, and through the militarization of migrant routes and borders. Alongside the steady increase in the value of the arms trade and the spiraling number of forcibly displaced persons, the market for border security is growing with an expected worth of US$65-68 billion by 2025. War is highly profitable and the war on migrants is becoming increasingly so too.

Israeli military technologies, central to a system of settler-colonialism, apartheid and occupation, are big players in the international arms industry. “Tried and tested” on Palestinians, Israeli arms are sold to states and private agencies around the world and Israeli arms companies are now established partners of European Union border security agencies, such as Frontex, supporting the militarization of EU borders.

The Israeli arms industry is part of a global process of border militarization in a world increasingly characterized by profit-driven conflicts and militarism, all leading to further displacement — more migration and more people seeking refuge. The struggles for freedom of movement and against militarism need to work on making these links clear so that we can tackle these challenges at the root.

Frontex and EU border militarization

Frontex has a huge role in the militarization of European borders, the criminalization of migrants and the monitoring of their movements. One of Frontex’s main objectives is to identify migrants and organize operations to return them to their countries of origin. The agency increasingly works together with third countries, such as Libya, Sudan, Turkey and Belarus, coordinating containment and deportation efforts beyond EU jurisdictions.

In 2020, humanitarian groups claimed the EU is using aerial surveillance to spot stranded migrants in the Mediterranean Sea, alerting Libya’s coast guard to intervene — a move that facilitates illegal pushbacks, while non-governmental rescue operations are actively prevented and criminalized. Intercepted migrants are placed in arbitrary detention facilities in Libya, where they face human rights violations including torture, sexual violence and denial of health care. Also, on the border between Greece and Turkey, human rights organizations have documented pushbacks of refugees to Turkey by official coast guard agencies, among them Frontex and national coast guards.

The expansion of the agency has been a staple of EU policy in recent years. Frontex has now secured a €5.6 billion budget until 2027, with plans to hire 10,000 armed border guards by the end of that period. Its budget has grown by a staggering 7,560 percent since 2005, with its new resources used to buy equipment including ships, helicopters and drones. Fortress Europe, meanwhile, is increasingly covered in border walls and fences: since the Berlin Wall was torn down in 1989, European countries have built or commenced building 1,200 kilometers of fencing — a distance almost 40 percent of the length of the US-Mexico border.

What does Israel have to do with it?

This whole process is one in which both EU security agencies and European states purchase military equipment, including small arms, drones, ships and cybersecurity technology as part of their border security policies — much of which is sourced within the EU. This is also where the Israeli arms industry comes into the story. As the Israeli Database of Military and Security Equipment (DIMSE) shows, Israeli arms play a significant role in the militarization of EU borders.

Israeli arms that have been purchased among others by Italy, Greece and Germany include drones, radar systems and patrol vessels. But even more interesting are the direct military and security relations between Israel, the European Union and EU security agencies.

While US “aid” to Israel’s security capabilities of around $3.8 billion a year is well-documented, the collaboration of the EU with Israel can often be overlooked by critics. As an EU-associated state, Israel has enjoyed close economic and diplomatic ties with the EU for many years. Through research and innovation funds, the EU has invested billions in Israeli companies and organizations, including arms manufacturers like Elbit, Verint System and Israeli Aerospace Industries (IAI). Among dozens of EU-funded projects since 2007, IAI and Elbit reportedly landed contracts to develop drones for European security agencies like Frontex and EMSA (European Maritime Safety Agency) to “autonomously” stop “illegal migrants” and “non-cooperative vehicles.”

After conducting test flights between 2018-2020, IAI was awarded a contract in 2020 to provide Frontex with the Heron drone for maritime patrols. As the Times of Malta reported, the EU border agency carried out a first test flight in Malta at the beginning of May 2021. Different flight reports showed Heron drones making operational flights at the Libyan border in June 2021.

The main issue here is that drones are an effective way to elude the EU’s obligation under international law to save the lives of those trying to cross the Mediterranean — as they were obliged to do when patrolling with ships. Furthermore, in the new arrangement, Frontex continues to be present in the area from the air so they can be aware of different migrant boats setting out from the Libyan shores and to feed that information to the Libyan Coast Guard.

Frontex’s move of pulling investment in maritime patrol vessels and diverting it to drones is a way to spend money without having the responsibility to save lives and enables them to organize pushbacks through third countries. Beyond Israeli drones, the EU is operating European air vehicles and testing new robot systems, including long- and short-range drones.

Israel is essentially a go-to for countries looking to secure and militarize their borders. Israeli companies, specialists and top military generals have become increasingly visible at border and homeland security trade shows in the past 20 years. In that time, Israel became one of the top-ten largest defense exporters in the world and a leading supplier and consumer in the border security industrial complex. Israel’s military industry has been lobbying for years to get a share of EU multi-billion euro spending on border militarization.

In February 2021, a group of European journalists published the “Frontex Files,” a list of meetings between Frontex and various lobbyists, among them Israeli security companies such as the above-mentioned Elbit, as well as Shilat Optronics and Seraphim Optronics, which specialize in facial recognition technologies. Another company involved in Frontex operations is Israeli Shipyards, which produces naval vessels.

Another development that international researchers and activists have been observing is the increase in the usage of surveillance technologies to track movement and personal data via smartphones. Immigration agencies across Europe are showing new enthusiasm for laws and software that enable phone data to be used in deportation cases. In this context too, Israel’s cyber technologies are in high demand, with the infamous spyware provider, NSO Group, having long been used by European intelligence agencies.

Cellebrite, another especially problematic Israeli company, is reportedly involved in numerous human rights violations worldwide and already has 7,000 contracts with government and private groups — including the national police of 25 EU member states. Privacy International reported that the Israeli company is advertising its technologies used to extract data from mobile devices toward a new target: authorities interrogating people seeking asylum. In 2017 Cellebrite’s technology was operated in a test-phase by the German Federal Office for Migration and Refugees. In 2018, it was reported that the British Police are using Cellebrite’s mobile forensic technologies to access the search history of suspects and that the UK’s Immigration Enforcement Authority made a £45,000 deal with the firm in the same year. Between 2014 and 2016, Cellebrite also participated in EVIDENCE (European Informatics Data Exchange Framework for Courts and Evidence), a lucrative research and development program from the EU.

The other side of the coin

The other side of the coin is the usage of these technologies and arms here in Palestine-Israel. Israel uses military and security technologies to maintain its system of settler-colonialism, apartheid and occupation. Israel’s violations of international law and perpetration of war crimes during its incessant attacks on Palestinians in Gaza in May 2021 are well documented and research by antimilitarist activists about which arms were used in the attacks on Gaza is in progress in order to track new developments in the Israeli military industrial complex.

Israeli security and military companies work in direct connection with the Israeli military, providing equipment and weapons for its operations. This relationship means that military operations in Gaza and the West Bank are used as a laboratory for Israeli arms companies, where they can develop, test and then market their weapons as “combat proven.” It will not be long before Israeli companies will promote their new equipment again as “battle tested,” after the latest attacks on Gaza — an assault in which at least 129 Palestinian civilians were killed, 65 of them children, over 1,000 homes were destroyed and over 1,000 more severely damaged, leaving over 8,000 people without a home.

For an arms industry that has relied for years on marketing “combat proven” products, the next battle cannot come soon enough. EU funding for these companies inherently fuels Israel’s capacity to sustain its war crimes and violations of human rights and International Law, making the EU complicit in those violations, as well.

This takes us back to the Heron drone, which Frontex is now operating in the Mediterranean Sea. Heron drones have a dark history of use against Palestinians. Already after “Operation Cast Lead” in Gaza in late 2008 and early 2009, an investigation by Human Rights Watch concluded that dozens of civilians were killed with missiles launched from Israeli drones. The Heron was also widely used in the last major outbreak of attacks in May 2021.

On June 1, less than two weeks after the ceasefire, Israeli Aerospace Industries (IAI) published a press release detailing a $2 billion sale of Heron drones. The press release read: “Drones from the Heron family are the most prominent of the IAI drones and played an important and crucial role in collecting intelligence in operation ‘Guardian of the Walls.’” CEO of IAI, Boaz Levy, continued: “The deal is a testament to our customers’ strong satisfaction with the Heron UAVs, including their operational and technical performance.”

Israel’s technologies, which are taking part in a system of apartheid, settler-colonialism and occupation, being tested on Palestinians and are sold to dictators around the world, are now also being used to prevent migrants from entering Europe. Among these thousands of people are of course Palestinian refugees that have been immobilized on Greek islands or pushed back to Turkey in their attempt to find some relative freedom and safety away from Israeli apartheid.

Towards a joint antimilitarist struggle

Sustaining a tradition of international cooperation among political movements is crucial in these times of economic and militaristic globalization. Solidarity actions and nonviolent interventions — both of which are acts performed by “outsiders” of a conflict in cooperation with parties in the conflict — are important, but even more significant is the formation of a joint struggle against militarism.

In the last few years, we have seen some formations of this joint struggle, one of which is the international campaign Abolish Frontex. In June 2021, actions in seven countries, including Belgium, Germany and Morocco, targeted the agency. The actions marked the launch of the international campaign, which calls to defund and dismantle Frontex and Europe’s deadly border regime. The network sees in modern borders colonial and racist constructs, institutionalized by the EU’s border policies.

The Abolish Frontex campaign calls for a halt to the militarization of borders and for freedom of movement, residence and livelihood for all. Crucially, the campaign also addresses the EU’s contributions to reasons that force people to move in the first place and the repression against solidarity activists in Europe. The campaign’s network is decentralized and autonomous and is composed of groups, organizations and individuals from inside and outside the EU, ranging from Senegal and Niger to Greece and Italy.

Veterans of the international joint struggle against militarism, War Resisters International Network has been active now for 100 years, with over 90 affiliated groups in 40 countries. International movements such as the Palestinian-led Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions movement, Black Lives Matter and Jewish Voice for Peace are some key examples of antimilitaristic movements that continue to build forms of internationalism that cut through separations between struggles.

On the local and somewhat less visible level, joint antimilitarist struggle must involve the identification of common cause between groups and opportunities to build coalitions. In the Israeli antimilitarist struggle for example, a variety of different political and activist groups collaborate with each other. Here, anti-occupation groups cooperate with religious Jewish groups in the fight against Israeli arms exports to countries that violate human rights. Antimilitarist groups collaborate with climate-change groups in a joint struggle that sees the connection between Israeli settler colonialism, the occupation of Palestine and the destruction of the environment in the region.

One such group, the Israeli feminist and antimilitarist New Profile, sees parallels between the local struggle for the demilitarization of Israeli society and the importance of an international joint struggle against militarism, placing an intersectional feminist angle on the political agenda. Aside from local activism, education work and support of military-service objectors, New Profile is a part of WRI, Abolish Frontex and other international coalitions and groups.

The struggle to end militarism is necessarily global

Militarism is characterized by hierarchy, discipline, obedience, order, aggression and hypermasculinity and is defined by the norms and values of traditional state military structures. It is not limited to the armed forces, as other institutions take up its values and practices — whether police or security agencies, such as Frontex.

Militarism around the world will continue to sustain the racist, violent structures and borders that look to uphold a colonial and oppressive status quo. It is not just an “issue” for peace organizations and movements, as it is tied to much of the oppression and violence experienced today worldwide. We need to demilitarize the institutions and structures that sustain this status quo. This must take place as part of a radical international joint struggle where activists collaborate and learn from one another.

The struggle to demilitarize European borders, for instance, needs to be part of a global antimilitarist struggle that resists agencies like Frontex but also takes on the military industrial complex, as exemplified by the Israel-EU nexus. It needs to look at global and local structures and processes of militarism and conflicts that not only produce the technology to create borders, but also are at the root of why people need to flee in the first place.

Such a struggle involves not being stuck in only “solidarity” work: movements against militarism need to promote a fundamentally different social, economic and political order. That is, they need to put capitalism, racism and patriarchy on the political agenda — issues that are often avoided by political organizations and movements in the Global North because they require acknowledgement of our own contradictions and privileges, a questioning of our way of life and a commitment to concrete changes.

If we aspire to building a sustainable alternative to a world of profit-driven militarism and violence, we need to see it as part of the deeper challenge of overcoming global capitalism and racist colonial power relations. Therefore, the antimilitarist struggle must accentuate the relation between international feminist, anti-racist, anti-colonial, queer, anti-capitalist and anti-fascist struggles on one side and target the allied opponents of progressive values and basic human rights on the other.

This piece was previously published by Progressive International.

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