Why Opinion Polls May Not Always Predict Election Outcomes in Kenya13 min read.
This is the second in a series of articles that will review and comment on surveys related to the August 2022 general election, providing analytical tools to enable the reader to assess their credibility and potential impact.
This is the second in a series of pieces I have been engaged by The Elephant to write on the place of surveys in the forthcoming election. As I noted in my first piece, I do so as objectively as I can, although for the sake of transparency I again declare that I am currently engaged as a research analyst for one of the firms whose results I review here (Trends and Insights for Africa, or TIFA).
A handful of recent polls
Since my previous piece was published at the beginning of April, the results of three credible surveys were published through the middle of May: those released by the Radio Africa Group in The Star on 18 April, by Trends and Insights for Africa (TIFA) on 5 May, and by Infotrak (sponsored by the Nation Media Group) on 12-13 May. While the first two indicate that Deputy President William Ruto was leading former Prime Minister Raila Odinga in the presidential race by 5 and 7 per cent respectively, they differ somewhat in important details, even beyond their respective headlines. They are also at odds with the most recent of these three surveys: those of Infotrak which have the two in a dead heat at 42 per cent each. I will begin with a visual comparison of the figures from the first two polls.
|Survey Firm||Sample Size/No. of Counties||Data Collection Dates||Ruto||Odinga||Others||Undecided/NR|
|Radio Africa/The Star||4,057 / 47||1-5 April 2022||46%||41%||1%||12%|
|TIFA Research||2,033 / 47||22-26 April 2022||39%||32%||1%||28%|
The first point to make is that although the TIFA results gave Ruto a larger lead margin (7 per cent vs. 5 per cent), the difference may not be significant, given that it falls almost entirely within their respective margins of error of around +/-2 per cent. The main difference is a whopping 16 per cent variance in the proportion who failed/declined to answer the presidential choice question. Two obvious questions arising from this are: (1) what might explain this gap, and (2) can any “deeper” analysis of the data suggest the “leanings” of these “silent” respondents?
Regarding the first question, no clear answer is apparent. However, it may be relevant that the Radio Africa poll was conducted by sending text messages to the sample derived from their data-base of phone numbers, whereas TIFA’s was conducted through the more standard Computer-Assisted-Telephonic-Interview (CATI) method (i.e., through live phone calls), based on the (comparable) TIFA data-base. Still, why this would make respondents in the latter survey less willing to reveal their presidential preferences is unclear.
Another puzzling issue has to do with Radio Africa’s stated margin of error, which is given as +/ 4.5 per cent. Yet with a reported sample size of 4,497, based on some 22 million registered voters (a figure against which the data were reportedly weighted), the margin of error is actually only +/-1.5 per cent. Why would the “Star Team” who produced the story want to make their findings look less precise than they are? (I made two phone calls to journalists at The Star about this but neither was able to provide a definitive explanation.)
Further, while the article by The Star made reference to findings from two previous similar Radio Africa surveys – showing Ruto leading Odinga by a huge 29 per cent last July (i.e., 43-14 per cent), and Odinga taking the lead for the first time in March, by 4 per cent (i.e., 47-43 per cent)—no suggestion was offered as to what could account for Ruto’s regaining the lead he previously enjoyed. Indeed, even when reporting the results in March, all The Star could offer was that “Poll ratings can go up and down so Radio Africa will continue to conduct its monthly opinion polls up to the August 9 elections.” In any case, it remains to be seen whether the just concluded party nominations and running mate selections will further reshape the race.
Why would the “Star Team” who produced the story want to make their findings look less precise than they are?
In addition, while the text of the article reported some results by region (i.e., North Rift, South Rift, Central, Upper Eastern, Lower Eastern, Nyanza, Western and Coast), the kind of quite useful table of results that had been included in the mid-March story was absent, as were any explicit comparisons of results at this sub-national level, leaving such calculations up to its readers to make—assuming they had kept the March results for such a purpose: e.g., an increase in support for Ruto in North Rift (from 63 per cent in March to 69 per cent now) but basically no change in Central (57 per cent in both March and April). While such changes may help to explain the overall result—the re-establishment of Ruto’s lead – it would be useful if the respective margins of error for each of the regions was also noted so that such sub-national changes from one poll to another could be put in a clear statistical perspective. But the earlier point remains: could the “Star Team” have provided any explanation as to why Odinga’s rating in Nyanza fell by 11 per cent in a little over one month?
Yet another methodological point is important to make here. If Nyanza constitutes about 13 per cent of the total sample, that generates a margin of error of +/-6 per cent, which means Odinga’s actual proportion in March (shown in The Star’s table as 78 per cent) could have been anywhere in the range of 71-84 per cent, and in April (shown as 67 per cent) in the range of 61-73 per cent. Note here that at the low end of the March figure and the high end of the April figure there is an overlap of 2 per cent, meaning that it is possible—though unlikely—that his “true” Nyanza figures did not change at all over this period.
Could the “Star Team” have provided any explanation as to why Odinga’s rating in Nyanza fell by 11 per cent in a little over one month?
Another point: according to the Market Survey Research Association (MSRA) Guidelines, its members should interview at least 1,500 respondents in any survey reporting national (presidential) voting intention results, and while there is no such minimum for any sub-national polls (county, parliamentary constituency, ward), the margin of error should be made clear. There is, of course, no such requirement for the Radio Africa survey since the regions for which results are reported are not electoral units, even were this news organization an MSRA member (which it is not).
Stop press—another poll is out!
As I was writing this piece, the results of another national survey were released, this one by Infotrak, commissioned by the Nation Media Group. Its headline findings may be compared with TIFA’s in the same way as the latter are compared with Radio Africa’s above:
|Survey Firm||Sample Size/No. of Counties||Data Collection Dates||Ruto||Odinga||Others||Undecided/NR|
|TIFA Research||2,033 / 47||22-26 April 2022||39%||32%||1%||28%|
|Infotrak||2,400 / 47||8-9 May 2022||42%||42%||1%||15%|
Before addressing the main contrasts in these results, several points regarding methodology should be made. As Macharia Gaitho, writing an accompanying piece for the Daily Nation, pointed out, “The dates the data was [sic] collected will always have a bearing on the outcome in a fluid political situation, but unless there were very major shifts and realignments in the intervening period, even a fortnight between two polls cannot account for such variations.” This assertion makes sense given the absence of any dramatic events relevant to the fortunes of the two main contenders during the period between the two polls—the departure of Governors Alfred Mutua and Amason Kingi from Azimio to Kenya Kwanza coming just after data collection for the Nation/Infotrak poll. And he went on to add: “Other factors which influence the outcome of an opinion poll are methodology and sampling.” Note that Gaitho had raised some of these same important issues in a Daily Nation piece he authored just before the August 2017 election which I responded to and published in the Nation a few days later, identifying issues that I felt he had not sufficiently addressed.
Leaving aside the semantic error that sampling and methodology are distinct (since sampling is an inherent aspect of methodology), the factors he cites are certainly relevant: sample size and distribution across the country.
Sample size in this case is not an issue, since despite Infotrak’s being slightly larger, the respective margins of error are nearly identical: +/-2 per cent vs. +/-2.17 per cent. Further, even though Infotrak’s question wording differs slightly from TIFA’s (“…who would you vote for…?” vs. “…who do you want Kenya’s next president to be?”), it can be assumed that much of the contrast between the two surveys is a consequence of sampling. Simply put: how each sample was distributed across the country, and what the achieved distribution (whether through the “pot luck” willingness of those selected to participate, or through post-data collection weighting—or some combination of both) is for each demographic variable that might be relevant to the issue at hand: presidential candidate preference.
Unfortunately, and in contrast to TIFA’s release, the Nation gives us no basis for comparing these two samples in demographic terms. That is, while TIFA included figures for gender, age groups, and education level (the latter required by the relevant law enacted in 2012)—as well as the proportion allocated to each of the nine “zones” for which results were reported—we have no such data from the Nation (whatever Infotrak may have provided).
Of course, for most political surveys in Kenya the most salient variable in assessing the representative accuracy of a sample is its ethnic distribution. Most survey firms collect data on the ethnic make-up of its sample but, as far as I know, no survey firm has ever published it nor does the relevant Act require it. Presumably, this is for reasons of “sensitivity”—a form of “self-censorship” that appears universally accepted. This is not to suggest that ethnicity explains “everything” about the achieved results, but it is critical when gauging whether samples are truly representative. For example, in TIFA’s survey, well over half—but nowhere near all—of Ruto’s and Odinga’s “home” ethnic groups (i.e., the Kalenjin and Luo) expressed support for their respective presidential candidates. Given this reality, it is impossible to judge the comparability of the two samples involved here without knowing what proportion of the total sample in each survey is comprised of the country’s main ethnic groups. Specifically, was there a “sufficient” number of Kalenjin in the Infotrak sample, and a “sufficient” number of Luo in TIFA’s (and Radio Africa’s)? Of course, such figures should reflect “correct” random sampling based on the geographical distribution of registered voters according to the IEBC, rather than any “search” for these ethnic proportions.
Of course, for most political surveys in Kenya the most salient variable in assessing the representative accuracy of a sample is its ethnic distribution.
It should also be recognized that whether using the eight pre-2010 Constitution provinces, or TIFA’s nine “zones”, none of them is mono-ethnic, with some of the more homogeneous—Central, Nyanza and Western—having less than 90 per cent of their dominant ethnic groups (Kikuyu, Luo and Luhya, respectively). TIFA’s data indicates Lower Eastern is the most ethnically homogenous “zone” although even here, Kalonzo Musyoka, the leading Kamba candidate, only polled at 15 per cent support.
Another problem arises when using survey results to predict election outcomes. While the presidential contest results of both surveys were generally presented by the media as reflecting actual 9 August ballot choices, in neither case was it reported whether all respondents were registered voters, and among those who claimed to be (assuming they were asked), how “certain” they were that they would actually vote on Election Day. Despite this, the main Nation newspaper article reporting the results refers to the survey’s respondents as “voters”. This raises the possibility that actual voter turnout (that is known to vary across the country in every election) will deviate from the samples of these three surveys, even if they all claim to have used the distribution of registered voters as their sampling “universe”.
Since this cannot be precisely known in advance even much closer to the election, it is misleading to use such survey results to suggest, let alone predict, actual outcomes, as the Daily Nation did in its front-page caption by stating that neither Ruto nor Odinga “has enough backing to cross the 50%+1 threshold to win”. (It may be assumed that those involved in producing these stories are also aware of the additional requirement of obtaining at least 25 per cent in at least 24 of the 47 counties.)
But there is an even more blatant flaw in this “run-off contest” statement: an actual voter who wishes his/her vote to count cannot be “undecided” or “refuse to answer” as one can in a survey interview, since voters must choose from actual ballot choices. In response to one of the several 2013 presidential election petitions, the Supreme Court ruled that spoiled ballots are removed from the count of “total votes cast”, so that the denominator of the calculation for each candidate is based on total valid votes cast, not the total number of people who walked into a polling station.
TIFA’s data indicates Lower Eastern is the most ethnically homogenous “zone” although even here, Kalonzo Musyoka, the leading Kamba candidate, only polled at 15 per cent support.
Based on this reality, for example, the Infotrak results imply that each of the main candidates “would get” 49 per cent, since only about 1,008 of the reported total sample of 2,400 respondents mentioned Odinga and Ruto, and this figure should be divided by roughly 2,040, which is the figure we are left with after subtracting those who said they were undecided or who refused to answer the question—about 360 respondents.
In other words, even if these top two candidates are nearly tied on 9 August, it would seem that a run-off contest would be unnecessary unless the combined figure of all the other presidential candidates exceeds 2 or 3 per cent—a much more likely prospect should Kalonzo Musyoka insist on “going it alone”.
Another contrast between the Infotrak and TIFA polls is important to point out, as it, too, could help to explain their contrasting results.
In terms of the distribution their samples, TIFA uses nine ethno-political “zones” while Infotrak (like Radio Africa) continues to use the former eight provinces. As such, the only sub-national results that can be compared (since they are used by both firms) are: Nairobi, Coast, Western and Nyanza. The table below shows the figures for these four units (comparing the TIFA figure on the left with Infotrak’s on the right, and the difference in parentheses on the far right):
TIFA / Infotrak
TIFA / Infotrak
TIFA / Infotrak
TIFA / Infotrak
|Ruto||25% / 33% (+8%)||26% / 29% (+3%)||21% / 18% (-3%)||37% / 33% (-4%)|
|Odinga||40% / 51% (+11%)||36% / 55% (+19%)||56% / 72% (+16%)||29% / 48% (+19%)|
Even setting aside the higher error margins for each of these regions, which range between about +/-6 and 7 per cent—and thus equal to 12 per cent and 14 per cent spreads, based on their respective sub-national sample sizes—these contrasts are remarkable, especially the larger figures for Odinga in the Infotrak survey. (Note that given the lower Infotrak figures for “undecided” and “no response”—10 per cent and 5 per cent, respectively, as compared to TIFA’s 16 per cent and 12 per cent—Infotrak’s overall figures for both candidates are higher, as is also the case in the comparison of Radio Africa’s figures with TIFA’s.)
While the contrasting figures for Nairobi are minimal, since the 8 per cent difference between Infotrak’s and TIFA’s figure for Ruto is only 3 per cent lower than the difference in Odinga’s numbers for the other three sub-national units (Coast, Nyanza and Western), Odinga’s “Infotrak advantage” is much higher: 16 per cent, 19 per cent, and 23 per cent, respectively. As noted, while TIFA provides the proportions allocated in its sample to each of the nine zones for which it presents results, Infotrak—or at least the Daily Nation—does not. But assuming they were roughly similar—and, as indicated, even taking the higher error margins for each into account—Gaitho’s summary point stands: that such disparate results cannot be accounted for by a minor discrepancy in the dates of the two surveys, given that no major events occurred that might have caused any significant shifts in attitudes towards either of the two main presidential candidates.
In connection with such contrasts between Infotrak and other credible survey firms in Kenya, a little history may be useful. For example, in their last surveys before the contested 2007 election, The Steadman Group gave Odinga a 2 per cent advantage over Kibaki, while Infotrak gave him a 10 per cent lead. Just before the 2013 election, Infotrak “predicted” an outright win for Odinga, whereas Ipsos’ results indicated that neither candidate would achieve this in the first round. A little earlier, an Infotrak survey conducted at the end of December 2012 and into the first few days of 2013 gave Odinga a 12 per cent advantage over Uhuru Kenyatta (51 per cent to 39 per cent), whereas an Ipsos poll conducted only about two weeks later gave the former only a 6 per cent advantage (46 per cent to 40 per cent). Similarly, in their final surveys before the 2017 election late July, Infotrak had Odinga and Kenyatta in a virtual tie (47 per cent vs. 46 per cent) —on which basis it suggested that no one would win on the first round—whereas Ipsos gave Kenyatta a clear outright win: 52 per cent vs. 48 per cent, excluding those who claimed to be undecided or who declined to reveal their preference (which when included, generated a 47 per cent vs. 43 per cent advantage for Kenyatta), although leaving room for some minor deviation from these figures based on differential voter turnout across the country. In fact, Ipsos offered four possible voter turnout scenarios, none of which put Odinga closer than 4 per cent behind Kenyatta.
Of course, given the disputed nature of the official results in all three of these elections, it is impossible to know which survey firm’s results were closer to “the truth”. But they do reveal a clear pattern: that Infotrak has consistently given more positive results to Odinga than any of the other reputable survey firms in the country. I should stress, however, that this “track record” should not be the sole basis for dismissing Infotrak’s current figures, but it does underscore Gaitho’s point that whenever there are differences in survey firms’ results that go beyond the stated margins of error, additional scrutiny is warranted—preferably to a degree that goes beyond what the Nation Media Group offered its readers/viewers on this occasion. Of course, given the fact that they sponsored the survey, such rigorous scrutiny might have been considered “inappropriate” at best.
On the other hand, it should also be recalled that in the polls conducted just before the August, 2010 constitutional referendum, Infotrak produced results that were slightly more accurate than those of Synovate—and there were no claims of any “rigging” in response to the official results.
In any event, the promise of continued polling by at least these three firms—Infotrak, TIFA and Radio Africa—should not only provide Kenyans with an evolving picture of the possible electoral fortunes of particular candidates and political parties/coalitions (as well as identifying the issues motivating voters at both the national and sub-national levels), but also invite them to more thoroughly scrutinize the performance of these firms and of any others that may appear and attain any serious media coverage. This is so even if the announcement of deputy presidential running-mates will make the next set of polls non-comparable with those examined here.
Of course, given the disputed nature of the official results in all three of these elections, it is impossible to know which survey firm’s results were closer to “the truth”.
The most useful data, however, would be the actual results announced by IEBC about which no credibility doubts are raised, so that only differential voter turnout would have to be taken into account in assessing the performance of the pollsters in their final survey rounds.
A concluding comparison: in the recent, second round run-off French presidential election, the final national poll had President Emmanuel Macron defeating Marine Le Pen by 56 per cent to 44 per cent, and the official (uncontested) results gave him a 58.5 per cent to 41.5 per cent victory (just within the poll’s margin of error). Given that, so far at least, there is no evidence that Kenyans lie any more than French people do when answering survey questions, let us hope that Kenyan survey firms can both individually and collectively achieve such accuracy.
Just after completing this piece, on May 18 TIFA released the results of another CATI survey it had conducted the day before, comprised of 1,719 respondents. This came in the immediate wake of two days of drama: first, on 15 May, the announcement by Kenya Kwanza Alliance’s presidential candidate, DP William Ruto, of his coalition’s deputy president running mate, Mathira Member of Parliament Rigathi Gachagua, and on the following day, the announcement by Azimio la Umoja’s Raila Odinga of former member of parliament and cabinet minister Martha Karua as his running mate.
The most useful data, however, would be the actual results announced by IEBC about which no credibility doubts are raised.
The two main questions it sought to answer were: (1) How many Kenyans were aware of each of these running mates? (2) What were their presidential voting intentions?
For whatever reasons, it emerged than far more people were aware of Karua’s selection than of Gachagua’s (85 per cent vs. 59 per cent), a pattern which was replicated among those who expressed the intention to vote for Odinga or Ruto, respectively (90 per cent vs. 69 per cent). By contrast, awareness of Kalonzo Musyoka’s choice of running mate, Andrew Sunkuli, was far lower among both the general public and among those (few) who reported an intention to vote for Musyoka (21 per cent and 38 per cent, respectively).
But as expected, it was the results of the second issue that attracted most attention, which gave Odinga a modest but measurable lead over Ruto: 39 per cent to 35 per cent. The central question these figures raised was whether Odinga’s jump into the lead, beyond the tie that Infotrak had reported just one week earlier, was to any degree a consequence of the identification of these two running mates, a question that will be addressed in the next piece in this series, by which time it is hoped at least one additional poll would have been conducted so as to confirm whether TIFA’s most recent figures do indeed represent a major shift in the presidential electoral terrain.
Support The Elephant.
The Elephant is helping to build a truly public platform, while producing consistent, quality investigations, opinions and analysis. The Elephant cannot survive and grow without your participation. Now, more than ever, it is vital for The Elephant to reach as many people as possible.
Your support helps protect The Elephant's independence and it means we can continue keeping the democratic space free, open and robust. Every contribution, however big or small, is so valuable for our collective future.
The Blind Spot: A Graphic Novel on Food Security and Farmers’ Rights
Chief Nyamweya shines a light on the central issues of food security and the welfare of smallholder farmers in Kenya.
Some time back in May 2020, an incident occurred in Mombasa that stunned the nation. The Daily Nation reported a story of a Kisauni widow who was forced to boil stones to give her children false hope that she had some food for them. The story sent shockwaves across the country and ignited a conversation about the magnitude of the hunger plaguing Kenyan households.
The story of Peninah Kitsao is not an isolated incident. All over the country, ordinary Kenyans are struggling to put food on the table due to biting inflation that has seen commodity prices soar to nearly unaffordable levels. Failed rains and a drought of a severity never witnessed before in the history of the country, especially in northern Kenya, have worsened a dire situation.
Interventions by state and non-state actors have arguably not been enough as there have been reports from certain parts, such as Samburu, of people drinking dirty water and eating dog meat to survive. The country is essentially in a deep hole. Coupled with the drying up of the rivers and lakes that used to serve vulnerable communities, it is safe to say that the government and other agencies have had blind spots in dealing with the situation.
Route to Food Initiative’s graphic novel The Blind Spot, which is written and illustrated by Chief Nyamweya, should be read against the backdrop of some of these startling developments. The work of committed art is to expose the ills in society, not just by dropping popular catchphrases and revolutionary slogans, but by disturbing the conscience of the nation. Such works of art are expected to put us on track for what needs to be done to set things right.
That’s exactly what Nyamweya’s comic offering is all about.
Worrying policy gaps
The central issues of food security and the welfare of smallholder farmers shine throughout the slim graphic novel, bringing into sharp focus policy gaps and a lack of commitment from leaders to correct the mistakes of the past.
The visual narrative opens with a protest by Kajibora residents and farmers at the Kajibora County Hall. Chanting outside the county governor’s residence, the agitated crowd demands justice for one of their own, Karisa, who has committed suicide after auctioneers sell his land to recover an unpaid debt.
The protest also provides the space and opportunity for the residents and farmers to demand “lower prices on food, better quality food and enhanced protection of Kenya’s ecosystems [and] land reforms.” Demonstrations are not new in the country; with livelihoods threatened by forces beyond their control even as the national and county governments drag their feet to alleviate the suffering, it is inevitable that ordinary people would take such drastic measures.
The Mzee Maona-led Jembe Revolution calls on Governor Nyoni to deal with food insecurity as a human rights issue and to protect smallholder farmers from predatory multinationals. The corporations are often accused of exploitation through the introduction of harmful production methods and industrial processes that threaten biodiversity.
The fictionalised revolution echoes the vigorous pushback by various stakeholders, including farmers, politicians and ordinary Kenyans, who have questioned the government’s proposal to introduce genetically modified foods.
While those in support of the introduction of genetically modified organisms (GMOs) into the country have a valid argument that Kenya and the continent at large are dealing with a serious food crisis that needs never-before-tested solutions, those against them argue that farmers and consumers are likely to suffer. This is because there are growing fears that the multinationals that distribute GM seeds will have the monopoly to dictate to farmers which seeds to use, and the scenario is likely to deny them the agency to produce food on their own terms and according to their preferences.
Putting Western interests first
In other words, the prioritisation of Western interests, as it often emerges in Nyamweya’s narrative, where the governor is accused of focusing on “the large scale production of a few food crops and protecting the interests of big agribusiness”, is a reality that policymakers will have to contend with to effectively address the issue of food security in the country.
A DW documentary titled Africa, GMOs and Western Interests, which aired two months ago, revealed the hidden hand of philanthropists such as Bill Gates, through the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, in pushing for the introduction of GMOs in select African countries to benefit private businesses in the West. Therefore, when Kajibora farmers and residents, through their Chama cha Wakulima (CCW) party, wave a placard reading SAVE OUR SEEDS, they are not expressing a grievance coming from without but a genuine fear born out of the reality that, on the one hand, the forces of globalisation are unavoidable (food production systems and the overall supply chain can never only be local) and on the other, the reality of the weak political system that hardly prioritises the interests of its citizens, least of all smallholder farmers.
To give credit where it is due, President William Ruto’s introduction of the fertiliser subsidy is likely to be a game changer for a majority of farmers who are unable to afford the essential commodity. The subsidised fertiliser is retailing at KSh3,500 for a 50kg bag, down from KSh6,000. The use of technology for registration (farmers use their phones) will also help eliminate red tape and corruption and thus improve efficiency in distribution, which is key to the timely use of the fertiliser to boost yields.
The cries and anxieties of the Kajibora farmers take a dramatic twist following the death of Mzee Maona when CCW is wracked by fissures as various members pull in different directions. As is characteristic of Kenyan political parties not founded on a solid vision and ideology, the core issues—such as sustainable agriculture for the farmers—that define the party’s agenda become a footnote. Instead, the so-called ideological differences (a euphemism for selfish interests) erupt during the requiem mass for Maona when party members engage in a vicious fistfight before the bereaved mourners.
Enter the scions of Mzee Maona, Sifa and Yona—highly educated, exposed and polished but with contrastingly opposing views on how to reimagine the patriarch’s vision of putting the farmers’ agenda first—and the narrative is set for a fascinating climax.
What emerges from the troubled relationship between Sifa, a professor, and Yona, now an aspiring Kajibora governor, are the intra-generational tensions of how to approach the pressures and complicated issues that have become synonymous with modern living. This is especially true when it comes to championing the rights of ordinary people such as farmers.
As is characteristic of Kenyan political parties not founded on a solid vision and ideology, the core issues that defined the party’s agenda become a footnote.
Sifa is distrustful of the political process for fixing societal issues. She is an advocate of fighting for human rights from outside the political process since, in politics, you “promise the people paradise while only delivering paperwork”. While her worldview is sometimes abstract and detached and elitist, she deserves credit for not losing focus on the immediate priorities that should be urgently addressed to make life better for small-scale farmers.
Yona, on the other hand, styles himself as a pragmatist and realist who is in touch with what is happening on the ground but comes across as vain, selfish and arrogant. He is a perfect representative of Kenya’s political class for whom governance is about foreign investment, rather than the people. He says that “a key part [of his] job as governor will be to attract investment to Kajibora”. This includes doing the bidding of multinationals like Green Shots Corporation, which is accused of controlling the food prices and the supply chains that are vital to farmers and consumers.
The role of the youth
However, what is poignant in the clash between Mzee Maona’s two grandchildren is the involvement of the youth—whether for good or bad—in debating the issues of food security and fair agricultural policies. While their approaches are often different, there is a genuine concern and passion that, in real life, should be encouraged and even rewarded.
Statistics indicate that the average age of the Kenyan farmer is 61 years. A revival of the 4K Clubs that were the craze in the 1990s under the 8-4-4 education system has been mooted as a way to entice young people to return to the soil. These are noble interventions that are likely to boost agricultural output since the youthful population is not just energetic enough to take up the challenge but also because modern farming involves access to the right information which a tech-savvy generation can exploit in this digital age.
When Dalili, a member of the CCW and a former close ally of Mzee Maona, encourages Sifa to join them on the anniversary of Jembe Day commemorating the revolt of Kajibora farmers and residents, she is essentially signalling a new way of addressing food insecurity. She tells Sifa that “our youth need to see where it all started”. The statement is profound because it acknowledges both the complexity and enormity of the task of streamlining food systems and the urgent need to bring diverse groups of people on board.
More importantly, sustainable agriculture has the potential to create jobs for thousands of jobless youth unable to secure the increasingly elusive white-collar jobs. According to the November 2022 Agriculture Sector Survey, the industry “employs over 40 percent of the total population and more than 70 percent of the rural populace”. This is a significant figure that is likely to increase even more if the youth are given the incentive to join forces in the overall agricultural production process.
Nyamweya’s only shortcoming is the exclusion of the voices of ordinary farmers from the entire narrative. As is characteristic of top-down policies, and unlike the bottom-up approach, there is a tendency to speak on behalf of the masses, to pretend to know what is best for them. A majority of the characters in the text speak of the “right” agricultural policies and approaches that need to be adopted to boost yields and food security. However, ironically, they behave like the multinationals that often impose their decisions on farmers without taking their views.
The approach is fraught with its own blind spots, not just because it is condescending to the farmers—those who are directly affected—but also because it poses the risk of aggravating an already bad situation. Talking about revolutions and uprisings is not enough to effectively transform the agricultural sector, even if the calls are to rid it of the cartels and the brokers present along the production chain.
Also, an erudite knowledge of the politics of food and the manipulation by multinationals cannot replace the basic principle that the farmer has to, first and foremost, speak for himself or herself. Does the farmer want to experiment with other seeds? Is the farmer only interested in the large-scale cultivation of staple foods? Is the farmer comfortable with the multinationals? What exactly is in the farmer’s mind? It is not always necessary that all foreign players that intervene in formulating agricultural policies have ulterior motives. One Acre Fund, an organisation founded by a non-Kenyan, has significantly helped smallholder farmers in western Kenya boost their farm output through the use of the right seeds and agricultural techniques and methods. I have seen this first-hand.
The statement is profound because it acknowledges both the complexity and enormity of the task of streamlining food systems and the urgent need to bring diverse groups of people on board.
However, despite the aforementioned shortcomings, Nyamweya’s artistic intervention cannot be downplayed. The issue of food security cannot be left to politicians and policymakers alone. This is not just because food is a basic need, but because a healthy and productive nation has the potential to improve the life expectancy and of children afflicted by malnutrition.
More importantly, a visual narrative approach is a welcome addition to a radical way of acknowledging the enormous capacity of art to surprise and reimagine how to deal with the existential anxieties of our time, such as food insecurity, climate change-induced drought and destruction of biodiversity. It is also a wake-up call to leaders, policymakers and other stakeholders that the conventional way of dealing with the challenges affecting farmers might have to change. Nyamweya’s book is a must-read for everyone who cares deeply about the future of our country and the coming generations.
Queer Lawfare in Africa – Legal Strategies in Contexts of LGBTIQ+ Criminalisation and Politicisation
The concept of lawfare, describes long-term battles over heated social and political issues, where actors on different sides employ strategies using rights, law and courts as tools and arenas.
The Supreme Court of India is anticipated to conduct hearings and deliver judgments in some important issues concerning the LGBTQIA+ community- ranging from the constitutionality of the blood donation guidelines that discriminate persons based on sexual orientation and gender identity to petitions on marriage equality (under both the Special Marriage Act and the Hindu Marriage Act). In this context, the book Queer Lawfare in Africa, edited by Adrian Jjuuko, Siri Gloppen, Alan Msosa and Frans Viljoen makes for a relevant and compelling read.
Queer Lawfare, according to the authors, is a strategy where rights and/ or laws are tactically employed to advance politically contested goals with regards to the rights of the LGBTQIA+ community. In the words of Siri Gloppen, Adrian Jjuuko, Frans Viljoen, Alan Msosa, the term “lawfare” used in the book describes the following:
The concept of lawfare, as used in this book, describes long-term battles over heated social and political issues, where actors on different sides employ strategies using rights, law and courts as tools and arenas. While sometimes associated with the misuse of law for political ends, ‘lawfare’ is here used as a descriptive, analytical term, de-linked from (the perceived) worthy-ness of the goal. The association with warfare is intentional and important: these are ongoing ‘wars’, with hard ideological cleavages and iterative battles. They are typically fought on several fronts and the contestants on each side have long term goals that they seek to advance by way of incremental tactics, often responding to, or anticipating their opponents’ moves, as well as other aspects of their (always potentially shifting) opportunity structure.
The book looks into queer lawfare in thirteen African nations- South Africa, Mozambique, Kenya, Botswana, Uganda, Malawi, Nigeria, Zambia, Ghana, Senegal, Gambia, Ethiopia and Sudan. Much like India, a lot of the nations discussed in the book had a criminal provision very similar to section 377 of the Indian Penal Code (before it was read down by the Supreme Court in Navtej Johar v. Union of India). Thereby, in many of these nations decriminalisation of sexual intercourse between consenting adults- irrespective of their sexual orientation or gender identity became (and in some countries still is) one of the first major goals of queer lawfare.
In some of the countries discussed in the book (particularly in those where queer lawfare has led to realisation of substantial legal gains for the LGBTQIA+ community), the movement started with seemingly neutral rights battles which intersected with discrimination law for instance, the right to association. The right to association cases in queer lawfare majorly consist of organisations or coalitions- established with the aim of further LGBTQIA+ rights- challenging the decision of the government to disallow their registration (set in a legal context where homosexuality is criminalised). In Botswana, such a challenge was decided in favour of the LGBT organisation, Lesbians, Gays and Bisexuals of Botswana (LEGABIBO) by the Court of Appeal (see also, the recent judgment of the Supreme Court of Kenya). In Mozambique on the other hand, the Mozambican Association for the Defence of Sexual Minorities (LAMBDA) operates under a feminist umbrella organisation since it is not legally registered and as a natural corollary, the queer lawfare is influenced much by the strategies used by the feminist movement.
The book also refreshingly looks into the social contexts of each nation and discusses how despite LGBTQ+ movements sharing the same vision of emancipation, the means employed to achieve the end varies depending on social and political contexts in different countries. It also subtly gets across the point that there is ‘no one size fits all’ solution when it comes to queer lawfare. It discusses the different stages at which queer lawfare is in and how it varies from country to country- from South Africa where giant strides have been made in the judicial sphere to Ethiopia where ‘online lawfare’ is more prevalent due to which there is an absence of a significant progressive legal change.
As the marriage equality petition is listed for hearing before the Supreme Court of India is being heard by the Supreme Court of India, the chapter on queer lawfare in South Africa becomes particularly relevant. The landmark judgment of the Constitutional Court of South Africa in Minister of Home Affairs v. Fourie that recognised marriage equality notably held that the constitutional rights of persons cannot be undermined or be determined by the religious beliefs of some persons. In this judgment, Justice Albie Sachs read the words “or spouse” after the words “husband” and “wife”, into certain provisions of the Marriage Equality Act, 1961. As has been articulated by Jayna Kothari in this piece, the adoption of a similar strategy in the marriage equality proceedings before the Supreme Court of India is central to making the provisions of the Special Marriage Act (“SMA”) more inclusive. Reading in the words “of spouse” after the words “wife” and “husband” used in various provisions of the Special Marriage Act in India would allow persons irrespective of their sexual orientation or gender identity to get the reliefs conferred by the SMA ranging from solemnization of marriage to provision of alimony.
The chapter also confronts the challenge of limited judicial imagination while dealing with marriage equality and states that the judgment delivered by the Constitutional Court of South Africa (which was hailed as progressive) still caters to the gender binary vision- one where the institution of marriage is valourised and idea of a ‘permanent same-sex life partnership’ essentially contains the characteristics of a typical heterosexual marriage. The chapter also highlights how the ‘good homosexual’ visualised by the Constitutional Court is generally ‘a partnered middle class, if not upper middle class, man or woman who, in a country like South Africa where class continues to follow race, is almost invariably white’ thereby bringing to light the class and racial undertones underlying the legal recognition of such unions. In India, given that the institution of marriage is intrinsically tied into caste, property and patriarchy, it will remain to be seen how the Supreme Court will navigate through complex questions of intersectionality while adjudicating this case.
The book also makes a passing reference to the transnational impact of judgments on queer rights delivered by the Indian Supreme Court. For example, where submissions made before the Kenyan High Court in EG v. Attorney General and the high court decision in Botswana in Letsweletse Motshidiemang v Attorney General were influenced by the judgment of the Supreme Court of India in Navtej Johar v. Union of India. This also points out to the butterfly effect in progressive queer jurisprudence and the important role the constitutional courts in India have to fulfill in the days ahead.
Another important feature is that none of the chapters miss an opportunity to inform the readers about the perseverance and resilience of LGBTQIA+ organizations, coalitions and activists. It does the important work of documenting their role in shaping the legal destiny despite facing legal setbacks and risks of coercive action by the state. It is a fitting tribute to the indomitable spirit of the queer rights movement across the said nations in Africa to challenge the legal and political system, despite it being designed to fail them.
Oromo Orthodox Split: A Collision Between Politics and Faith
The formation of the Oromo Orthodox Synod signals greater shifts that have been on the political horizon in Ethiopia for the last four years.
Ethiopia has taken centre stage over the last four years, with a Nobel Peace Prize winning Prime Minister propelled to power by a four-year civil protest movement quickly leading the country into multiple internal war fronts. The last two years, in particular, have seen many begin to wonder if the Ethiopian state itself will survive the compounding conflicts, given that they are rooted in a tumultuous, contested, and violent past. The most recent and significant development in the tectonic shifts that have been breaking social and political ground in the country occurred on the 22nd of January 2023.
Three Oromo archbishops of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church announced the formation of an Oromo Orthodox Church Synod, with 26 patriarchs appointed to lead the synod across Oromia. In stark opposition to the new synod, a large number of Ethiopian Orthodox Church members, particularly those of an Amhara ethnic background, have been coming out in protest at the breaking up of the church, citing it as a violation beyond politics, and a breach of holy religious law.
The government, which has been supportive of the Oromo Synod has – in the manner in which it regularly responds to any expression of civil dissent – responded with state violence, shooting at protesters and, for a short while, shutting down the Internet and telecommunication services.
On the 13th of February, the Oromia Media Network reported that the new Synod is in the process of supporting the formation of synods of other national and ethnic identities, naming the Gambela, Gumuz, Sidama, Gurage, and Gamo as amongst those that will be forming their own Orthodox Church Synods in the near future.
The Ethiopian Orthodox Church has existed since the 4th century and belongs to the broader body of Orthodox churches that include the Coptic, Syrian, and Armenian Orthodox churches, and the Syrian Orthodox Church of India. The liturgical language of the church is Ge’ez, a Semitic language originating from northern Ethiopia and Eritrea, with Amharic also being used in the church today. Orthodox believers make up approximately 30 per cent of Ethiopia’s population and Amharic, the language of the Amhara ethnic group who make up approximately 22 per cent of Ethiopia’s overall population, is the official working language of Ethiopia.
Language, and the social and political power that it comes with, is one of the reasons that supporters of the Oromo Orthodox Synod believe that this recent shift is necessary. Cultural marginalization has been the experience of the Oromo and other national and cultural groups in the country since the formation of the Ethiopian state in the 1800s, a formation that the Ethiopian Orthodox Church was instrumental in spearheading.
When Menelik II began his expeditions into the Oromia heartland with the intent of consolidating the new state of Ethiopia, the proponents of this project came across a people who lived, worked, and worshipped predominately in Afaan Oromo. In particular, they practiced Waaqeefatta, the monotheistic religion of the Oromo.
Cultural marginalization has been the experience of the Oromo and other national and cultural groups in the country since the formation of the Ethiopian state in the 1800s.
Even though the popular narrative is that Ethiopia was never colonized, one of the impacts that Menelik achieved with the support of the Showan Amhara conquerors who were armed by the West was the upheaval of Oromo religious, cultural and political practice. This was replaced by the church’s own religious beliefs, as they were considered the only way to effectively commune with God.
In Ethiopia, as in much of the world, religion has always had political undertones. Historical narratives recounting both Protestant Christianity and Islam being used by Oromos to counter the effects of cultural and political domination experienced through the combined efforts of the Orthodox Church and the Ethiopian state speak to these political undertones.
Is the split really unprecedented?
Politics pervades every aspect of life everywhere, and although we would like to think that spiritual matters are beyond politics, there is perhaps nothing as politically charged as the relationships religions have with people, with states, and with the desire for social change.
Schisms and splits that occur for political reasons are not a new phenomenon in the world of Orthodox Christianity. In the 17th century, a movement to establish religious uniformity between Greek and Russian Orthodox practice was met with resistance that eventually saw a split into “Old Believers” and the official Russian Orthodox Church.
The reason for the split was disagreement over the introduction into the Russian Orthodox Church of specific religious rituals that belong to the Greek Orthodox tradition. Although it began as a disagreement about religious protocol, it developed into a movement where different parts of Russian society began to voice dissent against the feudal order led by leaders in the church.
There are obvious and significant differences between the 17th-century Russian split and what Ethiopia is facing today, but in order to avoid viewing the split within the Ethiopian Orthodox Church as entirely unprecedented, we should see the formation of the Oromo Orthodox Synod in the larger context of movements that have taken place in the history of the church, whereby politics and faith have collided to create new institutions and communities.
Is this just about religion?
The formation of the Oromo Orthodox Synod has an impact on much more than just how people practice their faith. This event signals greater shifts that have been on the political horizon in Ethiopia for the last four years.
Opposition to the formation of the Oromo Orthodox Synod has been defined by language describing it as an affront to the church’s values of “oneness”; the full name of the church is the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church, with the word “Tewahedo” meaning “to be made one” in the Amharic language.
The ideal of “oneness” or “unity” versus the reality has been at the heart of Ethiopia’s most critical political issues. The Ethiopian state has, in concert with the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, had a history of violently assimilating a deeply diverse people and, in the same breath, defining itself as a beacon of unity. What we must understand is that what might be a breach of oneness and unity for one people, is for another people an act of revolution and decolonization.
The solution to this crisis, in my opinion, is not for the formation of the Oromo or other prospective synods to be stopped. Instead, as I think is the solution to many of Ethiopia’s issues, people must be willing to hear stories from the other side of the political divide in order to better engage the social and political changes of the now, and of the future.
I think that this is just the beginning and that although separation, like all change, can cause confusion, grief, and uncertainty, it can sometimes be the boldest step we can take towards building a new social contract for togetherness, cohesion, and harmony.
Politics2 weeks ago
What’s #Trending in Pastoralist Kenya?
Culture2 weeks ago
The Illuminating Power of Disputes
Politics2 weeks ago
Notes From Uganda’s Sexual Culture War
Culture1 week ago
The Lost City of Gedi
Long Reads1 week ago
Within the Margin of Error? — A Post-Election Polling Retrospective
Op-Eds2 weeks ago
Queer Lawfare in Africa – Legal Strategies in Contexts of LGBTIQ+ Criminalisation and Politicisation
Op-Eds2 weeks ago
The Blind Spot: A Graphic Novel on Food Security and Farmers’ Rights
Politics2 weeks ago
Understanding the Crisis in Northern Kenya