At 6’4”, and with an even bigger ego, Miguna Miguna has never been one to shrink from a fight. His latest confrontation with the authorities may have began with Raila Odinga’s swearing in on January 30, 2018 but the authorities’ attempts to target the lawyers who participated in the swearing-in has turned, in Miguna’s case and by the government’s acts both of impunity and incompetence, into a fundamental question of the meaning of citizenship.
On February 1, 2018, police arrested lawyer and Ruaraka Member of Parliament Tom Joseph Kajwang and charged him for participating in the swearing-in event. His arrest provoked the legal team that prosecuted Raila’s presidential election petition at the Supreme Court into action, convinced that who might be targeted after Kajwang. Miguna was high on the list.
Lawyers John Khaminwa, James Orengo, Julie Soweto, Nelson Havi and Cliff Ombeta had begun preparing applications for anticipatory bail, but a curve ball was heading their way.
At dawn on February 2, 2018, police raided 486 Runda Meadows, Miguna’s home. Miguna would later say that they used an explosive device to blast open his front door; shards of stained glass lay strewn at the entrance. A video circulated of neighbours and relatives in the aftermath of the police raid, protesting Miguna’s arrest while surveying the extensive damage done to the property.
A day earlier, police chief inspector Joseph Gichuki had obtained a warrant from the chief magistrate’s court at Milimani, Nairobi, to search Miguna’s residence for weapons and anti-government materials. Miguna was seized but no returns for the search have ever been filed in court.
Fearing that the police would attempt to hold Miguna over the weekend, his lawyers went before Justice James Wakiaga by 10 am on the day of his seizure and secured anticipatory bail, together with orders for his production in court on February 5. Makadara MP George Aladwa had also been arrested the previous day and released without charge, but Miguna was the big catch.
This was not the first time Miguna’s citizenship had been questioned. Back in January 2010, Party of National Unity spokesman Moses Kuria wrote to then Prime Minister Raila Odinga demanding that Miguna be fired from his position as advisor on grand coalition affairs since he held a Canadian passport.
Police refused to release Miguna despite the court order, and declined to disclose the place of detention, forcing a frustrated and futile search of police stations in Kiambu County over the weekend. His lawyers were informed that he was in a bad way at Lari Police Station but had no access to him.
It would mark the start of a five-day cat-and-mouse game that culminated in Miguna’s forcible removal from Kenya aboard a KLM flight to Toronto, via Amsterdam, and a repeat performance nearly two months later.
Public anger was swift in coming. One man was shot dead by police in protests to demand Miguna’s release in Ahero, Kisumu. For the army of young people, the millions unemployed, the slum-dwelling kibarua youth who forfeited their daily wages to take part in the NASA protests and had been radicalised by police brutality after the August 8 elections, they now increasingly identified with Miguna’s brand of radical politics: loud, direct and unambiguously, eloquently anti-Jubilee.
This was not the first time Miguna’s citizenship had been questioned. Back in January 2010, Party of National Unity spokesman Moses Kuria wrote to then Prime Minister Raila Odinga demanding that Miguna be fired from his position as advisor on grand coalition affairs since he held a Canadian passport. Miguna fought off those allegations, saying he had done what he needed to do to take on a dictatorial regime, and was defended by Immigration minister Otieno Kajwang, who said Miguna had never renounced his Kenyan citizenship.
The abrasive 55-year-old lawyer and author, who unsuccessfully contested the governor’s seat in Nairobi in 2017, fled into exile in 1988 after he was expelled from the University of Nairobi for his activism. He did not have a Kenyan passport. He became a naturalised Canadian after Kenya denied him a passport, and that citizenship was for years the only document standing between him and statelessness. His seizure at dawn was not only meant to detain him but also to revisit his passport issue, notwithstanding that the new constitutional regime allows for dual citizenship.
In the same week that Miguna was waging battles in court, the Director of Immigration suspended the passport of 15 senior NASA officials. Miguna’s personal travails were now part of a State’s agenda to punish collectively the opposition’s leadership. And in attacking Miguna’s right to Kenyan citizenship, they had headed in a direction beloved of failing republics in Africa.
Deportation, involuntary exile and banishment are stock-in-trade tactics of independent African nations. Bequeathed to them by their colonial predecessors, these are effective instruments for decapitating the organic leadership of restive populations. In the early colonial era, recognizing that they were not yet then strong enough to crush African resistance without provoking a wider revolt, the nascent colonial administrations routinely employed these tactics to subdue the African political leadership.
The record of deportations in colonial and post-colonial East Africa is long and infamous. To wit: Waiyaki wa Hinga, leader of the Kikuyu stood up to colonial officials: sentenced to deportation in Mombasa (he died at Kibwezi en route from Nairobi. It is said that he was buried alive and sitting); Mekatilili wa Menza and Wanje wa Mwadorikola: arrested in October 1913 for resisting labour conscription among the Giriama – deported to Mumias in western Kenya, but escaped a few months later and walked back home to continue with the resistance; Harry Thuku, founder and secretary of the Kikuyu Central Association: deported to Kismayu in Somalia in 1922 for agitating for improved living conditions for Africans. Here, we see a successful case of regime conversion. Thuku returned a changed man, conservative and pro-government and, to the end of his days in independent Kenya, deeply suspicious of African liberation.
Similar tactics were employed against Kabaka Muwanga of the Kingdom of Buganda, and Omukama Kabalega of the Bunyoro-Kitara kingdom. Both kings were deported to the Seychelles for resisting British occupation in the 1890s. Interestingly, their deportation officer, Frederick Lugard, was the same man who as a company man for the Imperial British East African Company at Fort Smith in Dagoretti, had made a treaty of friendship with Waiyaki wa Hinga, leader of the Kikuyu. When Lugard was forced to leave suddenly to organise the colonial forces in the Battle of Mengo in Buganda, his replacement at Fort Hall, George Wilson, abrogated the terms of the treaty, which included formal terms for the procurement of food and livestock, and turned Waiyaki into a rebel.
In the independence era, President Daniel arap Moi revoked journalist Salim Lone’s Kenyan citizenship for ‘disloyalty’ in 1982 before it was restored a year later. President Milton Obote cancelled Prof Mahmood Mamdani’s Ugandan citizenship after he gave an address at a Red Cross conference in 1985. Changes in constitutions appear to have done little to wean African states off the colonial instinct.
Banishment became a regular form of silencing dissent in apartheid South Africa, famously at its Robben Island Prison, as well as in the native Bantustans and the so-called free states.
In the independence era, President Daniel arap Moi revoked journalist Salim Lone’s Kenyan citizenship for ‘disloyalty’ in 1982 before it was restored a year later. President Milton Obote cancelled Prof Mahmood Mamdani’s Ugandan citizenship after he gave an address at a Red Cross conference in 1985.
Changes in constitutions appear to have done little to wean African states off the colonial instinct. When Miguna landed aboard an Emirates flight on March 26, his right of return backed by a slew of court orders, the full complement of the public service and the police were summoned to deal with him. The first sign of what the government planned to do was revealed when immigration lawyer Fred Ngatia reached out to Nelson Havi, one of Miguna’s lawyers, proposing that just the two of them meet Miguna on the airside. This was a suggestion that went against the court’s explicit orders, which had directed that officials of the Kenyan National Commission on Human Rights observe the process of re-entry. During the next three days, as the stand-off against Miguna raged, the KNCHR would be systematically frustrated as they attempted to gain access to Miguna.
Two months after his first illegal deportation, Miguna was methodical in his dealings with the government. Arriving at the Jomo Kenyatta International Airport at about 2.30 pm, Immigration officials wanted him to hand in his Canadian passport – they were willing to give a visa gratis, but he declined, insisting that they comply with the various court orders.
Accepting to enter Kenya on a visa was made to appear like a small price for Miguna to pay: Officials had offered him the visa gratis, sweetened by making it for an unlimited time, and with no restrictions – and ultimately said they only wanted his passport to note down a case number.
James Orengo – as one of Miguna’s lawyers he was a regular presence at the JKIA – believed that Miguna could postpone his fight with immigration officials. That is, until he spoke to some officials. Had Miguna handed in his passport, he would have been deported immediately, says Julie Soweto, a member of his legal team.
Unknown to Miguna’s lawyers, the immigration officials had already purchased a ticket for his flight on the 8.40 pm Emirates flight to Dubai. Officials had disobeyed all the other court orders and were only seeking to comply with one requiring him to use his Canadian passport in default. At 8 pm, any pretense at diplomacy fell away. Suddenly there were a lot more police at the airport; a commando unit either of the Administration Police or the GSU also arrived with Emirates cabin crew to take Miguna to the aircraft.
NASA leader Raila Odinga had arrived, apparently convinced that he could spring Miguna from the airport. But the police locked down the terminal. Odinga was reduced to sitting in a chair in the baggage hall, from where he made ineffectual phone calls. The image of the NASA leader helplessly trying to stop Miguna’s seizure by the police is perhaps the most eloquent summary of his influence in the wake of the ‘handshake’ deal with Uhuru Kenyatta.
Another Emirates flight was departing at 10.40 pm, but it was delayed for an hour. At 11.34 pm, police officers in jeans and t-shirts stormed the baggage hall and seized Miguna, frisking him in the hope of taking his passport. He had rehearsed this part, careful to avoid arrest. With one foot in the cabin, and the other outside the aircraft, he let rip: “Where are [sic] my luggage? Where is my passport?”
Indeed, immigration lawyer James Nyikuli called Havi to ask for Miguna’s passport, which he did not have. Miguna could not be placed on an aircraft against his will; and the pilot could not fly with a screaming passenger shouting, “I am not boarding.” Loud and boisterous, tall and intimidating, a lone ranger prone to going it alone, Miguna is an inconvenient victim – and many people have condemned him for not yielding ground. Yet, allowing his Canadian passport to be stamped on entry would have amounted to surrendering his Kenyan citizenship, even if only symbolically — a prospect he was unwilling to countenance.
James Orengo believed that Miguna could postpone his fight with immigration officials. That is, until he spoke to some officials. Had Miguna handed in his passport, he would have been deported immediately.
On Twitter, he would write: “In 1962, @RailaOdinga fled to East Germany on a Tanzanian passport. In 1991 @RailaOdinga fled to Norway on a Ugandan passport. Ngugi wa Thiong’o fled to the UK in 1982 on a Ghanaian passport. But they were not forced to return to Kenya as foreigners. Am I a second class citizen?”
With his deportation aborted, Miguna’s lawyers returned to court on March 27 and obtained further orders for his release and production in court – all to no avail. Justice George Odunga, as duty judge, issued new orders for Miguna’s production and the personal appearance of Dr Matiang’i, the Inspector General of Police Joseph Boinnet and Immigration Permanent Secretary Gordon Kihalangwa. When they did not show up or produce Miguna in the afternoon, he ruled that them in contempt but invited them to hear their sentence the following day. That order too, was ignored.
Advocates who went to the airport to serve Odunga’s orders ran into a wall of 50 heavily armed police officers. Restaurants were shut, the doors to the terminal were blocked, and the lawyers faced off with the police. They were reading out the court orders, complete with a Kiswahili translation, when a lorry-load of police drove in at high speed, abruptly putting an end to this latest attempt to force the government to comply with the courts.
At 6 am the following day, Miguna called one of his lawyers. His speech was slurred but he reported that over 30 people had stormed into the toilet where he had been confined, pinned him down, sedated him and put him on a flight to Dubai in the United Arab Emirates.
Memes of Miguna’s trademark skullcap and glasses on a black background now immortalize the struggle of conscience versus state power. But the emblem is also a reminder of the difficulties of attempting revolutions by using the law. Miguna has stirred a deep revolutionary instinct in the restless Kenyan youth.
Despite the government’s attempts to trivialise Miguna’s experience, the desperation that has driven it to its present actions now hides in plain sight. Although designed to psychologically break the spirit of resistance, the consequences of deportation always outlive the crises that set them off in the first place, and sometimes fuel and spark bigger fires.
KENYA BUDGET 2018/19: It’s time for a taxpayers boycott
The Kenya Budget 2018 has drastic implications on national and regional stability, on the Kenyan economy and on Kenyan workers. Its projections contradict data shared in previous Economic Surveys; it makes patently false claims, for instance, about the decline in domestic credit, to justify doling out billions to already well-provisioned sectors, notably manufacturing. But more than anything else, it is quite simply a perfect script for more waste and theft. By L. MUTHONI WANYEKI
It’s time for a taxpayer’s boycott in order to evaluate what is increasingly sapped out of us through tax and against what’s disgorged out of us through the theft and waste of our money. Let’s compare the facts, according to the government’s own Economic Survey 2018 and this week’s budget speech.
This year’s budget aims are meant to align with, and support the Jubilants’ so-called ‘Big Four Agenda’ – boosting manufacturing activities, enhancing food and nutrition security, achieving universal health coverage and supporting the construction of at least 500,000 affordable houses by 2022. Bear in mind, however, that the first Jubilant administration, through its Economic Transformation Plan, also had a focus on agriculture and manufacturing.
Last year, the real added value of agriculture shrunk by 3.5 percent to 1.6 percent. This was blamed (as usual) on the lack of rainfall. True, there were shocking decreases in production of key crops – coffee’s production dipping by 11.5 percent and tea’s by 7 percent with only horticultural production going up. But there was an overall increase in the value of marketed production of Ksh.28.6 billion for the agricultural sector. So why did the real added value shrink? What happened?
There’s no doubt that Kenya’s efforts to expand social protection are worthwhile. Reforming social insurance, for instance. Or expanding social assistance to vulnerable groups. But social protection is about risk mitigation – preventing the already precarious from tipping over into even more precarious. Social protection is not about growing jobs, enabling livelihoods and improving returns from employment. It’s also not about ensuring that the intent to improve access to quality social services translates into actual access to social services.
The real added value of manufacturing shrunk by 1.9 percent to 0.2 percent. This was blamed (also as usual on the extended electoral process, high production costs and competition). Note that credit extended to manufacturing actually increased – by Ksh 36 billion, no less. Yet there were shocking decreases in the levels of key manufactured products – except for maize and soda (!). What happened?
Regardless of what happened last year, to fix these sectors now, our Treasury proposes the following:
For the agricultural sector (amongst the usual pleas to move away from rain-fed agriculture and so on), to put about 700,000 acres under large-scale production by public-private partnerships (PPPs). No mention is made of where these additional acres are to come from – when land theft, fragmentation and scarcity is the source of so much national tension already. Maybe the President’s family intends to return the immense tracts of public land the founding President appropriated for himself?
For the manufacturing sector, contradictions abound. On the one hand, Kenya’s speedy accession to the African Continental Free Trade Area is praised. On the other hand, regional (and other) competition is being dealt with by ‘re-negotiations’ and ‘reviews’ of the sub-regional trade arrangements we are already committed to. Plus the rather cavalier raising of customs duties on anything we’re deemed capable of producing – to no less than 35 percent (!) on everything from iron and steel to paper, plywood, textiles and vegetable oils. This, we are informed, should raise us an additional Ksh.27.5 billion (not to mention the ire of our neighbours in the sub-region). Free trade is only good when it’s good for us, apparently.
Moving on to the financial sector: the Treasury had much to tell us about the supposedly negative effects of the interest rate cap. It has, we were told, made banks ‘shy away’ from would-be borrowers, who have also pushed depositors towards an expanded range of non-interest earning deposit accounts. It has also, we were told, slowed growth in credit afforded to the private sector.
Yet the Economic Survey for 2017 told us otherwise. As mentioned above, credit to the manufacturing sector grew last year – by Ksh.36 billion. Credit to the construction sector also grew last year – by Ksh.5.1 billion. Overall, domestic credit increased by 7.9 percent in 2017 – including an increase of credit to the private sector by 2.4 percent. And, despite interest rates remaining fairly steady, deposit rates went up as well!
Credit to the manufacturing sector grew last year – by Ksh.36 billion. Credit to the construction sector also grew last year – by Ksh.5.1 billion. Overall, domestic credit increased by 7.9 percent in 2017 – including an increase of credit to the private sector by 2.4 percent. And, despite interest rates remaining fairly steady, deposit rates went up as well!
But no…the Treasury has decided this experiment in making banks less usurious must end. It will be seeking to repeal the now infamous Section 33B of the Banking (Amendment) Act. For those worried about small borrowers, especially for small and medium-size enterprises, have no fear. The new, combined Biashara Fund is here (which’ll combine the three special funds for SMES owned by women and the youth).
And, just so we’re clear that Treasury isn’t, in fact, on the side of usury, it will be seeking to institute a ‘Robin Hood’ tax – charging a 0.05 percent tax on all bank transfers of Ksh.500,000 or more to go towards public health. Which we might be happy about if they came from banks and not us (as individuals and businesses). And if Treasury wasn’t also increasing the (already outrageous) tax on all mobile money transfers by two percent to 12 percent. What the good Lord gives with one hand he’ll certainly take away with the other.
Oh, and in case we missed it, instead of the progressive income tax increase on high-earners we had expected, now everybody gets a tax increase. The Employment Act is to be amended to impose a housing tax on all of us – an additional 0.5 percent will be taken from every formal sector worker, matched by an additional 0.5 percent from the employer virtuously to go towards housing.
Our spending target is to come in at just under Ksh.2.56 trillion. The aim apparently being to reduce our deficit from 7.2 percent to 5.7 percent while keeping our debt to gross domestic product ratio just below 50 percent. This spend target is slightly under our spend for 2017 – which sat, at the end of the day, at just under Ksh.2.78 trillion. Not controlled for theft and waste obviously
Our spending target is to come in at just under Ksh.2.56 trillion. The aim apparently being to reduce our deficit from 7.2 percent to 5.7 percent while keeping our debt to gross domestic product ratio just below 50 percent. This expenditure target is slightly under our spending for 2017 – which sat, at the end of the day, at just under Ksh.2.78 trillion. Not controlled for theft and waste, obviously.
With regard to theft and waste, the Treasury announced a bunch of moves to make public procurement more to scale and transparent, with significant allocations to all criminal justice institutions now involved in the ‘multi-agency’ effort against theft and waste. But it’s hard not to be cynical given the absolute lack of attention apparently paid to improving efficiencies and prudence.
There’s no doubt that Kenya’s efforts to expand social protection are worthwhile. Reforming social insurance, for instance. Or expanding social assistance to vulnerable groups. But social protection is about risk mitigation – preventing the already precarious from tipping over into even more precarity. Social protection is not about growing jobs, enabling livelihoods and improving returns from employment. It’s also not about ensuring that the intent to improve access to quality social services translates into actual access to social services.
That translation has been utterly undermined by the breadth, depth, prevalence of the theft and waste of public money that prevails. Treasury needs to convince us that it’s taking that theft and waste seriously. Sorry, the measures announced just don’t cut it.
It’s time for a taxpayers boycott. Really. There’s no taxpayer who is not absolutely and completely embittered by what we have to contribute. Because what we contribute is going to theft and waste.
KENYATTA’S WAR ON CORRUPTION: Words won’t cut it, the budget is the corruption
Corruption in Kenya isn’t about greedy procurement officers, fiddling civil servants, crooked businessmen, shady bankers, thieving politicians. These are merely creatures of an inherently corrupt political system. The current crisis was triggered by the capture of the public finance management system by what we call ‘cartels’. Now broke and in debt from all the looting, Treasury has officially turned against the people. By JOHN GITHONGO.
The three key issues Kenyans are talking about today when they survey the political scene are corruption; ‘the handshake’ between Raila Odinga and Uhuru Kenyatta; and, the fate of Deputy President William Ruto as he prepares for a run at the presidency in 2022. For his part, Mr. Kenyatta came out of the handshake in March with a renewed push against the theft and plunder that has characterised his regime thus far. He has issued strong statements against corruption; announced that procurement officers would be asked to step aside and vetted before resuming their positions. Previously he’d even announced that lie detector machines would be introduced into the public service to promote integrity. Most recently, he pronounced public officials (starting with himself) would be subjected to lifestyle audits and that all major public procurements would see their details published in the media including the names of the companies winning the tenders complete with their beneficial owners. All strong stuff especially coming on the back of a series of breathless exposés in the mainstream press of the looting of a range of government bodies, the National Youth Service (NYS) merely being the most egregious and colourful. The scandals have exasperated Kenyans.
Oddly though, all the bold pronouncements are yet to capture the public imagination. Indeed, Kenyans seem sceptical about the President’s anti-corruption crusade. This is partly because he has historically been big on talk and small on action where this particular vice is concerned. Secondly, there is suspicion regarding its timing. Why do now what you were unwilling to do between 2013 and 2017? Thirdly, there is the rather scattershot character of the anti-corruption initiatives announced. This has led some to observe that a series of tactical moves are being employed without a coherent strategy. For example, it is self-defeating to attempt a serious anti-corruption campaign in a society as open as Kenya’s while alienating the media and civil society at the same time. Public opinion is mobilised by civil society, civic society (the churches, professions etc) and the media – not by politicians no matter how well-meaning.
This is partly because Kenyatta has historically been big on talk and small on action where this particular vice is concerned…There is suspicion regarding the timing of the latest war on corruption. Why do now what you were unwilling to do between 2013 and 2017?
The broad scepticism that has greeted Kenyatta’s efforts thus far was best articulated by one of the country’s most experienced progressive politicians, Senator Jim Orengo of Ugenya, speaking before the Senate on May 31st. He warned that the real corruption in Kenya was happening at the highest levels but we Kenyans were afraid to call it out. He essentially asked the president and other top leaders to look around themselves and they would find that the real rot sits in cabinet with them: “In the inner sanctum of power there are people sitting there who should not be sitting there.”
The truth of the matter is that 50 percent of the fight against corruption is related to perceptions. Despite extraordinary efforts to manage the media, the current campaign is yet to capture the public imagination. Until it does Mr. Kenyatta is rolling a stone uphill watched by a disbelieving population. As I said, part of the problem is that it’s clear he doesn’t have a coherent strategy, which makes even simple efforts all the more difficult. Secondly, Kenyatta and his colleagues are victims of an even more serious strategic misinterpretation.
Corruption in Kenya isn’t about greedy procurement officers, fiddling civil servants, crooked businessmen, shady bankers, thieving politicians. These are creatures found in all societies. The issue at hand in the Kenyan context is that these players are born of a system of politics and governance that is itself inherently corrupt; one in which the thieves and those who facilitate them thrive. Indeed, if one were looking at where the next scandals will come from one doesn’t need an army of technicians with polygraph machines. This week the Cabinet Secretary for Finance presented to parliament a Ksh.2.5 Trillion (US$25 billion) budget. The thieving in Kenya starts right here. It is built into the budget. When the budget of the NYS shot up from US$50 million to US$250 million in Jubilee’s last term it was clear that this wasn’t a measure of the NYS’s absorptive capacity or a vast upgrading of this programme but the creation of what was literally a slush fund created to be stolen. This ‘theft-ready’ budget is a product of our politics. Last week the Auditor General, Edward Ouko, told Reuters that corruption across all levels of government threatens the integrity and basic functioning of the state. He said that the corruption was ‘coordinated at a high level’.
This week the Cabinet Secretary for Finance presented to parliament a Ksh.2.5 Trillion (US$25 billion) budget. The thieving in Kenya starts right here. It is built into the budget. When the budget of the NYS shot up from US$50 million to US$250 million in Jubilee’s last term it was clear that this wasn’t a measure of the NYS’s absorptive capacity or a vast upgrading of this programme, but the creation of what was literally a slush fund created to be stolen. This ‘theft-ready’ budget is a product of our politics.
It is time to accept that Kenya’s corruption crisis may in part be caused by the deliberate collapsing of our public finance management system – chunks of it are owned by what have come to be known as ‘cartels’. When this happens the challenge you face is not chasing bribe-soliciting cops on the beat but fixing a situation where the budget itself is the corruption. There are generally three types of corruption: petty corruption that is often extortion by public officials for small considerations to overlook minor infractions or expedite the delivery of services already paid for in your taxes. Grand corruption that typically involves senior officials conspiring with private sector players to skim off public works projects of one kind or the other. There is a third type of ‘corruption’ that I call looting or economic delinquency on the part of the elite. In this type of thieving the pretence of a project to skim off is set aside as elites raid public coffers with impunity and pocket billions. This causes the kind of macroeconomic effects we are seeing in Kenya as our foreign debt soars on account of the looting of a small elite.
It is time to accept that Kenya’s corruption crisis may in part be caused by the deliberate collapsing of our public finance management system – chunks of it are owned by what have come to be known as ‘cartels’. When this happens the challenge you face is not chasing bribe-soliciting cops on the beat but fixing a situation where the budget itself is the corruption.
In 1998 the fight against corruption, which had been a global advocacy campaign since the early 1990s by organisations like Transparency International, entered the mainstream of the global development agenda. There was no development programme in any developing country that didn’t have an anti-corruption aspect; that didn’t say something about transparency, accountability, basic freedoms etc. Even the World Bank whose legal department had previously blocked its officials from mentioning ‘corruption’ broke with tradition and joined the bandwagon. Previously corruption was described as project ‘leakages’ and ‘slippages’.
What had actually happened is that with the fall of the Berlin wall the opening up of political space meant that corruption, bribery and other forms of skulduggery that had been essential to governance during the Cold War found themselves being reported in newly free media, by a public free to associate and speak their minds. Between 1998 and 2008 a series of corruption scandals shook governments across the world. From Kenya to Germany, Peru, South Korea etc. In Latin America alone between 1998 and 2008, 11 governments fell due to corruption scandals that morphed into political crises of one sort or the other. By the start of this century anti-corruption researchers such as the respected Chilean economist Dani Kauffmann (now of the Natural Resource Governance Institute), argued to Moises Naim in Foreign Policy that with regard to the fight against corruption “Much was done, but not much was accomplished. What we are doing is not working.”
Indeed, corruption was increasingly blamed for all societal ills. More recently we’ve seen corruption scandals cause political shakeups in India, Mexico, Brazil, Bulgaria, Thailand, Guatemala, South Koreas etc. In Kenya we face a crisis in the health and education sectors; we are unable to create jobs for a majority of our youth. Unsurprisingly, corruption is the easiest to blame for what are sometimes failures caused by incompetence, a lack of capacity and the inability of the ruling elite to define the national interest separate from their own commercial interests.
Between 1998 and 2008 a series of corruption scandals shook governments across the world. From Kenya to Germany, Peru, South Korea etc. In Latin America alone between 1998 and 2008, 11 governments fell due to corruption scandals that morphed into political crises of one sort of the other. By the start of this century anti-corruption researchers…argued…that with regard to the fight against corruption: “Much was done, but not much was accomplished. What we are doing is not working”.
In Kenya, a serious effort to delineate personal interests from national ones would go a long way to dealing with our corruption problem. Conflict of interest was entrenched in our public service by the infamous Ndegwa Commission report of 1972 and we’ve been paying for it ever since. Most recently it is the poor who are paying most for it. The budget this week saw a cash-strapped regime under the gun of the IMF increase taxes on basic commodities in part to pay for the cynical profligacy of the elite since 2013. Ironically, Kenya’s constitution has created a legal infrastructure that should make the kind of economic delinquency and looting that’s in evidence impossible. But breathing life into a constitution requires political will that still seems to be lacking. In the meantime anti-corruption campaigns will be embarked on full of drama, gimmicks, speeches and technical fixes to problems that have much to do with the fact that our elites refuse to let governance institutions work, as they should. As a result, they are struggling to engineer the public sympathy and support essential to make the changes that need to happen.
Research by Juliet A. Attelah
KENYA’S LOOMING RESOURCE CURSE: Dancing to Machiavelli’s drum
Fed a daily news diet of scandal and sensation, and the choreographed drama of minions arrested and driven off in sleek SUVs, the Kenyan public’s attention is daily diverted from the far more serious resource scams, planned and conducted by the men in the shadows. In Lamu and Turkana, the theft of billions of dollars is already underway. By MIRIAM ABRAHAM.
The large hall was decorated with African art from the 54 Member States of the African Union. Singers and dancers from several African countries were entertaining dignitaries as they filled their plates with delicacies from the motherland. It was after all, Africa Day. The 25th day of May when we celebrate the formation of the Organization of African Unity (now African Union). And on the four screens around the large hall was the theme for this year: ‘Winning the Fight Against Corruption: A Sustainable Path to Africa’s Transformation.’
What a thematic choice by the African Union, I thought to myself. I was struck by the choice of words especially beginning with the positive: ’winning’. But my optimism was short-lived as the representative of Nigeria was called up to the podium to give remarks as the “champion” of the anti-corruption theme. I quickly looked up the latest Transparency International Corruption Perception Index to see the success of President Buhari’s fight against corruption, only to find that Nigeria had slipped from its 2016 ranking by 12 places to rank No. 148 out of 180 countries surveyed in 2017. Why, I wondered, didn’t the organisers select champions from countries that have seen significant improvement in their index score such as Côte d’Ivoire and Senegal or Botswana that has continuously ranked top in Africa. But then again: This Is Africa.
At this rate, I was expecting the Kenyan representative to be the next in line as the co-champion, standing at 143rd ranking on the Index! We were, fortunately, spared that particular embarrassment. As I listened to each speaker glorify African unity and deliberately evading the theme of the day, I could not stop thinking of the contradictions of our continent. We often have big aspirations that we parade but never implement – “winning the fight against corruption” being very high up on the list.
These empty aspirations were eloquently mimed by President Uhuru Kenyatta during his address to the nation on Madaraka Day. Like most Kenyans, I remained unmoved by his speech. Have we not seen this circus before? Did we not vet officials in the Judiciary and the Police before? Any lessons? Is this not just another game in elite self-preservation?
To be fair though, as a country, we have not outdone Saudi Arabia’s anti-corruption charade. Yet. We recall how late last year under the supervision of Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, hundreds of billionaires including over 50 from his own royal family were detained at the luxurious Ritz Carlton hotel, a gilded prison if ever there was one. There were claims of torture and abuse. The detainees reportedly signed off their wealth to the tune of billions in exchange for their release. In the meantime, the same Crown Prince allegedly splurged $500m to buy a yacht and a chateau outside Paris for $300m. It has been billed as the world’s most expensive home.
The charade by the Saudis has the feel of Kenya, albeit on a different scale. On 28 May, we watched as tens of high ranking officials were rounded up and escorted to court in top-of-the-range vehicles on charges of stealing money from the National Youth Service programme. It was a well- choreographed show; we have seen it before. Like the Saudis, we are fighting corruption for Machiavellian reasons. We all know too well the politics of our country. We hold “elections”; the coalition that “loses” cries foul. In order to govern in a polarized environment, the winning faction of the elite agrees to share the loot and, in the process, ditch a few people to give room to the new entrants. Statecraft. It is what “the men from the shadows” as John Githongo calls them in his article, One Week in March: Was the Handshake Triggered by the IMF?, engineer with the nod of the international community, so called, to maintain the status quo. To paraphrase from one of Niccolò Machiavelli’s works, one should not attempt to win by force what can be won by deception.
On 28 May, we watched as tens of high ranking officials were rounded up and escorted to court in top-of-the-range vehicles on charges of stealing money from the National Youth Service programme. It was a well- choreographed show…We are fighting corruption for Machiavellian reasons. We know all too well the politics of our country. We hold “elections”; the coalition that “loses” cries foul. In order to govern in a polarized environment, the winning faction agrees to share the loot and, in the process, ditch a few people to give room to the new entrants. Statecraft. It is what “the men from the shadows”…engineer with the nod of the international community.
One can see this art of deception playing out with the white elephants of Lamu county. Amu Power Company, a consortium that includes the Chris Kirubi-affiliated Centum Investments, has been awarded the tender to build the Lamu Coal Power Plant. In addition to the grave environmental concerns raised by community activists in Lamu, the approved Ksh 200 billion (US$ 2 billion) project does not make financial sense.
In a detailed analysis by Tony Watima in the Business Daily, the project’s high fixed cost of Ksh 36.2 billion per year is raised by its capital-intensive nature. While this would have made sense if the project was meeting real demand, it turns out that the additional demand is fictitious, a product of the Jubilee government’s fantastical ambitions. While real demand will stand at 2,500 Mw by 2022, Jubilee set itself a target of securing installed capacity at 5,000 Mw. Between reality and fantasy lies the opportunity for mischief. Thus, in the case of the Amu project, Kenyans will be paying almost solely for idle capacity. It will mean that each consumer will see an increase in their bill by Ksh 600 every month that would go directly to the Amu investors.
Amu Power Company, a consortium that includes the Chris Kirubi-affiliated Centum Investments, has been awarded the tender to build the Lamu Coal Power Plant. In addition to the grave environmental concerns raised by community activists in Lamu, the approved Ksh 200 billion (US$ 2 billion) project does not make financial sense…Kenyans will be paying almost solely for idle capacity. It will mean that each consumer will see an increase in their bill by Ksh 600 every month that would go directly to the Amu investors.
Amu is billed as the most expensive fixed cost project among the power generators. An additional 1,000 Mw of power that is excess of demand – and therefore idle capacity. In other words, we are incurring US$ 2 billion in debt to finance a white elephant. These costs do not include the potential loss of income from the fishing activities of the local community, and tourism. They also do not include the known health impacts from coal burning, the most toxic and dangerous pollutant of all fossil fuels.
If the government is serious about “winning the fight against corruption” as this year’s African Union theme pledges, then it must begin by being transparent about the Lamu Coal Power Plant. It must also be transparent about how it handles the export of crude oil from Turkana, lest we quickly join the millions of Africans for whom oil and minerals only yield the proverbial resource curse.
It must also address the systemic manifestations of corruption that begin from the budget preparation process. As a former senior official in a state institution, I witnessed first-hand how numbers are padded to inflate the actual requirements for any project. Requisitions of products that were in abundance in warehouses were made. Goods not needed at all were included in the budget. Consultancy fees, costs for transportation of goods and official travel were common lines that were padded with excess fat that would be “chopped” by officials, as my Nigerian friends would say.
The best lie detectors – probably also procured through corrupt means – cannot replace the dramatic shift in culture that is required in the genuine fight against corruption. Respect for professionalism, integrity, transparency and the rule of law are the fundamental cornerstones of a “corrupt free” Kenya. These are the same principles that this government, at its highest level, has frequently and gleefully violated. Targeting mid-level officials without touching the top-ranking thieves will only be scratching the surface. It will be classic Machiavellism. Or what Muthoni Wanyeki in her recent article eloquently called a ‘game of smoke and mirrors’.
The best lie detectors – probably also procured through corrupt means – cannot replace the dramatic shift in culture that is required in the genuine fight against corruption. Respect for professionalism, integrity, transparency and the rule of law are the fundamental cornerstones of a “corrupt free” Kenya. These are the same principles that this government, at its highest level, has frequently and gleefully violated.
If we as the tax payers fall for the deception, we will be cheering the smokescreen magicians. We will find ourselves questioning the #STOPTheseTHIEVES protesters, wonder why they are disrupting the supplications made at the recent Prayer Breakfast. And in a few weeks, just like we have done with the theft and electoral injustice at the IEBC, we will forget these scandals. Well, until the proceeds from the crude oil imports and the siphoning of money through the Lamu coal plant reach peak levels and “the men from the shadows”, the real rulers of the country, deliver baits on another NYS scandal that the media will gullibly headline, as the looting continues elsewhere and the elite entrench their political and financial positions.
As our African-American brethren say: Stay Woke!
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