Sometime in the early 1980s, my father, who owned a photo studio on Moi Avenue in Nairobi, became a life member of the KANU party. The 1000-shilling membership came with a certificate and pins, the kind worn on coat lapels, with Mtukufu Rais Moi’s image on them. My father dutifully framed the certificate and hung it strategically in his studio where his customers could see it. In the studio’s window, he placed a large photo of His Excellency sitting at his desk in State House – a photo he had taken shortly after Moi’s inauguration in 1978.
At that time, many Kenyan Asian businessmen became life members of Kenya’s ruling (and only) political party. It was a way of showing loyalty to a president who was becoming increasingly insecure about his grip on power. For Kenyan Asians, who have always been uncertain about their citizenship, and who have on occasion been threatened with expulsion, demonstrating loyalty to Moi was a kind of insurance, a survival tactic.
In those days, the overriding concern among Kenya’s Asian minority was that Kenya could go the way of its neighbours, such as Somalia and Uganda, and become a military dictatorship. The abortive coup staged by the Kenya Air Force on 1 August 1982 had left Asians fearful; many Asian-owned shops had been looted on that day and some of the poorer Asians living in neighbourhoods like Ngara and Pangani had been robbed and physically assaulted by looters who had taken advantage of the chaotic situation.
Barely ten years before the coup attempt, in August 1972, President Idi Amin had expelled 70,000 Asians from Uganda. There were fears then that Kenya might also “do an Amin” and get rid of its economically prosperous Asian community. So when the coup in 1982 failed, Kenya’s Asians were more than relieved. For them, Moi had averted an economic and political catastrophe that could have adversely affected their business interests, and they were grateful to him for that.
Because Moi had entrenched a patronage system where sycophancy was encouraged, wealthy Kenyan Asian businessmen and industrialists made it a habit of visiting State House and making donations to Moi’s favourite causes. This financial support was often rewarded with government tenders or with assurances that the donors’ economic interests would be protected.
The devastating consequence of this system was that it enabled corruption among some unscrupulous members of Kenya’s Asian community, who began using their close connections to Moi and senior government officials to enrich themselves and their benefactors by using dubious means. Crooked Asian tycoons, like the Goldenberg scandal’s architect, Kamlesh Pattni, and Ketan Somaia (who is currently serving a jail sentence in the UK for fraud) flourished during this period.
Because Moi had entrenched a patronage system where sycophancy was encouraged, wealthy Kenyan Asian businessmen and industrialists made it a habit of visiting State House and making donations to Moi’s favourite causes. This financial support was often rewarded with government tenders or with assurances that the donors’ economic interests would be protected.
It was, therefore, not surprising that when it became clear that Moi’s reign was coming to an end, a panic set in among many Kenyan Asians. What kind of future would they have in a post-Moi era? Would the new rulers punish them for their past crimes? How would they secure their business interests? Would the whole community pay the price for the economic crimes of a few? (They needn’t have worried: corruption had by then become a way of life in Kenya, and members of the Mwai Kibaki administration, like those in Moi’s government, were adept at using Asian businessmen as front men to carry out its own grand corruption schemes, such as Anglo Leasing.)
When it became clear that Moi’s reign was coming to an end, a panic set in among many Kenyan Asians. What kind of future would they have in a post-Moi era?
After a brief venting period, where Kenyans were allowed to express their anger at what Moi had allowed the country to become, a process of sanitising Moi began. The historical revisionism argued that while Moi had proved to be a dictator, he had in fact been a benevolent one, one who supplied primary school students with free “Nyayo” milk, the one who brokered peace deals with troublesome neighbouring countries, the one who ensured that Kenya remained an “island of tranquility” in a strife-torn region – a line of reasoning that Kenya’s Asian business community had also adopted to explain why they supported Moi.
This process of sanitising Moi has been escalating since Uhuru Kenyatta and William Ruto (both protégés of Moi), assumed power in 2013. President Uhuru makes regular visits to his political godfather in his Kabarak home, and images of the man who held an iron grip over the country for 24 years have begun appearing more frequently in the media. Moi is increasingly being portrayed as a kindly old man who once held the country together. His prophecy that Kenya would disintegrate into tribal factions under multipartyism even appeared to come true after the 2007 elections when the country appeared to be on the verge of civil war. Twelve years after KANU was ousted, on Moi’s 90th birthday in September 2014, local newspapers carried glowing tributes to the aging dictator, prompting Daily Nation columnist Macharia Gaitho to wonder whether about the shortness of Kenyan memories.
After a brief venting period, where Kenyans were allowed to express their anger at what Moi had allowed the country to become, a process of sanitising Moi began… This proces…has been escalating since Uhuru Kenyatta and William Ruto (both protégés of Moi), assumed power in 2013… It reached a crescendo this month when Moi Day was celebrated. The official reason given was that the day had not been de-gazetted…
This whitewashing reached a crescendo this month when Moi Day was celebrated, albeit amid controversy. The day has not been observed since the new constitution was promulgated in 2010. (The constitution does not recognise Moi Day as a public holiday.) The official reason given for its return was that the day had not been de-gazetted and so technically and legally, Kenyans had no choice but to recognise it. So, millions of Kenyans who had planned to be at work or school on 10 October had to stay at home because the government ordered them to. Many wondered: of all the public holidays that this government chose to recognise, why would it choose the one that brought back painful memories for so many Kenyans?
Younger Kenyans who came of age in the Kibaki era have little recollection of the Moi days and the retrogressive policies that stunted the country’s economic growth and development by several decades. I once asked a 30-something what he remembered most about Moi, and his answer was simple: the free milk his school got every Tuesday and Thursday, thanks to Baba Moi. He seemed vaguely aware that Moi had done some bad things, but he was not exactly sure what those things were.
While it is true that Moi allocated a large chunk of the national budget to education, and schools bearing his name flourished, he also entrenched mediocrity and corruption within the civil service that allowed the country’s institutions to decay. The “Kalenjinisation” of all arms of government, the wanton grabbing of public land, the siphoning of public funds through friends and cronies, the looting of Kenya’s treasury and other forms of economic sabotage became endemic during his tenure. Moi also oversaw austerity measures imposed by the World Bank and the IMF in the 1990s that led to the deterioration of public services, such as health. By the time Moi left office in 2002, the country was virtually on its knees.
For the people who paid a heavy price for opposing the Moi regime, the declaration of Moi Day as a public holiday was like a slap in the face. Some of these people, like the environmentalist Wangari Maathai (who defied his regime and was beaten black and blue for opposing the construction of a tower at Uhuru Park), my journalist friend, Wahome Mutahi (who spent one year in jail on trumped-up charges of sedition), and opposition leader Kenneth Matiba (who was arrested and tortured and developed a debilitating illness as a result) are now dead, but among the living, there are still those who bear the wounds Moi’s government inflicted on them. I am thinking in particular of the thousands of Kenyans who were tortured or illegally detained by Moi’s men because they were suspected of being dissidents belonging to underground movements like Mwakenya or because they resisted Moi’s authoritarian regime.
For the people who paid a heavy price for opposing the Moi regime, the declaration of Moi Day as a public holiday was like a slap in the face.
The genius of the Moi system is that it normalised everything. Nyayo House, which housed both the Immigration Department and Kenya’s slick new TV channel, KTN, was a site of unspeakable torture. In the torture chambers in the basement, Special Branch officers worked on the detainees. The most dreaded of them was James Opiyo. His name still sends shudders through his victims’ spines. Upstairs, people formed orderly queues for new passports on the ground floor, or read the news on the top floor. They were aware of what was happening in the basement. No one mentioned it or thought it was weird.
‘The Nyayo House basement was no ordinary police cell. In the water-logged rooms detainees stood naked for hours on end. One victim, George Odido, told the Truth, Justice and Reconciliation Commission that he was left submerged in one foot of water for three days without food, and in total silence. Because of the fear of drowning, the detainees did not sleep. Many were crippled for life or suffered severe psychological trauma. Some of these detainees’ fake trials took place in the middle of the night, where compromised judges would hand them harsh jail sentences for crimes that they had not committed.
The genius of Moi was that he made everything look normal even when it was not. He turned Nyayo House, which housed both the Immigration Department and Kenya’s slickest new TV channel, KTN, into a site of unspeakable torture. In the basement of detainees Special Branch officers worked on them. Those applying for passports or reading the news were aware people being tortured downstairs…no one mentioned it or thought it was weird.
We must also remember than it was during Moi’s tenure that the Wagalla massacre in Wajir took place, a shameful “security operation” that resulted in the death of an estimated 4,000 ethnic Somalis in Kenya’s north-east. Moi was president when Foreign Affairs minister, Robert Ouko, was assassinated. And despite his rhetoric of ethnic harmony, his leadership saw the killing and expulsion of thousands of Kikuyus in Rift Valley Province prior to the 1992 and 1997 elections. Not to mention the many anti-government protestors who lost their lives at the hands of the police during demonstrations, such as Saba Saba.
There was also collateral damage. There were the mysterious deaths of people linked to Ouko’s death, including that of Hezekiah Oyugi, the head of Internal Security and one of the main suspects in Ouko’s murder, and Philip Kilonzo, who was the Commissioner of Police when Ouko was killed. One does wonder: if Moi’s government was capable of orchestrating the deaths of his own people, people who were loyal to him, then how many of his opponents were also made to “disappear”?
The Nyayo House basement was no ordinary police cell. In the water-logged rooms detainees stood naked for hours on end. One victim, George Odido, told the Truth, Justice and Reconciliation Commission that he was left submerged in one foot of water for three days without food, and in total silence. Because of the fear of drowning, the detainees did not sleep.
For all those who suffered physical or emotional torture, illegal detention or financial ruin at the hands of Moi, the reinstatement of Moi Day is a painful reminder of not just what they lost during his rule, but also of how his shadow still lurks over Kenya.
The Politics of County Economies: Why Central Kenya MPs are wrong
DAVID NDII pulls apart the old myth of Central Kenya’s economic dominance.
“One of our problems is to decide how much priority we should give in investing in less developed provinces. To make the economy as a whole grow as fast as possible, development money should be invested where it will yield the largest increase in output. This approach will clearly favour the development of areas having abundant natural resources, good land and rainfall, transport and power facilities, and people receptive to and active in development.” – Sessional Paper No. 10 of 1965 on African Socialism and its Application to Planning in Kenya.
Can Central Kenya contribute 60 percent of Kenya’s GDP, as recently claimed, nay, asserted, by the region’s members of parliament? If 12 percent (old Central Province) or 20 percent (including Meru, Embu, Tharaka Nithi and Laikipia) percent of the work force is responsible for 60 percent of the economy, what does that say about the rest of the country. What would make Kikuyus or GEMA community four or five times more productive than other Kenyans?
The word “contribute” is a loaded one. It suggests that there is a common kitty called economy to which some people put in more than others. This is of course not the case. The economy is the sum total of the goods and services produced in the country. When Nyandarua grows potatoes that are consumed in Nairobi: which county has contributed more to the other’s economy? Neither—they have exchanged value, with each profiting from the other. The argument can also be a self defeating one. It justifies domestic import substitution. If we can champion “buy Kenya build Kenya”, why not “Buy Kilifi, build Kilifi”?
The word “contribute” is a loaded one. It suggests that there is a common kitty called ‘economy’ to which some people put in more than others.
The Central Kenya MPs are most likely to be under the impression that the region contributes more to the tax kitty. This is also a fallacy. The tax base and the economy do not overlap. Ideally they should but they do not. In an economy with our structure we have, a large informal sector and largely untaxed smallholder agriculture account for half the economy, the correlation between the economy and tax base is pretty low. The main sources of tax are profits, payroll taxes and consumption taxes (excise and VAT).
The Central Kenya MPs are most likely to be under the impression that the region contributes more to the tax kitty. This is also a fallacy.
The regions that contribute more to the tax base are those with larger corporatized economy. Though I do not have figures, I would expect the coastal counties to constitute a larger tax yield (revenue to GDP ratio) than central Kenya on account of high concentration of the corporatized economy— tourism, manufacturing, mining and logistics industry. The tourism establishments for example sell more highly taxed alcoholic beverages than consumed in central Kenya. They pay more VAT on food, and their employees pay PAYE which the presumably more productive and prosperous farmers of Central Kenya do not. If Central Kenya is so much more prosperous, the more pertinent political question would be whether it is paying its fair share of tax.
That cleared up, we can now turn to the question of county economies. Which counties have the strongest economies? The simple answer is we do not know. The Kenya National Bureau of Statistics (KNBS), the national statistics agency, only publishes national accounts for the whole economy. It is now publishing “County Statistical Abstracts” but these do not include GDP. Six years on, the counties have not found it worthwhile to measure the sizes of their economies even though this is part of their mandate, and it is not particularly difficult or expensive.
In response, I posted a graphic with two sets of figures of the relative size of county economies. One is an estimate of county GDPs computed by World Bank researchers, and published in a paper titled Bright Lights, Big Cities: Measuring national & sub-national economic growth from outer space in Africa, with an application to Kenya and Rwanda.
Which counties have the strongest economies? The simple answer is we do not know. The Kenya National Bureau of Statistics (KNBS) only publishes national accounts for the whole economy. It is now publishing “County Statistical Abstracts” but these do not include GDP. Six years on, the counties have not found it worthwhile to measure the sizes of their economies even though this is part of their mandate, and it is not particularly difficult or expensive.
This methodology is actually more technically sophisticated than it sounds. If one looks at a satellite image of earth taken at night, it becomes apparent that the night lights closely mirror the economic geography of the world. In fact, because the intensity of lights is captured accurately up to a square kilometre, they provide much more detailed geographical coverage than statisticians use to calculate national GDP. Moreover, night lights provide real time data while statistical samples can fall hopelessly out of date, as revealed by the latest rounds of “rebasing” which saw upward GDP revisions ranging from 13 percent in Uganda, 30 percent in Tanzania, to 90 percent in Nigeria. One only frowns at the night lights if they do not know what statisticians do in the kitchen. But as it turns out in fact that over time, the night lights estimate tracks the statistically estimated GDP growth quite well.
For the second series, I used household consumption expenditure shares from the most recent household budget survey data published by the KNBS, the Kenya Integrated Household Budget Survey (KIHBS 2015/16). This is the survey data that is used to measure poverty as well as to update the consumption basket used to calculate the rate of inflation. Household consumption expenditure is the largest component of GDP. Although the percentage is bound to vary from county to county, we have no reason to expect that to be very large. In general, survey data is more reliable than the methods used to estimate GDP, hence it provides a good check for the night lights data.
Another useful source of information is the relative size of a county’s workforce. In a fully integrated economy with free movement of labour and capital, the size of a region’s economy would be proportional to the labour force: if County A accounts for 5 percent of the workforce, then it should also account for 5 percent of GDP. This is because labour and capital will move to where the opportunities are until capital per worker, and in effect production per worker is the same across the whole economy.
Readers of this column may recall that I used this argument to respond to the urban legend, which still persists, that Nairobi accounts for 60 percent of GDP (people who make up numbers seem to like 60 percent). I argued that Nairobi’s GDP was at best between 15 and 20 percent of GDP. This was based on Nairobi accounting for 10 percent of the national labour force, and allowing for more capital than the national average. As we will see shortly, the estimate was overgenerous.
The conventional definition of labour force is population aged 15-64. Ideally, we should use actual participation rates because many young people between 15 – 24 are in full time education, and many older people also work full time, but this data is not readily available on a county by county basis. We will just have to assume that the youth and older people’s participation rates do not vary too much across counties. I use the data published in the Labour Force Survey Report 2015/16, which is part of the KIHBS 2015/16.
We want to see whether the three sources tell the same story. We call this research strategy i.e. cross-validating different data and methodologies, triangulation.
We are in luck. The three sources are remarkably consistent. The correlation between the night lights GDP and household expenditure is 70 percent, between the night lights GDP and labour force is 73 percent, and between household expenditure and labour force shares is 90 percent (see charts). The strong correlation between the night lights GDP and labour force shares tells us that the bright lights GDP is pretty good. We can conclude from these correlations that all these data are telling us the same story. What is the story?
Second, all three tell us that Nairobi has the largest economy as expected, but it is a far cry from 60 percent. The night lights GDP puts it at 12.7 percent, while the expenditure share puts it at 20 percent. But the labour force share weighs in close to the night lights GDP at 12 percent.
The counties with the largest economies according to the night lights GDP are Nairobi(12.5%), Kiambu (11.1) Nakuru (8.5%). Between them, they account for 32% of the GDP.
The household expenditure data have the same order, and their combined share is also about the same (31%) but Nairobi’s share is much bigger (19.8%) while Kiambu and Nakuru are closer at 5.6% and 5.2% respectively. Eight other counties have large economies between 3 and 4 percent of GDP (Nyeri Kilifi, Kajiado, Machakos, Kwale Mombasa and Meru). With the notable exceptions of Nyeri and Kwale, their expenditure shares are also in line with the GDP shares. However, when it comes to the GDP and labour force, Kiambu, Kwale, Nyeri and Nakuru have much larger shares of GDP than their share of the labour force. I will come back to this shortly.
Nairobi has the largest economy as expected, but it is a far cry from 60 percent. The night lights GDP puts it at 12.7 percent, while the expenditure share puts it at 20 percent.
At the other end of the scale, Isiolo, Lamu, and Samburu have the smallest economies accounting for 0.2 percent of the national GDP each, followed by Marsabit, Tharaka-Nithi and Elgeyo Marakwet at 0.4 percent, Nyamira and West Pokot follow at 0.6 percent and Baringo and Tana River, 0.7 percent each, complete the ten smallest county economies. There is very close correspondence between the between the GDP and household expenditure in the small counties.
It’s worth pointing out here that the size of the county’s economy has no bearing on the incomes and well being. Whereas Lamu, Isiolo and Samburu are the smallest counties, Lamu’s incidence of poverty (28.5) percent is well below the national average of 36 percent; both Isiolo (56 percent) and Samburu (75 percent) are much higher. In fact, in terms of incomes and poverty Lamu, the smallest economy compares favorably with Nakuru, the third largest. This should put to rest those who are wont to argue that small counties are not economically viable. The Seychelles (Pop. 100,000, less than Lamu’s 130,000) has an average income ten times Kenya’s.
What explains the large difference between Nairobi’s GDP and household expenditure share. Why are Kiambu and Nakuru’s GDP estimates so much larger than their shares of the labour force. Are there plausible economic explanations, or is it flaws in the data?
For Nairobi, cost of living is a plausible and likely explanation, in particular housing costs which are much higher than elsewhere. According to a national housing survey conducted by KNBS a few years ago, housing costs for house-renting Nairobi households take 40 percent of expenditures, a third more than the next highest, Mombasa and Kiambu, at 30 percent. Rural house renting households spent an average of 13 percent. Although the report does not give the percentages, we do know that Nairobi has a much larger percentage of renting households than other counties. Overall, 70 percent of urban households are renters, while 90 percent of rural households are owners. You would not know it from listening to Nairobi’s navel-gazing middle class going on about home ownership and mortgage interest. In aggregate 70 percent of Kenyans live in their own homes, and a good percentage of urban renters own decent debt-free rural homes. Home ownership is not a national priority, but I digress.
The large divergence of GDP and labour force shares is perhaps the more economically meaningful and insightful one. The straightforward interpretation of this observation is that the GDP per worker in Kiambu and Nakuru is considerably higher than average. Is this plausible? In the Census of Industrial Production conducted in 2010, Kiambu had 206 factories, second to Nairobi with 1090, out of a national total of 2252 establishments. In effect, Kiambu accounts for close to a fifth of the factories outside Nairobi. This is not a surprise given that Thika and Ruiru are large industrial towns, but even in my rural home I can count least six fairly large factories within shouting distance (4 tea factories, a chicken processing plant, and a dairy processor) and thats not counting the Bata shoe and a couple of other factories in Limuru town.
Nakuru may not count as many factories, only 95, but it certainly has a lot of capital. The country’s entire geothermal electricity industry, the flower industry as well as a very significant hotel industry around Lake Naivasha—that is a fair amount of capital. This ratio seems to be capturing, as it should, the capital intensity of the counties’ economy. If this is indeed what these data are telling us, then it is worthwhile to pay more attention to them, because they are conveying important information about the structure and character of the economy.
In the Census of Industrial Production conducted in 2010, Kiambu had 206 factories, second to Nairobi with 1090, out of a national total of 2252 establishments. In effect, Kiambu accounts for close to a fifth of the factories outside Nairobi.
If capital was evenly distributed across the country, all the ratios would be clustered around around 1. The actual ones range from 0.4 to 2.3. Kiambu’s ratio is the highest at 2.3 followed by Kwale and Nyeri (2) and Nakuru (1.9). There are three more counties with a ratio of 1.5 or higher, that is GDP share is 50 percent more than labour force share, Kajiado, Laikipia and Murang’a. Interestingly, Nairobi is not one of them. In fact, Nairobi is in the middle of the pack with a share just 10 percent higher, alongside Tana River. At the other end of the scale we have Elgeyo Marakwet and Nyamira with a GDP share which is 40 percent of the labour force share, and 12 counties where it is 50 percent. Looking at this pattern, it is readily apparent that the counties at the top are generally wealthier, while those at the bottom are poorer. The wealthier counties have more capital.
We have what looks like credible estimates of county GDP shares, we have each county’s labour force, and we also have the conventional national GDP. With these we are able to compute GDP per worker for each county, which will give us an idea which counties have the strongest economies. Kiambu comes out on top with a 2016 GDP per worker of Sh. 673,000. This is telling us that people in Kiambu produced on average Ksh. 56.000 worth of goods and services per person per month. The ten strongest economies are Kiambu, Kwale, Nyeri, Nakuru, Kajiado, Laikipia, Muranga, Garissa, Kilifi and Machakos.
One of the striking findings is that the big city counties are not among the strongest economies.
Nairobi and Mombasa are about the same at 14th and 15th respectively with a GDP per capita of Sh. 300,000 and Kisumu is 16th with Sh. 263,000. Obviously Kisumu is both urban and rural – Kisumu City on its own would probably be comparable with Nairobi and Mombasa. Still, these data put some question marks on the widely held belief that big cities are the engines of economic growth. To be sure there could be other explanations. The cities, Nairobi in particular could have a larger share of young people in full time education and unemployed, but these are puzzles for curious students to write dissertations on.
One of the striking findings is that the big city counties are not among the strongest economies. Nairobi and Mombasa are about the same at 14th and 15th respectively with a GDP per capita of Sh. 300,000 and Kisumu is 16th with Sh. 263,000.
More significantly perhaps we also do not see an economically dominant region. Kwale’s economy compares favourably with Nyeri, both in absolute size and productivity. Kirinyaga sits next to Wajir in terms of productivity. Makueni is more productive than Nyandarua.
This is not to say that we’ve heard the last of central Kenya politicians’ ethnic chauvinism. As Bertrand Russell observed long ago, a man offered a fact that goes against his instincts will scrutinize it closely, and unless the evidence is overwhelming, refuse to believe it; but offered something which affords a reason for acting in accordance to his instincts, he will accept it even on the slightest evidence.
Dynasties, Hustlers and Us: Towards a politics of revolutionary change
MIRIAM ABRAHAM on the epidemic of rightwing populism abroad, the new power games of the ruling elite at home, and how to nurture genuinely popular movements for the future.
Last week, we gathered for a drink to commiserate with a Brazilian friend and colleague following the declaration of the populist candidate, Mr. Jair Bolsonaro as their new president. As we do much too often lately, we bemoaned the rise of nationalism, populism and the erosion of the rule-based world order. We fancied re-writing Thomas Friedman’s The World is Flat or Hilary French’s Vanishing Borders to update them with the recent assault on globalization, anti-immigrant rhetoric, trade wars, Brexit and the even greater threats to our environment as governments abandon international agreements. And then as we often do, we gradually moved from the big picture global issues to the inevitable discussions of the politics in our countries.
Our Brazilian friend had earned the right to go first, given that the drinks were meant for him anyway. He expressed his frustration at Jair Bolsonaro taking office in the country beginning January next year, and in jest wondered if any of us could offer him citizenship. The options around our table were not palatable. An Italian, two Americans, a Brit, an Austrian, a South Sudanese and a Kenyan. He lamented about the incoming President’s views on women, minorities and immigrants, his threat to use the army to quash urban crime and pull out of the Paris Agreement on climate change, among other grievances.
We asked our Brazilian friend what alternatives they had on the ballot and he readily admitted that they really had none. As in Kenya, they seem to have been stuck choosing between the Dynasty, as exemplified by Mr. Fernando Haddad of the left-wing Workers Party, who was anointed by former President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva (he is serving a 12-year jail sentence for corruption), or the Hustler Jair Bolsonaro, who while running on an agenda to clean up Brasilia, appears to be just as corrupt, if not worse. In what may be perceived as a quid pro quo, Judge Sergio Moro, who convicted ex-president Lula, has been nominated by the new Hustler President to serve as minister of justice in the incoming administration.
Nevertheless, the wave of anti-establishment candidates seems to be spreading across the world, as citizens protest what they perceive as entrenched systems that do not seem to address their economic and social woes. My friends were perturbed when I told them that I wished that the same wind of change would sweep through my African continent and the Middle East. I argued that if Brazil’s Bolsonaro was partly a product of social media, then my continent was more than ready to have their own version of this change. I admitted that I was disturbed by the dangerous rhetoric from their new anti-establishment leaders in their countries. But that in the absence of political leadership that attempts to root out corruption, deal with economic and social inequalities and protect our environment, then it is worth making a break with the past. This would potentially lead to setbacks, but it would re-set the political systems.
As in Kenya, Brazil was stuck choosing between the Dynasty, as exemplified by Mr. Fernando Haddad of the left-wing Workers Party, who was anointed by former President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva, or the Hustler Jair Bolsonaro, who…appears to be just as corrupt, if not worse.
While anti-establishment debates seem to dominate discussions in other places, in Kenya, the Dynasties and Hustlers seem to be shaping and controlling the political narrative of the country’s future. The 2022 succession plans all seem to be focused on the same names that are responsible for our woes. It is as though the Kenyatta, Odinga and Moi families, which have dominated our politics and economic lives for the past six decades have earned the right to govern forever. Or that the so-called Hustlers who have looted this country broke, will suddenly be redeemed and focus on the problems of the common mwananchi. Even when we attempt to be innovative, our lists are composed of politicians who have been part and parcel of the establishment, as former ministers or current governors. The so-called collection of views from across the country by the “Bridges to Nowhere” team; the so-called national dialogue conferences under the auspices of religious leaders; the calls for a referendum ahead of the 2022 election to change the Constitution – all are disguised attempts by the Dynasties or Hustlers to maintain their control of our destiny.
It is as though the Kenyatta, Odinga and Moi families, which have dominated our politics and economic lives for the past six decades have earned the right to govern forever. Or that the so-called Hustlers who have looted this country broke, will suddenly be redeemed.
Some are even suggesting that the “young” president remains in office, in one form or another, beyond 2022. To be fair, Uhuru Kenyatta has denied attempts to remain in power and has promised to unveil his “surprise” anointed one at the appropriate time. Time will tell. We have numerous African leaders who make retirement commitments and then turn around and claim to have “given in” to the popular demand of their populace. President Paul Kagame of Rwanda is the reigning king of this narrative in East Africa. The nerve to think that after the country has been dominated by the Kenyatta dynasty, Uhuru Kenyatta would offer to anoint a new leader, reflects a breathtaking sense of entitlement. If indeed our politics will continue to be controlled by a select set of families, then maybe we should consider formally switching from a democracy to a monarchy. It would save us a lot of lives and money, both of which are casualties of our electoral process.
In such a political climate, it is easy to give in to despondency and let the Dynasties and Hustlers battle it out themselves. But only if we would not end up as victims of their selfish adventures. Change does not come on its own. It needs people to organize and rally around a common cause. With the state of the economy, corruption, extra-judicial killings, inequalities and other ills, it should not be difficult to find consensus on a common cause. But the task of building a social and political movement is not easy. And the Dynasties and Hustlers will take every step to undermine such a movement. They will once more, re-invent themselves and present themselves as the messiahs we have been awaiting.
This is only possible if we collectively cave in to pessimism, apathy and our usual blind sycophancy to our versions of messiahs. Going back to Brazil. The military dictatorship that governed from 1964 to 1985 was opposed by academics, technocrats, reformists and many middle-class families. Although it took them time, these groups organized and formed the Party of Brazilian Social Democracy that rejected corrupt politicians, espoused free markets and respect for human rights and went on to govern between 1995 and 2003. During this period, Brazil’s economy thrived, violent crimes reduced, primary healthcare and literacy programmes among other social reforms were put in place. It was only replaced from power by the Workers Party, with even more positive social reforms, of course until political and economic power got into their heads and they became part of a corrupt and oppressive establishment.
In Kenya, there are signs of a growing number of activists, artists, writers, thinkers and technocrats who seem tired of the zero-sum game of Dynasties and Hustlers. Like myself, they spend hours behind keyboards on columns such as this one, lamenting the political-economic situation. They grapple on a daily basis with the situation in the country, dazed by each revelation of corruption, its public relations game of smokes and mirrors, arrests and release of the culprits.
In Kenya, there are signs of a growing number of activists, artists, writers, thinkers and technocrats who seem tired of the zero-sum game of Dynasties and Hustlers.
Every society needs it share of the Naom Chomskys to serve as public intellectuals. But even more urgently, it needs men and women to organize themselves to rid the country of this breed of the political class. That is the reason that initiatives such as the Kenya Tuitakayo Movement (KTM) are commendable. There is clarity on the issues to be tackled. Clarity on the need to mobilize across the country. Clarity on the importance of developing leaders. But the movement must define itself as a political one and not fall prey of the typical civil society projects that rely of external funding for survival. The movement should be wary of becoming one of those that ticks the boxes on the number of ‘capacity building’ workshops it has held or protests it has organized. It should not shy away from defining itself as a movement seeking to bring political, social and economic changes rather than a lobby group that intends to merely reform the current system. Out of sheer personal interest, no politician will want to change a system which privileges them.
Initiatives such as the Kenya Tuitakayo Movement (KTM) are commendable… [T]he movement must define itself as a political one and not fall prey of the typical civil society projects that rely of external funding for survival.
It is unlikely that such a movement will make any significant inroads to have a direct impact on the 2022 elections. It must, as a matter of necessity, move away from the model of the current political coalitions and parties that only exist as vehicles for electoral processes. But it cannot shy away from defining itself as a movement whose objective is to wrest political and economic power from the establishment and shape a new social contract with Kenyans. As a long-time friend of mine recently asked, “are we building leaders to be priests or to take political power?”.
Each day, the Dynasties and Hustlers will distract us with one issue or another, but such a movement has to focus beyond these distractions. It also has to be wary of those who sit in the boardrooms with them to destroy the movement from inside in order to maintain their privileged positions with the Dynasties and Hustlers, in the hope of having crumbs thrown their way.
It is unlikely that such a movement will make any significant inroads to have a direct impact on the 2022 elections…But it cannot shy away from defining itself as a movement whose objective is to wrest political and economic power from the establishment and shape a new social contract with Kenyans.
As expected, the drinks with my friends, ended without us finding a solution to our disenchantment with the political leadership in our countries. But with the optimism that change is inevitable, regardless of how long it may take, or how difficult it will be.
KENYA: ANTI-CORRUPTION – WHO CAN STOP THE REGGAE?
Borrowing a leaf from other dubious anti-corruption campaigns engineered by beleaguered African regimes, the current Noordin Haji-led clean-up has targeted allies and lieutenants of Deputy President, William Ruto. Will it work? By JOHN GITHONGO.
Earlier this week one of Africa’s most tenacious Big Men of the old school was sworn in for a seventh term as President, a victory of his politics of remote control considering his habit of long European sojourns. Paul Biya’s was once said to have asked an official: “Who are you?”
“I’m your minister of agriculture,” the official replied
“Who appointed you and since when?
“You did, sir.”
“Aha, okay. Congratulations.”
Biya, now the elder statesman of France-Afrique, the neo-colonial crony system that has managed France’s former colonial possessions in Africa, oiling the French economy while securing the fortunes of a brutal kleptocracy in Francophone Africa, has run an increasingly fractious and violent Cameroon since 1982. Irked by what he considered an impertinent question by the head of Cameroon Radio & Television, Eric Chinje in 1987, as to what he planned to do about rampant corruption Biya was defensive, dismissive of corruption as a problem in Cameroon. But by 2006, the spotlight was on countries like Cameroon. Irritated in part that Cameroon regularly featured at the bottom of Transparency International’s Corruption Perception Index (CPI), in 2006 he established operation Sparrow Hawk to root out corruption in the public service.
An initiative of the National Commission for the Fight Against Corruption (CONAC) – Sparrow Hawk has over the years proved one of the most effective tools against Mr. Biya’s political foes. Senior officials are regularly arrested, assets confiscated and generally manhandled by the judiciary – all to little effect as far as the overall problem is concerned. Earlier this year for example there was another scramble by senior officials, and a rash of breathless headlines, after former top officials were arrested and held at the notorious Kodengui prison in Yaounde for mismanagement, corruption and embezzlement. Another 20 officials were restricted from leaving the country. One was arrested in Nigeria by a joint force of Nigerian, Cameroonian and Equatorial Guinean agents. Former Prime Ministers, senior officials at the presidency, the president’s own personal physician and a host of other former ministers have fallen afoul of Operation Sparrow Hawk.
An initiative of the National Commission for the Fight Against Corruption – Sparrow Hawk has over the years proved one of the most effective tool against Mr. Biya’s political foes.
Despite all the drama, Sparrow Hawk doesn’t seem to have dented corruption as an issue in Cameroon. However, it has proved an extremely effective political tool for Paul Biya as he tightens his grip on power in Cameroon from his political engine room at Geneva’s Hotel Intercontinental.
Kenya is ostensibly in the middle of a major anti-corruption drive. Together with the elite politics of the handshake between Raila Odinga and Uhuru Kenyatta in March, little else has sold more newspapers in the country besides the murderous proclivities of politicians and socialites. On social media as bulldozers knocked down buildings illegally constructed on road reserves or riparian land, the popular phrase to describe the anti-corruption drive became: ‘No one can stop the reggae’.
The lead vocalist of the reggae was the energetic new Director of Public Prosecutions who has a direct line to the President – Noordin Haji. Unsurprisingly the media have become a key pillar in the latest permutation of the war against corruption – regularly reporting on upcoming arrests, providing prosecutorial details and sometimes seeming to test the waters as to what the public considers credible or perhaps too blatantly politicised. This is not unusual. Any serious anti-corruption drive requires impartial political support. The best mobilisers of this are the media and civil society. For their part this time around, given recent history, civil society has chosen to tread more cautiously. Some foreign embassies and their investigative agencies have become important pillars of some of the key investigations being carried out.
The first phase of the Kenyatta regime’s fight against corruption started in 2015 when the President dropped a bombshell ‘list of shame’ report in parliament during President Kenyatta’s state of the nation address. Included in the list were a number of senior public figures some of whom were forced to resign their positions as the Ethics and Anti-Corruption Commission (EACC) investigated an assortment of allegations in their regard:
The lead vocalist of the reggae was the energetic new Director of Public Prosecutions who has a direct line to the President – Noordin Haji. Unsurprisingly the media have become a key pillar in the latest permutation of the war against corruption – regularly reporting on upcoming arrests, providing prosecutorial details and sometimes seeming to test the waters as to what the public considers credible or perhaps too blatantly politicised.
The ‘list of shame’ didn’t quite cut the mustard with the public partly because of its scale and breadth. This made it difficult to be consumed whole; animating corruption required a ‘political hook’ that the citizenry could use to associate scandals with particular individuals. Throwing in the respected Auditor General’s office that is held in higher esteem than the EACC itself into the list also didn’t help.
It also became apparent that the list itself seemed a work-in-progress, an operational report prepared by the EACC and rushed, incomplete, to parliament for the required political optics essential for Mr Kenyatta’s state of the nation address. This tactical blunder of splurging out the incomplete document ultimately worked to the advantage of some of the political players named. They continue in high office to this day.
Within opposition circles and in the Deputy President’s camp of the Jubilee regime the episode was a sort of waterloo for the most powerful official in the EACC – its deputy secretary Michael Mubea, who is seen as the President’s man in the agency. Sources close to the Deputy President William Ruto observed that the Uhuru I ‘list of shame’ anti-corruption move was a stealth attack against many figures associated with the DP, who appeared to have outlived his usefulness to State House once the ICC cases had been dispensed with. Their reading was: why a stealth attack and not a full frontal honest ‘war against corruption’? It seemed to betray anxiety with regard to what the DP’s response would be. This remains the case to this day.
At the start of this year following the March 9th handshake the reinvigorated Kenyatta II anti-corruption drive was perceived as many things at the same time: an effort to roll back the most corrupt regime in Kenyan history and redeem some sort of legacy from it for the Kenyatta family; and simultaneously, to finally wipe out William Ruto, constitutionally the best positioned successor to Kenyatta as the 2022 elections approach:
If the anti-corruption drive was meant to ‘knock out’ Ruto, the effort is stuck in the mud; the reggae has stopped and bureaucrats are frozen on the dance floor – the courts and front pages of the media. Sources close to the DP explained: “One sees the same stealth attack against the DP as 2015 but executed differently. Last time Michael Mubea and EACC made the grand move but it went the way it went. This time there are three new aspects – first is the centrality of Haji the DPP; second, is the way technology has been deployed – tracking people using their phones and computers and using this telephone traffic for locational data to reverse-engineer evidence for prosecution processes that have already been embarked upon. This has removed the need for warrants. Thirdly, there is a growing sense that the high premium causalities of this phase of the war against corruption hail from a certain [read: Kalenjin] community. This in turn feeds a certain potentially troublesome narrative at the national level.”
There is a growing sense that the high premium causalities of this phase of the war against corruption hail from a certain [read: Kalenjin] community.
Other sources observed: “Clearly [the anti-corruption gig] isn’t going according to plan. When prosecutorial decisions are made from a purely political perspective they don’t tend to work and are more susceptible to an effective political response. It causes things to look and feel, as they did around the ICC matter. There isn’t a strategy being rolled out here. A prosecutorial strategy, for example, needs to be rational but here State House is deciding on guilt and the DPP is working backwards to put together the evidence when prosecutions have already started, all the while using the media as a tool to test what’s politically saleable and lay the ground for future actions.”
This Uhuru II fight against corruption revolves on an axis whose centre is Noordin Haji, the energetic DPP, with the EACC rushing up from behind to remain relevant. The media-cum-prosecution-led strategy – what has come to be called ‘the reggae’ – splutters to life roughly once a week.
This Uhuru II fight against corruption revolves on an axis whose centre is Noordin Haji, the energetic DPP, with the EACC rushing up from behind to remain relevant. The media-cum-prosecution-led strategy – what has come to be called ‘the reggae’ – splutters to life roughly once a week. Beginning to exhibit symptoms of the discredited Cameroonian decade-old Operation Sparrow Hawk, the process has meant attempting to fry big fish in a ‘shock and awe’ tactic that has played extremely well in the media. The biggest fish thus far has been Evans Kidero, former Governor of Nairobi who has found himself in the dock on a range of charges several times. Indeed, he has almost become the big fish that’s being refried every few weeks when public attention wanes. This week fried in oil; two weeks later in court to be fried with onions; two weeks later with garlic and dhania, as the charges are constructed on an ongoing basis. Meanwhile the fight against corruption seems to have gained more traction within elements of the international community than among Kenyans at large. Others contend that anti-corruption has been weaponised politically as part of the process of managing the political transition that’s underway.