America's Colonial Election

 The political stalemate in the United States challenges many of the commonly held notions about democracy in the nuclear-armed, north American nation of more than 330 million people. The incumbent, authoritarian president, Donald Trump, at 74 already one of the oldest leaders in the G-20, is clinging on to power and refusing to accept defeat by the even older opposition leader, Joe Biden.

In advance of the election, Trump built a barricade - a "non-scalable" wall - around the presidential palace, officially known as the White House, in the country’s coastal capital of Washington DC, which only added to concerns that he may not give up power if he lost.

For the watching world, the question is how did it come to this? How could a country that promotes itself as a model democracy across the planet - "the shining city on a hill" - be so bad at conducting elections and containing a rogue president?

Strategically located between two of the world's largest economies, Mexico and Canada, America is a country of deep contrasts - of breathtaking natural beauty, natural resources and friendly people, but also of ethnic divisions and massive inequality and poverty. It is a country that leads the world in scientific and technological discovery, yet is ruled by a corrupt, rapacious elite and struggles to come to terms with the legacy of its racist and colonial past.

Similarly, while Trump and Biden have much in common - both are wealthy and accused of corruptly exploiting public office to corruptly benefit themselves and their family members - they represent very different visions of the oil-rich country, long regarded an island of stability in a troubled region.

Four years ago, frustrated by a political elite that had presided over years of declining fortunes and betrayed hopes, a section of the American society, primarily made up of members of the ethnic white majority living in the vast rural interior of the country, turned to Trump, a political outsider with a hateful message which exploited ethnic divisions, demonised immigrants and refugees and promised a return to a mythical great past.

Yet Trump has achieved the opposite - by wrecking the nation's traditional alliances and exacerbating its internal divisions, he has weakened the country and lowered its esteem in the eyes of the world. Even the economic successes, the foundation for his re-election campaign, have been blighted by his mishandling of the global pandemic which has so far led to the needless deaths of nearly a quarter of a million of his fellow citizens.

Biden has now been elected by the other half of Americans, a coalition of ethnic minorities and moderate whites, also on a platform of a return to a mythical past, only a more recent one. He has been essentially charged with undoing the chaos of the Trump years and healing the divisions.

However, the idea of a pre-Trump utopia is fiction. The fact is Trump is a symptom, not the cause of America's problems; he simply exploited what existed long before he appeared on the scene. Fixing the country will take more than replacing him with a member of the ancien régime.

One might say that the problem is both camps are not looking back far enough. As the political unrest that swept the country in the months leading up to the election indicated, the issues plaguing the US date back to its founding as the first English colony, the genocide that accompanied the conquest of the native population, the enslavement that allowed the exploitation of its resources and the discrimination that legitimises to this day gross inequality and allows the few to profit off the labour of the many.

As with other countries struggling with traumatic pasts, the US needs to come to terms with the legacy of that past which continues to poison ethnic relations between its citizens today. Here it could learn from other former colonies, such as South Africa and Kenya, which have experimented with truth and reconciliation commissions.

In addition, the US will need to examine and repair the systemic faults with its democratic arrangements. Although the country likes to think of itself as having escaped the clutches of colonial monarchy after securing its independence, the truth is just like many former colonies that retained colonial states after securing independence, in the US, the monarchy was reincarnated in the form of its powerful presidency.

Over the last two centuries, Britain's first-born has continued to increase the power of that office while simultaneously untethering it from constitutional restrictions. Where democracy was once thought of as a way for the people to rule themselves, the country has transformed it into a mechanism for basically appointing a king.

In the mould of their former colonial masters, Americans have come to treat their presidents like greater mortals and saviours, ascribing to them messianic qualities, carving massive monuments to them on mountains and treating their words as pearls of wisdom from on high. Vice President-elect Kamala Harris's description of Biden in her acceptance speech is in the same vein: "We have elected a president who represents the best in us. A leader the world will respect and our children can look up to. A commander in chief who will respect our troops and keep our country safe."

It is this path that has led the country inexorably to Donald Trump. In order to reverse course, the US will need to pursue reform of its system, to reintroduce accountability and to pare back some of the powers of the presidency. Rather than focusing on choosing rulers, it has to encourage the participation of its citizens in the governance of their state.

One hopes that the political impasse and rising tensions in the country will be resolved peacefully since the American people deserve better. However, they must keep in mind that the election of Joe Biden is just the first step on the long road to democracy.

Peace For Our Time

On 30 September 1938, British Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, walked the steps of a plane at the Heston Aerodrome in London brandishing a piece of paper, the result of negotiations he had had with the German Chancellor. “I believe this is peace for our time,” he would later say, a phrase he would come to regret. For a world still traumatised by the Great War which had ended just two decades prior, the news of an agreement between the British and the Germans averting another catastrophe was welcome.  “Good man,” US President Franklin Roosevelt telegraphed from the across the Atlantic.

The Munich Agreement would turn out to be nothing more than a temporary stay and within a year the globe would be consumed by an even greater conflict. Three quarters of a century later, Kenyans find themselves at a similarly pivotal moment. Like the British at the time, memories of a recent conflict are still fresh. Like them, our overriding objective is to avoid a repeat. We too have been guilty of selling out the weak in the course of doing so.

Today, all eyes are on the Supreme Court. With bated breath the country awaits its decision on the petitions challenging the outcome of the election. The court’s decision may resolve the question of who becomes the next president of the republic, but like the Munich Agreement, it will only be a balm on a festering wound. It will not address the feelings and emotions tearing at our hearts, the underlying currents rending our national soul.

The fixation with who becomes president is diverting our energies from more fruitful pursuits. More important than who moves into Statehouse after its current tenant vacates is what that person does. And we should give thought to a post-election agenda to tackle the issues that have been highlighted by the election.

The urgent priority must be to begin the process of healing the country following a bruising election. The president, whoever it is, must recognize that half the country voted against him. This is not a time for chest-thumping and claiming wide ranging mandates. It is rather a time to reach out.  Also, there is an urgent need to build bridges between our polarised communities and begin to address the root causes of that polarisation. We cannot afford to spend another five years burying our heads in the sand. Our ignorance has not brought us bliss, and it is unlikely to.

The work of the Truth, Justice and Reconciliation Commission will be crucial to this. The Commission’s report is due out in just over a month’s time and should cover gross violations of human rights, economic crimes, illegal acquisition of public land and the marginalization of communities. That report can form the basis for a national catharsis. For the first time, the country can bare its soul and confront the past. It must be made public and not be hidden like other reports that have gathered dust on the presidential shelf. Victims must be given the opportunity voice to their pain, families to grieve and sinners can seek penitence.

According David Tolbert, president of the International Centre for Transitional Justice, “truth commissions work more effectively when they complement the work of criminal justice, reparations programmes and institutional reform.” If the TJRC will have done a thorough job, and it is hoped that it will, then its report should make for uncomfortable reading for many of our most powerful and long self-serving public officials. The TJRC may not have the power to prosecute, but it can recommend prosecutions, reparations for victims, institutional changes, and amnesty.

The implementation of these recommendations will fall squarely on the incoming administration and its leader must be seen to act quickly and to act comprehensively. It will not do to repeat the pattern of the past with the charade of half-hearted prosecutions. If it is to be a credible exercise, the justice must be real. There must be no return to business as usual. Necessary reforms must be undertaken to prevent future injustice.

If this is done then Kenya will be well on its way to a real recovery. Defending the rights of the weak and the marginalised, not ignoring them, is the true path to a genuine peace.

Red Letter Day

Chasing Shadows

It's a one horse race to the finish!

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Anger Management

Kenya Election: Anger Grows as Poll Violence Appears Unlikely

A local journalist displays a camera vandalized by 

frustrated foreign correspondents at a polling station.

Anger and frustration are said to be rising within the foreign correspondent community as expectations of widespread chaos during the Kenyan election fade.

Hopes had been raised by the butchering of 12 people, including 6 police officers, in the coastal city of Mombasa, but have now been replaced by a growing sense of disappointment.

Many have expressed shock at the alarming shortage of bad news stories and pictures of machete-wielding tribal youths.

"This is a hoax!" exclaimed one of the correspondents. "Even the politicians are saying they will accept the results. What are we supposed to report now?" he asked dejectedly.

At polling stations, tens of bewildered reporters were seen huddled in small groups and conversing in low tones. "This is not what our audience is expecting to see," said one, who declined to giver her name. "They watch CNN and read the Financial Times and know that people are arming themselves and politicians won't concede," she said.

"Kenyans are playing with fire," said another. "If they do not get their act together during the presidential run-off, major news networks will no longer be interested in covering the country," he added.

Kenyan authorities are scrambling to diffuse the tensions, promising a slew of corruption scandals and broken promises in the coming months but this is unlikely to assuage the anger. "We were given the same promises before the election but now look at what has happened," said one photographer."We cannot trust them any more and we will be taking action," he added ominously.

A hotline (072-PISSOFF) has been opened to assist any reporters who may be traumatised by the lack of violence.

(GNN)

Knots Landing?

In Defence of the Middle Class

Nowadays, it has become fashionable to bash the Kenyan middle-class. We are excoriated for our perceived propensity to sit in front of computer screens whinging about electoral results that we were too lazy to try and influence by our vote. In fact, much of this is a form of self-flagellation, as very middle-class (we'll get into definitions in a minute) journalists and political analysts beat themselves up over their unwillingness to endure long queues in the hot sun at polling stations and blame themselves for the fact that the likes of Ferdinand Waititu will be running the country. “If only we had voted,” they wail while ignoring the blatantly obvious truth: it wouldn’t have made an iota of difference.

It would be first of all helpful to define who we are referring to when we say “middle class.” Last year, the African Development Bank released a report that defined the African middle class as anyone who can afford to spend $2 and $20 per day. By that measure, nearly half the Kenyan population is “middle class.” According to one account, measured by wage distribution the middle class would mathematically constitute anyone earning between Kshs 8,000 and Kshs 25,000 per month.

However, it is clear that these are not the people our political pundits are moaning about. The middle class they have in mind is totally different from the middle class that actually exists. They are probably thinking of people who have achieved earning and lifestyle levels similar to the stereotypical fictions of US sitcoms, those whom The Economist calls part of the global middle class “with an income between the average Brazilian and Italian, and whose members have as much in common with each other as with the poor in their own countries.” They probably have a tertiary education, a well-paying job that allows them a reasonable amount of discretionary income. They can afford a car or two and take their kids to private schools. They are professional urbanites, have good access to the internet and flaunt the latest hi-tech gadgets, are no strangers to international travel and can take out a mortgage.

Here’s the rub. However you cut it, this is an exceedingly small number of voters. The Economist estimates that in the developing world as a whole, they are less than 10 percent of the population. Duncan Clarke of the management advisory group Global Pacific told the BBC last year that "the actual real middle class in Africa that sits in a global middle-class income level is less than 5% - that would be about 50 million people spread in different countries across the continent, concentrated largely in some high-income countries such as South Africa and Nigeria."

So at best we are talking of 1 in 20 Kenyans. So when Caroline Mutoko bemoans the fact that many of these do not bother to vote and suggests that this is the reason politicians do not hold rallies in Kileleshwa or Karen, she fails to grasp that politicians can do math. 19 votes in Kibera or a single one in Langata? It’s a no brainer!

It is also disingenuous to claim that this class of Kenyans is indifferent to politics and hides behind social media. Democracy is about more than a queue outside a polling booth. The fulminations one reads on Facebook and Twitter do not suggest apathy. The arguments are engaged, opinionated and, sometimes, knowledgeable. Their influence is evidenced by the fact that politicians have also taken to social media. It is this middle class that conceptualized and delivered the much-lauded presidential debate. It is this class that mobilized the mass-action movement of the 90s; that through their activism and argument on the streets and in the media and, yes, on Facebook and Twitter, sets the agenda for the nation and highlights issues. They are an army of writers and journalists, activists and cartoonists, bloggers and musicians. Boniface Mwangi, Mwalimu Mati, Gado, Mutuma Mathiu, Eric Wainana, Julie Gichuru and many others, even perhaps, Caroline Mutoko herself are part of this and their contribution to our national political life is not any less valid or valuable if they choose not to cast a ballot.

By all means go out and vote. However, do so with the understanding that, given their relatively scant numbers, the greater value of our corner of the global middle class lies in their ability to articulate issues, influence the national agenda and mobilize the masses of the poor, those 90% of Kenyans whose vote is actually the one that counts. It is only by empowering that most numerous class of Kenyans to understand and appreciate the difference between a Waititu and a Jimnah Mbaru that the middle class will affect the outcome of elections. Not by standing in line.