Reflecting on the 2022 Elections

The 2022 Elections are over, and Kenya has its new President and Deputy President; William Samoei Ruto and Rigathi Gachagua, respectively. And I have mixed feelings about this development. Many of these feelings are animated by what Ruto's Presidency means within the grand scheme of Kenyan politics. 

A Ruto-Gachagua Presidency reaffirms the notion that to ascend to the Presidency you must be Kikuyu or Kalenjin. Given that Kenya is a multiracial, multiethnic nation with 42 recognised tribes, this is a destructive and exclusionary notion that does not redress the sins of the past. These sins are; (1) the divide and rule politics and; (2) the establishment of a strong centralised state. Addressing the former, in the colonial era, the British chose to manage this diversity through ‘divide-and-rule;’ a governing strategy in which control is maintained by encouraging conflict between groups, thereby preventing them from uniting in opposition. As part of divide and rule, the British elevated certain tribes to positions of power and privilege within the colonial order. The Kikuyu and Kalenjin were some of them. The Kikuyu were elevated in the early days of the colonial order; praised for their willingness to adjust to British culture, life and economic systems. Conversely, the Kalenjin began receiving explicit state support, going as far as to sponsor a Kalenjin monthly magazine, during the Period of Emergency – where the British government supported efforts to create the Kalenjin, which was at the time eight disparate cultural and linguistic groups, to act as a bulwark against anti-British sentiment amongst the Kikuyu and the rise of the Mau Mau. In addition to receiving state patronage, another result of the divide and rule strategy is that politics, or the formation of political parties, during the colonial era was fragmented and linked to tribe. Early political parties were, primarily, ethnic collectives like the Young Kikuyu Association (YKA), the Kikuyu Central Association (KCA), and Kavirondo Tax Payers Welfare (KTPW). This sowed the seeds for our political parties in the present, which still operate on the tribal axis.

Another legacy of British colonial rule was the strong centralised state. Naturally, efficient wealth extraction, suppression of local rebellion, and the complete rewriting of everyday life demand a strong centralised state. This vested incredible powers with the Executive Branch of Government; the most important one being the power to direct development and financial resources. Though the 2010 Constitution introduced devolution – a federalist system with 47 counties, each constituted to represent the interests of one of Kenya’s 42 tribes – this system further exacerbates the flaws in the Kenyan state (underdevelopment as a result of Britain's mission of extraction and methods of divide and rule and the formation of a strong centralised state). Counties without urban metropolitan areas, so approximately 40 out of the 47 counties, often, lack the tribal diversity and ethnic balancing needed to overwrite Kenya’s issues with tribes and sufficiently address historic injustices. Additionally, this system did not overwrite the fundamental flaw in the construction of the Kenyan state; that even 58 years after independence, Kenya is “a reproduction of the colonial state” (Ndeda, 2009). Then, as now in a devolved system of governance, the central government retains control over the devolved units by withholding county funding or redirecting national development projects, in addition to the extant influence of political alliances. The result is that, despite devolution, “hegemony and post-colonial commonwealth and development opportunities [continue to be held] in the exclusive hands of a budding national elite” (Oyugi, Kaara, & Asembo, 2017). In essence, devolution has not solved the problem for which it was devised.

Altogether, the legacy of British colonialism created a system where the Presidency was the most valuable position in Kenyan politics, and elevate two ethnic groups, essentially giving them a shortcut to power, and Kenyan politics has affirmed a tradition that only two ethnic groups are "entitled" to this power. The consequences of such a legacy of ethnic majoritarianism are dire; simply ask the Rwandans or any Kenyan that lived through 2007 or any person who feels like their government has never represented them, and is incapable of doing so. It allows resentment to fester like, as Langston Hughes put it, a raisin in the sun. So I can't help but wonder what will happen after Ruto leaves office in 2032, after serving two terms. Historical trends suggest that his deputy - Rigathi Gachagua - will run for office, and win. No doubt, with a Kalenjin deputy by his side. And if it is not Gachagua, then it will be another nameless Kikuyu whose job it will be to manage the Kikuyu's turn on the merry-go-round. And so the cycle goes ad infinitum.

This begs the following question; (1) why does it matter, especially when the people in power rarely act to empower the masses who put them there. It matters because the executive still controls development and development resources. Remember that this is one of the legacies of the post-colonial state. In fact, there is a correlation between one's involvement with the National Government and the development resources allocated to a region. For example, the Luos have been political outcasts since the time of Jomo and, as a result, resources earmarked for development have been kept out of Western Kenya until 2018, when Raila Odinga and President Kenyatta shook hands. Since then, Western Kenya has been the recipient of renewed government patronage, from the launch of a shipbuilding yard at Lake Victoria to the reformation of its' port and airports, to investments in its healthcare. More importantly, the question of ethnic majoritarianism raises questions about representation in politics and whether a government that has been led by a minority of the population can serve the interests of the majority. Or if they will work to entrench the privileges of the minority. 

This is why the cycle of Kikuyu-Kalenjin Presidents needs to be broken. In 2022, we had the opportunity with Raila Odinga. While he has run for office many times before, this is the first time Raila was running with the backing of the state. Which meant that the was no longer Sisyphus rolling a bolder up a hill; but Sisyphus with a damn forklift. AND HE STILL LOST! It wasn't enough. This may be because Raila might not be the man to open the Presidency up to the other tribes. But if not Raila, then who. I ask this question because Raila was one of the few politicians in Kenyan history capable of mobilising the people, and fighting against the entrenched interest that does not want to keep the Presidency rotating on its' two-tribe axis. And, yet, it still wasn't enough. This has led me to approach this entire subject with a fatalism that is unbecoming of my optimistic nature and an exhaustion that belies my youth. In short, this was the election that allowed me to believe in the possibility of a non-Kikuyu or Kalenjin President. Equally, it was the election that squashed those dreams. 

Thus begging the question, what do we do next? If we accept that the Presidency, inherently, affirms notions of ethnic majoritarianism, then should we counter this exclusion at the executive level with greater levels of inclusion in lower government (County)? Should we properly institute devolution, to allow the counties to speak for themselves and act as an efficient check on Executive power? Or should we start even lower, with community associations, and build an entirely new generation of politicians? Alternatively, should we introduce new issues into the body politic to challenge the supremacy of tribe - issues of class or race or nationality? After all, that is what Ruto did (the Hustler Nation) to appeal to the Kikuyu voting bloc in this election and overwrite the reality of his ascension to office; that it would further cement this, potentially deadly, cycle. Or perhaps, more bleakly, we should accept the status quo and move on? But how much longer can we keep accepting and affirming this status quo? And who gets hurt when we do?