Curious politics

Note: I intended this to be a short post, but ended up with more to write about than I thought. Hopefully its not too political for a travel blog…

It didn't take long for politics to come up in the workplace. In fact, as I wrote previously, an Obama-Biden poster was one of the first things to greet me on my first day in the office. But despite the Obama-mania here, Kenyan politics are much more frequently discussed than American (as one would expect), and it is the former to which I am referring.

In Corporate America, politics is often considered a risky subject - not quite taboo, but often avoided unless among friends or if there is a significant event occurring (e.g. the election). There are good reasons this is the case. For one, the political demographics of the country suggest that, in most companies, it's likely the person you enter the discussion with will not agree with you. And since for many politics is a galvanizing subject, people shy away from such conversations, fearing potential conflict with those they must cooperate with. (A smart decision typically, though political discourse can also bond if the colleague is likeminded.)

In Kenya the calculation is different, for a simple reason: everyone agrees. No, everyone does not belongs to the same party, or have the same views on abortion. But everyone agrees that politicians are corrupt and the government does not serve the people.* Think about that for a minute.

Kenya is a democratic republic, and one of Africa's most stable and successful at that. This is not a dictatorship, or an obviously illegitimate in-name-only "democracy" controlled by despot (i.e. Mugabe's Zimbabwe). For most of its history, basic democratic principles applied: people vote for their leaders, politicians respect the vote, and the government peacefully transitions. Of course, when that history is only 45 years in the making, it is not quite as simple as that. But until the 2007 election, Kenya followed these principles closely enough to remain stable amid the sea of tyranny, civil war, and corruption that engulfed much of the continent and some of its closest neighbors (Somalia).

The 2007 election led to the worst violence in the country's post-independence era. An estimated 1,500 people were killed and up to 1M displaced, following a presidential election most outside observers believe was marred by fraud on both sides. As news came that incumbent Mwai Kibaki had been declared the victor by a very slim margin, long standing tribal rivalries flared – many believed this signaled the continuation of an inequitable distribution of resources. Violence erupted. In Eldoret, the town I currently reside in (I moved from Nairobi a week ago), the conflict was particularly bad.

In Nairobi, no visible signs of the turmoil remained. Even in Eldoret, I strained to see any marks of the Post Election Violence until they were specifically pointed out to me. As we drove out of the town a few days after I arrived, en route to a field visit, we soon passed by the following landscape:

“IDPs,” my driver, Tom, pointed out. (I was reading a book and failed to notice.) Over a year later, many of the 1M Internally Displaced People remain in such camps, unable to return home because their homes were destroyed, because they are still fearful, or because they no longer have a wife, brother or son to return to. On our way back, Tom pointed out the shells of several burned homes.

The scars are not obvious, but they are there. Even more potent than the visuals are the words. An hour after passing the IDP camp, I am interviewing a vet about his business’ cost structure. He mentions he pays 6,000 Ksh a month for motorcycle taxis to visit clients. “Have you considered buying a vehicle?” I ask. Yes, he has. In fact, he used to own a one but it got “taken” during the post-election violence. And business is down ~30% since – he was run out of his shop (I didn’t ask if it was burned) and now works from his house – so it will take some time to repurchase.

Last Saturday marked the one year anniversary of the peace accord signed between the two presidential candidates. Under the deal, Mr. Kibaki was appointed president, and his rival, Mr. Odinga, the prime minister. Together, the two are known as “the principals.” That evening, as I sat in a coworkers one-room apartment (including the kitchen) and watched the news recapping the year since – 70% of the country believes the government has “achieved nothing” since the power-sharing deal, according to a poll – the Kenyans in the room recalled the dark period:

In Nakuru, “we didn’t know what would happen…if we would make it to the next day.” In Nairobi, “you just stayed in the office and the doors were locked…you couldn’t walk on the street.” “In Eldoret, there were so many roadblocks…if they stopped you and you looked like you were from another tribe…” Also mentioned was the story of an emigrant who came back from the States for a week, to vote and visit family, and was killed.

(I’ve tried to keep the post election discussion brief; for more, check out this good, concise article from Sunday’s NY Times about the lasting effects of the violence.)

Getting back to the original topic, I first discussed the post election violence over dinner with colleagues during my second week here. As I prodded about the causes of the events, a clear consensus quickly emerged: “it was all created by the politicians.” Yes, tribal rivalries exist, they conceded, but the violence was incited by politicians. I don’t remember ever getting a great answer on why exactly the “leaders” wanted to brew conflict, but presumably each believed it would cement his power.

The conversation naturally broadened to politics and government in general. Again, a consensus was swiftly reached: “they [members of parliament] all are crooks” and “not good people.” Publicly elected ministers, everyone agreed, do not work for the people. In fact they do not work much at all – four days a week – despite being some of the highest paid politicians in the world, untaxed at that. That’s right, MPs do not pay taxes. I could hardly believe this; it just seemed like (is) such an egregious flaunting of power that I had to ask for clarification several times.

After that conversation, I made a point to ask people – other coworkers, taxi drivers, Mohammed the guide, waiters – about their views on the government. From all these varied walks of life, responses more or less fell in line with the consensus from that dinner: Kenyans do not believe in their government.

(Now I must digress for a few minutes; without the following two paragraphs this would not be a fair discussion.)

For the past 8 years I did not agree with pretty much every major decision made by the US government. Indeed, myself and a majority of the country were relegated to watching the Bush administration slowly – and then more quickly – drive the country down a horrendous path: turning a multi-hundred billion dollar surplus into a trillion dollar deficit, launching us unprepared into one war and letting another teeter on the brink of defeat, vacationing while a city drowned, increasing levels of unemployment, poverty, and the uninsured, and eroding our power, prestige, and goodwill around the world. (That’s the abridged list. For more: Check out The Atlantic’s Bush map or MSNBC’s “then and now”.)

For the most part, we were relegated to stand by and watch. We became disillusioned and lost faith in the administration, but not in government itself. I might have wondered if the administration was working for me but I knew that close to half the country had elected its leader, and that government would still for me – I could wait 4 years and vote, and then another 4, and know that my voice was heard, and that it would be heeded when the majority of the electorate agreed (well, when the electoral college caught up with the electorate).

For Kenyans, the situation is different. It is not just the president or the administration to whom the contempt and distrust is aimed. It is the cabinet, all the MPs, and the government itself. (Another comment from the aforementioned dinner was “I wish something could just happen…to take out the entire parliament. Not the rest of the city, just parliament.”)

But this is a democracy, isn’t it? Perplexed, I asked my colleagues repeatedly, “but you voted for these people right?” The common response was that yes, but they were “good back then.” That, “they all turn bad once they get there,” was the best answer I could get. Of course, election rigging also throws a curveball into the situation.

However, despite this lack of faith in government, people continue to critique, discuss, and push for accountability – privately and publicly. I’m actually quite amazed by the level of public criticism of the government which occurs here. A few days ago, I read an article recapping a recent gathering of the country’s top religious leaders – Christians, Hindus, Muslims, others – attended by “the principals.” While the president sat on the stage a few feet from the podium, one by one the clerics took to the the mic and assailed the leaders of government for corruption, not moving forward with promises, and failing to act for the people. Can you imagine a similar event taking place in the US?

So it’s a curious politics here, a culture of contradictions. Leaders are democratically elected (for the most part, from what I can gather) yet quickly and consistently lose the faith of the public. Enter most any place of business, from the village general shop to a hotel, and you will find a portrait of the president hanging, while the shopkeeper complains about the government’s unseemly influence on the maize shortage. Corruption is rampant, known about and resented, but continues unabated. A group of religious leaders gather and publicly criticize the government – to it’s leader faces – yet Nairobi bookshops are too intimidated to carry a book by a virtually-exiled whistleblower. And despite the repeated failure of politicians, Kenyans continue to be active, write, opine, critique, listen, watch, vote, and hope for a new day.

Sound familiar?

*Obviously, this is based on a very limited sample - I've been here a month and have worked with only one development organization and its partners - but my impression is that this is a paradigm.

Disclaimer: some of these pictures (the ones that look professional and have watermarks) were borrowed from other sources.