Where I come from, when a situation is on the verge of getting out of hand, we often say it requires divine intervention and the wisdom of church elders. In a way, this metaphor reflects our nation's struggle with corruption. And not just because the current and previous heads of the Ethics and Anti-Corruption Commission (EACC) are members of the church, but because, despite our vocal condemnation of corruption, we, as a people, exhibit unparalleled hypocrisy in the war against the vice.
That said, we must acknowledge the commendable efforts of the EACC that have seen individuals return millions of shillings to public coffers and illegally acquired public land being reclaimed. However, the commission and other agencies need to be mindful of the complex nuances and cultural underpinnings of corruption.
EACC officers have been doing a good job of arresting police and other public officers caught receiving bribes. This obviously deters impunity in public service. It is, however, half the solution, for, in most cases, it is Wanjiku, Otieno and Kiplagat who, after being busted driving a smoky jalopy with rickety, worn-out tyres, pleads with the traffic officer to have mercy because the times are hard and school fees must surely take precedence over a new tyre. This, needless to say, leads to the Sh50 signature handshake that is squarely to blame for many a traffic accident.
This means the EACC should devise strategies to deconstruct the tendency by Kenyans to condemn corruption only when it concerns others, while considering it as 'survival tactics' when it directly affects them or those close to them.
This mindset extends beyond petty corruption to the so-called mega scandals. Kenya has witnessed billions being siphoned away to the extent that the term 'billion' has lost its awe. The allure of vast wealth amid job insecurity puts immense pressure on those in public service, as they too are often a salary away from destitution.
This further extends to the elections. We have reached a point where, to become an MCA, or MP or even higher, the first thing that comes to mind is money. You need money not just to mobilise supporters and pay for professional services, things have soured so much that, ladies and gentlemen, we now have a 'listening allowance'. This unofficial allowance simply means the people will only listen to you if you part with cash. Really moneyed people often have thousands bussed to their rallies, and youths placed strategically to cheer them on and the women to ululate after every line of the most boring speech.
Besides campaign cash, elected officials live in mortal fear of weekends when they are expected to attend 'fundraisers' and give like real 'waheshimiwa'. Of course, in public they will swear that giving is second nature to them, but this public demand is not commensurate with their pay, hence the rush to create a fund for each category of elected officials, including those with oversight roles over the executive. In this absurd set-up, executive excesses become singularly difficult to tame.
Pressure for cash has also made elections very expensive. So, let's assume a lawmaker earns Sh1 million (plus allowances). This means the highest amount they can earn in their five-year tenure is Sh60 million, which is way less than what many would-be lawmakers spend on the campaign trail. The move to relax campaign spending rules did not help either. Given Kenyans' appetite for poll handouts, you stand a better chance if you hop around in a chopper, though there is that odd fella who will touch the hearts of poor folk by cycling around during campaigns. Another common but unlawful strategy is to ask boda boda riders and market people to line up for that crisp Sh200 note.
The fight against corruption needs to extend to social engineering strategies. Infusing integrity-focused courses and fictional works into the curriculum can wean future generations off this pervasive appetite for poll handouts.
Mr Munene is an editorial and publishing consultant. henmunene@gmail.com
