Why we could soon be in the throes of a failed social order

Anti-riot police officers hurled teargas at Azimio la Umoja ldeader Raila Odinga's convoy during Anti-government protest along Southern Bypass on March 30, 2023. [Stafford Ondego, Standard]

Nationalism is not only a modern concept, but also a natural and eternal part of the human psyche. It has absolutely no roots in human biology. For hundreds of thousands of years, Homo Sapiens and its ancestors lived in small intimate communities comprising no more than a few dozen people.

Studies show that human beings tend to develop loyalty to small intimate groups such as tribes or a family business than to millions of citizens. To cultivate and preserve mass loyalty, therefore, a nation must do a great deal of social (re)construction.

The Kenya nation-state will be turning 60-years-old in December this year. Throughout this period, the country has enjoyed relative political stability - save for the horrors of 2007-2008 post-election violence and the ethnic clashes of the 1990s - and a fairly stable economy, especially under the NARC and Grand Coalition regimes.

That said, Kenya has struggled with an increasingly decaying social order whose growth has largely been sponsored by the private interests of the political leadership.

In other words, the national bedlam that engulfs the country every election cycle is thanks to willful refusal by the political leadership to cultivate and preserve relevant ingredients such as honesty and unity required to build a sustainable social order.

In 2017, economist David Ndii argued that Kenya is a cruel marriage and that it was about time we talked 'divorce'. We have failed "to develop and propagate a national narrative alluring enough to nurture a deep, horizontal comradeship beyond the tribe," Ndii wrote. The talk of divorce has found traction within the opposition recently. Kalonzo Musyoka, one of the key opposition figures, intimated in one of the rallies that if Kenya nation-state cannot guarantee its citizens social justice, then Kenyans can as well start thinking about going separate ways.

Electoral injustice

Now, political divorce - secession, more formally - is considered by some as dangerous and behind the times. For others, usually victims of state violence, electoral injustice, and systemic marginalisation, secession is the most civilised act of last resort; the retributive string and arrow with which to attempt to undo the damage caused a failed national promise.

In 1967, southeastern Nigeria unsuccessfully attempted to secede from Nigeria in what culminated into the infamous Biafra War. It is estimated that at least one million people lost their lives in the Biafra War.

Similarly, South Sudan officially seceded from Sudan in 2011 and has existed on the grim shorelines of civil war and famine. It is believed that close to 500,000 people have so far lost their lives in the failed experiment that is South Sudan.

Despite the uncertainty and instability associated with secession, it is not strange to come across people who harbour such thoughts. A failing social order cannot prevent its victims from entertaining thoughts of political divorce, anyway. And Kenya is a failing social order. For 60 years, Kenya has failed to protect its citizens from political violence, run-away greed and socio-economic injustices. For Kenyans, Kenya nation-state is as cruel as it is illegitimate.

The legitimacy of a modern state, as the eminent Israeli historian Yuval Harai argues in 21 Lessons for the 21St Century, is based on its promise to keep the public sphere free from political violence.

Card-holding Azimio supporters argue that it is not possible to establish who won the 2022 presidential elections without referring to the Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission (IEBC) servers. If IEBC is indeed right that Ruto won, they argue, why is it so difficult to 'open' the servers so that we can put this matter to bed once and for all?

Kenya Kwanza supporters respond by saying that the elections were determined at the polling station and that there is no other server that contains separate results from the ones available on the IEBC's public portal.

Moreover, Kenya Kwanza apologists argue, the Supreme Court had the opportunity to listen to this debate about servers and rendered it 'hot air' and 'wild goose chase'. What else does Raila want? They wonder.

Religious leaders, the media and priests of righteousness have called on Raila and President Ruto to hold talks for the sake of the country.

Kenya Kwanza apologists are astounded by these calls. They wonder what President Ruto and Raila should be talking about in the first place, seven months after the presidential results were declared by IEBC and upheld by the Supreme Court.

"The elections were settled. We have to get back to work and build the country," Deputy President Rigathi Gachagua has repeatedly told Raila and his camp.

The 15th-century Greek philosopher Herodotus - who is considered the father of history - was convinced that soft countries breed soft men. We may well add that soft problems tend to attract soft solutions. However, what Kenyan democracy is faced with is neither a soft problem nor a crisis of strong men. The challenges facing Kenyan democracy are hard problems that demand hard solutions.