Kenya Kwanza administration: A fledgling regime, lost country and missed priorities
National
By
Martha Karua
| Sep 29, 2024
On Tuesday, September 27, 2022, President William Ruto chaired the first Kenya Kwanza Cabinet meeting of the men and women who would shepherd his “Plan” for Kenya.
Two years later, and with a rejigged Cabinet, we stand not merely at a crossroads but at the precipice of a profound danger, a moment that demands our courage, our unity, and our unyielding resolve to reclaim the destiny that is rightfully ours.
The grace period Kenyans granted the Kenya Kwanza administration has been expended in sustained assault of human rights and civil liberties, entrenching corruption and impunity, undermining devolution, promoting economic injustice, raising public debt, and mortgaging our children’s future.
Walk with me as we peel back the mask of Kenya’s ultimate con executed on August 15, 2022 by the Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission (IEBC) and sanctioned by Kenya’s Supreme Court fourteen days later.
Human rights: Which human rights?
The government’s foremost duty is to safeguard the welfare of its citizens and especially their fundamental rights and freedoms as provided by our foundational principles in Article 10 of the Constitution and the Bill of rights.
In a span of two years, the Kenya Kwanza administration has trivialised the right to life to new lows never witnessed since the advent of the new order.
Despite a loud affirmation of the right to picket our Constitution, security agencies commanded by Kenya Kwanza (KK) functionaries descended on peaceful Gen Z protesters in June. In the wake of the violent clampdown, over 60 young Kenyans lost their lives, over 100 others are still missing to date, and many more were injured. And what is more, the same agencies engaged in unprecedented falsification of official records at our mortuaries, another new low for the country.
Within the same period, Kenya turned into an abductions paradise where persons expressing contrary views simply disappear in the thin air after initial contact with security agencies. I will not mention arbitrary arrests, torture of dissidents and wanton disregard of court orders, for these require acres of space.
Corruption and Impunity: The cancer within
Granted, we were already steeped in corruption before KK came in. The Auditor General had long estimated that one third of our budget, close to one trillion shillings, is lost to corruption every year. Our retired President Uhuru Kenyatta informed us that we were losing Sh2 billion a day when he was in power.
With a conviction rate of 12 per cent for corruption cases, the anti-corruption legal regime available at the time KK took over was, and still is, an absolute joke.
But no sooner had KK settled in office than it began to shatter the ignominious records of the past.
First came a spate of withdrawals of active corruption cases and probes, another new low for the country. All the high profile corruption cases pitting the State against powerful KK politicians were withdrawn, without an iota of shame.
Now with a clean slate, KK officials set about to loot their country through budgeted corruption schemes. From edible oil scam to the fertiliser heist, and to the latest; the state capture by the Adani group, the rot has just gotten thicker.
You can tell from the demeanor of state officers, the manner of their appointment, and their dereliction of duty which goes unpunished, that nobody is in it for public service. Under KK, every state officer has been unleashed to fend for themselves. The State largesse is their oyster.
Diminishing devolution
Devolution was our collective pledge to ensure that no voice would go unheard, no community overlooked. Article 174 of our Constitution envisioned devolution as a vessel for democratic and accountable governance, a means to enhance public participation, and a bridge to unify our diverse nation.
Yet today, that beacon flickers perilously, threatened by those who seek to centralise power and silence the periphery. Again, the KK regime has picked from where Jubilee left in terms of undermining devolution.
The Controller of Budget’s recent report is a glaring testament to this betrayal. Only 52.3 per cent of allocated county funds have been disbursed. Our counties are starved, their services crippled while the national government swims in abundance of money leading to sleaze.
This is not mere negligence. It is a calculated subversion of our constitutional rights. The push to re-concentrate power at the centre is nothing less than an assault on democracy, a brazen attempt to reverse the hard-won gains of devolution.
Economic Injustice: The new face of colonialism
Our forebears shed blood and tears to liberate us from the chains of colonial oppression. Yet today, a new form of subjugation tightens its grip, a homegrown economic imperialism that enriches the ruling elite and their cronies at the expense of the many.
The so-called Bottom-Up economic model was heralded as a panacea for inequality. But it has proven to be a mirage, a tantalising promise that evaporates upon approach. We were promised an end to cartels but now new and old cartels reign supreme, suffocating our economy and services.
Inflation gnaws at the lifelines of our citizens. With food inflation soaring to a staggering 15.3 per cent, the basic act of feeding one’s family has become a daily struggle for survival. The Kenyan shilling’s precipitous fall against the dollar erodes the meager earnings of hardworking Kenyans. The Hustler Fund, rather than uplifting the downtrodden, ensnares them in an inescapable web of debt, a 14.2 per cent default rate lays bare the grim truth. This is not empowerment. It is exploitation veiled in rhetoric.
Moreover, the clandestine dealings with foreign conglomerates, such as the 30-year concession of our own Jomo Kenyatta International Airport to Adani for a pittance, betray our sovereignty. Such deals, shrouded in secrecy and devoid of public scrutiny, mortgage our future and place our national assets in the hands of those who do not hold Kenya’s best interests at heart.
Public debt: A ticking time bomb
The Sh10.1 trillion figure of our odious debt is more than just that. It is an indictment of an economic system, and leadership that has failed us. This staggering sum, 67.4 per cent of our GDP, is the millstone hanging around the neck of our nation, dragging us further and further into the abyss of fiscal servitude.
But this tragedy is not merely about numbers on a balance sheet. It is about our future, the future of every child born on this soil, whose dreams are now mortgaged to service a debt they had no part in creating.
Odious debt is debt that is incurred not for the benefit of the people, but to oppress them. And what have we seen? We are borrowing not to build schools, hospitals, or infrastructure that lifts the nation. No, we are borrowing to pay off other loans, a vicious cycle that enriches foreign lenders while impoverishing the Kenyan people. What development can arise from such an arrangement? What prosperity can come from a system that prioritises debt repayment over the welfare of its citizens?
KK had promised to break this cycle. But what have we seen? We are witnessing a spectre of an even more vociferous borrower, eager to pocket loans at even more punitive interest rates. The recent Eurobond, issued at the punitive interest rate of 10.375 per cent and due in 2031 is an example.
What does this tell us about how the world views Kenya? We are no longer seen as a nation of hope, but as a nation of risk, a place where lenders demand exorbitant returns because they doubt our ability to repay. This is the price of fiscal irresponsibility, and it is a price that will be paid not by those in power, but by the ordinary Kenyan who wakes up every morning to eke a living only to find that their hard-earned money is being used to service debts they never agreed to.
What we are witnessing is a modern-day colonisation, not by foreign powers with guns and flags, but by faceless financiers and shadowy intermediaries.
A healthcare on life support
Health is not a privilege reserved for the affluent. It is an inalienable right of every Kenyan. Yet, our healthcare system teeters on the brink of collapse, a victim of neglect, misguided policies and budgeted corruption.
The introduction of the Social Health Insurance Fund (SHIF) was touted as a revolutionary step forward. But in practice, it has become a burden, extracting 2.75 per cent from already strained households without delivering tangible improvements.
Essential medicines are scarce. 32 per of public health facilities report chronic shortages. With a doctor-to-patient ratio of 1:6,355, we are failing to provide even the most basic medical attention. In our rural heartlands, this ratio is even more dismal, leaving thousands without hope of timely care.
Without addressing systemic issues, SHIF is but a façade, a superficial remedy that fails to heal the festering wounds of our healthcare system. We cannot, in good conscience, allow our people to suffer and die from preventable causes while funds are misallocated and mismanaged.
Even before the official roll-out, SHIF is already reeking sleaze, much like its predecessor NHIF.
Education: Mortgaging our future
The introduction of the Variable Scholarship and Loan Funding (VSLF) model represents a monumental affront to the very essence of our Constitution, a callous disregard for the promise enshrined in Article 43(1)(f), which guarantees every Kenyan the right to education.
In its implementation, this regime has failed to consult the people. Instead, it has elected to act unilaterally, and in doing so, it has deepened the chasm of inequality that threatens to tear the fabric of our society apart, and to deny the poor access to education.
The VSLF model is not just a policy failure. It is an ideological assault on the most vulnerable among us. This shift from public responsibility to private burden is nothing less than a transfer of wealth from the powerless to the powerful. It is a tactic designed to push young Kenyans and their families into deeper financial despair, forcing them to carry the weight of a system that should, by every moral and constitutional measure, support them.
This is not the first time this regime has attempted to rob Kenyans under the guise of progress. We saw it with the Finance Bill 2024, an unjust tax burden that sought to extract from the poor while insulating the wealthy. Kenyans rose against it, rejecting a system that prioritised the comfort of a few over the livelihoods of millions.
This new funding model is cut from the same cloth. It seeks to exploit those already struggling under the weight of a broken economy. And while a bloated taskforce has been constituted to review it, a careful study of its terms of reference shows that it was formed to affirm the original idea. It is a smokescreen.
The introduction of the Competency-Based Curriculum (CBC) was billed as a transformative step toward a better future. Yet, what have we witnessed? Instead of investing in our existing schools, we see opportunists circling, waiting to enrich themselves through bloated construction contracts, pushing for new classrooms to be built when we have facilities that can be upgraded and expanded.
And what of our 46,000 Junior Secondary School (JSS) teachers, dedicated men and women who have endured the indignity of low wages and job insecurity as interns, carrying the future of our nation on their shoulders?
Under the KK administration, the dignity and honour of a teacher has dropped to a new low. These are the very people we entrust with shaping our children’s minds, yet they have been treated as disposable. Is this the value we place on education? Is this the value we place on the future of Kenya?
Hustlers shortchanged
The regime rode to power on lofty promises of uplifting young, enterprising, determined and spirited lot of Kenyans, the hustlers. Without doubt, this lot gave succor to the originally rudderless vision of KK, but where do they find themselves two years later?
They find themselves adrift in a sea of unemployment, indebted, hopeless and scammed. With 38.9 per cent of young Kenyans jobless, we are witnessing a crisis of monumental proportions. The informal sector, the lifeblood of our economy employing over 83.4 per cent of our workforce, is treated with disdain and disregard.
The ruthless demolitions in Eastlands, Nairobi, displacing 37,000 small business owners, are emblematic of a government that has lost touch with its people. The boda-boda riders, the mama mbogas, the artisans are not mere statistics who only come in handy over the election period. They are the heartbeat of Kenya. Their resilience and ingenuity deserve recognition and support, not bulldozers and eviction notices.
The informal sector is not a blemish to be erased but a dynamic force to be harnessed. Policies must be crafted with inclusivity at their core, fostering an environment where every Kenyan can pursue their livelihood with dignity and security.
Agriculture under siege
Agriculture remains the backbone of Kenya’s economy, employing over 40 per cent of the population and contributing 26 per cent to our Gross Domestic Product. Yet, today, our farmers, the lifeblood of our nation, are under siege from a system that has turned its back on them.
For decades, Kenya’s tea and coffee were the pride of our nation, known across the world for their quality and providing livelihoods for millions of smallholder farmers. But in recent years, these industries have been plunged into turmoil. Middlemen, exploitative cartels, and a lack of government oversight have led to the decimation of our tea and coffee sectors.
A recent report by the Kenya Tea Development Agency (KTDA) revealed that despite increased global demand, tea farmers are earning 60 per cent less than they did a decade ago.
The situation is even worse for coffee farmers, who are being squeezed by global price fluctuations and domestic inefficiencies. Many smallholder farmers in Nyeri, Kericho, and Kiambu have been forced to uproot their tea bushes and coffee plants, planting maize or even abandoning farming altogether due to the meager returns on their once-lucrative crops.
The fake fertilizer scandal orchestrated by this regime callously undermined our food security and demonstrated the extent to which the ruling elite are willing to go to enrich themselves at the expense of starving Kenyans.
The promises made by the government to reform these sectors remain largely unfulfilled, and hollow. Beyond tea and coffee, farmers are battling with rising costs of inputs -fertiliser, seeds, and equipment- while receiving little to no support from the government.
Where do we go from here?
The hour is late, but it is not too late. The challenges before us are formidable, but they are not insurmountable. We can rise together, not in despair but in hope, and by taking deliberate, calculated steps to correct these ills.