Where clan elders, not voters, call the shots

As recently reported by the media, certain “clan elders” in northeastern Kenya have been issuing decisions as to how top elective posts will be allocated ahead of next year’s General Election. The rationale offered is that those clans or sub-clans which have “enjoyed” these positions (governor, senator, Woman Representative and Member of Parliament) since the last election should “surrender” them to allow other sections of society “have their turn”.

Given the new reality of devolution, this approach is aimed at ensuring that no blanket “tyranny of numbers” operates at the county level, as these positions will be shared over time among the various social entities. Indeed, some have suggested that such a “rotational” system is necessary to avoid violent conflict.

Reactions to these announcements from affected leaders have been varied. Mandera Senator Billow Kerrow has applauded them, arguing, in part, that those who obtained their seats in the last election by basically the same method should not now complain when it again is put into effect, just because this time it means these same leaders will have to vacate them. By contrast, Mandera Governor Ali Roba rejected any such “imposed” or “negotiated” democracy, and will attempt to defend his seat.

Mbalambala MP Abdikadir Aden has been even more vociferous in rejecting such an attempt to deny the voters their democratic rights. For his part, Garissa Town MP (and National Assembly Majority Leader) Aden Duale, while supporting this mechanism, has nevertheless expressed regret that coming a full year before the next election, such political “death notices” will serve as a disincentive to the affected incumbents in terms of their performance during their remaining period in office, suggesting that they should have been delayed until shortly before party nominations.

However varied might be the actual content of such an approach across that region (based on the number and size of clans/sub-clans, the depth of the pool of individuals deemed qualified to satisfactorily perform the functions associated with these various positions, and so on), such practices raise profound questions about the nature of Kenyan politics, and indeed, of the relevance of the Constitution itself.

One set of questions relates to the role of elected officials. For example, if candidates are to be judged on the basis of their proven or perceived capacity to perform their functions, why should all individuals from a certain section of the community/constituency be deemed unqualified in any given election simply because of their “DNA”?

More specifically, effectiveness in legislative bodies (the National Assembly, the Senate, County Assemblies) depends to a considerable degree on familiarity with relevant procedures, and in most cases much of one’s first term is spent simply learning the rules.

CREDIBLE NOMINATIONS

More broadly, how can political parties hold credible nominations in parts of the country where entire swathes of the community have been “disqualified” by individuals lacking any constitutional standing? And if the IEBC must approve such nomination rules before the process of candidate-selection begins (even if it does not actually oversee it), should candidates selected through such a rigged (or at least distorted) process be disqualified from contesting?

For that matter, how legitimate are these councils of elders? Who qualifies to be among them (any youth or women?), for how long do their members serve, and on what grounds – if any – are any such members expelled/replaced?

And if this “negotiated democracy” system is aimed at rotating key positions among the main groups within a particular area, what about members of minority communities?

Clearly, these are complex questions, especially since such arrangements are also emerging in other parts of the country where the relevant groups are distinct ethnic communities as opposed to Somali clans or sub-clans: for example, in Tana River, Isiolo and Marsabit (the “TIM” group), the primary goal likewise being to forestall inter-ethnic conflict.

It should be remembered that prior to the last election, similar agreements were arrived at in some non-pastoralist areas, such as in Kisii and elsewhere, and were, accommodated (eg the Kuria in south Nyanza and the Sabaot in Busia).

Of course, in the regions where such elders’ rules held sway are contested by more than a single political party with electoral viability, their verdicts would not be so decisive. It thus remains to be seen (and perhaps tested through survey research) whether those dissatisfied with such imposed arrangements will seek alternative political vehicles, including running as independents, so as to eventually let “the people decide”.

More broadly, such practices call into question the country’s first-past-the-post electoral system, which results in the wasting of all votes cast for the losers. It stands in sharp contrast to the proportional representation system (so far found – if only to a limited degree – in South Africa), where political parties offer national lists of their candidates, ranked with those most highly valued (as determined by whatever method) towards the top, and those less so towards the bottom. The consequence of such a system is that no votes are wasted, thereby diluting the hard-and-fast division between “winners” and “losers”, while making it easier for even minor political groupings are likely to attain at least some voice. And such a system could just as well be applied at the county as well.

In this regard, it should be remembered that some two-thirds of parliamentary seats are won or lost not on election day, but during party nominations, given the dominance of one party or coalition on the ground in particular areas.

Dr Tom Wolf, a research analyst at Ipsos, has written this piece his personal capacity.