President Kenyatta is considered so rich that he has no need to feather his nest, thanks to the wealth amassed by his family during and after the presidency of his father, Jomo, who ran the show from 1963 until his death in 1978. Mr Kenyatta has spoken out against corruption and docked his own pay by one-fifth. But nobody thinks that graft is being seriously tackled. The railway contracts, awarded following closed bidding, and an extravagant scheme to provide schools with computers are dogged by accusations of graft. The creation of 47 counties, as a result of a new constitution endorsed in 2010, has added a new layer of corruption and taxation.Moreover, the two houses of parliament, the county governors and the courts (under an admirably independent chief justice, Willy Mutunga) are paralysed by a dispute over whose powers and decisions should prevail. As for the president, he has been woefully distracted by his indictment by the International Criminal Court (ICC) at The Hague for allegedly orchestrating violence after the election in early 2008. He has used every conceivable ruse to ensure that his case ends in acquittal or is dropped altogether, an outcome considered increasingly likely. The Standard, a Kenyan newspaper, reported on February 24th that nearly half of the witnesses enlisted by the prosecution had been withdrawn. Mr Kenyatta has stirred up Kenyans and fellow African leaders against the ICC, badly damaging relations with allies in Europe and America. If the case fizzles out, they may be repaired. But much of Mr Kenyatta’s first year in office has been wasted on this issue. In any case, there is a growing perception that he lacks grip. He failed to sack any senior figures in the wake of the Westgate fiasco. Despite his declarations against corruption, he has instigated no investigations over the railway contracts and other dodgy-sounding schemes. And Kenya remains split along tribal lines . Mr Kenyatta’s fellow Kikuyu, the largest and richest group, are perceived by members of other tribes to be “eating”—as the Kenyan metaphor goes—more than their fair share of the cake. William Ruto, the vice-president, who heads the Kalenjin group that ruled the roost under a previous president, Daniel arap Moi, is said to be unhappy. He, too, has been indicted by the ICC. Should the case against the president fail but the one against Mr Ruto drag on, the coalition would wobble and could fall. Mr Kenyatta is said to be lining up Mr Moi’s son Gideon as a possible replacement. “Kenya is very polarised,” says John Githongo, a veteran anti-corruption campaigner who in 2002 was entrusted with cleaning up government but had soon to flee abroad for his life. “It is a country no longer at ease with itself.” The “coalition of the accused”, as he has mockingly called it, may not last. “The Kalenjin will never trust the Kikuyu,” says a banker friend of Mr Kenyatta. “No matter what the ICC says, Kikuyus in their hearts believe Ruto orchestrated the violence against them. But for the sake of the government’s survival, they’re not saying it too loudly.” Campaigners for democracy and openness are worried that Mr Kenyatta and his friends are trying to impede them, much as the government has plainly done its best to hamstring the ICC’s investigation. Bills are being put forward in Parliament to curb the buoyant media and to limit foreign funding for NGOs. On March 7th one of Kenya’s liveliest anti-establishment campaigners, Boniface Mwangi, was beaten up by police. “There’s a danger we are sliding back to the ways of the Moi era,” says another disconsolate pro-democracy activist. Nonetheless, in its usual inequitable and patchy manner, Kenya is powering ahead. The vitality and reach of social media make it impossible for Mr Kenyatta to acquire the sort of powers Mr Moi exercised in what was then a one-party state. But he is finding it hard to keep Kenya both dynamic and harmonious. A year into office, he still has to prove that he is the right sort of leader. If the ICC case is put to one side, he will have no excuses.
President Kenyatta is considered so rich that he has no need to feather his nest, thanks to the wealth amassed by his family during and after the presidency of his father, Jomo, who ran the show from 1963 until his death in 1978. Mr Kenyatta has spoken out against corruption and docked his own pay by one-fifth. But nobody thinks that graft is being seriously tackled. The railway contracts, awarded following closed bidding, and an extravagant scheme to provide schools with computers are dogged by accusations of graft. The creation of 47 counties, as a result of a new constitution endorsed in 2010, has added a new layer of corruption and taxation.Moreover, the two houses of parliament, the county governors and the courts (under an admirably independent chief justice, Willy Mutunga) are paralysed by a dispute over whose powers and decisions should prevail. As for the president, he has been woefully distracted by his indictment by the International Criminal Court (ICC) at The Hague for allegedly orchestrating violence after the election in early 2008. He has used every conceivable ruse to ensure that his case ends in acquittal or is dropped altogether, an outcome considered increasingly likely. The Standard, a Kenyan newspaper, reported on February 24th that nearly half of the witnesses enlisted by the prosecution had been withdrawn. Mr Kenyatta has stirred up Kenyans and fellow African leaders against the ICC, badly damaging relations with allies in Europe and America. If the case fizzles out, they may be repaired. But much of Mr Kenyatta’s first year in office has been wasted on this issue. In any case, there is a growing perception that he lacks grip. He failed to sack any senior figures in the wake of the Westgate fiasco. Despite his declarations against corruption, he has instigated no investigations over the railway contracts and other dodgy-sounding schemes. And Kenya remains split along tribal lines . Mr Kenyatta’s fellow Kikuyu, the largest and richest group, are perceived by members of other tribes to be “eating”—as the Kenyan metaphor goes—more than their fair share of the cake. William Ruto, the vice-president, who heads the Kalenjin group that ruled the roost under a previous president, Daniel arap Moi, is said to be unhappy. He, too, has been indicted by the ICC. Should the case against the president fail but the one against Mr Ruto drag on, the coalition would wobble and could fall. Mr Kenyatta is said to be lining up Mr Moi’s son Gideon as a possible replacement. “Kenya is very polarised,” says John Githongo, a veteran anti-corruption campaigner who in 2002 was entrusted with cleaning up government but had soon to flee abroad for his life. “It is a country no longer at ease with itself.” The “coalition of the accused”, as he has mockingly called it, may not last. “The Kalenjin will never trust the Kikuyu,” says a banker friend of Mr Kenyatta. “No matter what the ICC says, Kikuyus in their hearts believe Ruto orchestrated the violence against them. But for the sake of the government’s survival, they’re not saying it too loudly.” Campaigners for democracy and openness are worried that Mr Kenyatta and his friends are trying to impede them, much as the government has plainly done its best to hamstring the ICC’s investigation. Bills are being put forward in Parliament to curb the buoyant media and to limit foreign funding for NGOs. On March 7th one of Kenya’s liveliest anti-establishment campaigners, Boniface Mwangi, was beaten up by police. “There’s a danger we are sliding back to the ways of the Moi era,” says another disconsolate pro-democracy activist. Nonetheless, in its usual inequitable and patchy manner, Kenya is powering ahead. The vitality and reach of social media make it impossible for Mr Kenyatta to acquire the sort of powers Mr Moi exercised in what was then a one-party state. But he is finding it hard to keep Kenya both dynamic and harmonious. A year into office, he still has to prove that he is the right sort of leader. If the ICC case is put to one side, he will have no excuses.
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