Police Brutality, Colonialism, and Coronavirus in Kenya

For over eight minutes, police officer Derek Chauvin kept his knee on George Floyd’s neck as Floyd told the officers, “I can’t breathe.” As the video of his murder spread beyond Minneapolis where the incident happened, protests erupted around the world. In Nairobi, Kenya, at least seven of these protests took place, but while the trigger was the murder of George Floyd, hundreds of people were drawn to the protests due to Kenya’s own issue with police brutality. Abuse and murders by police officers in Kenya have been a persistent problem since the British colonial period, and since the near beginning of this year, it has gotten worse. In an attempt to shut down the protests and prevent people from going out during the coronavirus lockdowns, the government has revived a colonial law called the Public Order Act. Since then, acts of police violence have increased to the point where many protesters have backed off due to fear. 

The History of Colonial Policing in Kenya

The British Colony of Kenya was established in 1920 and came to an end in the 1960s. The developments during these years set a major precedent for substandard policing. The police received considerable powers of surveillance, as demonstrated through the Stock and Produce Theft Ordinance which allowed for more abilities in stop and search, and they also extended police presence in order to gather information and show their capabilities in seeking out crime. Additionally, a director was added to the Criminal Investigation Department Special Branch to focus on “political” policing. This created a system that was “arbitrary, unaccountable, and often violent,” and during the Mau Mau Revolt, the efforts toward adequate policing declined even more. 

The Mau Mau Revolt was an armed rebellion initiated by the Kikuyu, a native ethnic group in Kenya. The uprising began because land was taken from the Kikuyu during the colonial period, and about 1.5 million Kikuyu people were thought to have “proclaimed their allegiance” to the Mau Mau campaign by 1952. The British declared a state of emergency that year, and their crackdown on the rebels was unrelenting. The police began a series of mass arrests, and they took Kikuyu suspected of Mau Mau involvement to detention camps. The conflict between police, rebels, and suspects continued, and in 1954, Operation Anvil began. Tens of thousands of Kikuyu were taken from Nairobi to detention camps without being told why. The discriminatory, drastic sweeps continued from there, which set a precedent of allowing police officers what is essentially free rein. 

Although Kenya achieved independence 57 years ago, remnants of colonial laws are still intact. Even after the rewrites of the Constitution, the most recent being in 2010, archaic laws which criminalize making noise on the street, allow police to arrest people without warrants, and overall intimidate Kenyans remain. It shows. For instance, the 2017 Human Rights Report by Amnesty International placed Kenya in the top slot for police shootings and killings of civilians. Taking into account police brutality as a whole, 3,200 incidents were recorded in 2019. Incidents of police violence have been prevalent within the nation for many years, and 2020 has been even more brutal. In February, there were eight documented police killings in Kenya, and March was the beginning of a downward spiral.

Two Public Health Issues: Coronavirus and Police Brutality

On March 12 of this year, the first case of coronavirus was reported in Kenya. By that point, there were fourteen countries in Africa with coronavirus cases, and Kenya’s government implemented certain flight restrictions. It soon became apparent that more restrictions were needed to protect Kenyans, and in an effort to halt the spread of coronavirus, the government invoked the Public Order Act — another law that had been on the books since the colonial era. However, this action bred a different type of danger. As with many colonial laws, it gives a significant amount of power to the government in the name of keeping the peace. As Foreign Affairs described, the overall aim of the Public Order Act is to criminalize poverty, and it allows police to “round up pretty much anyone they choose, anywhere they choose.” Many have used it to justify police violence.

While getting people off of the streets is certainly a public health issue, the route which the Kenyan government took in order to achieve that mission created an entirely separate public health issue. As explained by Dr. Maybank, chief health equity officer and director of the Center for Health Equity, “People are dying. That’s our business, whether they are dying through a slow violence, such as structural racism, or COVID-19 or direct violence, like police brutality.” While attempting to stop the spread of one public health issue, the Kenyan government cultivated an environment for another one. A dawn-to-dusk curfew was imposed on March 27, and at least six people died from police violence within the following ten days.

Yassin Hussein Moyo was shot in the stomach while he was standing on his own balcony alongside his siblings, watching the police crackdown from three stories up. Moyo was just a 13-year-old boy, and he bled out while at home with his family. A motorcycle taxi driver named Hamisi Juma Mbega was another person lost to police violence. Mbega was among those who broke curfew, but he only did so in order to take a pregnant woman who was in labor to the hospital. He was beaten by the police and subsequently died from his injuries. The unfortunate irony of this is that Mbega was a former police officer himself. Calvin Omondi was also a motorcycle taxi driver who died from police beatings. He was on his way home at the beginning of curfew, and he lost control of his motorcycle when a group of officers attacked him. Idris Mukolwe was hit by a teargas canister and was laughed at by officers when he tried to stand up. Moments later, he collapsed and died. Yusuf Ramadhan Juma had a mental disability and was found in the hospital after being beaten. Eric Ng’ethe Waithugi decided to lock himself into the pub that he worked at along with a few others because curfew was approaching. Police officers broke down the door and shot teargas into the pub before hitting him and eleven others in the pub with wooden clubs. Waithugi died from being beaten by more than 20 officers.

According to Human Rights Watch, abusive behavior from the police began even before the start of curfew. They broke into shops, took food, and extorted money from civilians. Notably, the police also used tear gas, chased after people and then beat them with batons, and fired live rounds all before dusk. It got so bad that the President of Kenya, Uhuru Kenyatta, made a statement: “I want to apologize to all Kenyans for some … excesses that were conducted.” Kenya’s health ministry also condemned the police abuses. However, those statements did not create any tangible change. Since President Kenyatta’s apology, police officers have continued to whip, kick, and herd people together — something counterintuitive to the purpose of a coronavirus lockdown. 

Protests Against Police Violence Stomped on by Police Violence

When George Floyd was murdered by police officers back in May, and protests were ignited all around the world, it made sense for Kenyan people to take part. As a resident of Kenya named Lilly Bekele-Piper said, “People came out because they can recognize that violence in their own communities.” Furthermore, many Kenyans recognize that their police forces stem from racism and colonialism, and police brutality is an institutional issue that needs attention. However, it is that very issue that conflicts with the ability of Kenyan people to protest. With the combination of coronavirus restrictions and the aforementioned colonial laws like the Public Order Act heightening police violence, a lot of Kenyans are terrified to be out on the streets. The police chief of Nairobi, Philip Ndolo, explicitly said that protests are not allowed: “It is outlawed, it is not legal, and no permit has been given.” With that statement in mind, it is difficult for people with a strong concern about police brutality to protest against it when large gatherings are remarkable breeding grounds for police brutality. 

Now that violence, and even death, are so conspicuously placed on the table, protests have become increasingly scattered, causing many of the people who are working toward an end to police violence in Kenya to feel alone in the fight. As the problem of police brutality has become worse, the conditions for combating the problem have become worse. Organizations are struggling to gain the momentum necessary in order to have a fighting chance against police violence, and coronavirus brings yet another significant challenge to those who are working to stop police brutality, diminish the dangerous precedents of policing, and get rid of detrimental colonial laws. The stain of colonialism on Kenya’s government, laws, and police force combined with the effects of the international coronavirus pandemic have led to the worsening degree and frequency of police brutality, as well as the silencing of the public. 

Mobile Money and Macroeconomic Development: Case Study on M-PESA

One of the many effects of globalization on lesser-developed countries (LDCs) has been the rise of cash payments in traditionally barter economies. However, with 70% of the world’s poor living in rural areas, accessibility to cash and the financial institutions that manage currency can be challenging. New innovations have emerged in areas where the formal banking sector has failed to provide financial services to low-income and rural populations. One of these new technologies arose in the years following the boom in mobile phone infrastructure: mobile money transfers. Mobile money transfers yield positive results in macro economies since low-income people are able to participate in their local financial markets and avoid bank corruption. However the fee structure of these transfers, along with the potentially corrupt deals of private phone companies require us to remain vigilant in our analysis and critical approach to this innovation in development economics.

According to the World Bank, the mobile banking platform M-PESA represents a classic case for mobile money transfer in an LDC. M-PESA was developed by Vodafone and launched in 2007 by its Kenyan affiliate Safaricom. Safaricom is the largest mobile provider in Kenya, and its M-PESA pilot program proved successful in its ability to deliver accessible mobile money transfer to low-income Kenyans. M-PESA is now ubiquitous in Kenya, and has spread all over the Global South, most notably in Tanzania, Afghanistan, and India. A survey-based study by William Jack and Tavneet Suri of MIT states that users deem it be “faster, cheaper, more reliable, and safer” than other financial institutions. But how did M-PESA initially become widely used among poor populations?

An article in the Economist attributes M-PESA’s success to two major factors: the “send money home” campaign and the political atmosphere in Kenya after M-PESA’s introduction. With a large rural population, strong family ties, and the high cost of travel, remittances given between family members living away from home is an important part of the domestic economy. M-PESA’s marketing strategy, called the Send Money Home campaign, was widely effective.  It encouraged Kenyans to employ M-PESA to pay remittances. In 2014, remittances in Kenya totaled $1,440,846,022 dollars, which was a $506,696,865 dollar increase since just 2011 The year M-PESA launched coincided with the famous 2007 election that resulted in severe post-election violence and Kenya’s temporary coalition government. This intense violence lasted for a number of months, and much of the nation’s poor population (especially those located in Nairobi slums) were unable to work or travel due to the danger. Those affected used M-PESA as the safest way to send money to family and lessen the economic pressures of those in isolation. As a result, there was a network effect that introduced many new users to M-PESA’s services.  

Numerous scholars have proclaimed mobile money such as M-PESA as an innovation that provides financial services to rural and low-income populations. But what are the development implications of more Kenyans using M-PESA accounts than debit cards? And what are the effects of M-PESA on Kenya’s macro economy?

Some economists fear that mobile money could reduce countries’ monetary policy autonomy since transactions can be made more readily than cash transfers. However a study by Isaac Mbiti and David Weil has found that, contrary to popular belief, the velocity of M-PESA transfers does not exceed the velocity of cash. They also found that previous estimates of M-PESA’s percentage control of GDP were inflated. Mobile money is still “small relative to other monetary aggregates,” and so yields minimal impact on monetary policy autonomy. This being said, a continued increase in users and rise in the maximum transfer cap could drastically challenge the study’s findings. It is also assumed that putting money into a company rather than a bank would result in a lower multiplier effect for the macro economy. However, Safaricom does not manage M-PESA funds. According to the Consultative Group to Assist the Poor, the “funds are held by a trust which is owned by Vodafone, deposited in several commercial banks, and cannot be accessed by Safaricom.”  M-PESA money then has the same multiplier effect as other currency held by banks. The interest earned on these accounts is also put into the “M-PESA Foundation,” which works on development projects all over Kenya. In consideration of its development implications, M-PESA appears to have a positive impact on Kenya’s macro economy.

Another implication of M-PESA for Kenya’s macro economy has been increased public trust in financial institutions. During the 2007 election, corruption was rampant in Kenyan banks. The emergence of M-PESA allowed citizens to put their money in a safer environment, while giving banks competition that would force them to abide by established laws. At the same time, Safaricom itself has been involved in a number of corruption scandals. In 2013, Safaricom adopted a strategy to report employee fraud in yearly reports. Financial crimes have since gone down by two-thirds, but corrupt practices are still present. In late February of this year, a prominent Nairobi lawyer revealed a $30 billion scandal between the Kenyan government and Safaricom deemed “Safaricomgate.” While investigations are still underway, rumors of these corrupt practices cloud M-PESA’s transparent reputation. In 2014, Safaricom allowed its vendors to simultaneously sell airtime for its rival, Airtel, before the Competition Authority of Kenya forced it to do so. The increase in competition of the mobile money market has helped to curb corruption, since customers can now switch companies if they are unsatisfied with Safaricom.

M-PESA has also contributed to structural changes in Kenya’s economic culture. For example, Hughes et al discuss Safaricom’s “Jipange KuSave” program, which allows low-income people to save money through their M-PESA accounts. Since lower-income people have less money to save, savings accounts are not feasible for them in formal banks, which have minimum deposit requirements. However, by putting aside small amounts through their M-PESA account, Jipange KuSave has the goal of “reinventing the microfinance market” by giving low-income users autonomy over their savings. Olga Morawczynski’s study also found that M-PESA has improved women’s rights since M-PESA “decreased the risk of the money being stolen by their husbands.” He also found that urban migrants have had more estranged relationships with their families, since M-PESA allows them to make fewer trips back to their villages. Menekse Gencer contends that mobile money has revolutionized food security, since lower-income families that use mobile money are less vulnerable to shocks that may prevent them from accessing food.

While M-PESA has not delegitimized formal banking structures, scholars do call for more action by governments and researchers. Isaac Mbiti and David Weil  call for a common regulation of all mobile money platforms at the East African Community (EAC) as the utilization of this financial tool continues to increase. Every company creates their own regulations, so having common laws to regulate the market would be beneficial. These laws would require all companies to play by the same rules while increasing governmental authority, since the state would regulate this market.  They also call for more research to be done on mobile money’s effect on money supply and inflation, especially as this method increases in popularity. The European Investment Bank also encourages banks to innovate and gain the capability to incorporate mobile money in with their formal banking operations.  

A number of economic development challenges still exist in regard to mobile money transfer programs such as M-PESA. Kenya’s 40,000 M-PESA agents are always at risk of theft, and Safaricom has attempted to implement security measures for these workers, but to little avail. M-PESA carries transaction fees with every transfer and, while relatively affordable, these fees are still inefficient from a macroeconomic perspective. Rather than gaining revenue from advertisements or only charging for certain transactions (such as, for example, Venmo does with credit cards), M-PESA charges for every transaction, depending on the size of the transfer. However these charges are disproportionately more expensive for low-income people, who tend to transfer small amounts at a time. For example, sending the minimum of 10 shillings would result in a 30% transfer fee (3 shillings), while sending the maximum of 25,000 shillings would result in a fee of less than half of a percent (75 shillings). This fee structure creates incentives for higher volume transfers, which is positive for the macro economy, but not conducive to low-income families.  While M-PESA offers financial inclusion for low-income people, the ethics of charging these rates for lower quantity transactions should be critically considered, especially in regard to M-PESA’s target population.

Mobile money like Kenya’s M-PESA has undoubtedly increased low-income people’s accessibility to financial institutions and currency markets. Developmental economists have rightly praised M-PESA as a new tool that includes Kenya’s poorer population in the country’s rapidly growing macro economy. However, like any new innovation, the excitement of the opportunity mobile money provides should not mask the potential downfalls it may present in the future. It is imperative that we continue to analyze mobile money’s impact on the macro economy and its implications for development.