We‘re courting disaster by ignoring income inequality

One remarkable thing about revolutions is that they are impossible to predict. With hindsight, everyone likes to say the collapse of the Soviet Union or events of the Arab Spring were ineluctable. That before the uprisings all the signs pointed to the eventual collapse of these regimes. But almost no one predicted the timing and scale of these revolutions. That is because factors that motivate revolutionaries are often hidden from the view of leaders, academics and analysts alike. While living under an autocratic regime, few sane people ever dare to express their true opinions about the government. Many simply falsify their true preferences for policies, political leaders, even music and food. They participate in cultural activities organised by the dictator. Many routinely pledge their allegiance to the ruler on national holidays and other public events. All these they do simply because they have to.

People perform these acts for two main reasons. The first is simply to survive. Most oppressive (politically and otherwise) regimes thrive through control over means of earning a living. If the livelihood of your family depends on your allegiance to the regime, you are often left with no choices but to support the regime and its activities – whether you agree with them or not.

The second reason why people choose to falsify their preferences is because of inherent uncertainty about whether they are likely to have support should they voice opposition to the autocrat and his rule. Will others come out to join? It is for this reason that revolutions tend to have a cascade effect. Once enough people show up in the streets, other potential revolutionaries infer that there is broad support for their views and beliefs and therefore also show up. And before you know it, everyone is out on the streets and regimes are toppled – from Moscow to Berlin to Tunis to Cairo. Why are the lessons of revolutions relevant to Kenya? Because we are sitting on a political time bomb; but no one is willing to see the problem for what it is. As a country, we are collectively falsifying our preferences through our words and deeds.

Every time I come home I am amazed by the sheer magnitude of the visible material progress and the ever-widening chasm between the haves and the have-nots. The new malls, buildings, bigger and newer cars are all balanced out by the ever-growing slums and millions of our citizens for whom the Kenyan dream continues to be out of reach.

Those in charge – the elite class – look at the material progress and pat themselves on the back that all is well; that we are on our way to achieving middle-income status. Instead of confronting the problem of income inequality head on, we prefer to inoculate the have-nots with the toxic medicine of ethnic politics.

However, the problem is that this medicine will soon wear off. Wananchi are increasingly aware of the enormous intra-ethnic economic inequality. Remember that most Kenyans’ comparison of wealth distribution is no longer just between mashinani and Nairobi. They see the 47 county headquarters, most of which are run by their co-ethnics as symbols of inequality. The county elites are quickly becoming symbols of our collective refusal to accept that our economic policies – at the national and county levels are not working for the common man.

With this in mind, we should realise that the real revolution may not take place against State House or the national political elites. It will start in the counties where brother will turn on brother to demand social justice and equal access to opportunities. For this reason, I think that our ongoing collective hand wringing about potential violence around next year’s presidential election is misplaced.

The real loci of violence will be the counties. That is where wananchi will be fighting to exert their dominance and regain respect from their brothers and sisters.