Politics, democracy and why a military coup is a tall order

The sensational headline of a weekend publication last Sunday attributed a quote to ODM leader, Raila Odinga, in which he claimed to have saved President William Ruto from a military coup at the height of the Gen Z protests in June last year.

I was amazed that for such a sensitive topic, the story itself didn’t actually reference a specific coup plot but basically quoted Raila stating that Ruto’s action of ordering the military onto the streets to assist civil authorities in restoring law and order during the protests “had set the country on a dangerous path”.

Coups and military matters are never discussed in casual tones or without proper facts. An accusation of a coup, especially one on which no action has been taken, suggests that the alleged plotters remain in service, which in itself is an inconceivable eventuality.

Worse still, there exists a moral question in such allegations made against military men and women who do not have the luxury to call a press conference to clear their names, a stark reminder of the indignity suffered by the Gen Ogolla, in the early days of this regime, when UDA functionaries consistently accused him of attempting to overturn the results of the 2022 general election at the Bomas of Kenya in August of that year.

Raila’s words, however, brought back memories of a rather curious raft of military changes and appointments made by President Ruto in July last year, just a few weeks after the Gen Z riots had died down.

First, the changes were made outside the traditional periods of the year when they are usually announced. More surprisingly, however, was that the July changes included a promotion of an officer from lieutenant colonel to colonel.

Typically, the commander-in-chief, on the advice of the Defence Council, makes changes and appointments affecting only the general ranks of the military (brigadiers to four-star generals).

That Ruto’s announced changes included a lieutenant colonel was rather odd. But what truly caught the eye was the sheer number of colonels promoted to the rank of brigadier (one-star general), about 18.

I doubt that such a large number has ever been promoted at once, especially because appointments of new generals have to be accompanied by large-scale retirements, promotions or sackings in the upper ranks, which didn’t accompany the announcement.

The history of Kenya is not entirely free of coup plots rumours. But the two well known cases, in 1971 and 1982, provide a tribal background, mirrored in the country’s public life, which makes the overall idea of a coup difficult to implement within Kenya’s tribal fault lines.

In 1971, when the military chief, Maj Gen Joseph Ndolo, was caught up in a rumoured coup plot, his Kamba community was so dominant in the military that some estimates suggest they may have made up over two thirds of the entire force.

Because of that, President Jomo Kenyatta had little wiggle room in taking action against Ndolo, preferring to quietly let him go without facing a court martial, before replacing him with Maj Gen Jackson Mulinge.

The understanding was that going after Ndolo may have caused trouble within the ranks, seeing as Ndolo’s people were the fighting fountain of the military.

Alive to this, when he took power in 1978, President Moi moved to establish some presence of his tribesmen in the military’s general ranks, starting with the accelerated promotion of Colonel John Sawe to become lieutenant general and army commander by the time the 1982 coup attempt happened.

Sawe directed the crushing of the coup, which had been conducted by junior Kenya Air Force servicemen from the Luo community. Lacking wide support from within the ranks, the coup was dead on arrival.

It seems like a lifetime away since 1982. Serious reforms have taken place within the military, many of them attributed to the foresight of former boss, Gen Daudi Tonje.

The conditions and circumstances in which a coup plot was possible in 1982 do not exist in today’s environment, where surveillance is sharp and intelligence gathering is enhanced.

If the 1982 coup leader, Hezekiah Ochuka, was able to hold meetings in the mess to spur the rebellion, a similar scenario today is impossible. In this nation, nearly everything is mobilised around tribes first, before it becomes a national matter.

A Kamba coup, if not nipped in the bud in 1971, may well have succeeded, because the community ran the military. A Luo coup in 1982 couldn’t succeed because it lacked the widespread support necessary for success.

In both cases, attempts by the tribesmen of the sitting president to respond by packing the military with their kinsmen failed, because there is only a certain number that the military can recruit each year.

It is even more difficult in today’s two-term presidential system, where one can only be president for two five-year terms lasting a maximum of 10 years.

Technically, therefore, where military tribal numbers matter, a serving president has no formula to pack the ranks with his tribesmen in a mere 10 years. Of course, there is the regressive option of taking office and “retiring” generals from the former president’s community, the way President Kibaki did on taking power in 2003, but overall, the net effect remains constant.

Because of the stated reforms over the years, the Kenyan military, unlike its police counterpart, is a reservoir of fine generals, intellectually sound and principled men and women.

Obviously, images of rioting citizens stopping their street fights with the police to enthusiastically welcome military men with victory chants may go to the head of a few officers and service members, but I am certain that none is foolish enough to countenance the idea of following that up with a coup attempt.

Indeed, if one was to pick the conditions most ripe for a military intervention in recent history, it would have been at the height of the 2008 post-election violence, when Kenyan civilian democracy had practically gone to the dogs.

By many accounts, the military mulled over some form of intervention to stop the madness and save lives, but the top ranks must have grappled with the usual ripple effects of such interventions and decided against it.

If they didn’t in 2008, the Gen Z protests simply didn’t meet the destruction threshold and law and order breakdown to persuade military leaders to step in.

The KDF is probably the only credible institution left in this country. Even though, like everything Kenyan, it has its own challenges with tribalism, favouritism and nepotism, in my view, it remains the one Kenyan institution that upholds the values and tenets of patriotism and sovereignty

It is also the safeguard and underwriter of the nation’s democracy, which explains their being on standby to assist civilian authorities in maintenance of law and order.

It may have its own rotten apples, but its internal remedies against them are so firm and swift that very few would ever cross.

It is, therefore, not the kind of organisation I would believe was on the verge of a coup just a few months ago. An accusation of this nature, in fact, erodes the firm foundation of credibility on which the force is built.