One of the most insightful remarks about politics is attributed to the early 20th century Russian revolutionary Leon Trotsky, who is said to have once declared that “Nothing is more difficult to organise than a spontaneous demonstration!”
Given his record of proficiency in the manipulation of crowds, this is a remark worth mulling over – and more so by any candidate for elective office as we head into peak election season; those critical 'final six months' that usually determine the final outcome.
If you have never observed a political campaign up close, then it is possible to believe in the spontaneity of political crowds. But if you are allowed by any candidate to see what goes on behind the scenes, then a vastly different picture arises.
Those 'local women's groups' who dance traditional dances to welcome the candidate and his friends have to be paid, and transport also provided. Likewise, the musicians and DJs who entertain the crowds before the candidate arrives – or even after he or she has arrived.
The young men who supposedly provide 'security' have to be paid, and often given brand new phones to use at the event. Phones that have a new number and so will not be subject to the routine phone calls of daily life but will only be used for the coordination of the campaign rally on that day.
The 'elders' who so dramatically shower their favoured candidates with 'the blessings of the ancestors' also have to be paid. And I could go on – the thousands of T-shirts and caps; the convoys and road shows; the billboards; indeed, the very stage from which the candidate will address the crowd.
All these have to be paid for.
Thus, in Kenya it is not only difficult to 'organise a spontaneous demonstration' but it is also very expensive.
The tragedy here is that Kenyan politics is not at present structured to have political parties support their candidates in meeting these expenses. If anything, those who are successful in the party nominations are often expected to make a 'voluntary contribution' to the party headquarters, especially if that party is known to be particularly strong in that region.
So where does this money come from? Mostly from personal resources, with a top-up from friends and extended family. But mostly it is from the nuclear family of the candidate.
Thus begins a process that has led many once-prosperous families to ruin.
For once fully engaged in the race and with no clear sign that victory is on the horizon, what follows is not what is rational (which would be to cut your losses and quit the race) but rather the irrational phenomenon psychologists define as 'loss aversion'.
This is a cognitive bias that describes why, for individuals, the pain of losing is psychologically twice as powerful as the pleasure of gaining.
So, we find that the candidate who had decided to 'get on the ballot' largely on the basis that 'the people' demanded it of him, now realises that – some Sh10 million later – his 'supporters' are actually just leeches who expect to be paid at every step of his political journey.
And being by then in the grip of 'loss aversion', rather than walk away, he will then move on to the desperation phase where he will either borrow against the family home, or even sell it (without letting his family know). From one who initially merely spent all he had, he then graduates to being deeply in debt.
Of course, there are rare exceptions – the candidates who famously get elected despite barely spending any money. But those are really so rare as to be statistically insignificant.
The long and the short of it is that when you read of seven or 10 candidates all running for the same parliamentary seat, you may be certain that there will be several previously prosperous families in that constituency who will be utterly ruined by the time the next MP takes the oath of office.
And so, if you take your friend who has just lost a parliamentary seat, out for a consolation drink, his first words are likely to be, “If I had known that the voters in my constituency were such fools….”
