You probably saw that pathetic video of the former President of Gabon, Ali Bongo Ondimba, beseeching his “friends all over the world to make noise”. This was in response to his having been placed under house arrest by the military leaders who overthrew his government. If you did not, then you really need to ask someone who has seen this video to share it with you.
And having watched it, bear it in mind as a perfect illustration of a politician who had completely lost touch with his nation’s grassroots.
You have to wonder: with all that oil money, and only a small population of about 2.3 million to provide for, how did this man go so wrong? Why was he overthrown so casually that – as far as we know – there was no armed resistance to his ouster?
Well, clearly this was because he had lost touch. Had he seen this moment coming, he might well have come up with some kind of political manoeuvre for either remaining in office, or for leaving it voluntarily with his dignity intact. But he did not see it coming.
On this subject of how and why politicians lose touch, I consider myself something of an expert, as I am now old enough to have witnessed the meteoric rise, and subsequent fall, of many a Kenyan politician. You could say I have had a ringside seat to many political battles.
And of all these, one friend of mine stands out in particular as exemplifying just how easy it is for even a well-meaning politician to lose touch with his voters – even though in this case he did not lose his seat.
I spoke to this friend of mine shortly after he had just won a very narrow victory in his reelection bid not that long ago. And what I found odd was that he was not celebrating. He was furious at his voters, because he had been forced to spend so much money in the election and had even sold some plots of land he had acquired, to raise money in the last weeks of the election. And all this only just won him the narrowest victory for his second term in parliament.
What troubled him is that he had been a model MP as far as the use of Constituency Development Fund money was concerned. Like so many MPs I have known over the years, he could rattle off an impressive list of “development projects” he had launched over the past few years and – again very common – specify how he had made sure that every corner of his constituency “got something”.
And yet he had almost lost.
Back then I too was puzzled at why he had almost lost the election. But then the psychology behind this was eventually illuminated when – during the 2022 presidential election campaigns – I was to learn that the outgoing President Uhuru Kenyatta was being shunned by voters in his Central Kenya backyard, who contemptuously declared “we cannot eat roads”.
This was more of a revolution in political thinking than most young Kenyans can appreciate. Because for so many decades past, the key to electoral victory – allowing for the usual “identity politics” – had been that the leader must “deliver development”. And of all such development most desired by the average voter, none was so dear to him or her than infrastructure projects like roads, bridges, water pipelines, schools, and clinics.
But the poverty which afflicts so many of our people is felt at a personal level. The CDF community projects, however deeply desired, may bring long-term benefits, but cannot fill an empty stomach.
This is what my friend had overlooked – and it is what almost cost him the election. He was out of touch with his voters, and in politics – as the former President of Gabon has recently found out – that kind of oversight is rarely forgiven.
I believe this may also explain the acceleration of corruption in our various corridors of power.
Our politicians are now reconciled to the fact that, in most cases, the Kenyan voter expects you to buy his vote; and they have to somehow find the money for such purchase.
