Each of our general elections invariably ends up being a contest between just two opposing sides: one is what I would call 'the president’s corner'; and the other is what we may define as 'the unified opposition parties’ corner'.
And there is one pattern in Kenyan politics, which has up to now been reliable to an amazing degree.
The first phase of this pattern plays out in the period immediately after an election: it is revealed in that a good number of opposition politicians will gravitate towards the president’s corner.
I suspect that this tends to be mostly for financial reasons: Kenyan elections are an expensive affair, and most politicians, whether they be winners or losers in the most recent election, will find themselves distinctly short of money. And one way or another, State House is believed to be able to help them get over this hurdle.
An example of this was when, just a few months after the last general election, a number of MPs elected on the opposition ODM ticket trooped to State House to pay a courtesy call on President William Ruto, to allegedly 'negotiate for development'. Whereas I do not doubt that development was discussed, everything I know about MPs persuades me that none of them ever go to State House without the expectation that they will not leave empty-handed.
The second phase of this cycle comes up in the months before the next general election. By then, the president’s corner turns out to be somewhat overcrowded, given all those who joined it after the last election. We find that there are far too many ambitious men and women within this group, competing for a limited number of places.
At that point, some supporters of the president, doubting their chances of retaining their seats or of gaining the bigger seats they aspire to, will head out to other registered parties, or register their own new political parties and try their luck with their new party ticket.
In other words, these politicians end up in the unified opposition parties’ corner. And this explains why we have over 150 registered political parties, of which very few of us could hope to accurately name even 10.
Here too we have a recent example in the case of two political giants of Western Kenya, the current House Speaker Moses Wetang'ula and Prime Cabinet Secretary Musalia Mudavadi. They both left the 'president’s corner', which was to field Raila Odinga as President Uhuru Kenyatta’s preferred successor, in the 2022 general election, and joined Ruto in what was then, effectively, the opposition team.
So, this pattern has up to now been really very clear, and the reasons behind it obvious.
But what is of great interest is that what was previously witnessed just a few months before an election, now seems to be taking place very much earlier in the election cycle.
We have all manner of politicians, mostly from Central Kenya, who now seem to be considering deserting the president’s UDA party and seeking an alternative political home.
You have to wonder about this, as there is nothing anyone can do to prevent Ruto from being president for at least three more years. So, you would think that it would be in the interests of any ambitious politician to work closely with the president.
So why are battle lines being drawn so early this time around?
Well, mention of Mudavadi and Wetang'ula reminds me of their prediction, in the months preceding the 2022 general election, that there was going to be “an earthquake” when they left Uhuru’s corner and joined up with Ruto.
In the end, that was not too great an earthquake. But the recent massive eruption of youthful demonstrators, agitating against Ruto’s government, cannot be termed anything other than a seismic event: a political earthquake.
These demonstrations have morphed into a devastating process of delegitimisation for the Ruto presidency: a total nightmare.
Those scampering away from the president’s corner may thus be termed – in purely electoral terms – rats deserting a ship that they believe is in danger of sinking.