Sometimes in mid-2004, an individual associated with a Cabinet minister called me to a meeting at the Professional Centre, just a few metres away from the Parliament buildings. He told me he had been instructed to “facilitate” me — a euphemism for a bribe in the political lingo—in exchange for my support on a Bill that was before Parliament. I was then a Member of the Departmental Committee on Health, Housing, Labour and Social Services, which was responsible for the passage of the Bill.
The facilitation, he told me, was to be in the form of “fuel money” and employment for a relative who had to be a university graduate. The minister was worried that the Bill was unpopular among MPs and feared it could be defeated. The individual further revealed that an MP he did not name, had already been facilitated, and his young relative was already happily employed in the ministry. If I agreed, he told me, we could finalise the deal the following day
The brazen corruption attempt shocked me. Never before had anyone been so brave as to make such a proposition to me. I told him I would call him back, a response that surprised the individual who had expected an immediate commitment. The following day when my committee met, I reported my encounter with the individual and wondered aloud whether any one of the other members had been approached. They said they hadn’t. Soon, that proved not to be true because early the following morning, the same individual called and angrily demanded to know why I had reported our discussion to the committee. I knew at that point that one or more members had been compromised. After that encounter, I was removed from the committee and my efforts to seek intervention from the Speaker and the Chief Whip, who was also a member of the committee, failed. I did not earn another place in any house committee for the duration of my term.
I have narrated the above story to illustrate the presence of corruption in the Kenyan Parliament. So, if one asks whether or not MPs are “bought” to table questions, support, or oppose motions in that august House, the answer would be a strong ‘yes’. Unlike in other countries, where sting operations are carried out regularly and legislators are nabbed in the act of receiving bribes, no Kenyan legislator has ever been busted for corruption.
In Britain in the 1990s, two Conservative Party MPs were punished for allegedly asking questions in Parliament on behalf of a wealthy Egyptian businessman. That case, and several others that followed, were handled internally, and the MPs were suspended from the House for short periods of timeThere have also been innumerable unethical cases involving members of the US Congress, the most prominent being that of New York Democratic Congressman, Charles Rangle who was censured by his peers in December 2010 for violating House ethics and fund-raising rules. Although he did not lose his title or power to vote, the public shaming of the fifteen-year term congressman was embarrassing.
In Kenya, both local and foreign non-governmental organisations have raised and documented the questions-for-cash phenomenon in Parliament. A Transparency International (TI) report, for example, claimed individuals and organisations paid some MPs to raise questions or introduce motions for political and economic interests. The same report raised the issue of integrity regarding names of officials sent to committees for approval before appointment. Some committee members are paid to support or reject appointments, while others have been accused of spiking reports to favour or disfavour certain individuals or organisations facing parliamentary investigations. Corruption is also known to drive censure motions in Parliament. Members are bribed to “fix” certain legislators, while others are given money to oppose such motions.
It is no secret that dirty money in brown envelopes is routinely exchanged within the corridors of Parliament. Some of it is casually stuffed in pigeon holes for MPs to pick at will. With a fee of only several thousand shillings, an interested party can buy an MP’s vote on any issue. MPs are bought not only to ask questions, but also not to ask questions. Attracted to an easy source of revenue, some MPs raise questions to intimidate intended stakeholders. Once the money is paid, they disappear on the day of the debate, forcing the Speaker to drop the questions or motions. Apart from cash, legislators are also
rewarded with perks, such as vacations, goods, school fees for relatives, and so on. Some companies spend millions of shillings every year for MPs’ workshops to try to curry favour on pending laws. Interestingly, invitations for such workshops are channelled through the Office of the Clerk, which encourages legislators to attend. Air tickets are collected from there, making it look as if the events are sanctioned by the administration of Parliament
In 2009, a daily newspaper carried a report claiming that wealthy politicians and business magnates were involved in bribing a section of MPs to get them to debate or vote in a way that favoured their interests. The report also quoted previous and current MPs as admitting that corruption existed, and that “crucial reports had been adopted or thrown out, motions passed or rejected, and certain clauses introduced or removed from Bills before the House based purely on these partisan interests.”
Is lobbying a form of corruption? Lobbying is a common phenomenon in legislatures throughout the world. In Kenya, the lobbying sector has grown robustly in recent years due to an expanding economy and the competitive nature of business, but it remains comparatively small compared to that in developed countries. Many non-governmental organisations, multi-national companies, and foreign governments assign officers specifically to lobby the legislature and government institutions. In 2007, for example, a local drinks’ manufacturer successfully managed to lobby the Kenya Government to reduce excise duty from ten percent to five percent in that year’s budget. It was a win win situation as the government increased tax revenue due to increased sales and the company enjoyed tax reduction.
In the US, lobbying is so big that the US Senate had to draft a comprehensive official definition. In general, lobbying in the US is viewed as the practice of trying to persuade legislators to propose, pass, or defeat legislation or to change existing laws. To regulate the sector, lobbyists in the US — there are estimated to be thirty thousand of them in the capital, Washington, DC, alone — are required to register with the government. They are barred from buying gifts and meals for legislators, and while funded trips by lobbyists are not banned, legislators have to get prior permission from the Congressional Ethics Committee.
In the UK, lobbying traditionally refers to attempts to influence an MP’s vote by their fellow parliamentary colleagues, or by one of their constituents, or by any outside organisation. In both the US
and Britain, the lobby industry is worth billions of dollars, and employs thousands of workers, whose task is to influence the direction of legislation in a particular way. However, political analysts and scholars also see lobbying as a form of corruption where money, in brown envelopes or through bank transfers, changes hands. If this is the case, isn’t corruption through lobbying, being legitimised by the same bodies that are supposed to provide checks and balances?
One of the best examples of lobbying power in the Kenyan Parliament involved the enactment of the proposed National Social Security Bill, a piece of legislation intended to revolutionise health services in the country. Authors of the comprehensive legislation were the Minister for Health and technocrats at the state-run National Health Insurance Fund (NHIF). The NHIF was established to provide medical coverage for registered members, mostly in the public service. On the other hand, the legislation was meant to empower the fund to provide universal service to every Kenyan irrespective of age, health, economic, or social status. Although the idea had been in the minds of planners since independence, it was the first time a comprehensive health care plan of that nature had found its way to the floor of the House. The Bill was tabled in June 2004, amidst controversy over its viability and sustainability, and over questions about the NHIF’s capability to effectively and efficiently manage it.
For years, Kenyans had viewed the NHIF as a den of corruption and mismanagement. They accused it of wasting resources and losing money amounting to billions of shillings. The Ndung’u report on illegal land deals singled it out for spending 30 billion shillings in five years for unnecessary land purchases a function completely out of its purview as a health insurance provider. Most of the land purchases were concluded under highly questionable circumstances. Also in 2003, the NHIF allegedly paid out 1 billion shillings to various hospitals as rebates; out of that, 300 million shillings was allegedly lost through fraudulent claims. The NHIF’s Chief Executive at the time, Dr Adan Hassan, however, was commended for spearheading the new medical scheme, although he did not escape criticisms from sections of the medical and insurance industries.
There was intense lobbying for and against the Bill, an exercise, which started months before the draft legislation reached Parliament. The Federation of Kenya Employees (FKE) joined hands with Avenue Healthcare — a health care provider — to bitterly oppose the scheme, accusing the government of rushing the initiative before actuarial studies had been done and before the NHIF had been properly evaluated. The two organisations also questioned the rationale of introducing such an expensive scheme when the country’s economy was struggling. Also questioning the government’s ability to sustain the programme was the World Bank — one of the organisations expected to help fund it. Its Country Director then, Makhtar Diop, said it was unlikely the Kenyan budget could afford such an expensive programme. “I do not know of any country anywhere with a domestic per capita income of below 400 US dollars that has attempted such an ambitious scheme,” he lamented.
But the government and the NHIF were unmoved, and went full throttle to try to ensure the enactment of the legislation, which was to cost 40 billion shillings. A portion of that money was to come from the Exchequer through Value Added Tax, Excise Duty, payroll contributions, and donor funding, while the rest was to be availed from the private sector and well wishers. In a press interview, Dr Hassan, said although he understood the concerns of his critics, he nevertheless, believed that the programme was doable and, therefore, vowed to take Kenyans to “the Promised Land.”
In the process of promoting passage of the Bill, the NHIF held a series of seminars to counter adverse publicity from critics opposed to the fund. The first workshop for MPs was held at the secluded but high market Ngulia Serena Safari Lodge in the Tsavo National Park on April 2, 2004. Representatives from the International Labour Office in Geneva and selected chief executives of social security organisations in other African countries were invited to sensitise the lawmakers on the positive aspects of a health insurance fund. Others who benefited from subsequent seminars and retreats organised by the NHIF were officials of the Federation of Kenya Employees (FKE) and government officers. A public relations firm was hired to market the initiative. The NHIF also heavily lobbied the Parliamentary Standing Committee on Health, Housing, Labour, and Social Welfare of which I was a member. The NHIF and the Ministry of Health also lobbied the Kenya National Union of Teachers, the Federation of Kenya Employers (FKE), as well as senior civil servants willing to support the scheme. The lobby efforts included both overt and covert monetary disbursements as well as pure public relations.
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