Kenya’s democracy is suffocating, its vitality draining with each passing election cycle. Every five years, citizens dutifully line up to cast their votes, entrusting their hopes to leaders who, over the subsequent 1,825 days, proceed to marginalise the electorate.
The turmoil surrounding the Finance Bill, the outcry over the housing levy, and the flagrant dismissal of judicial rulings transcend mere political disputes. They are the agonised gasps of a system rooted in a flawed premise: that sovereignty can be delegated without being lost.
The 2010 Constitution’s bold declaration of “We the People” has withered into a silent reality of “They the Rulers.” Yet, a path forward exists; a radical reclamation of authority through the Sovereign Bill, a framework both legal and philosophical, designed to restore power to the people via direct, daily democracy.
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The Sovereign Bill is a constitutional upheaval aimed at breathing life into Article 1, shifting sovereignty from a lofty dream to a tangible, functioning reality. It proposes concrete mechanisms: citizens would gain the ability to initiate legislation, veto laws, and even dissolve government bodies as stipulated by law.
This would necessitate amending existing constitutional provisions, such as Article 94(1), to affirm that Parliament’s legislative power bows to the people’s direct exercise of sovereignty under the Sovereign Bill. New articles would emerge, like a proposed Article 259(5), mandating that all constitutional interpretations prioritize popular sovereignty, resolving any ambiguity in favor of the people’s direct will. Central to the Sovereign Bill is a robust system of public participation, blending quantitative and qualitative elements. Imagine a secure blockchain platform where citizens could log their opinions on proposed legislation, with results available on a public ledger. Verbatim records of public hearings, whether held in person or online, would be published, ensuring the voices of minority and marginalised groups are heard.
Every bill would come with a Public Input Traceability Matrix, detailing the number of views received and categorised by support, dissent, or neutrality and broken down by ward, gender, marginalised communities and protected groups e.g children, summarising key arguments, and justifying decisions to retain, amend, or discard provisions.
The Sovereign Bill rests on four transformative pillars. First, digital democracy would take root with biometric precision. Citizens could vote through a mobile app authenticated by fingerprints or facial recognition, while those without smartphones could use a USSD code to cast votes via SMS-style menus, verified by one-time passwords. A blockchain audit trail would assign each vote an anonymous serial number, verifiable at a site like verify.vote.ke, banishing the specter of electoral opacity forever.
This matters deeply in a nation where, according to the 2019 Kenya National Bureau of Statistics census and the Aga Khan University’s Kenya Youth Survey, 75 per cent of the population, mostly under 35, are digital natives, and mobile internet penetration, at 63 per cent according to the 2022 census, outstrips access to clean water. Technology is the gateway to inclusion.
Second, the people’s veto would serve as the ultimate safeguard. If 15 per cent of adult citizens opposed a law, they could force a binding referendum through a petition, conducted digitally. A process no court, parliamentarian, or president could derail. The contested law would be suspended the moment the petition is certified, halting legislative overreach in its tracks. This replaces the current charade of “public participation” with genuine accountability.
Third, disputes would be resolved by and for the people. Discrepancies in a ward’s tally could be scrutinized via live-streamed blockchain audits. Blockchain also reduces the reliance on Party Agents and their attendant costs and risks to the electoral process. Further, trust eroded by secretive courts, would be rebuilt through unrelenting transparency.
Fourth, a dissolution clause would provide a final reckoning. Should Parliament delay, obstruct a veto or referendum, or ram through an unpopular bill, 20 per cent of citizens could trigger a People’s Recall referendum. A 60 per cent majority would dissolve Parliament en masse, forcing new elections.
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By Lawi Sultan Njeremani