Mudavadi book tells us to tone down presidential poll stakes

Having reported on economic and business issues in these columns for a long time – following, writing, and commenting on events and policy changes as they occurred – I had a special interest in reading Mr Musalia Mudavadi’s new book. He is a seasoned public figure who was at the helm of economic policy-making in this country at a very important conjuncture in our history.

Younger readers of this column may not know that we used to have a top bureaucrat at the Treasury going by the title, the Price Controller, whose wide-ranging powers included to set and dictate the prices of commodities as mundane as needles and razor blades.

Then you had the Exchange Control Department at the Central Bank of Kenya, the only entity that allowed one to own foreign exchange in the republic. You had to apply to them to allocate for you the forex to buy an air ticket.

Mudavadi is the one who led the demolition of the command control regime.

Two weeks ago, Mudavadi, with whom I interacted closely during his time at the Treasury, fished me out to personally present a signed copy of the book. He deserves support because we live in a society that does not have the tradition of writing autobiographies.

This is why the first generation of top former civil servants, public officials and corporate sector titans are dying without having recorded their experiences. The practice of writing biographies forces you to think deeply and to reflect on and reassess policies you implemented while you were still in office.

We must encourage leaders to write biographies because part of the reason we continue implementing flawed policies is that we have no means of learning from experiences of retired public officials.

Does it surprise that important positions on economic issues are usually hurriedly put together? That ideas from foreign institutions such as lending agencies and non-governmental organisations always find their way into our important policy documents?

In terms of the storytelling, the book does not disappoint. We have startling insights into the political economy of economic policy-making under the regime of former President Daniel arap Moi. The anecdotes on the behind-the-scenes shenanigans that used to happen within power networks of that time are truly revealing.

I see this book as a revealing treatise on the politics of economic reform. It takes you through a lesson on navigating through enclaves of resistance in government to introduce politically unpalatable reforms like dismantling price controls, freeing the exchange control regime, import liberalisation and the dismantling of commodity marketing boards. There are vital lessons on marshalling political will for planned fundamental economic reforms.

If I were Mudavadi, I would have given the chapter on the political economy of economic policy-making more play and prominence in the book. He needed to project himself in the book as a man with innovative solutions to our economic problems.

While I appreciate the fact that the book is basically about personal memoirs and, therefore, had to concentrate on personal experiences, Mudavadi does not come through in the book as an assertive policymaker with a deep domain knowledge on the subject matter. Too much play is given to politics and to the sterile obsessions of the contemporary political elite.

I wanted to read more about Goldenberg. For, in Goldenberg, we have  compelling lessons on the lengths to which long-serving incumbent elites will go in damaging the economy when they are threatened with being dethroned from power.

The elite of the Moi regime literally raided the Central Bank and looted billions through crafty and dirty schemes. There emerged “political banks” — conduits for money stolen from the Central Bank of Kenya. We witnessed sensational cases of cheque-kiting between PostBank Credit, Trade Bank and Exchange Bank, where billions of shillings were laundered out of the Treasury to fund elections.

Do you remember Forex C certificates? I remember how sacks full of certificates worth billions that had been already redeemed by the CBK mysteriously disappeared. We used to have a piece of paper called ‘bearer certificates’ that made it possible to carry Sh30 million in an A4 envelope.

The National Social Security Fund was looted to its knees.

And, do we still remember how Treasury bonds worth billions of shillings were dished out to politically connected road contractors to pay pending bills arising from shady contracts?

History has taught us that do-or-die elections, especially where an impending transition from one regime to another is in the offing, create conditions for egregious forms of corruption. Let’s bring the stakes for winning the presidency down. I have digressed. Let’s encourage public officials to write biographies.