Last December, the Kenyan media quickly branded the indicted Kenyans as the “Ocampo Six”—but a more apt title may have been “Ocampo’s Six,” given the Argentine prosecutor’s level of involvement in the investigations. Ever since the prosecutor untied the ribbon on Kofi Annan’s mysterious envelope, the proceedings, and the six men involved, have been his for the keeping.

Across the continent and in Kenya specifically, it’s well known that the Court and Moreno-Ocampo have image issues. Many in Africa claim the Court smacks of neocolonialism: all of the ICC’s twenty-six indicted individuals are indeed African, and all of the current investigations and/or trials involve atrocities committed on the continent. Unfortunately, the objections do not come solely from corrupt politicians who invoke hackneyed sovereignty claims, either. Credible polling from Synovate last month indicates that only 56 percent of Kenyans favor the ICC process, down from 68 percent during October 2010.[ii] More importantly, declining support in specific provinces may demonstrate that some of the Ocampo Six have swayed opinions over their alleged plight at the hands of the ICC. In Rift Valley Province—home to the lion’s share of William Ruto’s supporters, not to mention land conflicts dating back decades—36 percent of those polled now favor the ICC trials, compared to 73 percent last year. [iii] In Central Province, home to many of the Kikuyu who have generally rallied behind Uhuru Kenyatta, ICC support now hovers around 37 percent, down from 61 percent earlier last year.

The precipitous decline in approval of the ICC process may also derive from the ways in which the Ocampo Six have branded themselves vis-à-vis the prosecutor. The indicted men have not only hired a London-based PR firm to mend their bruised public personas; more broadly, they’ve attempted to couch the investigations as “Ocampo vs. the Kenyan state.” Tens of MPs attended the last ICC appearances in April—all sporting baseball caps bearing the red, green, black, and white of the Kenyan flag. The attempts to link the Ocampo Six with Kenya writ large do not end with coordinated attire at The Hague, either. Last May, Vice President Kalonzo Musyoka’s “shuttle diplomacy” was a blatant attempt to delay the proceedings using formal, inter-state diplomatic channels. When Musyoka travelled to the United States and the UN Security Council to delay the trials, he did it on behalf of Kenya.[iv]

With dwindling popularity and a growing sense of “Ocampo vs. Kenya,” pressure has mounted on the prosecutor—and it should. Of the six active “situations” under review at The Hague, the Kenyan proceedings are the first in which Moreno-Ocampo has invoked a clause in Article 13 the Rome Statute that allows him to refer the cases proprio motu. (In the five other situations, the UN Security Council or a signatory state to the Rome Statute has referred the case to the Court.)

Just as Moreno-Ocampo started the investigations, he also has followed up in person to underscore his commitment to the cases. He arrived in November 2009 to announce the commencement of the ICC’s involvement; returned to Nairobi in May 2010 to conduct investigations during a five-day tour; and appeared in December 2010 prior to announcing the much-anticipated indictments of the Ocampo Six, which he doled out evenly among ODM and PNU. Moreno-Ocampo has not merely attended behind-closed-doors meetings at the State House; rather, he has made a point during his trips to focus on victims of the violence. In December 2010, he attended the second National Dialogue and Reconciliation Conference coordinated by Kofi Annan. During his visit last May, Moreno-Ocampo also spent time in Mathare, where he heard insights from those who experienced the post-election violence firsthand and met with local NGOs operating in the area.

Nonetheless, two challenges face the prosecutor and, by extension, the Court. First, given the debate about the evidence in the Kenyan cases, there is a paucity of coverage regarding one indisputable fact: in 2012, Luis Moreno-Ocampo will retire. The Assembly of State Parties will convene to select a new prosecutor later this year. However, it’s unclear whether the new appointee will be able to continue the Kenyan investigations with the same conviction and rigor as Moreno-Ocampo. Similarly, if the evidence presented at the confirmation hearings does not warrant full-fledged trials, the next prosecutor will have a difficult time resuming indictments and following other avenues to try suspects. Second, reports indicate that specific Mungiki attacks during the post-election violence may have been planned at the State House.[v] If true, Kibaki may be called to testify; Raila Odinga may also have to appear. Their testimonies will engender broader speculation about the necessary scope of any ICC prosecutions. Put simply, were the indictments far reaching enough? It remains to be seen how the new prosecutor will handle the thorniest issues surrounding Kenya’s current and perhaps future investigations.

Kenya’s ICC confirmation hearings represent a test not merely for the country’s political leaders but—perhaps more importantly—for the Court and its soon-to-depart prosecutor. Expeditious proceedings and, if the evidence warrants it, fair trials will prove that the Court can answer lingering existential questions about its ability to mitigate future African conflicts. More importantly, successful investigations, which will likely involve the United States’ continued pressure on Nairobi, will bring much-needed justice to Kenya’s notorious impunity and ensure that its leaders comply with the Court’s decisions. That way, even when Ocampo departs, his can be sure his “six” will not.

Besides the constitution, the big story over the past year has been the two ongoing cases at the International Criminal Court in which six prominent individuals are alleged to have overseen the violence that followed the dispute 2007 presidential election.  Beginning on 1 September, the six – Finance Minister Uhuru Kenyatta, ex-Higher Education Minister William Ruto, Cabinet Secretary Francis Mathaura, ex- Police Commissioner Mohammed Ali, MP Henry Kosgey and the broadcaster Joshua Sang – face a round of hearings in The Hague to determine whether or not the cases will go to trial.

Once the names of the six suspects were publicly announced last December, a sustained campaign was launched in order to discredit the ICC and its chief prosecutor, Luis Moreno-Ocampo.  With President Kibaki anxious to protect his protégé, Kenyatta, and close ally, Muthaura, some parts of the government mounted a diplomatic effort.  Although supported by other African states, Kenyan diplomats led by Vice President Kalonzo Musyoka failed in their efforts to persuade the United Nation’s Security Council to order the court to drop the charges.  Unbowed by this defeat, MPs allied to the president, Kenyatta, Ruto and Kosgey attempted to have Kenya withdraw as a signatory to the Treaty of Rome that established the ICC, but again to no avail.

These efforts should not be dressed up as the concerns of an African state about the extent of the ICC’s jurisdiction over the continent or as part of philosophical debates about sovereignty.  Instead, the attempts to derail the ICC cases are motivated entirely by politics.  Two of the suspects, Ruto and Kenyatta, want to run for president in elections due to be held next year.  For his part, the current president does not want his allies like Muthaura and Ali to face trial on charges of state-sanctioned violence against his people.  So every effort that can be made to block, delay or dispute the ICC process is being taken in order to protect the political ambitions of a few individuals.

Under Kenya’s new constitution, Ruto and Kenyatta will be able to stand for election even if trials are underway by the time the election is held next August.  Both have made it clear that they intend to do so, but many Kenyans understandably find the thought distasteful.[iii] Driven by a belief that the Kenyan judicial system remains inadequate for the trials of suspected perpetrators of the post-election violence, respondents to a series of opinion polls have demonstrated sustained support for the ICC process.  In an effort to destroy that popular support, the suspects and their leading allies have turned to depicting the charges as the result of a political conspiracy stretching from the offices of their rivals to The Hague.  As Ruto puts it, ‘It is really a tragedy that things can be cooked and taken to the international arena.’[iv]

In the fictional narrative presented by Ruto and Kenyatta, the two men are been targeted as part of wider efforts to victimise their respective Kalenjin and Kikuyu ethnic groups by supporters of the ICC case, most obviously Prime Minister Raila Odinga and his Luo support-base.  The suggestion that Odinga is somehow behind the cases is patently absurd, but one that seems believable in a context in which the Luo leader is the most public voice of support for the ICC.

Neither Odinga nor his leading supporters were included in Moreno-Ocampo’s list of suspects announced last December.  A presidential candidate on numerous occasions in the past and the most likely actual winner of the disputed 2007 poll, Odinga will certainly stand for the presidency in 2012.  Ahead in the opinion polls, free from the distractions of having to mount a legal defence at The Hague and not discredited at home or abroad by being the alleged perpetrator of crimes against humanity, Odinga cuts a formidable figure as the country looks ahead to next year’s election.

Odinga has, however, powerful enemies.  He and Ruto fell out shortly after the last election and their subsequent rows were one of the defining characteristics of the power-sharing government that has been in place since April 2008.  Ruto was finally sacked from the government last week, but had long ago formed an informal anti-Odinga alliance with Kenyatta and Vice President Musyoka.  Now known as the G7 alliance, this faction is determined to see their great rival thwarted in his bid for the presidency in 2012.  Musyoka, incidentally, is the other main beneficiary of the ICC case.  Should Ruto and Kenyatta eventually face trial, Musyoka may be able to persuade the pair that he should be the main anti-Odinga candidate.  An uninspiring individual, Musyoka will nevertheless be a strong candidate with the backing of his own Kamba community and the endorsement of Kenyatta and Ruto.

The ethnicisation and politicisation of the debates about the ICC are alarming, particularly given the history of politically orchestrated ethnic violence between Kalenjin and Luo in the 1990s.  And while a sense of shared grievance against the ICC and Odinga may temporarily tie together Kalenjin and Kikuyu – the fault line that cracked in the first few weeks of 2008 with deadly consequences – a heightened sense of ethnic victimisation on the part of Kikuyu or Kalenjin does not make for a rosy future.  But there are signs that the tactics of Ruto and Kenyatta are working.  A recent drop in public approval for the ICC cases can be attributed to a collapse in support for the process among voters in Ruto’s and Kenyatta’s respective heartlands of the Rift Valley and Mount Kenya regions.[v]

The line needs to be held if the victims of the violence of 2008 are to receive justice.  In the months running up to the next election, numerous arguments will doubtless be made that the ICC’s influence over the outcome is disproportionate and an unnecessary external interference in the internal politics of Kenya.  The ICC is an imperfect institution, but in Kenya can be seen to living up to its mandate as the court of last resort.  There is no credible, proven alternative legal structure that can deliver justice.  The government has passed up numerous opportunities to demonstrate its commitment to punishing those guilty of crimes committed during the post-election violence.

Every effort should be made to ensure that the ICC cases are allowed to run their course.  This is an unparalleled opportunity in Kenya’s recent history to demonstrate the worth a judicial process unencumbered by the political concerns of the ruling elite.  If the suspects think Moreno-Ocampo’s evidence is weak, let them demonstrate that in the court room at The Hague rather than the court of public opinion in Nakuru or Eldoret.  Obstructing the ICC case will do nothing to make Kenya a fully made place.

Daniel Branch is associate professor of African history at the University of Warwick.  His history of post-colonial Kenya, Kenya: Between Hope and Despair 1963-2011, will be published by Yale University Press in October.  His first book, Defeating Mau Mau, Creating Kenya: Counterinsurgency, Civil War and Decolonization was published by Cambridge University Press in 2009.

[i] Billy Kahora, ‘The Fire Next Time or a Half-Made Place: Between Tetra Paks and Plastic Bags,’ Kwani?, vol. 5, no. 2 (2008), 8-12.

[ii] Quoted in Peter Leftie, ‘Kenyans mark first anniversary of life changing moment,’ The Nation, 26 August 2011 (http://www.nation.co.ke/News/-/1056/1225934/-/10giy8nz/-/index.html – accessed on 27 August 2011).

[iii] Ramadhan Rajab, ‘Uhuru, Muthaura Should Resign if Case Confirmed,’ Nairobi Star, 25 August 2011 (http://allafrica.com/stories/201108251349.html – accessed on 27 August 2011).

[iv] Dave Opiyo and Oliver Matheng, ‘Ocampo Peddling Lies, Claims Ruto,’ The Nation, 3 August 2011 (http://allafrica.com/stories/201108040008.html – accessed on 27 August 2011).

[v] Peter Mwai, ‘Poll – Support for the Trial of Six in Hague Wanes,’ The Nation, 19 August 2011 (http://allafrica.com/stories/201108230075.html – accessed on 27 August 2011).

David Backer, Joseph Lahouchuc, James Long*

The necessity of transitional justice in Kenya and the merits of certain institutional mechanisms in particular have been vigorously debated in this forum, as well as within the country itself.  In both of these contexts, the perspectives of victims of past violence have received only modest attention.[1] Of course, their voices hardly rate as the only ones that matter; politicians, officials, activists and scholars are also vital to transitional justice processes, not to mention non-victims in the general population, whose participation as defendants, witnesses and observers is typically required for such processes to prove constructive.  That being said, whether or not victims are satisfied with the approach taken and experience some degree of restoration and healing as a result represent clear benchmarks to measure the acceptability and efficacy of transitional justice measures.

To help understand how victims of the 2007-08 episode of post-election violence and other past political abuses in Kenya view transitional justice and what they might be willing to contribute to its execution, we conducted a series of focus group discussions around the country in the Summer 2009.  The time was ripe for gauging the opinions of victims, since key actors within and outside the country were considering whether to try suspects of post-election violence locally or at the International Criminal Court, while simultaneously Kenya’s Truth, Justice, and Reconciliation Commission (TJRC) moved toward implementation.

We selected areas of Kenya most affected by post-election violence, and an experienced moderator conducted pairs of focus groups using a mixture of Swahili and local languages in seven different locations: Nairobi’s Mathare and Kibera slums; Kitale, Eldoret, Nakuru, and Naivasha in Rift Valley province; and Kisumu in Nyanza province.  In each location, we split the two groups either between men and women or between youths and the middle-aged/elderly.  The locations resulted in groups of mixed ethnicity and political affiliation.  The groups ranged in size from five to 10 participants, with an average of six.  To recruit these individuals, we relied on a network of grassroots-level non-governmental organizations that work with victims in the various locations.  All of the participants had been affected by post-election violence via harm to their own or their family members’ physical well-being and/or damage to their property.

We believe our approach, though limited in scope and lacking a representative random sample, affords certain advantages over a national public opinion survey.  First, we concentrated the research on those most affected by violence and proposed transitional justice mechanisms.  Second, victims are a distinct, small sub-population whose perspectives are difficult to capture—unless the concentration or overall prevalence of violations is very high—via the conventional sampling procedures that are typically employed for public opinion surveys.  Purposefully targeting this sub-population, including by restricting ourselves to select locations, was therefore an efficient approach to highlight an important constituency.  Third, the relatively open format of focus groups enables participants to express their attitudes, beliefs and desires in their own words and thus elicits answers that provide a richer understanding of how they view complex concepts and difficult issues.

The main subjects of the discussions included various aspects of the disputed elections and resulting violence; the current political climate; and relevant dimensions of transitional justice.  Here, we present insights concerning the participants’ attitudes about justice and amnesty; preferences for specific institutional options; views about the ostensible tradeoff between peace and justice; and perspectives on the extent of and potential for reconciliation.  Our hope is that this study, by injecting the vital perspective of victims based on recent original primary empirical research, informs not only the policy debates and institutional processes that are underway in Kenya, but also the public education programs that civil society has initiated to foster transitional justice.

Justice

In principle, a successful transitional justice process is predicated on a shared conception of justice and what specific mechanisms may yield in terms of benefits for victims.  Therefore, the initial question posed to each of the focus groups was: “What does justice mean to you?”  Rather than mentioning abstract notions like fairness, rightness or even legality, the responses generally fell into two broad categories: punishment and compensation.  Both conceptions are fully intuitive and relate directly the concrete consequences of post-election violence.  Lasting fears of living in proximity to perpetrators within communities are common.  In addition, many of the participants were forced to flee their homes and jobs and face continued difficulties in subsisting as a result of injuries and the inability to find employment.  Meanwhile, only a few of the participants linked justice to reconciliation, specifically dialogue and civil engagement.  Thus, the dominant conceptions of justice emphasized official actions to prosecute those responsible for post-election violence, as well as material assistance.

An overwhelming majority of the participants, however, were dubious about prospects of justice actually materializing in Kenya.  This skepticism is unsurprising given the country’s weak judicial system, a political class that is widely perceived to be indifferent to the plight of victims of violence, and past abrogated attempts at investigations, prosecutions and reform.  According to the participants, the main impediment to the implementation of justice is Kenya’s leaders, who are seen as venal, dishonest and likely to manipulate any commissions and tribunals.  An elder in Kitale sums up these feelings best: “Justice is devilish.  I have to bribe to get justice.”  Likewise, a male respondent in Eldoret captured the pessimism about the current state of politics: “It’s hard for Kenyans to get justice with our current crop of leaders.”  A youth participant in Dandora even argued that the current situation is worse than before: “Politics has really gone down.  It is becoming dirtier.”

Amnesty

The amnesty clause in the act establishing the TJRC, which allows perpetrators of certain rights violations to avoid prosecution if they come forward and confess to the Commission, has been controversial.  Public support for amnesty might wane in the face of ICC prosecutions, especially since many of the alleged perpetrators include present or former cabinet members, other members of parliament, local government officials, and prominent business leaders.

Likewise, the focus group participants were rarely inclined to unconditionally forgive and forget the offenses committed by those involved in the post-election violence.  At the same time, the participants drew a sharp distinction between the organizers and the actual perpetrators of the violence, exhibiting a far greater willingness to grant amnesty to the latter rather than the former, albeit with caveats on both fronts.  With respect to the perpetrators, many of the participants suggested a potential willingness to approve of amnesty as long as perpetrators acknowledged their wrongs, confessed in person, and expressed a sincere and meaningful desire for forgiveness. A frequent sentiment was that such steps would provide sufficient closure for individual victims to move on with their lives.  As one man in Eldoret suggested, “the only way for amnesty is for them to acknowledge their wrongs. We can forgive.”

Yet not all of the focus group participants were prepared to feel consoled if perpetrators admit guilt.  Some fervently rejected amnesty, expressing residual anger and resentment that is best summed up by a woman from Nakuru: “They can talk of amnesty, but we, the real victims, cannot forgive.”  Another man in Nakuru echoed the fears of many respondents about amnesty promoting impunity, in making the case for accountability as a means to prevent future violence: “If they [perpetrators] killed and are released, that will motivate others to the same atrocities.  There has to be punishment to deter others.”  Likewise, a male participant in Naivasha argued, “they [perpetrators] should be jailed for life so that they be a lesson to others.”

Institutional Mechanisms

Criminal Prosecution

The discussion of the possibility of trying individuals complicit in the post-election violence generated differing levels of support for three options: the ICC, a special tribunal in Kenya, and a hybrid system involving both international and domestic elements.  At the time, all of these options were receiving serious consideration in policy debates.  Subsequently, the ICC decided to proceed with formal investigations, which are likely to result in indictments of various perpetrators.  While these steps appeared to diminish the prospects for instituting a domestic tribunal, this option is still advocated periodically.

A large majority of the focus group participants preferred to send those involved in the violence—especially the organizers—to The Hague for trial.  The inclination to eschew local accountability, in favor of an international alternative, was based on several factors.  For one, participants commonly expressed confidence in the ICC’s ability to achieve important outcomes.  A young woman in Mathare indicated, “Let The Hague take ten years, but we will know the truth and at the end we will have results.”  A second woman said, “Politics is accompanied with violence.  Hague could change that and impunity will cease.  They will be punished well there.”  Others cited corruption in the Kenyan courts, the ability of politicians and other powerful individuals to subvert the legal process, and the potential for sparking further conflict.  As a woman in Kibera noted, “I think they [perpetrators] should go to The Hague because you might find these politicians may know the judges and even bribe them to have their way.  If they go to The Hague, truth will rule.”  A man from Eldoret agreed: “Local courts don’t have justice. The organizers are rich and therefore they will interfere.  They should go to The Hague so that at least justice will be served.”

A smaller number of participants advocated a process in Kenya.  Some made this case on the basis that the trials would then be more accessible and enable closer observation as well as direct participation.  As one participant from Kisumu stated quite succinctly, “We would like to witness.”  Similarly, an elder in Kitale argued: “I prefer here so that everyone can have their say.  We have to witness in those trials. We can’t all go to The Hague; we will have a more effective trial locally.”  Others reasoned that far more people could be tried locally, whereas relatively few could reasonably taken to The Hague.  Certain participants also worried that conducting trials in The Hague would mean only the organizers of violence would be prosecuted, allowing the actual perpetrators to go free.  The few participants who advocated a hybrid system saw the potential for complementary functions, with organizers being sent to The Hague, while a domestic tribunal would try the perpetrators.

Truth, Justice, and Reconciliation Commission

Meanwhile, the participants’ attitudes about the TJRC were almost universally negative.  Many seemed skeptical of its utility and suggested this process would be a waste of resources that could instead be going directly to victims, if not a further venue of corruption, rather than serving as a useful vehicle for rapprochement.  For example, a male respondent from Nakuru stated: “These commissions are just for making money.  They are just using them for the wrong purposes.”  A young woman in Mathare echoed his sentiments: “That is just scheme to use public money.”  Others indicated that the TJRC would be a political stunt above all else, doubting the extent to which it would engage and be responsive to the victim community.  As one participant noted, the process “won’t be ours,” but rather a top-level political process.  A woman in Eldoret underscored this skepticism by arguing, “That commission is just theirs.  We don’t have any say.  In fact, for anything that happens in Nairobi, we face the repercussions.”  Furthermore, multiple participants referenced a conspicuous history of failures by previous commissions to follow up on formal inquiries and effect change: “Commissions have been formed and are fake.  They never act on their reports” [young woman in Mathare].  “They never implement what they report” [male respondent from Nakuru].

A minority of the participants expressed cautious support for the Commission, but still questioned its fairness, the legitimacy of its leadership and its potential impact.  In addition, the few participants who did say they wanted the commission conditioned their support on the delivery of financial assistance, the creation of jobs or the punishment of offenders.  These stipulations echo the observations we made earlier that victims seem especially interested in substantive outcomes.  A process alone is seen as largely inadequate, not least because victims lack confidence in Kenyan institutions and officials operating with integrity and acting in the public interest, let alone conscientiously addressing the needs of victims.  In fact, the TJRC has commenced operation and begun to hear evidence, but continues to be plagued by the controversy over Chairman Bethuel Kiplagat’s past association with former President Daniel arap Moi’s regime, itself a violator of human rights.

Peace or Justice?

Earlier, we mentioned the participants’ fears that any efforts to prosecute individuals implicated in the post-election violence could incite further violence and threaten the security of populations that have already been victimized—a standard concern in countries that have undergone a transition from a period of conflict.  These anxieties may be based on only the theoretical risk of a backlash, without a clearly quantifiable threat.  That being said, comparative examples of such violence do exist, including instances where victims have been specifically targeted, e.g., the killings of dozens of witnesses in Rwanda’s gacaca proceedings.  Along similar lines, the absence of legislation and institutions to safeguard witnesses in Kenya has recently come to light as the ICC has begun its investigations.

These and other sorts of vulnerabilities and apprehensions presumably contribute to the fact that the focus group participants were split on whether they support legal accountability for those involved in the post-election violence, or peace and stability.  Those in the latter category expressed a desire to co-exist harmoniously and to live free from fear.  A woman in Naivasha advanced this point, making reference to the dire consequences of conflict, “If we had peace then we would not be wearing donated clothes.”  Those desiring justice argued that justice itself is most likely to produce peace and stability in the long run.  One man in Naivasha related the metaphor, “Justice is the table that carries peace.”  Another said likewise, “If you have justice you get everything else.”  A young participant argued, “You must have justice in order to be free.”  Not everyone drew a direct link between justice and peace, but rather some participants observed that peace can be a tenuous state of affairs and mask underlying grievances that implicitly could simmer and hold the potential to become disruptive.  As one woman in Kibera noted, “we are living peacefully yet we live grudgingly because some of us were violated and undermined.”

Interestingly, the participants in each focus group tend to share similar attitudes about this issue, but there were not consistent patterns by gender and location.  For example, the female participants in Kibera wanted justice first and foremost, whereas their male counterparts preferred peace and stability.  In Naivasha, by contrast, the female participants prioritized peace and stability, while the male participants desired legal accountability.  A natural explanation for the intra-group similarities could be participants following the lead of the first one or two peers to speak.  Yet the other questions did not yield this sort of consistency in responses, as might be expected if certain participants in each group were influencing their peers.  In so far as we can rule out that sort of phenomenon, it appears that attitudes concerning the choice between justice and peace and stability are highly contextual in terms of geography and personal traits.

Reconciliation

Definitions of reconciliation varied considerably among the focus group participants.  The most common understandings were forgiveness, acceptance of others, and acknowledgement of wrongs committed.

When asked whether reconciliation was occurring in their area, or in Kenya more generally, virtually all of the participants believed that progress had been modest at best.  They pointed to many pieces of evidence, most notably their continuing fear of returning home, the fact that stolen properties have not yet been returned, and the failure of perpetrators to apologize or be punished for their transgressions.

The participants were equally cynical about the prospect of reconciliation down the road, even questioning the basic readiness of Kenyans to pursue and achieve this outcome.  A Nakuru woman asked, “How can there be reconciliation when I am still feeling the pain for my murdered son?”  This visceral reaction is evidently widespread, with another participant observing that many victims “still feel the pain.”  Some also cited the ongoing presence of perpetrators in their communities and were resistant to the notion that under these circumstances reconciliation could be achieved through policy pronouncements alone.  As a Kitale elder explained, “If you killed my father, [even] if the government says we should live together, I can’t live with you.  I still have anger.”  Others blamed inter-party wrangling within the Coalition government, which was viewed as a persistent problem.  A further source of worry was the strong ethnic elements to the post-election violence, which have not dissipated and were even exacerbated in some areas by the flight of people and the development of enclave communities.

Conclusion

This brief article represents a first installment of insights from victims of post-election violence concerning their preferences about and expectations for transitional justice in Kenya.  The series of 14 focus group discussions we conducted around the country reveal urgent desires for redress of past harms and losses and for fundamental changes in politics and society, so that people can have the basic necessities of life and not face constant fears of renewed conflict.  The focus group participants were supportive of and otherwise open to a variety of transitional justice options, typically with a bottom-line focus on what is required to achieve meaningful and lasting results.  On this count, the strongest sentiment favored compensation to victims as well as prosecution of those responsible for organizing the violence, a task that most preferred to assign to international authorities.  Progress in these respects was viewed as essential for stability and reconciliation.  Yet there was considerable skepticism among the participants that these challenges would be taken up promptly and effectively and have a lasting, positive impact on the lives of victims and peace in Kenya.

* David Backer is an Assistant Professor of Government at the College of William & Mary (Virginia, USA) and a Visiting Fellow of the Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies at the University of Notre Dame (Indiana, USA).

Joseph Lahouchuc recently graduated from the College of William & Mary with a BA in International Relations.

James Long is a PhD candidate in Political Science at the University of California, San Diego (USA) and a Jennings Randolph Peace Scholar at the United States Institute of Peace

Download the Pdf version of this paper here.

[1] Notable exceptions include civil society campaigns and surveys conducted by South Consulting for the Panel of Eminent African Personalities to measure progress on the Kenyan National Accord and Reconciliation Act.  For the findings of the latter, see http://www.dialoguekenya.org.