46 Middle East & Africa The EconomistNovember 23rd 2019
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any kenyansstill resent the British
colonists who once ruled them, an at-
titude their schools encourage. The colo-
nists bilked the natives of choice land and
ruthlessly suppressed the Mau Mau rebel-
lion, a land-related insurgency waged
against them in the 1950s.
Land grievances remain a powerful
undercurrent in Kenyan politics today. At
independence in 1963 the departing British
set aside money to buy back land in the
“White Highlands”, which had been re-
served for settlers, and redistribute it
among land-hungry Africans. Though
many benefited, much of the land went to
those with political connections. The fam-
ily of Kenya’s first president, Jomo Kenyat-
ta, was among the biggest winners. The
politicians, however, were happy to let for-
eign companies own big tea and coffee
plantations, so long as they got seats on the
board and a share of the profits. The colo-
nists had turned tea and coffee into main-
stays of the economy; it was too risky to
hand over all the big estates to cronies.
In the past land in Kenya was less explo-
sive an issue than in some other African
countries. In Zimbabwe and South Africa
white farmers owned a far greater share of
the best land, making them a visible sign of
racial inequality and historical injustice, as
well as an easy target for populist politi-
cians. In Kenya this was not the case.
However, thousands of Kenyans have
been killed in ethnic clashes linked to land,
as tribal groups of smallholders face off
against each other, often egged on by poli-
ticians. Big commercial farms have largely
escaped trouble. But times are changing
and multinational firms that own large
tracts of land are feeling the heat.
In 2010 Kenya adopted a devolved con-
stitution that hands hefty powers to 47
newly created counties. It also created a
National Land Commission with a man-
date to address “historical land injustices
and recommend appropriate redress”. In
addition it lopped a nine off the 999-year
leases granted to foreign owners of big
farms in the former White Highlands. But
it failed to specify when the 99 years start-
ed, allowing some governors to make the
dubious claim that land confiscated by
Britain before 1920 is now fair game.
Kericho, the capital of Kenya’s tea coun-
try, is a verdant spot. Emerald-green es-
tates stretch as far as the eye can see, hug-
ging the western escarpment of the RiftValley. Set 7,000 feet above sea level, the
climate is perfect for growing tea, Kenya’s
biggest export, which fetched $1.4bn last
year. For Paul Chepkwony, the governor of
Kericho County, these plantations are a re-
minder of the way the British stiffed his
Kipsigis tribe of their land.
Under British rule the colonists took
half the land on which the Kipsigis grazed
their cattle, turning it into tea estates. Mr
Chepkwony demands that the British gov-
ernment pay compensation to 115,000 Kip-
sigis and their descendants, who lost their
land. (It will not.) Mr Chepkwony also says
that a ruling in February by the new land
commission allows him to increase land
taxes on tea estates and demand a pre-
posterous $20bn or so in profits that he
claims were illegally acquired—equivalent
to nearly a quarter of Kenya’s annual gdp.
The burden, he feels, should fall pri-
marily on three firms that grow tea on dis-
puted land: Finlays, Unilever and George
Williamson. If they cough up, they would
be welcome to stay on as tenants of the Kip-
sigi people, he says.
To Mr Chepkwony’s irritation, the mul-
tinationals are not playing ball. They have
resisted his demands to surrender their ti-
tle deeds for inspection. They have also
challenged the land commission’s ruling.
Kimutai Bosek, the governor’s legal advis-
er, warns that such recalcitrance could
prompt frustrated Kipsigis to take the law
into their own hands. The tea companiesdo not take such threats lightly. In June the
governor of a neighbouring county led an
invasion of an estate, uprooting tea bushes.
Historic land disputes are vexing multi-
nationals in other sectors, too. Kakuzi, a
big British agricultural firm, and Del Monte
Kenya, which grows 13,000 acres of pine-
apples, have faced demands to surrender
large chunks of their plantations.
County governors are also using their
new powers to make life difficult off the
farm. Tata Chemicals, an Indian soda-ash
miner, has been slapped with a $166m land-
tax bill it says it cannot pay. Local politi-
cians are also complicating things for Tul-
low, an Anglo-Irish company trying to ex-
tract oil in northern Kenya.
All this leaves Uhuru Kenyatta, Kenya’s
president and Jomo’s son, in a bind. Aside
from fears that those with land grievances
could one day turn to his family’s vast hold-
ings, he presents himself as a champion of
foreign investors. Yet, preoccupied by a
power struggle in his government and wary
of alienating voters ahead of an election in
2022, Mr Kenyatta has remained aloof. His
silence may damage the economy.
Multinationals are not just big taxpay-
ers but also sizeable employers. Del Monte
is Kenya’s largest exporter of canned pine-
apples. Nearly two-thirds of tea processed
by big firms comes from smallholders.
When landless peasants organised by the
ruling party seized big commercial farms
in Zimbabwe, the economy collapsed.
Some say Kenya’s land commission
should look at under-utilised farms owned
by politicians. Or that Mr Kenyatta could do
more good by reducing corruption, boost-
ing urban employment and helping small-
holders make their farms more productive.
Many Kenyans have legitimate land griev-
ances, but making implausible demands of
profitable firms does not seem the best way
of addressing them.^7KERICHO
A row over who owns farmland is making life difficult for foreign companiesKenyaTrouble brewing
Storm over what’s in a teacup