From an insider’s perspective, the greatest source of concern over the outcome of the 2012 elections in Kenya isn’t the potential of political bigwigs to fund campaigns of hatred. That, unfortunately, has been a staple of the Kenyan political class since the one-party era and, given the current rhetoric more than a year before the election, appears inevitable. What is more worrying is the potential effect, or lack thereof, of Kenya’s silent majority on the country’s historical arc. From a historically unparalleled mobilisation during the hotly contested 2007 election, it appears that the sleeping giant, encompassing the apathetic middle class and other politically disenfranchised groups accustomed to decades of disconnect with the country’s politics, is just about ready to turn over and go back to bed.

The diagnosis can be returned following even a cursory reading of the reaction of average Kenyans to the name of a small town in the Netherlands. If journalists are to be believed, say the word ‘Hague’ to just about anyone in the street and you are bound to get some kind of visceral reaction from the person you are speaking to – either passionately expressing support for the six Kenyan public figures that have been indicted by the International Criminal Court, or a heartfelt reminder of the plight of those still trying to repair their lives nearly four years after the country was thrown into chaos following the heavily disputed elections of December 2007. So catchy in fact is everything ‘Hague’ in Kenya that songs have been penned, plays written and endless pages of opinions expressing either of the two opinions highlighted above, emphasising that the country is on the cusp of something major.

Away from the media glare however, the silent majority highlighted above appears to be doing everything in its power to brush the nasty business of the post-election violence under the rug. Listening in to call-in conversations on the radio and on television, you would be forgiven for thinking that the average Kenyan is okay with Uhuru Kenyatta and William Ruto, sitting minsters in the current government indicted by the International Criminal Court (ICC) for their part in the post-election violence, simply saying ‘I’m sorry’ and getting back to work. Beyond presumptions of guilt and or innocence and a desire to see the gears of justice complete their turns, it’s more a case of people shrugging their shoulders, accepting their guilt and being content to look the other way. Meanwhile scores of people who lost everything and in some cases everyone, continue to languish in poverty, abandoned by the state charged with their protection.

Are Kenyans simply selfish? Have decades of mindless violence and meaningless political intrigues bled the general population of any sense of justice or compassion for those victimised by the excesses of the political class? The truth, as in any similar situation, is probably a little more complicated than it first appears. It is often said that ‘bad things happen when good people do nothing’ and this appears to be the case in Kenya today. As in the Muslim community, or in the evangelical heartlands of the USA, the silent majority – by simply remaining silent – plays right into the hands of extremists whose raised voices then set the tone of the debate. Only people who feel strongly enough about a specific subject bother to raise their voices to talk about it, so when we listen to the radio and hear people phoning in their support for the ‘Hague Six’, we shouldn’t worry so much about whether Kenyans have stopped caring about each other, but wonder why so few Kenyans feel strongly enough for the cause of justice and restitution to speak up for the victims of the post-election violence.

Politicians know the power of the silent majority, and familiar with the penchant for the country’s majority to stay out of politics altogether rather than engage with the discomfort of the political process, three of those indicted have taken their pleas of innocence on the road, speaking at rallies all across the country to marshal support for their cause, knowing that those who turn up will already be at least sympathetic to their agenda. Note that none of these rallies are organised in middle-class neighbourhoods, or in the remote regions of the country. They focus on the most polarised regions of the country – in the Rift Valley and in economically marginalised quarters of cities and towns. In the meantime, the absurdity of extreme voices comes to the fore, wherein a sitting minister has promised to strip should Uhuru Kenyatta be detained in the Netherlands. (Before you ask, this isn’t one of Kenya’s legendary illiterate and ill-spoken Parliamentary Old Boys, but the highly educated Minister for Special Programmes Esther Murugi.) In the same breath, no fewer than 30 MPs have promised to take the show international, travelling to the Netherlands later this week to express solidarity with the six as they face a preliminary hearing in the Netherlands and promising to mobilise their support bases – read pay off idle, unemployed youth – to protest against the court.

In the melee, the only people who appear oblivious to the power of the silent majority are the majority themselves. Unbelieving of the power of numbers to alter the political trajectory of the country, some of the Kenyans I’ve spoken to have expressed greater belief in the myth of Kenyan exceptionalism – we’re not as bad as Rwanda, and we could never be Côte d’Ivoire – than in the power of an informed and engaged polity to push for political reform and hold those most responsible for the violence in 2007–08 accountable. Over and above everything else, the extent to which this lax attitude is altered will determine whether Kenya will once again be brought to its knees by the ballot box.

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