Retrogressive times and events have taken Kenya back to an all-too-familiar phase, rendering citizens, funny guys, dissidents, and rights defenders shivering. Social media enthusiasts banter that political positions should have an undisputed requirement that the applicant must be able to take a joke, lest an exaggerated doodle puts a cartoonist in, to put it lightly, a sticky situation – governmental persecution, abductions, and lawless treatment.
African countries have, in the past, seen their artists persecuted for wordlessly conveying opinions. The pen, wielded as an instrument of resistance, has led to those in power bringing a gun to the proverbial knife fight against the satirist. Kenya, as a nation that prides itself in democracy, finds itself in an ironic position as it silences the ‘different’ opinion, hazardously blurring the line between democracy and dictatorship. The recent abduction and much-delayed release of cartoonists remind us that despite constitutional protections for freedom of expression, the political elite’s intolerance mirrors that of regimes far less free.
An array of questions arises – why are caricatures so dangerous? Why do an oversized head, some crooked teeth, or unrealistically large ears on a cartoon provoke such visceral responses? When is it ‘too far’? Should political positions have ‘a (non-negotiable) sense of humour’ as a prerequisite, even before years of experience and valid academic credentials? This article answers the first three questions by analysing contemporary events through the lens of human rights law.
The Price of a Chuckle
The Universal Declaration of Human Rights formally recognises freedom of expression as a core human right, affirming that the right includes the ‘freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive, and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers.’ The ICCPR further reiterates the right as stated in the UDHR. The ICCPR stands out in its wording, as out of the instruments mentioned, it is the only one that explicitly includes ‘in the form of art’ in its provision of freedom of expression. In the sphere of regional instruments, the ECHR and the ACHPR are well-versed in matters of freedom of expression, with both expressing the rights of all to receive information, to express their opinions, and to disseminate them.
Scholar Lyombe Eko dissects African caricatures in print media, criticising the role of cartoons as tools for creatively constructing and disseminating regional realities. He describes cartooning in Africa as both ‘the art of criticism and the art of resistance’, stating that cartoons are demands for ‘respect of the universal journalistic paradigm and the freedom of expression that is its lifeblood’. Thus, caricatures do far more than entertain and evoke laughter – they strip away the complexity of political jargon and provide a way to communicate information to all audiences. Unfortunately, cartoonists and humourists often pay too hefty a price, disproportionate to their actions.
2024 saw young Kenyans rise against injustice, particularly the Finance Bill, which proposed increased taxes and levies by mobilising nationwide demonstrations through digital platforms. The government retaliated with force, deploying police to quell the protests, abducting activists, and even resorting to violence. While these abductions slowed, they resurfaced in December, with cartoonist Kibet Bull – known for his silhouette caricatures – being among those detained. He was released two weeks later. Kibet’s abduction is neither a novelty nor an isolated event but rather part of a broader trend of silencing satirists in Africa and beyond.
The phenomenon of political cartoonist persecution mirrors the issue of religious satirist controversy. Gado, another Kenyan cartoonist, famously published an illustration in the national newspaper, The Daily Nation, entitled ‘Cartoonist under the microscope of religious groups.’ His drawing highlighted the scrutiny of satirists and artists by adherents to faith. It could be interpreted from a legal standpoint as the firm eye placed at the intersection of freedom of expression and religion. His work came shortly after the worldwide Jyllands-Posten saga, where a Danish newspaper published twelve caricatures of the Prophet Muhammed.
Similar to Kibet’s case is that of Lohé Issa Konaté v. The Republic of Burkina Faso, whereby a journalist who published newspaper articles alleging corruption by a state prosecutor faced harsh criminal penalties for daring to speak out. In the verdict, the African Court of Human and People’s Rights highlighted the disproportionate nature of the conviction, where the punishment far exceeded the gravity of the offence. Moreover, the Court echoed the principles established by the European Court of Human Rights in Oberschlick, which alluded to the reality that politicians, as public figures, must tolerate more criticism than private individuals.
The idea that public figures must be more tolerant of criticism merely due to their societal position is a peculiar aspect of the legal framework. On the one hand, this distinction is grounded in the notion that public figures have voluntarily chosen life in the spotlight and should, therefore, expect a higher degree of scrutiny. On the other hand, it raises questions about the susceptibility of these individuals to harmful and defamatory speech, as well as the possible consequences for their personal and professional lives. In a democratic society, public scrutiny, dissenting opinions, and free speech are of utmost importance and political figures should be prepared to be analysed.
Caricatures – whether targeting political leaders or religious icons – incite such intense backlash because they dare to strip away the sacred and somewhat humanise powerful figures to human proportions, often through exaggerated means. The significant difference is that while political caricatures challenge authority, demand accountability from leaders, and operate within governance and public discourse, religious caricatures provoke outrage by confronting profoundly personal and sacred beliefs, often perceived as an attack on identity and faith.
The Punchline
The persecution of political cartoonists and the suppression of dissent threaten the principles that human rights laws seek to protect. Freedom of expression is the cornerstone of a democracy, and satire a unique tool for holding leaders accountable. The Kenyan government must uphold the right to free expression and cease targeting cartoonists, respecting the protections afforded to them by international and regional human rights legal standards. Those abducted should be released without delay, and there should be no fear or shame in artistic expression as a tool for political commentary and criticism. Finally, if push comes to shove and retaliation against artists and cartoonists is unavoidable, politicians could caricature their critics! Otherwise, let there be more of the humourist.
Saniamu Ngeywa is a legal researcher at the Centre for African Justice, who has a special interest in the intersection between art and the law in the context of human rights.
Photo by Hassan Kibwana via Unsplash.