Batuk saga

BATUK soldiers during a thanksgiving service for Queen Elizabeth Windsor II conducted by Reverend Anthony Thompson in Nanyuki .[File, Standard]

For the past week, debate has raged over the future of the British Army Training Unit Kenya (BATUK) in Laikipia. As discussions over the Kenya–United Kingdom Defence Cooperation Agreement continue, strong arguments have been made for why BATUK needs to leave the country entirely, citing the atrocities that the region has faced over the years at the hands of the Army, as well as the signalling that the presence of the Army speaks to the fact that colonialism has perhaps never ended.

However, many residents of Nanyuki have expressed concern that the departure of British troops would devastate the local economy. Entire local economies have, over decades, been structured around the predictable arrival of thousands of British soldiers each year. Residents argue that Nanyuki is essentially a military town, an the departure of this primary source of income and business would result in economic collapse.

While, on the face of it, this counterargument appears sound from the perspective of the residents benefitting financially from BATUK’s presence, it raises deeper questions around the flawed logic of having imperialism as one’s lifeline. If economic dependence is sufficient justification for maintaining BATUK's presence, then what exactly distinguishes that argument from saying colonial rule itself should have continued because it provided jobs?

If anything, this logic echoes that of primary school textbooks of old, which argued that colonialism was of great benefit to the continent because it introduced roads, tapped water

and hospitals. Meanwhile, the generational psychological toll of the colonial project remains unspoken, even as it continues to unfold in the present while we at the same time grapple with the new scourge that is neocolonialism. It is worth remembering that colonialism was also an economy that employed millions.

Plantations were worked on by the natives, even when owned by the coloniser. The railway line construction was an economy unto itself. So many who ended up living in the Eastlands area of Nairobi, and calling it home for decades, had arrived in Nairobi for the sole purpose of working for the coloniser. Yet no serious person today argues that the economic opportunities created under colonial occupation justified the continued denial of Kenyan sovereignty.

We recognise that colonialism was fundamentally an unjust politicalN arrangement regardless of the commercial opportunities it generated. We recognise also

that freedom is much more important than some perceived financial gain, even though it arrives at a great cost.

BATUK deserves to be viewed through the same moral lens. This is not to argue that every British soldier stationed in Kenya has committed wrongdoing, nor is it to deny that military

cooperation between sovereign states can serve legitimate defence and training purposes. Of course, not all colonisers were bad; some must have been exceptionally kind to their

native servants. The issue is whether an institution that has, for decades, been associated with unresolved allegations of violence, environmental damage and unequal accountability should continue to enjoy public legitimacy simply because it stimulates local commerce. The focus must lie on the military project, as it did back then on the colonial project, focusing not on the micro goods that are achieved, but instead on the net negative that the continuation of such a project brings upon the land.

Perhaps the most internationally recognised case to illustrate the larger problem is the murder of Agnes Wanjiru in 2012. The young Kenyan woman's body was discovered in a

septic tank after she had reportedly been seen with British soldiers. For years, her family sought answers while allegations circulated that fellow soldiers knew who was responsible. Only after sustained public pressure in both Kenya and the United Kingdom did the investigation gain renewed momentum. The case has become symbolic due to this denial of

justice, a tacit acceptance that the local’s life is not as valuable as those of the foreigners who murdered her with impunity, knowing that they would get away with it.

But Agnes Wanjiru's case is not isolated. Over many years, communities surrounding BATUK have documented allegations of sexual violence, children allegedly fathered and abandoned by British soldiers, environmental destruction resulting from military exercises, injuries caused by unexploded ordnance and persistent barriers to obtaining meaningful accountability. Community representatives have repeatedly insisted that future defence agreements include stronger protections for victims, clearer legal jurisdiction and

enforceable mechanisms for compensation. But what is truly needed is for the community to dream bigger, beyond future defence agreements and into a complete end to the operation.

This requires relentless imagination, and a massive amount of hope. Ultimately, this debate is not really about economics. It is about what Kenya and Kenyans

believe their sovereignty is worth. A nation confident in its independence should never feel compelled to tolerate unresolved injustice because accountability might inconvenience local business. The choice is not between prosperity and justice. It is between dependence and

dignity. If the people of Nanyuki are to finally experience true freedom, they must embrace

this perspective.