Kenya's Cautionary Caribbean Tale
Many thousands of miles from the Horn of Africa, the small Caribbean nation of Haiti and its capital, Port-au-Prince, remain engulfed in brutal gang warfare. Since the assassination of Jovenel Moïse in July 2021, the country has slipped ever further into chaos, with rival paramilitary gangs seizing control over most of the capital and inducing a widespread humanitarian crisis. No elections have been held since 2016, most government services have ground to a halt, and the transnational drug gangs-- led by notorious individuals such as Jimmy Chérizier 'Barbecue'-- continue to act with impunity, with the Haitian police badly outnumbered and outgunned. Over two years ago, and in light of a problematic history of foreign interventionism in the country, the US and others—following a request from ousted Haitian PM Ariel Henry—pushed for a nation from the Global South to take the lead in responding to the collapsing state.
And so Kenya unexpectedly stepped up to the fore in July 2023, volunteering to lead the Multinational Security Support (MSS) Mission. Though a radically contrasting security context to the Kenyan experience of peacekeeping operations in Somalia, Nairobi nevertheless spied an opportunity to 'step up' on the international stage, as well as appeal to Washington. Instead of a Chapter VII UN peacekeeping mission, the mandate was authorised by the UN Security Council in October 2023 under Resolution 2699 to be funded by individual states—particularly the US and Canada. Kenya, meanwhile, was envisioned to provide command of forces and leadership, offering to deploy several hundred police officers to the embattled nation in support of the Haitian police. But from the outset, the MSS had a complex mandate with limited resources, with the 'wishlist' including securing transport and humanitarian corridors, protecting government installations, and beginning to claw back gang-held territories. And with domestic troubles in Nairobi and court orders delaying the Kenyan deployment, it was not until mid-2024 that the first police officers trained in riot control touched down in the Haitian capital.
Since then, despite best intentions, the MSS deployment has been, in the recent words of the Kenyan president, a "success and a cautionary tale," operating with chronic understaffing and lack of resources. Just 991 Kenyan officers out of the 2,500 envisaged initially were deployed by mid-2025, with less than a third of promised equipment delivered. And while Kenyan forces managed to secure Port-au-Prince airport, retake the presidential palace and reopen several key roads, the MSS and Haitian police have struggled to prevent gangs from reasserting control. Hamstrung by limited resources and amid growing discord within Kenya's younger generations, the MSS has proven controversial domestically as well, with many questioning its rationale in the face of a cost-of-living crisis and rising internal problems. Further, at least four Kenyan officers have lost their lives while serving in Haiti, including Sergeant Benedict Kabiru, who was missing for six months before his death was confirmed in September.
At the time, the Kenyan deployment was to be a cornerstone in Nairobi's outreach to the Biden administration, leading up to Kenya's elevation to Major Non-NATO Ally (MNNA) status and the State Visit of President William Ruto to Washington in May 2024. The first such visit of an African leader to the US capital in 16 years, along with Nairobi's status as an MNNA —the first in Sub-Saharan Africa —were major diplomatic wins for the Ruto government. In turn, Kenya was to become the principal American ally in the Horn of Africa, lending a steady pro-US hand to the raft of conflicts in the region and resisting the Sino-Russian encroachment.
But in just over a year, much has already changed, particularly with the return of the Trump administration in January 2025. Slashing USAID and security assistance by the tens of billions, the Trump government has made its appetite—or rather lack thereof—for funding foreign operations without a quid pro quo abundantly clear. Further, the upending of established relations with long-standing European and NATO partners, along with the intense geopolitical churn generated by the American president, has set much of the world and many American allies at sea. Like others seemingly unbalanced by Trump's initial anarchic world order, Nairobi has instead looked to court the rising 'Middle Powers' of the Gulf and China this year. That has drawn the ire of Washington, however, with President Ruto's State Visit to Beijing in April 2025 triggering a rebuke from senior American officials, particularly his comments denouncing "hegemonic power and unilateralism." Further, the tabling of a congressional review in the US Senate of Kenya's MNNA status in August 2025, though improbable to succeed, reflected the waning star of Nairobi in the American capital. A broader question is also at play regarding Nairobi's foreign policy this year, with its mixture of peacekeeping interventionism, back-channel dealings with Middle Eastern powers, and projection of stability to Western partners, leaving several unanswered questions about its direction.
With the MSS struggling to make an imprint on the lethal paramilitary gangs, it has been clear for some time that the under-siege UN would still look to assume control and reform the mission. So, just a couple of weeks after the UN General Assembly meeting in New York, the UN Security Council adopted Resolution 2793 on 30 September, formally ending Nairobi's leadership of the MSS and authorising its transformation into a formal UN-backed Gang Suppression Force (GSF). The resolution, co-sponsored by the United States and Panama, effectively acknowledged that the MSS had lacked the scale, scope, and resources to meaningfully degrade Haiti's entrenched gang networks.
The GSF—with a Chapter VII mandate authorising proactive offensive operations—is intended to take the fight to the highly sophisticated criminal networks, with a ceiling of 5,550 uniformed personnel from both military and police forces permitted to be deployed. But yet, once again, the GSF will primarily rely on voluntary contributions from UN member states, as the MSS did as well. Despite estimates of requiring USD 600 million for operational expenses for the MSS, by mid-2025, the UN-managed trust fund held just USD 112.5 million. Kenya itself even contributed USD 3.8 million early in 2025 to help plug funding gaps.
In a statement addressing the transition, US Secretary of State Marco Rubio described the transition as an "important step" towards restoring order, but also noted that the real effort begins now in securing resources for the GSF. However, beyond the US, which continues to retrench from the traditional multilateral order, it is not immediately clear who Rubio expects to stump up the funds for the operations. Nor is it certain what role Kenya will play in this reconfigured mission, despite having shouldered the burden of the much-beleaguered MSS for over a year. At the General Assembly, President Ruto affirmed that Kenya remains committed to supporting Haiti but warned that unless past mistakes are corrected, "we will, most unlikely, succeed". On the other hand, while Foreign Affairs Principal Secretary Korir Sing'oei hailed the UN move as evidence of "Kenya's leadership in mobilising international attention," he also stated that whether Nairobi would contribute to the GSF "is a policy decision to be made in due course and will be communicated."
Looking ahead for Kenya, much of the issue lies in credibility and determining whether the domestic cost of maintaining its forces in Haiti is justified compared to withdrawing and possibly damaging its American relations. And though the GSF represents a positive acknowledgement of the MSS's ills, it is questionable whether offensive operations led by just over 5,500 soldiers and police officers can decisively turn the tide in Haiti, especially with its political context so fraught, a situation not dissimilar to one much closer to home in Somalia. Next door, Kenya, too, has a painful, vested experience of multi-year operations that drag on without attainable goals or an end in sight, as well as the struggles of finding funding in a shrinking donor pool. Amid the transition between the MSS and GSF, Kenya's future commitments would be best anchored in assured funding and clearly defined mandates for any renewed engagements.
The Horn Edition Team
Gain unlimited access to all our Editorials. Unlock Full Access to Our Expert Editorials — Trusted Insights, Unlimited Reading.
Create your Sahan account LoginUnlock lifetime access to all our Premium editorial content
In the past months, a number of unsettling images and videos have emerged from the Russian frontlines in the Ukraine war. Within the horrors of the grinding "kill zone," where kamikaze drones strafe the sky for any signs of movement, yet another concerning dimension has emerged—the use of African recruits by Moscow in the conflict, often under false pretences. Particularly drawn from Kenya, many reportedly believed they were signing contracts to work as drivers or security guards, only to be shipped to the front lines upon arrival. Such activities are illustrative of several issues, including Russia's relationship with countries in the Horn of Africa, one shaped more by opportunistic realpolitik than genuine partnership.
Yesterday, 15 April, marked three years of brutal, grinding warfare between the Sudanese army and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF). Wholly neglected by a fading international community, many grim landmarks have been passed; another genocide in Darfur, the weaponisation of rape and starvation, another famine, or the desecration of Khartoum, El Fasher, and other major cities. And with no ceasefire or settlement in sight, the war has continued to swell, drawing in each neighbouring African country as tussling Middle Eastern powers grapple for the upper hand-- leaving Sudan in tatters.
In September 2025, Feisal Mohammed Ali was arrested for possession and trading in two rhino horns worth USD 63,000. This was not the first time that this smuggler had seen the bars of a Kenyan prison cell. On 22 July 2016, Feisal - described as an “ivory smuggling kingpin” - received a 20-year prison sentence and fined USD 150,000 for dealing 314 pieces of ivory. Weighing over two tonnes, the ivory was estimated to have come from around 120 elephants. Hailed as a turning point in Kenya’s pioneering crackdown on Illegal Wildlife Trade (IWT), Feisal’s incarceration became proof of the country’s commitment to safeguarding its wildlife. This frail pillar came crashing down in August 2018 when Feisal was released following the acquittal of his sentence due to alleged use of tampered evidence by the prosecution.
Apathy pervades the Djiboutian population. A week tomorrow, on April 10, the country will head to the polls, with President Ismaïl Omar Guelleh seeking a 6th— essentially uncontested — term in office. With his coronation inevitable, his family's dynastic rule over this rentier city-state will be extended once more. But in a region wracked by armed conflict and geopolitical contestation, the ageing Guelleh's capacity to manage the familial, ethnic, and regional fractures within and without grows ever more complicated. And Djibouti's apparent stability is no product of institutional strength, but rather an increasingly fractious balance of external rents and coercive control-- underpinned by geopolitical relevance.
In early 1987, the commander of the Sudanese People's Liberation Army/Movement (SPLA/M), John Garang, is reported to have issued a radio order, instructing his field officers to gather children to be dispatched to Ethiopia for military training. Garang's command conveyed the rebels' institutionalisation of a well-established practice of child soldiering; a dynamic that has been reproduced by virtually every major armed actor in Sudan-- and later South Sudan-- since independence. Today, as war has continued to ravage and metastasise across Sudan, few communities and children have been left untouched by the ruinous violence.
The history of the contemporary Horn of Africa is littered with abandoned and abrogated peace agreements-- as well as a handful of successes. A petri dish (or Pandora's box) of issues related to sovereignty, inter- and intra-state conflict, and the nature of the state itself, the region has also been a laboratory for numerous forms of peacemaking and dealmaking. Yet in such a fractured regional order, 'peace' and 'conflict' should not be considered binaries, but rather as part of a sliding scale, where civilians may be targeted during the active fighting in South Sudan or suffer as part of a 'negative peace' in Tigray. Today, with predatory peace in South Sudan, Sudan, and perhaps now Tigray, having given way to renewed violence on a broad scale, what is the nature and future of peacemaking in the Horn of Africa?
Once on the US-designated terrorist sanctions list, it is unsurprisingly rather difficult to come off it. And with the US designating the 'Sudanese Muslim Brotherhood' as terrorists, elements of Khartoum's military government may now have the dubious honour of being on it twice. First time out in 1993, Khartoum was deemed a US State Sponsor of Terror in the wake of a raft of jihadist plots linked to the Islamist authorities in Sudan. Nearly three decades later, and only after Sudan's partial ascension to the Abraham Accords, the title and punishing sanctions were lifted for the civilian-military transitional government. Today, though the warring Sudan is no longer home to an Osama bin Laden or Carlos the Jackal, a US labelling of 'terrorist' has returned to Khartoum.
At the end of February, Ethiopian PM Abiy Ahmed departed on a rather unusual visit to Baku, Azerbaijan. Slated as a meeting between two emerging powers, a focus on trade and investment frameworks was particularly emphasised by Foreign Minister Gedion Timotheos. More importantly, of course, was the signing of a comprehensive defence agreement by the two countries on 27 February. Spanning drone technology, armoured vehicles, artillery shell production, and air defence, the new agreement builds upon a framework from November 2025, which also included reference to refurbishing T-72 tanks, electronic warfare, and military-industrial manufacturing. Though war has not yet returned to Tigray as many feared, Abiy's vision of a militarised domestic —and regional —posture no doubt requires more hardware.
Earlier this month, dozens of heads of state and government gathered in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, for the 39th Ordinary Session of the Assembly of the African Union (AU). The theme of this summit prioritised water security and sanitation, discussing various ways to address these issues amid the unrelenting climate crisis. A worthy subject, no doubt, but the geopolitical backdrop of the summit remains unremittingly grim. Taking place in Addis —amid war looking ever more likely in Tigray —the gathering of leaders again served to uncomfortably emphasise the decline of the AU.