IT IS THE RULING CLASS THAT OWNS A DEVELOPING NATION

For more than six decades, Kenya’s political and economic life has been shaped by a narrow ruling elite. Since independence in 1963, power has rotated among a small circle of leaders and their networks, entrenching a system of patronage, crony capitalism and institutional capture. Control over the levers of government has often translated into control over land, capital, public procurement, and access to opportunity — the very “factors of production” upon which national prosperity depends — while millions of Kenyans remain trapped in poverty.

From independence to the present day, five men have occupied the presidency: Jomo Kenyatta (1963–1978), Daniel arap Moi (1978–2002), Mwai Kibaki (2002–2013), Uhuru Kenyatta (2013–2022), and William Ruto (2022–present). Collectively, this leadership chain spans over 60 years. Several of these figures also served as vice presidents or deputy presidents before assuming the top office, further consolidating their influence across successive administrations. The result has been remarkable continuity at the summit of power, even when electoral politics suggested change.

This concentration of authority has had profound consequences. Political competition has often been personality-driven rather than policy-driven. Economic mobility has been constrained by networks of privilege that favour the politically connected. Public institutions — from procurement bodies to regulatory agencies — have too frequently been susceptible to elite interests. Land allocation controversies, high-level corruption scandals, and the disproportionate accumulation of wealth among politically exposed families have deepened public distrust and widened inequality.

Around the presidency sits a web of loyalists: senior civil servants, well-placed business figures, security chiefs, and regional powerbrokers. These actors form the machinery that sustains elite dominance. Through strategic appointments, state contracts, and access to credit and licences, the ruling class reproduces itself, ensuring that opportunity flows upward rather than outward. Meanwhile, the majority contend with unemployment, underfunded public services, and rising living costs.

Kenya’s democratic framework — strengthened by the 2010 Constitution — aspires to accountability, devolution, and the rule of law. Yet constitutional ideals alone cannot dismantle entrenched patronage. Genuine transformation requires independent institutions, transparent governance, competitive markets, and civic vigilance strong enough to hold power to account.

A nation does not belong to its ruling class; it belongs to its people. If Kenya is to fulfil its democratic promise, power must cease to be the preserve of a few families and become a trust exercised for the common good. Equity, equality and justice are not political slogans — they are enduring moral imperatives that must anchor the republic’s future.

Do we defect if our candidate isn’t chosen to unseat President Ruto?

By Joseph Lister Nyaringo

For three electric days, Gusiiland pulsed with colour, song and anticipation as opposition leaders traversed Kisii and Nyamira counties. Markets slowed, towns swelled and villages emptied as thousands gathered for what many saw as a defining political moment. The climax felt less like a routine rally and more like a coronation. Supporters cast it as the symbolic anointment of Dr Fred Matiang’i as their foremost national standard-bearer. Beneath the chants lay a deeper hope: that this might finally be the community’s turn to stand at the centre of Kenya’s political stage and draw closer to the highest office in the land.

Kenyan politics has long revolved around ethnic mobilisation, regional bargaining and proximity to State House. The presidency is often viewed not merely as a constitutional office, but as recognition, leverage and a guarantee of influence in the distribution of opportunity and development. Access to power is equated with security and visibility. Yet this raises an uncomfortable question: if Dr Matiang’i is not chosen as the opposition’s compromise candidate, do his supporters defect? And if similar calculations arise in Western Kenya around George Natembeya, in Ukambani around Kalonzo Musyoka, or in Mount Kenya as it recalibrates after 2022, what becomes of the broader opposition project?

As the next general election approaches, the central issue is not simply who will challenge incumbent President William Ruto. It is whether the opposition can subordinate ambition to unity — and whether voters are prepared to do the same. In a system where elections are often decided by narrow margins and intricate ethnic arithmetic, fragmentation is not a minor misstep. It is an electoral gift to the incumbent. A divided opposition splits votes, muddles its message and saps momentum, while the ruling side benefits from comparative cohesion.

Recent history underscores this reality. In 2013 and 2017, opposition disunity diluted momentum and advantaged better organised rivals. Even in 2022, divisions and inconsistent messaging weakened the attempt to block Dr Ruto’s ascent to State House. Presidential politics rewards coalitions that are disciplined and expansive. It punishes ego and parallel centres of mobilisation. A divided house may command attention, but it rarely commands a majority.

Opposition leaders are rightly urged to swallow their pride and rally behind a compromise candidate with broad national appeal. Yet unity cannot remain confined to elite negotiations. Communities whose sons and daughters harbour presidential ambitions must also prepare to subordinate personal preference to collective strategy. Political maturity requires citizens to support the consensus candidate, irrespective of regional origin. The decisive consideration should be leadership capacity, integrity and national reach — not shared ethnicity. If unity at the top is essential, unity at the ballot box is indispensable.

Kenya may be an ethnicised society of more than forty-five communities, but it remains a single republic governed by one president at a time. The Constitution reflects this. A presidential candidate must secure not only a plurality of votes but at least 25 per cent in more than half of the counties. This threshold compels national coalitions and discourages narrow ethnic bids anchored in regional strongholds. It is a constitutional reminder that no community can govern alone without alliances across the republic.

In Gusiiland, Dr Matiang’i is widely regarded as a capable administrator whose tenure in senior ministries projected firmness and technocratic competence. For many Abagusii voters, his potential candidacy symbolises long-awaited national recognition. The enthusiasm during the recent tour expressed accumulated aspiration. Yet murmurs that the region might drift towards President Ruto should Dr Matiang’i fail to secure the opposition ticket reveal the enduring pull of transactional politics. Such a move would not merely weaken the opposition; it would entrench the ethnic bargaining that has often impeded issue-based governance.

The same principle applies elsewhere. Governor Natembeya’s supporters in Western Kenya may see generational renewal and assertive leadership. Mr Kalonzo Musyoka’s base in Ukambani may consider his experience overdue for endorsement. In Mount Kenya, voters continue to weigh alliances amid economic pressure and political realignments. These are legitimate democratic calculations. What is dangerous is the belief that if “our son” is not chosen, the broader coalition must be punished or abandoned.

Kenyan elections are rarely won by enthusiasm in one region alone. They are won by assembling a mosaic of support across the Rift Valley, Coast, Northern Kenya, Western and Mount Kenya, persuading undecided voters and consolidating swing constituencies. An opposition alliance must therefore select the candidate most capable of transcending strongholds and attracting cross-regional backing. That choice may not favour the most popular figure within a single community, but it must favour the one with the clearest path to a national majority.

Dr Ruto’s political journey illustrates the dividends of cohesion. His 2022 campaign was anchored in a disciplined alliance and a resonant narrative. Whatever one’s judgement of his record in office, he benefited from opponents who were not fully synchronised. To repeat that pattern would be to ignore recent lessons.

Ultimately, opposition unity is not a favour to any individual leader; it is a strategic imperative for citizens seeking alternation of power and policy direction. Communities with viable contenders must resist equating personal ambition with collective destiny. If consensus produces a single flagbearer, that decision must be defended consistently at the ballot box, not supported conditionally.

Kenya’s democracy will not be strengthened by perpetual ethnic brinkmanship or threats of defection when expectations are unmet. It will be strengthened when voters choose nation over narrowness and substance over identity. The months ahead will test not only the humility of opposition leaders but also the maturity of the electorate. Mounting a credible challenge will require more than choreographed rallies and elite agreements. It will require Kisii, Kikuyu, Kamba, Luhya and every other community to accept that unity sometimes demands sacrifice.

Anything less will fragment the vote, and in that fragmentation, the incumbent will almost certainly find his path renewed.

 

Practising Christianity in Kenya and the United States- A Spiritual Contrast

By Joseph Lister Nyaringo

Christianity is described as a universal faith, transcending borders and cultures. Yet how it is practised is shaped by history, politics and economics. The contrast between Kenya and the United States makes this clear. Both nations profess large Christian populations. Both invoke Christ in public life. Yet the priorities, pressures and controversies surrounding the faith differ sharply, even as certain temptations remain the same.

In Kenya, Christianity is vibrant and highly visible. Worship is energetic. Services overflow with song, testimony and passionate preaching. Churches are not merely houses of prayer; they are social anchors. In a society marked by inequality, unemployment and political uncertainty, they offer belonging and hope. Alongside historic denominations such as the Catholic Church, the Presbyterian Church of East Africa, the Seventh-day Adventist Church and the Anglican Church of Kenya, countless independent ministries have emerged.

Over time, however, parts of this landscape have taken on the character of a marketplace. The aim is not always pastoral care but expansion, spectacle and revenue. Dramatic miracle claims and constant appeals for tithes dominate some pulpits. International branches in Europe or North America are portrayed as evidence of divine favour. Global travel by church founders is equated with spiritual authority. In some cases, ambition appears to eclipse mission.

At its worst, this culture has proved deadly. The Shakahola tragedy forced the country to reflect painfully. Paul Mackenzie, leader of Good News International Church, was linked to the starvation deaths of followers convinced that extreme fasting would secure salvation: many abandoned families, work and medical care under apocalyptic instruction. The episode exposed how easily fear and desperation can be manipulated in a weakly regulated religious environment.

Other controversial figures — including Victor Kanyari, associated with the KSh 310 televised “seed” scandal, James Maina Ng'ang'a and Ezekiel Odero have also faced scrutiny. When the pulpit becomes a stage for profane outbursts, public humiliation, staged miracles or opaque fundraising, the Gospel’s credibility suffers. Scripture sets a clear test: “By their fruits you shall know them” (Matthew 7:16). Christ measures leadership not by drama but by humility, integrity and love.

Yet Kenyan Christianity cannot be reduced to scandal. Churches run schools, hospitals and charities that serve millions. In a society burdened by poverty, promises of miraculous financial or medical breakthroughs are understandably compelling. The danger lies in exploitation disguised as faith.

Across the Atlantic, Christianity in the United States faces a different challenge. Mainstream Protestant churches and the Catholic Church operate within structured systems and established doctrine. Worship is often restrained. Miracle spectacle is less central. Roughly 64 per cent of Americans identify as Christian, but adherence is falling, particularly among younger generations. Many congregations struggle to sustain membership. In Kenya, by contrast, nearly 85 per cent identify as Christian and churches are growing, especially among the youth.

The theological tone also diverges. American churches increasingly adopt progressive positions on LGBTQ+ rights and social justice. Kenyan churches largely uphold conservative teachings on marriage and morality.

American Christianity is increasingly entangled in partisan politics. The rise of Christian nationalism seeks to merge national identity with a narrow reading of the faith. This movement gained force during the presidency of Donald Trump, as many conservative believers embraced the “Make America Great Again” banner as a shield against secularism. Yet when allegiance to Christ is blurred with allegiance to party, the Gospel risks becoming a campaign slogan rather than a transforming truth.

Commentators such as the late Charlie Kirk, pastor Paula White-Cain, and Robert Jefress, among others, have invoked Christianity while making remarks about America’s “whiteness” that many consider racially charged.

When immigrants are demeaned or refugees portrayed as threats, the tension between political rhetoric and Christian teaching becomes stark. Scripture affirms that all people are made in the image of God (Genesis 1:27). Paul insists that in Christ “there is neither Jew nor Greek” (Galatians 3:28).

More troubling is the readiness of some Christian leaders to sanctify military action. Franklin Graham, son of Billy Graham, publicly praised President Trump for strikes against Iran, framing them as a stand against an “evil empire”. The language was celebratory, not cautious. When prayer accompanies bombing campaigns, and faith is invoked to justify force, the line between spiritual conviction and state power grows thin.

The Sermon on the Mount offers a different vision. “Blessed are the peacemakers” (Matthew 5:9). “Love your enemies” (Matthew 5:44). Christ calls for mercy and humility, not triumphalism. When asked about the greatest commandment, he replied: love God wholeheartedly and love your neighbour as yourself (Matthew 22:37–39). He went further: “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13). The Lord’s Prayer teaches dependence on God and forgiveness, not domination.

Measured against this standard, both commercialised religion in Kenya and politicised Christianity in America fall short. In one context, the temptation is financial power; in the other, political power. In both, faith risks losing its centre.

The contrast between practising Christianity in Kenya and in the United States is therefore spiritual, not merely geographical. It reveals how easily faith drifts when captured by spectacle or supremacy. The major question, therefore, is this: does our Christianity reflect the humility, justice and self-giving love of Christ?

If Christianity loses its centre — love of God and love of neighbour, it may retain crowds, wealth or influence. But it forfeits its soul.

How the Singapore dream desired by President Ruto can be attained!

By Joseph Lister Nyaringo

President William Ruto’s call for Kenya to aspire to the standards of Singapore is bold, timely and necessary. Ambition alone will not transform a nation; action must match intent. Singapore did not rise to global prominence by chance. Its success was built on disciplined governance, institutional integrity, meritocracy and zero tolerance for corruption. Kenya, if it is serious about achieving such an accomplishment, must combine vision with structural reform, moral courage, and good governance based on honesty and accountability.

Kenya’s economy shows both promise and pressure. The country’s Gross Domestic Product stands at roughly $120 billion, ranking among the largest in sub-Saharan Africa, yet per capita income remains only $2,100, highlighting a gap between aggregate growth and citizen prosperity. Meanwhile, the country’s national debt has exceeded KSh 12 trillion, with debt servicing consuming a substantial portion of revenue. Much of Kenya’s tax income funds recurrent expenditure-salaries, allowances, and administrative costs rather than productive investment. For a nation with vast human and natural capital, this trajectory is grossly unsustainable.

Singapore’s experience demonstrates the path to rapid transformation. After independence in 1965, it faced unemployment, scarce land and limited natural resources. Its leadership professionalised the civil service, enforced strict anti-corruption laws, and invested strategically in education, infrastructure and industrialisation. Investor confidence soared, and the country emerged as a global financial and technological hub. Integrity was institutionalised; public institutions were depoliticised.

Kenya possesses comparable foundations: a youthful, educated, technologically adept population, and Nairobi’s “Silicon Savannah” is already a hub for digital innovation and entrepreneurship. With a coherent industrial policy, Kenya could lead in digital services, value-added agriculture and regional trade. Yet bureaucracy stifles progress.

Kenya’s legislative and county structures are bloated, hence draining resources from development. A bicameral legislature and 47 county governments, each with governors, deputies, women MPs, and assemblies, create duplication and inefficiency. Rationalising governance by abolishing the Senate through a constitutional referendum and streamlining Parliament would not weaken democracy; it would restore fiscal sanity and free billions for strategic investment.

Over-representation is a glaring reality in all facets of Kenya’s governance that President Ruto’s leadership cannot shy away from if he expects the country to become a replica of Singapore.  

Corruption is the single greatest obstacle to national transformation. Strengthening the Ethics and Anti-Corruption Commission (EACC) is vital. It must be adequately funded, politically insulated, and granted prosecutorial powers to investigate and try economic crimes independently. Kenya should also deepen collaboration with international agencies such as Interpol, the FBI, Europol, FATF, EBA, OFAC and IMoLIN to trace cross-border financial crimes and recover stolen assets. Wealth siphoned abroad, often hidden in Swiss accounts or the Island of Jersey, must be repatriated to fuel national development.

Agriculture, the backbone of Kenya’s economy, remains significantly underexploited. Semi-arid counties such as Garissa, Mandera, Marsabit, Turkana, Kajiado and Wajir possess vast untapped potential that could be unlocked through comprehensive irrigation and land reclamation programmes. With modern water management systems, large-scale harvesting infrastructure, drought-resistant crops and investment in agro-processing, these regions could be transformed from marginal lands into thriving centres of productivity. Such a shift would reduce reliance on food imports, conserve foreign exchange, strengthen food security and create employment across entire agricultural value chains.

Kenya maintains strong diplomatic and technical ties with Israel, a global leader in water harvesting, drip irrigation, and horticultural innovation, despite its arid climate. There is a compelling case for leveraging this expertise to accelerate Kenya’s agricultural transformation and convert climatic challenges into economic opportunities.

President Ruto’s 2019 call to diversify farming still resonates: North Rift counties must move beyond maize monoculture and embrace high-value horticulture, including Hass avocados, which have a vast market in Europe and Asia. Fertile counties like Trans-Nzoia, Nandi, Uasin-Gishu and Bungoma are poised to benefit from crop diversification, boosting incomes and advancing food security.

Natural resource management demands similar discipline. Oil in Turkana raised national expectations, yet commercial exploitation has yet to yield a transformative impact. Transparent contracts, investor clarity and rigorous oversight are essential to ensure extractive industries benefit citizens. Gold discoveries in Ikolomani, Kakamega, offer another opportunity for regulated mining to fund infrastructure, healthcare and education rather than informal exploitation. The lack of clarity around Tullow Oil’s activities in Turkana underscores the urgent need for accountability, bearing in mind that we have the Ministries of Mining and Blue Economy as well as the Ministry of Energy and Petroleum, led by Ali Hassan Joho and Opiyo Wandayi, respectively.  

True reform requires moral seriousness. Anti-corruption enforcement, lean governance, fiscal discipline and strategic investment must operate together. Public office must be regarded as a trust, not a path to personal enrichment. Merit-based appointments and systematic performance evaluation within the civil service are crucial for efficiency and restoring public confidence.

Kenya stands at a crossroads. With a GDP exceeding $100 billion, a digitally connected population and abundant human and natural resources, the foundation for prosperity exists. Decisive action is required: rationalise governance constitutionally, empower anti-corruption institutions, recover stolen assets through international collaboration, and invest strategically in human capital and productive sectors.

Nations do not fail from lack of opportunity but from tolerating inefficiency, impunity and weak institutions. Kenya can emulate Singapore if ambition is matched with structural courage.

By strengthening institutions, reclaiming stolen wealth, unlocking agricultural and mineral potential, and empowering its educated, technology-driven population, the country can convert aspiration into sustainable prosperity and secure a future defined by discipline, integrity and shared growth.

Why President William Ruto Will be Hard to Beat in the 2027 General Election

By Joseph Lister Nyaringo

As Kenya approaches its next general election in August 2027, the opposition faces a glaring reality: dissatisfaction with President William Ruto is not enough to secure victory. Elections are not won by protest alone; they require organisation, discipline, resources, and a compelling alternative vision. For opposition parties, success demands more than critique—it requires strategic planning, tactical execution, and preparation undertaken years in advance.

The first and most critical challenge for the opposition is unity. Fragmentation has historically been its greatest weakness. In 1992, a divided opposition handed the late President Daniel Moi another term despite widespread unpopularity. Today, the so-called loyal opposition figures, such as former Vice President Stephen Kalonzo Musyoka, former Deputy President Rigathi Gachagua, former Interior Cabinet Secretary Dr Fred Matiang’i, and former Chief Justice David Maraga, have repeatedly pledged to unite behind a single candidate. Yet history warns that when it comes to agreeing on leadership, internal squabbles often surface, risking fragmentation and giving the incumbent a decisive advantage.

Early unity, achieved through transparent mechanisms such as joint primaries or independent arbitration, would allow the opposition to campaign as a coherent national force, reduce internal sabotage, prevent mixed messaging, and signal seriousness about governance rather than merely contesting power.

Closely linked is the need for a coherent economic programme. Many Kenyans struggle with high living costs, unemployment, and taxation pressures. Opposition rhetoric too often stops at criticism without offering credible alternatives. To persuade voters, opposition parties must present practical, costed proposals addressing bread-and-butter issues such as taxation, debt management, job creation, food security, and support for small businesses. This programme should be understandable to ordinary citizens, with clear targets for the first 100 days of government. Without such clarity, calls for change risk appearing emotional rather than compelling.

Beyond policy, opposition parties must cultivate a genuinely national coalition. Kenyan elections are won through alliances that cut across regions, communities, and socioeconomic lines. Relying solely on historical strongholds or urban discontent will not suffice. The opposition must actively engage voters in regions where the ruling party remains dominant, including parts of the Rift Valley, Mount Kenya, and the Coast. Sustained engagement, transparent power-sharing, and genuine inclusion of grassroots leaders are essential. Such inclusivity demonstrates commitment to national unity rather than transactional politics.

Grassroots organisation and electoral preparedness are equally crucial. Campaign rallies and social media activism alone do not secure victory. The opposition must establish strong ward-level and polling-station structures capable of mobilising voters, protecting ballots, and monitoring results. Recruiting and training agents for every polling station, setting up parallel tallying systems, and boosting voter registration and turnout, especially among young and first-time voters, are fundamental. Malpractice complaints carry little weight without organisational evidence to support them.

Internal discipline and democratic credibility are further determinants of success. Public infighting, contradictory statements, and leadership disputes erode confidence. Opposition parties must enforce message discipline, resolve disagreements internally, and uphold ethical standards visibly. Leadership renewal elevating competent young leaders, women, and technocrats broadens appeal and counters perceptions of recycled politics. A leadership team reflecting Kenya’s demographic and professional diversity strengthens the opposition’s claim to represent the future.

Even if these measures are implemented, the incumbent retains formidable advantages. Ruto’s political strength is rooted in decades of careful preparation. From his early days in the KANU youth wing to roles as MP, Cabinet Minister, Deputy President, and now President, he has built disciplined networks across communities, business, churches, and regional power brokers. These structures allow him to mobilise efficiently, respond swiftly to threats, and maintain loyalty-a feat that opposition coalitions often struggle to replicate.

Financial resources amplify these advantages. Kenyan elections are among the most expensive on the continent, requiring funding for mobilisation, logistics, media campaigns, and legal preparedness. Ruto’s financial networks, cultivated over years, provide both funding and operational capacity. Opposition alliances, often cobbled together late, struggle to match this level of preparedness. In politics, stamina matters, and financial muscle buys endurance.

Incumbency itself confers further power. Ruto commands visibility, authority, and institutional reach that challengers cannot replicate. Development projects, official tours, and state engagements double as political capital, reinforcing presence nationwide. He also sets the national agenda, forcing opponents into a reactive posture. Tactical agility is another strength: his “hustler nation” narrative in 2022 transformed economic grievances into an emotionally resonant political brand. By consistently framing programmes such as housing, agriculture, and digital innovation as part of a long-term vision, he projects consistency that inspires voter confidence.

Ruto’s moral and loyalty narratives also fortify his appeal. Allies are rewarded, reinforcing discipline and deterring defection, while his visible religiosity and invocation of faith resonate in a deeply religious society. These elements create both practical loyalty and moral legitimacy among supporters.

Finally, opposition weaknesses further strengthen Ruto’s position. Fragmentation, personality clashes, and reliance on protest rather than proposition leave challengers vulnerable. To mount a credible challenge, the opposition must not only unify, articulate a coherent programme, and mobilise grassroots support, but also match his organisational depth, financial resources, tactical sophistication, and moral narrative.

Yet none of this makes Ruto invincible. It does, however, explain why defeating him is extraordinarily difficult. For opposition parties, passion alone will not suffice. Understanding and countering the machinery Ruto has meticulously built over decades is the first step toward mounting a credible challenge. Until then, he remains not just a competitor, but the benchmark against which all contenders must measure themselves.

Kenyan voters, while vocal about unemployment, high living costs, and government shortcomings, often respond to immediate incentives and persuasive narratives rather than historical performance. Despite criticisms of corruption, nepotism, and heavy-handed crackdowns such as during last year’s Gen Z demonstrations, these factors rarely dominate electoral outcomes. The reality is that monetary enticements and effective mobilisation often outweigh protest, further cementing Ruto’s position.

  Lister Nyaringo is a Kenyan based in Washington State, United States

 

 

To get a job in Kenya, political connections are the new CV

In Kenya today, it is the politically connected who secure jobs. Meritocracy has been eroded, while nepotism is on an upward trajectory. The situation was evident in the recent Social Health Authority (SHA) appointments, where members of the Somali and Kalenjin communities reportedly secured a lion’s share of county positions because their tribesmen occupy senior positions in government.

Has Kenya become a nation that loudly sings the chorus of equity, equality, justice, and fair play, yet consistently does the very opposite? We put on a grand display and even wear the wristwatch, but seldom demonstrate discipline or punctuality.

The Cabinet Secretary for Health, Aden Duale, and President William Ruto come from the Somali and Kalenjin communities respectively. It is therefore widely perceived that the recent list of county-level hires under the SHA insurance scheme demonstrates a troubling pattern: that Kenyans who lack representation at the highest levels of leadership risk remaining trapped in the mire of unemployment, despite possessing all the requisite qualifications for the roles.

More recently, Dr Ida Odinga, widow of former Prime Minister Raila Odinga and well past the conventional retirement age, was appointed to a coveted diplomatic post as Kenya’s Permanent Representative to the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP). The appointment has inevitably stirred debate about merit, generational equity, and the signals such decisions send to a restless and watchful public.

Adding to the controversy, her youngest daughter, Winnie Odinga — herself a beneficiary of political patronage as a member of the East African Legislative Assembly (EALA) — remarked on television that young Kenyans are being denied opportunities. The contradiction has not gone unnoticed: she decried the marginalisation of youth while appearing to support her mother, now over 70, taking up a prominent international role.

To many observers, this dissonance captures a deeper national frustration. In a country weighed down by millions of qualified yet unemployed young people, Kenya is hardly short of professionals capable of serving with distinction in diplomacy and global governance, including at UNEP. If we are to restore public trust, we must resist dressing self-interest as public service, or presenting patronage as patriotism.

Why have double standards and hypocrisy become so deeply entrenched in our national politics? Even as the Kenyan President speaks of empowering the youth and expanding opportunities for them, his administration stands accused of favouring his own community in key national appointments. It is difficult to ignore the widespread perception that a significant number of the most coveted government and public corporation positions are occupied by individuals from the President’s Kalenjin community.

We have, over time, grown accustomed to opportunistic political arrangements that appear to enrich a select few families while the nation itself struggles. Kenyans must confront an uncomfortable reality: political elites often prioritise their own survival above the welfare of ordinary citizens. What is showcased on television frequently resembles carefully managed public relations, crafted by those who rise to power on the backs of a burdened majority. True leadership calls for honesty, sacrifice, and dedication to the common good — virtues that remain in short supply within Kenya’s political sphere.

Article 232(1)(c) of Kenya’s Constitution sets out clear principles for public service, including the need for ethnic and regional balance, merit, equity, and equality in appointments. Yet weak enforcement and political manoeuvring often allow leaders to favour their own support bases. The result is a system that encourages ethnic competition for political office, rather than a focus on merit, national interest and the common good.

Is it not troubling when a leader entrusted with national stewardship distributes public resources and employment opportunities along narrow communal lines, only to later issue appeals for “Umoja wa Wakenya” while seeking votes? Kenyans must remain alert and demand better.

Call it brain drain, professional migration or simple demoralization-our doctors, nurses, engineers, and other skilled professionals are leaving in search of fairer opportunities because the country has failed to value their contribution. Who will design our roads, and care for our patients if this trend persists?

Political nominations, promotions, and appointments are widely viewed as skewed in favour of the well connected. A contact at the Teachers Service Commission (TSC) confided that teaching appointment letters often end up in the hands of those linked to the ruling elite. Even military recruitments in the country are said to be less than fair, with major political figures allegedly allocated their own slots. If this continues unchecked, where will the sons and daughters of the hoi polloi find a foothold in Kenya’s job market?

During a recent stopover in Doha, I was struck by the sheer number of Kenyans working at Hamad International Airport. One cannot help but feel a mix of pride and nostalgia when meeting a compatriot abroad. They recognise you instantly and, before long, greet you warmly in Swahili -“jambo ndugu” - with an easy laugh. We are a capable and industrious people, yet we operate within a dysfunctional system that too often rewards mediocrity rather than merit.

The human cost of this dysfunction is severe. Disillusioned and deprived of prospects, countless young people are driven towards perilous alternatives. Some risking their lives in foreign conflicts, others especially young Kenyan women are enduring harsh domestic labour conditions in the Middle East. It is telling that Kenya’s Prime Cabinet Secretary, who also oversees Foreign and Diaspora Affairs, Musalia Mudavadi, has indicated plans to visit Russia to address the plight of Kenyans reportedly trapped there after being lured by promises of work, only to find themselves drawn into fighting in the war with Ukraine.

Meanwhile, enduring perceptions of nepotism across successive administrations have entrenched the belief that certain communities — presently including a notable presence from the President’s Kalenjin community — disproportionately occupy influential positions in the civil service and state corporations. This fuels the conviction that political power translates directly into communal advantage, intensifying ethnic calculations in presidential contests and undermining the foundations of national cohesion.

 

 

Africa's Broken Promises: Why Regional Bodies Are Democracy's Biggest Obstacles

Africa’s multilateral institutions were established to drive democratic renewal, good governance and economic progress, yet they have increasingly become arenas of rhetoric rather than effective action. The African Union (AU) and regional bodies such as SADC, ECOWAS, EAC, COMESA and IGAD were conceived as safeguards against autocracy, military rule and constitutional abuse. Instead, they have often equivocated in the face of repression, hesitated during conflict and normalised democratic decline, eroding public trust at home and weakening Africa’s moral standing in the global stage.

This institutional frailty is stark in conflict management. The Tigray war, which erupted in November 2020, exposed the AU’s reluctance to confront powerful member states despite grave humanitarian consequences, including mass displacement and severe suffering. In Sudan, instability has persisted since the October 2021 coup that derailed the civilian transition. Rival generals continue their power struggle while mediation efforts yield little progress. Regional statements abound, but enforcement is absent. The AU Peace and Security Council has struggled to take decisive preventive action, demonstrating that mediation without leverage is little more than ritual.

Electoral governance, the foundation of democratic legitimacy, reveals similar weaknesses. In Kenya, repeated disputed elections, court battles and episodic violence highlight deep mistrust in electoral institutions and elite bargains presented as reform. Since the return of multiparty politics in the early 1990s, only the 2002 presidential election has been widely accepted as free and fair; subsequent polls have frequently been marked by unrest, displacement and deaths.

Uganda’s political space remains constrained by prolonged incumbency, securitised governance and suppression of dissent. Tanzania, once praised for stability, has in recent years restricted opposition activity and media freedoms, with reforms yet to translate into firm guarantees. Regional observer missions often respond with cautious language and diplomatic euphemism, avoiding forthright condemnation. Observation without consequence risks becoming complicity.

The resurgence of coups in the Sahel further underscores democratic regression. Since 2020, Mali, Burkina Faso and Niger have experienced military takeovers, testing ECOWAS and AU mechanisms designed to deter unconstitutional changes of government. Although Burkina Faso’s current military ruler, Ibrahim Traoré, is praised by some for a reformist posture, rule obtained through a coup undermines democratic prospects and the aspirations of the Burkinabè people.

At the heart of these failures lies a structural contradiction: organisations composed of incumbent leaders are expected to hold those same leaders accountable. Many heads of state, themselves governing under fragile mandates or controversial constitutional manoeuvres, are reluctant to empower supranational bodies that could later censure them. The principle of non-interference persists through elite solidarity, where peer review becomes peer protection.

Leadership at the continental level has also faced scrutiny. Mahmoud Ali Youssouf of Djibouti was elected Chairperson of the AU Commission on 16 February 2025, defeating Kenya’s veteran opposition figure Raila Odinga. His election raised hopes for renewed commitment to institutional integrity and democratic norms. Yet many observers believe his tenure has begun hesitantly, at a time when Africans seek firm, principled and courageous leadership.

These concerns intensified after Tanzania’s 29 October 2025 general election, during which major opposition candidates were barred and political restrictions imposed. Protests followed, and human rights groups reported lethal force by security forces between 29 October and 3 November. Despite the AU Observer Mission concluding that the election did not meet AU principles or international standards, AU leadership congratulated President Samia Suluhu Hassan, prompting questions about consistency and credibility.

Regional leadership has faced similar criticism. Julius Maada Bio of Sierra Leone at ECOWAS and Cyril Ramaphosa of South Africa at SADC are seen by some as insufficiently assertive in defending democratic norms among member states. Observers argue that stronger censure might have been expected over alleged electoral malpractice within the region. One wonders why South Africa has taken a firm stance against Israel over the alleged genocide in Gaza yet has failed to speak with equal clarity about the crises and governance failures on the African home front.

Uganda’s January 2026 election reinforced these concerns. President Yoweri Museveni secured another term amid opposition allegations of intimidation and irregularities. Opposition leader Bobi Wine rejected the results, security forces reportedly raided his residence, and tensions rose. On 17 January 2026, the AU Commission Chairperson commended the election and congratulated Museveni, a move critics viewed as legitimising a contested process. Veteran opposition figure Kizza Besigye remains detained on treason charges amid reports of ill health, drawing limited regional protest, though Kenyan lawyer Martha Karua has supported his defence.

Restoring democratic credibility requires practical reforms. Electoral rules, term limits and prohibitions on unconstitutional power seizures must trigger automatic consequences such as suspension or sanctions. Observer missions should become rigorous, evidence-based exercises with honest reporting. Conflict mediation needs stronger security tools, early-warning systems and clear intervention thresholds when governments fail to protect citizens.

Regional bodies must widen participation beyond heads of state to include civil society, judiciaries, legal professionals, journalists and young people. Financial independence through transparent member-state funding is equally vital, ensuring accountability to African citizens rather than external donors.

Africa’s standing will not be restored through declarations alone but through consistent defence of constitutionalism, credible elections and rejection of military rule. As past Pan-African leaders such as Nyerere, Nkrumah, Lumumba and Kaunda embodied, principled leadership rooted in dignity, unity and social justice remains essential.

By strengthening institutions, protecting liberties, curbing corruption and pursuing equitable reform, African leaders can rebuild legitimacy and restore the continent’s political and moral stature.