I’m writing this piece from Kigali, Rwanda, where the government has just suspended the activities of 18 mainstream churches for a range of gross violations.
According to the Rwanda Governance Board, the faith-based organisations jeopardised peace, compromised public order, promoted poor morals and infringed on the rights of others. Their founders and leaders will now have a date with the law.
In Kenya, however, we have taken a different approach. The government has washed off its hands on regulating worship. It’s literally walking on eggshells. Yet amid the debate, there are concerns even within the church itself, about the wanting conduct of sections of it.
Bishop Emeritus Morphat Kilioba days ago delivered a punchy summon at Donholm Pefa church. “Some clergymen surround themselves with hordes of men in black. They call themselves doctors and prophets yet no one knows where and how they acquired those titles,” he said, hinting at the many outright excesses in local churches. We like it or not, more hard truths must be told for our religious community to even imagine regulating itself. The clergy want self-regulation because it allows leniency when transgressions occur. It’s purely for self-preservation. One can’t help but wonder if this desire for unchecked freedom will become the very rope by which men and women of the cloth hang themselves.
The risk of losing more trust and credibility is undeniable. Suffice to ask, why do church leaders focus solely on the negative aspects of regulation while ignoring the potential benefits witnessed in many jurisdictions? Could it be the case of what Proverbs 28:1 points to of the wicked who are determined to flee or hide when no one pursues them?
While President William Ruto’s recent promise to respect religious autonomy may be well-intentioned, expecting the clergy to oversee reforms in their work without a formal, legally binding framework is nothing more than shadowboxing. Three major obstacles stand.
First, religious leadership is entangled with politics, especially since 2022 when they backed Kenya Kwanza. Some leased out pulpits and accepted cash to offer ‘blessings’ to ‘God-chosen’ leaders. They became the ‘flower girls’ singing praises at manifesto launches and rallies. We now hear some claim that those in power have betrayed their support. I don’t know how!
Second, the clergy are often viewed as spiritual authorities, and questioning them is seen as challenging faith itself. This dynamic undermines internal accountability. The Shakahola massacre, which severely damaged the church’s image, is a prime example—yet no one has taken full responsibility. If religious leaders can’t own up to their failures in such extreme cases, can we really expect self-regulation to work?
Third, spiritual corruption is rampant, with some church leaders exploiting their congregants’ faith for personal financial gain. Religious groups, often exempt from taxes and other regulations, face little oversight in how they manage their finances. Some clerics have mismanaged donations meant for charity, development projects or congregational support. Scandals involving funds being diverted for personal use or hidden in private accounts have become disturbingly common. Can we really trust that they will hold themselves accountable?
In my view, a balanced approach combining state regulation with self-regulation works best. How can this be achieved? Churches should anchor their so-called internal codes of conduct in the solid provisions of the Religious Organisations Bill and the Draft Religious Organisations Policy. These two blueprints, developed by the task force chaired by Reverend Mutava Musyimi in response to the Shakahola tragedy, must not gather dust at Harambee House. They can provide a pathway for religious groups to pursue transparency and accountability. It’s not just about what the churches or the state want. The push for self-regulation must deliver tangible results, or confidence in the church will continue to erode. A combination of internal and external regulation is the most effective way to avert a crisis of faith.
The writer is a communications practitioner. X:@markoloo
