The presidency must not be the most expensive office in Kenya

President William Ruto assents to the National Infrastructure Fund Bill at State House, Nairobi. [PCS]

Public budgets are more than financial documents in every functioning democracy; they are moral statements. They reveal what a nation values, whom it prioritises and how leaders understand the relationship between power and responsibility.

A government that invests in education, healthcare and productivity signals commitment to the future. A government that spends lavishly on itself sends a different message: power has become an end in itself.

Political philosophers from Aristotle to Rousseau warned that republics decay when rulers treat public office as private privilege. Once that happens, the state stops serving collective welfare and starts operating as machinery for elite comfort.

History shows such decline rarely arrives dramatically. It emerges gradually through budget decisions that normalise excess at the top while leaders impose austerity on everyone else. That is why the revelation that State House budget has risen to Sh17 billion for the current financial year, reportedly surpassing the budget of the White House, should concern citizens. The comparison is symbolic. The US is the world’s largest economy, with a GDP exceeding $25 trillion. Kenya’s economy is roughly 200 times smaller. Yet the cost of our presidency now exceeds that of the executive office of a global superpower.

Kenya is facing a difficult economic period. Public debt has ballooned. Taxes have risen sharply, squeezing households struggling with high food prices, fuel costs, and unemployment. Small businesses are closing. Young graduates roam the streets without opportunities. Hospitals lack essential supplies, and universities face underfunding.

In such a moment, fiscal discipline should be a moral obligation. Leadership during economic hardship demands restraint, symbolism, and solidarity with citizens tightening their belts. Instead, Kenyans are witnessing the opposite. A State House budget of Sh17 billion raises uncomfortable questions about priorities. Why should the presidency require such vast resources when critical sectors remain starved of funding? Why should the seat of power expand its expenditure while citizens are told the nation must endure austerity?

Budgetary decisions reflect the political culture of those in power. When the executive branch grows increasingly expensive, it often signals a governing philosophy in which prestige, patronage, and political survival take precedence over national development. The danger is not only financial; it is institutional. A costly presidency risks reinforcing patterns that have historically weakened African democracies: centralisation of power, personalisation of authority, and transformation of public institutions into extensions of the executive.

When too many resources concentrate around the presidency, other arms of government, counties, Parliament, oversight agencies, and service-delivery institutions weaken. Democracy depends on balance.

Kenyans must confront a deeper moral question: what example should leadership set in a society facing economic distress? Leaders understood symbolism matters. During hardship, they reduced privileges, cut ceremonial costs, and ensured government spending reflected the realities citizens faced.

Such gestures were not merely cosmetic. They communicated solidarity and built trust. Trust is the invisible currency of governance. Once it erodes, the legitimacy of institutions begins to weaken. Citizens question whether resources are being managed in their interest or merely sustaining the comfort of those in power. Kenya cannot afford such a crisis of confidence.

The presidency is one of the most important institutions. It symbolises national unity, executive authority, and the direction of government. Precisely because of this importance, it must embody restraint and accountability. An expensive presidency in a struggling economy creates the wrong national narrative. It suggests distance between leaders and citizens. It signals that while the public is asked to sacrifice, those in power remain insulated from economic reality confronting millions.

This perception is corrosive to democratic legitimacy. The issue is not about personalities or partisan politics. It is about principles of governance. A responsible state must ask whether its expenditures align with the economic condition of its people. If Kenya’s economy were expanding rapidly, employment growing, and public services thriving, debate about the State House budget might carry less urgency. But in a period of economic strain, rising taxation, and social anxiety across society, the optics and implications of such spending cannot be ignored.

Ultimately, budgets are choices. They reveal what leaders believe matters most. They show where power resides and whose comfort is protected. A republic that places the heaviest financial weight at the summit of authority risks drifting away from the democratic promise that government exists to serve the people. Kenya must decide whether the presidency will remain a symbol of service or evolve into the most expensive seat in a nation still struggling to provide dignity for its citizens.