The disconnect between citizens and leadership points to a nation on edge

President William Ruto inspects the guard of honour during Jamhuri Day Celebrations at Uhuru Gardens, Nairobi, on December 12, 2024. [Elvis Ogina, Standard] 

In his third and median Jamhuri Day speech, President William Ruto sought to remind the nation of the enduring spirit of the founding fathers that secured the freedoms we enjoy today. Ironically, this comes amid his continued unwarranted attacks on Kenyans critical of his policies, labeling them either as possessed by evil spirits or stupid. 

While post-independence leaders have often leaned on the sacrifices of our forefathers to rally the nation, there are justifiable concerns about whether they have lived up to the expectations of those visionaries. For many Kenyans, our leaders invoke the dreams of the founding fathers only when it serves their personal interests. 

For instance, if the Mau Mau fighters were to awaken today, would they be pleased with the trajectory the nation has taken over the past six decades? Would they be content with the quality of life their children and grandchildren now endure, given the immense price they paid in the forests? Can we honestly claim to have honoured their sacrifice of life and limb with a return that fulfills their vision for freedom and socio-economic well-being?

Unfortunately for the president and his administration, what they consider great achievements of their first half-term in office feels like bitter herbs to many ordinary Kenyans. This sentiment stems particularly from the imposition of unpopular tax policies to fund the president’s pet programmes. In his speech, he suggested that we must endure the present hardships to secure future comforts. However, while ordinary taxpayers grapple with diminished disposable incomes, those in power seem to have loosened their belts to feast on the proceeds of programmes like affordable housing and social health insurance. 

This stark contrast between the realities of taxpayers and those in power is what the president appears to interpret as resistance to everything he does. Consider, for example, the government’s proposed nationwide livestock vaccination programme. Nomadic communities and peasant farmers have lived with these animals for generations—why has it suddenly become imperative to vaccinate them? Why has no one taken the time to address the concerns raised by livestock owners? Why must farmers accept this programme when they don’t even understand the reasoning behind it?

For many communities in the country, livestock is more than an economic asset—it is a cultural heritage passed down through generations. These animals are an integral part of a lifestyle that has endured over time. How, then, can it be fair to label them as stupid for questioning a vaccine that might affect their livestock? 

Moreover, there are well-documented cultural and official public protocols for managing disease outbreaks. Has an outbreak been declared? Are the herders themselves unaware of such an outbreak, or have they not observed any impact on their livestock? Why is no one providing clear answers regarding the involvement of foreign entities in this vaccination campaign? Was this initiative the government’s original idea, supported by indisputable evidence, or has it been imposed on us as part of a vaccine experiment?
Why wouldn’t the public question the government’s priorities in the midst of a confessed cash crunch, especially when, out of the blue, it is revealed that some Sh500 million was spent to secure the rights to host the Grammy Awards? The shocking spectacle of the President appearing to know payment details that even the relevant technical officers seemed unaware of leaves much room for speculation. The now-familiar town halls unintentionally offer the public a glimpse into the behind-the-scenes workings of the government. 

As consistently argued here, there is something unsettling about the President being the sole figure seemingly aware of every minor detail of government programmes. In a well-functioning bureaucracy, a head of state relies on technical teams for the finer details of public projects. Yet in our case, it is the President informing the technical teams about the specifics of activities within their own dockets.

The economy remains fragile, as highlighted in the latest World Bank Kenya Economic Update released this week. The Bank projects a moderate decline in economic growth to 4.7 per cent for 2024, down from an earlier projection of 5 per cent. Growth for 2025/2026 is forecasted at 5.1 per cent. While the report acknowledges significant stabilisation in key macroeconomic indicators such as inflation, exchange rates and import cover, it also flags persistent risks. Debt distress remains a major concern, while employment and public revenue levels are subdued. 

The economy continues to rely heavily on the agriculture and service sectors to drive growth. However, agricultural productivity remains highly vulnerable to climatic conditions. This raises questions about the President’s heavy reliance on the fertiliser subsidy as the primary strategic intervention for the sector, rather than adopting a diversified approach to stimulate various sectors of the economy.

This narrow approach to managing and evaluating the economy puts Kenya Kwanza on a precarious path at any given time. Take, for example, the price of maize flour. Top economic advisors and political elites within KK have promoted this as the single most important measure of the impact of their policies. Yet, as of the time of writing, all brands of unga are retailing at between Sh160 and Sh180 in various supermarkets, with prices likely even higher in smaller retail outlets that most people depend on.
This upward trend is expected to persist as farmers’ maize reserves dwindle and many parts of the country brace for poor harvests due to the subdued short rains. What will regime apologists claim as their achievement now that we are nearly back to pre-election unga prices?

The fact that a sizeable number of citizens do not trust the official statistics presented by the president during his speech is a foregone conclusion. On the eve of Jamhuri Day celebrations, various X-space forums hosted citizens independently debating the state of the nation or urging artists and the public to boycott the celebrations altogether.  
This emerging phenomenon, where citizens appear to be steps ahead of those in power, poses an existential threat to our current political and governance structures. Recent calls from both the religious community and citizens for the recall of elected officials are redefining political and accountability norms in the country. 

This threat could partly explain why the political class has been slow to reconstitute the Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission (IEBC). I would wager that if the IEBC were fully constituted, we would already be witnessing active recall proceedings against elected officials. What remains undeniable is that the wave of political change sweeping across nations—such as this week’s events in Ghana—will inevitably reach our shores by August 2027!

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