2027: A reckoning for broken promises and Kenya's political realities

The inevitability of a political bloodbath for elected State officers in the 2027 General Election is undeniable. The growing anti-government sentiments, particularly from the religious community, largely stem from the Legislature’s failure to oversee the Executive effectively. This failure is evident both at the national level and within devolved government units.

During the decade-long Uhuru Kenyatta administration, the Judiciary was perceived as the last bastion of public interest, championing the rights of the wananchi. However, this trust has rapidly eroded in the two years of the Kenya Kwanza administration. To many Kenyans, the Judiciary now appears to have cozied up to President William Ruto and is no longer seen as a reliable defender of public interest.

Whether this perception is grounded in truth or merely misplaced, the outcome is the same: a profound loss of faith in those entrusted with power to advocate for the people and safeguard their rights. Power, by its nature, abhors a vacuum. The Gen-Z revolutionary wave emerged as a violent response to fill the void left when parliamentarians jumped into bed with those they were meant to oversee on behalf of the electorate.

Those in power may believe the formation of a broad-based government has quelled the revolutionary spirit, but the reality is different. Street protests have evolved into a ‘soft revolution’ on social media. Platforms like X and TikTok have become hubs for civic education and engagement at unprecedented levels. The clergy, once accused by Gen-Zs of being complicit in political deception in exchange for tithes and offerings, is now adapting to these shifting dynamics. In many ways, the clergy is attempting to regain their credibility and ‘salt’ in the socio-economic order and governance. It’s no surprise that the names of renowned clergy from the past, such as Maurice Michael Cardinal Otunga, Bishops Henry Okullu, Ndingi Mwana a’ Nzeki, and Rev. Timothy Njoya, are resurfacing and trending on social media.

Waning influence

Gesowan Tony M, in an insightful article on the role of the church in Kenyan politics through social justice and Christ’s prophetic office, thoroughly documents the voices of these influential clergy members during the country’s post-colonial evolution. This influence was particularly pronounced between 1987 and 2007, during the height of Kanu-era human rights atrocities, social justice struggles, and the 2007 post-election violence. Gesowan contends that the church’s influence has diminished in recent years due to its failure to hold the Kibaki, Uhuru, and the initial years of the Ruto administrations accountable.

As a result, the religious community seemed compromised, muted, or lacking the capacity to generate sufficient uproar to spark national-level dialogue on critical socio-economic issues. However, the tide appears to be turning rapidly against President Ruto, with the clergy increasingly raising their voices against the lies and failures of his administration.

This shift at the grassroots level poses a huge threat to all elected officials—Members of Parliament, Members of County Assemblies, governors, and, arguably, even the presidency. The fact that ordinary citizens and members of Kenya’s diaspora are actively organising discussions on X-spaces to explore the candidacy of non-traditional political figures like Senator Okiya Omtatah should alarm those in power.

While Kenya’s political landscape remains fluid and rife with ruthless power players, a grassroots-driven movement could prove perilous to the established political order if it gains momentum.

As a society, however, we must confront some troubling questions: How did we get here? Why have we consistently fallen short in our electoral choices, particularly over the past three election cycles? What has prevented us from electing vibrant, forward-thinking leaders of the 1980s and 1990s who stood by the people and fought for a cause, even against overwhelming odds?

Nothing highlights the failure of parliamentary oversight more than the blatant double-speak by parliamentarians regarding the Adani deals. Kenyans were stunned when the joint houses of Parliament applauded the President for announcing the cancellation of Adani contracts related to airports and powerlines—contracts the very same MPs had staunchly defended until the moment they convened in the chamber for the national address.

To make matters worse, during the post-address debate, MPs appeared to mock the electorate with rhetorical questions, asking where alternative funds could be sourced to replace the cancelled contracts. This tone-deaf attitude toward the people’s concerns was equally evident during the contentious proceedings on the rejected Finance Bill 2024.

Parliament has been used as a tool to raise the debt ceiling, essentially handing the Executive a blank cheque without adequate accountability for how borrowed funds from the past 12 years have been spent. The situation is made worse by the Auditor General’s report revealing that no satisfactory explanation has been provided for a Sh160 billion external debt repayment made over the past three years.

Geoff Dubrow, in a March 2022 article on the role of parliaments in overseeing public debt, argues that one of their primary responsibilities is to enhance debt transparency. Debt transparency refers to the quality of data and the comprehensiveness of reporting on debt. This includes full disclosure of loan agreements and ensuring information on newly contracted loans is readily available to the public.

On the broader question of parliamentary oversight, the website Agora-Parl.org stresses that this role is a cornerstone of democracy. In fulfilling their oversight mandate, legislators monitor the quality of government work in implementing laws, development plans and budgets. When executed effectively, parliamentary oversight promotes transparency, ensures openness in Executive activities, holds the Executive accountable, guarantees financial accountability, and upholds the rule of law.

Given these benchmarks for effective legislative oversight, a critical question arises: can any of these outcomes be attributed to the 13th Parliament?

The reality on the ground is grim. Under the watch of the current leadership, forced abductions and alarming cases of femicide continue unabated, with the security apparatus routinely claiming ignorance about the perpetrators. Scandals involving subsidised fertiliser and edible oils remain unresolved, with those responsible still at large months after the issues were brought to light. Kenya has increasingly become a haven for ‘wash-wash’ schemes and cybercrime.

Unsurprisingly, it is widely acknowledged among voters that the power of ‘brown envelopes’ exchanged under the table often dictates what passes in Parliament. The lightning-fast impeachment proceedings against former Deputy President Rigathi Gachagua have left many speculating about what deals might have preceded the introduction of the motion in the House.

These are the issues dominating dinner-table conversations and casual street banter. The lingering question is whether voters will remember their pain when the official electioneering period begins. If they do, we should brace for a sweeping wave that could send the political elite—regardless of party affiliations—into oblivion.

As for this column, we will patiently wait and observe unless duty calls us into the ring of active engagement!