Ruto government's terror tactics have reached their breaking point

There comes a time in the life of every regime when its desperation becomes impossible to mask. For President William Ruto’s government, that time is now. The decision to charge peaceful protesters - many of them young, unarmed, and constitutionally protected - with terrorism marks a disturbing and dangerous turning point in Kenya’s democratic journey.

Let us be clear: This is not governance. This is State terror. Branding Kenyans as terrorists for raising their voices against economic pain, injustice, and corruption is not about national security. It is about silencing dissent. It is about using fear as a political weapon. It is about sending a message that if you dare to question power, power will crush you. But what Ruto’s administration fails to grasp is this: You cannot terrorise an entire nation into submission, not forever.

Kenya has seen repression before. We remember the detentions without trial, the midnight knock on the door, the torture chambers of Nyayo House. We remember how power, when threatened by the voice of the people, has historically responded not with dialogue, but with force. And we also remember that each time, the people have outlasted the regime.

Dr Ruto, in turning the tools of anti-terrorism into instruments of political persecution, is repeating the mistakes of the past, only this time, the country is watching with clearer eyes. The Constitution of Kenya 2010, which Ruto opposed with vehemence during its birth, is not just ink on paper. It is the sacred contract between the State and its citizens. It guarantees freedoms of expression, assembly, and protest. No president, however powerful or paranoid, has the right to rule outside it.

Yet, that is exactly what we are witnessing: A deliberate campaign to subvert the Constitution under the guise of law enforcement. The police are no longer impartial arbitrators of public order. They are shock troops for political survival. The courts are under pressure to lend legitimacy to illegitimate charges. Young people exercising their rights are being labelled enemies of the State.

But here’s the truth: You can arrest a person, but you cannot jail a movement. You can drag youth into police cells, but you cannot handcuff a generation that has tasted the power of unity, information, and civic courage.

In weaponising terror laws against ordinary citizens, Ruto is stretching the machinery of State repression to its outer limit. The more he leans on brutality and fear, the more brittle his power becomes. And history has a lesson for leaders like him: Repression may buy time, but it cannot buy legitimacy. And without legitimacy, power is a house built on sand.

This government is now teetering on a dangerous edge. By setting the precedent that those who oppose it are to be treated as terrorists, it has opened a door it may one day regret. Because power is never permanent. Today’s wielders of the sword may find themselves tomorrow at the receiving end of the very violence they unleashed. The script always flips.

We must ask ourselves: What kind of country is Ruto trying to build? One where every young person with a placard is a threat? One where calling for justice earns you a terrorism charge? One where a Constitution that was written by the blood and sacrifice of patriots is disregarded for political convenience?

Kenya is not a dictatorship. It is a democracy. And democracies are not governed through terror. They are governed through consent. The moment you have to force the people to obey, you’ve already lost the moral argument. And eventually, you will lose everything else.

This campaign of fear, arrests, and intimidation is not strength. It is weakness dressed in uniform. It is the panic of a regime that knows it has failed to deliver, failed to listen, and failed to lead. Ruto may control the police, the prosecution, and even the airwaves, but he does not control the people. And the people are rising.

They are rising not with guns or violence, but with truth and courage. They are reclaiming their voice, their streets, their Constitution. They are reminding the State that it exists to serve, not to dominate. And no amount of false labels or security theatrics will change that.

To those in government who still have a conscience: This is the moment to speak out. Today it is the youth in the cells, but tomorrow it could be you. Power without restraint becomes poison, eventually even to those who wield it.

And to the citizens: Do not fear. Do not be silent. This country is ours, not theirs. We are not terrorists. We are patriots. And our voices are stronger than their guns.

Let them charge us. Let them jail us. Let them call us whatever they want. The truth remains: Ruto’s government has gone too far. And when you go too far, the only thing left is the fall.

Kenya will outlive this darkness. And when it does, history will remember who stood up and who cowered behind the shield of power