People's watchdog? No, Parliament is Kenya's biggest problem

Parliament was designed to be the heartbeat of democracy. The place where the will of the people finds voice, where truth challenges power, and where justice is defended through law. But in Kenya today, Parliament has become our biggest problem. It has ceased to be the people’s watchdog and has instead become the guard dog of the Executive.

Most of our Members of Parliament (MPs) no longer legislate in the public interest. They legislate for survival. Their own. They trade conscience for contracts, loyalty for allowances, and truth for tokens. In doing so, they betray the very foundation of representative democracy. We are now trapped in a dangerous cycle where Parliament passes laws that harm not only ordinary citizens but even the MPs themselves. Laws that erode freedoms, weaken institutions, and enrich the few at the expense of the many.

This isn’t accidental. It’s the result of a broken political culture. Kenyan politics rewards sycophancy, not principle. The MP who questions authority risks being labelled a rebel, while the one who claps the loudest for the Executive, is rewarded with committee positions or development favours. In such a parliament, truth becomes an enemy, integrity becomes expensive, and mediocrity becomes the norm.

Parliament has been reduced to a theatre of the absurd. Loud debates about nothing of consequence, endless motions designed for public drama, and hurried laws passed in the dead of night. The members themselves often don’t even read the bills they vote on. Instead, they wait for instructions. Not from the people, but from the party bosses or the State House whisperers.

The result? A Parliament that rubber-stamps executive overreach, legitimises corruption, and dismantles constitutional safeguards meant to protect citizens. Take a look at recent legislative proposals and amendments: Many are crafted to weaken devolution, curtail freedoms, or make it harder for citizens to hold power to account. The very institution that was supposed to check power has instead become the most efficient tool for entrenching it.

And here lies the bitter irony. Even the MPs themselves are not safe from their own complicity. Every time they weaken accountability mechanisms, they make it easier for future regimes to turn those same tools against them. Every time they vote for laws that strip citizens of oversight powers, they strip themselves of protection, too. Yet, driven by greed and short-termism, they continue to sell out the people and mortgage the country’s future.

This moral decay in Parliament reflects a deeper national problem, our collective apathy. Too many Kenyans have withdrawn from civic life. We complain but do not act. We curse politicians online but fail to register as voters. We lament corruption but still sell our votes for handouts. We cheer populists and strongmen, forgetting that every despot was once a charming campaigner.

If we are honest, we have to admit: The problem is not just “them”. It’s also “us.” Our silence is their strength. Our disunity is their insurance. Our fear is their weapon. And until we reclaim our role as citizens, active, informed, and unafraid, the rot in Parliament will continue to spread through every arm of government.

But it’s not too late to change the course. The first step is simple but powerful: Register to vote. It may sound ordinary, but it is revolutionary. Voting is the only language power truly understands. When you register, you declare that your voice matters. That Kenya belongs not to the corrupt elite but to its citizens.

Do not be deceived by the narrative that “all politicians are the same”. That cynicism is precisely what corrupt leaders rely on to stay in power. Yes, the system is broken, but systems are made by people, and people can rebuild them. The next Parliament must be composed of men and women who understand public service as a sacred trust, not a business venture.

Imagine a Parliament that refuses to be bribed, that demands accountability, that rejects unjust budgets, that defends devolution, and that remembers who sent it there, the people. That is not a dream; it is a choice. And that choice lies in your hands, in your ID, in your vote.

We must make civic engagement fashionable again. Let it be cool to care about Kenya. Let it be honourable to question authority. Let it be patriotic to demand good governance. Talk to your friends, your colleagues, and your family. Remind them that democracy is not a spectator sport. Every unregistered voter is a gift to the corrupt. Every silent citizen is a victory for impunity.

Kenya doesn’t need more politicians; it needs more citizens. Active citizens. Brave citizens. Citizens who understand that the Constitution means nothing if the wrong people hold power.

Change will not come on its own. We must make it happen through our voices, our votes, and our vigilance. The future of this country depends not on the next speech in Parliament, but on the next decision you make as a citizen.

Parliament may be broken, but Kenya is not beyond repair. The cure lies in your hands. So stand up, register, and vote. Not for them, but for yourself, your children, and the nation you love. If you don’t, the same parliament that betrayed you yesterday will betray you again tomorrow. Next time, the cost may be too high for any of us to pay.