When a nation starts importing voters, it stops being a republic

In every functioning democracy, citizenship is sacred. It is the foundational bond between the state and its people, the legal and moral thread that ties a nation together across generations.

Citizenship determines who belongs, who votes, who enjoys the protections of the state, and who shapes the future of the republic. It is not a commodity. It is not a campaign tool. It is certainly not something a government can dilute for short-term political advantage. 

That is why reports emerging from Garissa are profoundly alarming. A man operating a cyber café, Hajur Mohamed Garat, was arrested for allegedly helping foreigners obtain Kenyan national identification documents: ID cards, birth certificates, and even death certificates.

The allegation is simple yet explosive: that non-Kenyans, Somalis, Sudanese, Ethiopians, Ugandans, Tanzanians, could walk into a cybercafé, pay Sh500, and walk out with the promise of a Kenyan ID in less than a week. If true, this is not just a scandal. It is an assault on the sovereignty of the Kenyan nation.

This comes on the heels of the President’s February 2025 proclamation, removing the vetting requirement for ID issuance in Kenya’s northern border counties. That old system was imperfect, often unfair, and sometimes discriminatory. It certainly needed reform. But reforms must strengthen institutions, not weaken them.

They must enhance verification, not eliminate it. The proclamation should have been accompanied by a foolproof national identity verification system, integrating digital biometrics, cross-border data checks, and secure issuance protocols. Instead, we created an open door. The government’s intent may have been administrative simplification; the impact has become administrative recklessness. In a region with porous borders, free movement of pastoralist communities, sophisticated smuggling networks, and enduring insecurity challenges, removing verification without putting safeguards in place was an invitation to chaos. 

The implications for the 2027 elections are frighteningly clear. If ID cards, the gateway to voter registration, can be acquired by non-citizens within days, then Kenya’s voter roll is being polluted. For a country where elections are always tightly contested, where a margin of even 200,000 votes can determine the presidency, the mass nationalisation of foreigners is not an administrative glitch. It is a political weapon. 

No democracy can survive this. No nation can remain a nation when its citizenship becomes a roadside offer. Let us be blunt: importing voters is illegal. It is unconstitutional. It is an act of electoral sabotage. It is the political equivalent of counterfeiting currency, devaluing the real notes by flooding the system with fake ones. It cheapens citizenship. It distorts representation. It overturns the will of citizens. It creates an electoral environment where the party in power simply manufactures a new electorate when it senses it is losing the old one. This is the road many failed states walked and regretted. The 2027 election is already shaping up to be one of the most consequential in Kenya’s history. Youth disillusionment is at record levels. Economic hardship is deepening. Public trust in institutions is vanishing. A generation that nearly toppled the government in 2024 is watching closely to see if the democratic path is still viable. 

At precisely such a moment, the government should be demonstrating integrity, transparency, and fidelity to the Constitution. Instead, it appears to be digging a tunnel beneath the electoral system. Why is it so difficult for this administration to do what is right? Why must every reform come with a caveat, a loophole, a partisan shadow? Why must every policy raise suspicion? Why do even legitimate actions become tainted by secrecy? 

Governments earn trust through clarity and fidelity to the rule of law. This administration often behaves as though legality is a nuisance to be circumvented, not a principle to be upheld. The country asks for electoral integrity; the government offers proclamations. The public asks for accountability; the government offers explanations. Meanwhile, the institutions meant to control irregularities, IEBC, DCI, Immigration, and Registrar of Persons are weakened, politicised, or sidelined. 

In such an environment, even a small breach becomes dangerous. A coordinated breach becomes catastrophic. If non-Kenyans are being nationalised for electoral purposes, then the government is not just undermining the 2027 vote. It is undermining the collective identity of the Kenyan republic. Citizenship cannot be diluted without diluting the nation itself. If the boundary between citizen and non-citizen collapses, then the boundary between Kenya and its neighbours collapses. That is not integration; it is dissolution. 

This should alarm every Kenyan, regardless of political affiliation. Today, the imported voters may benefit one side. Tomorrow, they may benefit another. Eventually, everyone loses when the concept of “the Kenyan people” becomes negotiable.