The Constitution of Kenya 2010 was hailed as a revolution. It promised to cut down the imperial presidency, tame the rogue executive, and put the people at the center of power.
On paper, it did. In practice, it birthed a Parliament so bloated, so self-absorbed, and so divorced from the suffering of Kenyans that it now stands as the single biggest threat to our democracy.
A watchdog turned wolf
Parliament was meant to be the people’s watchdog. Today, it is little more than a marketplace for the highest bidder. Oversight is not exercised—it is sold. Laws are not debated in the public interest—they are negotiated in smoky backrooms, bartered for tenders, contracts and political IOUs.
The National Assembly under Speaker Moses Wetang’ula and the Senate under Amason Kingi have presided over arguably the weakest, most compromised parliaments in our history.
The Senate, created to protect devolution, has become a parking lot for failed governors and political flower girls. Senators roar on TV, but when it comes time to hold county bosses accountable, they purr like kittens. County assemblies mirror the national rot, eating where they should be serving.
We are witnessing a Parliament that no longer legislates—it negotiates. A parliament that no longer oversees—it extorts. A parliament that no longer represents—it exploits.
“Lords of poverty” and the kettle-black presidency
This week, President William Ruto branded MPs “lords of poverty.” He is not wrong. MPs thrive when citizens are poor, because poverty makes voters pliant. A hungry electorate is an easy electorate. That is the ugly truth.
But before Ruto pats himself on the back for his moment of candor, let us remind him: he too is guilty. He rode to power on hustlers’ hope, with promises of relief from taxation and waste. Today, those hustlers are poorer than ever—crushed under punitive taxes imposed by his government. The same man who condemned over-taxation has become taxman-in-chief. The same man who promised frugality now presides over a government of excess.
When Ruto calls MPs ‘lords of poverty’, it is the kettle calling the pot black. Parliament sustains poverty. The Executive manufactures it. Together, they are architects of the national misery Kenyans endure daily.
A leadership of excess
Consider the obscene perks MPs award themselves: car grants, housing allowances, foreign trips, endless sitting allowances. All this while millions of Kenyans cannot put food on the table.
Parents watch their children sent home for fees. Hospitals run out of basic drugs. Farmers sell livestock for a pittance in drought-stricken counties.
Yet our lawmakers live like kings. Their luxury is financed by the very people trapped in despair.
The Executive is no better. Cabinet Secretaries once expected to be technocrats, now double as political mercenaries. Ministries are bloated with loyalists, while health, education and agriculture cry for reform
. Governance has been reduced to PR stunts and televised barazas, while policies that could genuinely ease the people’s burden are buried under bureaucracy and corruption.
The people’s complicity
But here is the bitter pill: these leaders are not imposed on us. They are elected by us. We choose tribe over principle. We choose handouts over vision. We dance at rallies, pocket a few hundred shillings, and then cry foul when the very leaders we cheered loot us blind.
Every time we excuse corruption because “he is our man,” every time we shrug off looting as “how politics works,” we drive another nail into the coffin of our democracy.
The constitution gave us power. Real power. It gave us tools to hold leaders accountable. Yet every election cycle, we waste that power. We sell our sovereignty for a T-shirt or a leso and a promise. Then we whine for five years.
2027: Kenya’s defining moment
In 2027, we will face another test. Another chance to break free of this self-inflicted cycle. Another chance to reject wolves dressed as shepherds. Another chance to exercise our vote responsibly.
The stakes could not be higher. If we get it wrong again, today’s poverty will harden into permanence. If we get it wrong again, we will entrench a cartel state—an Executive that manufactures misery and a Parliament that auctions our future.
President Ruto has spoken. MPs have protested. But their quarrel is theatre. The real battle is ours. The question is whether Kenyans will continue electing hyenas and expecting them to guard the sheep.
Kenya deserves better
We deserve better than a Parliament that legislates for itself and an Executive that governs for itself. We deserve leaders who see public office not as a feeding trough but as a sacred trust.
But that will not happen by accident. It will not happen by wishful thinking. It will only happen if we—the voters—rise above tribalism, handouts and empty slogans. If we demand integrity. If we punish betrayal at the ballot box.
2027 is not a rehearsal. It is a defining moment. If we fail again, we will have no one to blame but ourselves.
Wanjawa teaches Globalisation and International Development at Pwani University and is a Programs Associate at DTM, a media CSO
