MWAMISI: Why genuine Uhuru–Gachagua ceasefire is politically impossible

The idea that former President Uhuru Kenyatta and former Deputy President Rigathi Gachagua could enter into a lasting political truce is, at best, superficial.

Even if such a ceasefire were to occur, it would neither be genuine nor strategic. Kenyan politics does not sustain reconciliations that lack mutual dependence, and in this case, that condition is absent.

Uhuru does not need Gachagua in any material, organisational, or political sense, while Gachagua’s interest in détente is driven largely by survival. Any truce between the two would therefore amount to tactical optics rather than a meaningful realignment of interests.

Uhuru exited the presidency diminished in power—not erased from the political map but significantly weakened because he miscalculated with a Raila Odinga endorsement and support.

However, he retains Jubilee, a legally intact party with national recognition, organisational memory and residual loyalty across several regions. More importantly, he carries the intangible yet potent currency of a former head of state: access, legitimacy and the ability to convene.

Gachagua, by contrast, is a politician recently dethroned, stripped of office and in search of a new political home. Their interests do not intersect symmetrically.

Their fallout was neither benign nor forgettable. It was not a disagreement over ideology or policy; it was an acrimonious rupture marked by personal attacks and political revisionism.

The DCP leader’s public statements during the twilight of Uhuru’s presidency and in the aftermath are well documented. He did not merely distance himself from Uhuru; he actively repudiated him, questioned his leadership and framed his administration as hostile to Mount Kenya interests.

In politics, such language carries consequences. Memory is institutional, not emotional, and politicians rarely forget who humiliated them publicly.

Against that background, expectations of political harmony misunderstand the nature of power. Uhuru has no incentive to rehabilitate a man who built his recent political brand on disavowing him. Gachagua may seek accommodation for survival; Uhuru has the luxury of selectivity.

If the former president is to play any meaningful role in shaping the next political cycle—particularly within Mount Kenya—his most rational engagement lies not with perennial opposition figures but with President William Ruto.

This is not an endorsement of past antagonisms but an acknowledgement of present realities.

Ruto defeated Uhuru’s preferred succession plan not because Uhuru lacked influence but because Ruto out-organised, out-mobilised and outlasted his opponents.

Since assuming office, Ruto has demonstrated what Kenyan politics ultimately rewards: structure, discipline and momentum. United Democratic Alliance is no longer a campaign vehicle; it is rapidly becoming a dominant political machine.

Aspirants across the country are coalescing around it ahead of 2027, not out of ideological affinity but out of strategic calculation. Power attracts ambition, and ambition consolidates power. This is how political hegemonies are built.

Comparisons between Ruto and Kalonzo Musyoka expose a fundamental asymmetry. Kalonzo is experienced, courteous and measured, but he lacks political fire. He does not animate crowds; he does not unsettle opponents.

In an era of emotive politics, that restraint reads as coldness. Ruto, by contrast, is kinetic. He thrives in confrontation, adapts instinctively and speaks the language of political urgency. Kenyan politics has never been kind to the lukewarm.

It is no coincidence that the only contemporary figure comparable to Ruto’s political brilliance was the former ODM chief who died last October. Both understood that politics is not merely about being right but about being dominant.

Raila mastered the art of mobilisation, grievance articulation and narrative framing. Ruto has mastered organisation, timing and coalition management. Different styles, same instinct for power.

Wiper Democratic Movement’s limitations further underline this reality. Since Kalonzo’s break with Raila in 2005-06, the party has remained essentially regional, its influence concentrated in Ukambani.

Despite repeated rebranding efforts, it has failed to establish durable national structures or a compelling expansion narrative. Parties that cannot transcend geography do not shape presidential outcomes; they negotiate relevance at the margins.

As the country adjusts to a post-Raila political order, another phenomenon deserves scrutiny: the rise of politicians who mistake proximity to power for possession of it. ODM secretary-general Edwin Sifuna exemplifies this tendency.

Articulate, combative and media-savvy, Sifuna has positioned himself as a national voice. Yet politics, at its core, is transactional. To sit at the top table, one must bring something tangible—votes, structures, resources, or regional leverage.

Sifuna brings none of these. He lacks a political base he can command. In much of Luhyaland, he is scarcely known beyond urban elites and social media audiences.

Without grassroots structures or regional authority, he cannot dictate coalition terms. He cannot deliver blocs of votes, nor can he credibly threaten withdrawal. In realpolitik, that renders one ornamental rather than decisive.

In western Kenya, the enduring power brokers remain Musalia Mudavadi and Moses Wetang’ula. Whatever their limitations, they command identifiable constituencies and institutional networks. Coalitions are built around such figures, not around eloquence or television presence.

There is also something unseemly—and politically hollow—about the growing tendency among younger politicians to trade on their association with Raila.

The former Prime Minister’s stature was not inherited; it was earned through decades of sacrifice, detention, loss and relentless mobilisation. To invoke his name as political capital without possessing his organisational depth or moral authority is to misunderstand what made him formidable.

As Mount Kenya reconfigures itself in the aftermath of Gachagua’s fall, one truth stands out: political relevance will be determined less by rhetoric and more by alignment with power, organisation and credible pathways to 2027.

Uhuru, unencumbered by electoral ambition, will choose pragmatism over sentiment. Ruto, already in motion, will continue to consolidate. And those without structures, bases, or leverage will discover that visibility is not the same as influence.

Kenyan politics is unsentimental. It rewards preparation, not protestations. Those who forget this do so at their peril.