ODM rebels during a rally in Kitengela, Kajiado county /EZEKIEL AMING'A
The violence in Kitengela last Sunday offered a revealing glimpse into a growing pattern in Kenya’s political theatre: noise is increasingly mistaken for leadership, disruption for mobilisation and spectacle for substance.
Politicians appeared eager to exploit the cosmopolitan character of Kitengela by ferrying in youths from elsewhere and staging unrest that created the impression of local support.
Residents, traders and boda boda operators observed unfamiliar faces and organised movement more consistent with mobilisation than spontaneous community protest, turning what should have been an authentic civic expression into a carefully choreographed confrontation.
At the centre of the political noise that followed was the ousted ODM secretary-general Edwin Sifuna, alongside other opposition voices who quickly framed the unrest as evidence of national dissatisfaction.
But the choreography felt familiar: amplify discontent, weaponise youthful frustration, then claim moral authority over the resulting disorder. In communities such as Kitengela, where traders depend on daily foot traffic and informal workers live hand to mouth, chaos is not activism. It is economic sabotage.
Kenya has, over time, developed an unfortunate tendency to equate volume with legitimacy. Those who shout the loudest dominate headlines, trend online and position themselves as indispensable national voices.
Measured reasoning and patient policy work rarely generate the same attention. This distortion rewards theatrics over thought and elevates political brinkmanship above governance.
This is why the reassembly of the so-called united opposition feels less like a renewal of ideas and more like a recycling of familiar scripts. Rigathi Gachagua, Kalonzo Musyoka and Eugene Wamalwa have each held high office or occupied spaces close enough to power to influence national direction.
Yet their present messaging leans heavily on grievance and mobilisation rather than a coherent programme for economic revival, institutional reform, or social cohesion.
Kenya’s democratic space thrives on dissent, and rightly so. Contestation sharpens policy, exposes excess and keeps power accountable. Yet dissent loses its civic value when it becomes performance rather than principle. In recent seasons, a familiar script has emerged in which some politicians package themselves as ready-made solutions to every prevailing challenge.
They position themselves as the voice of the suffering citizen, the custodian of justice and the lone defender of constitutional order, yet their record in office or proximity to power rarely supports such sweeping claims.
What is presented as courage often amounts to calibrated outrage, and what is sold as reform frequently dissolves into slogans once the microphones are switched off.
This is the season for such political theatre. Economic strain, youth anxiety and public frustration create fertile ground for messianic messaging. In these moments, theatrical indignation travels faster than patient policy work. Press briefings replace programme design. Street optics substitute for institutional reform.
The language of rescue is deployed without the discipline of implementation. It is not dissent that is the problem, but dissent emptied of ideas and repackaged as personal branding.
Yet beneath the theatre lies the real prize: Gen Z. As the country edges towards 2027, young voters have become the most coveted constituency in Kenyan politics.
They are digitally connected, politically alert and deeply frustrated by unemployment and limited economic mobility. Every political formation now claims to speak for them. But the clamour for Gen Z support cannot be sustained by rhetoric alone. It must be grounded in immediate, visible solutions.
If politicians possess the resources to finance rallies, logistics and mobilisation, then they also possess the capacity to create opportunity. Why not channel those funds into start-up capital for youth enterprises, vocational tools for artisans, innovation hubs and cooperative financing models? Why not support local manufacturing clusters, agribusiness value chains and digital outsourcing centres that can absorb thousands of young people?
Youth empowerment cannot wait for campaign seasons; it must begin now. Youth don’t care if they are supported by well-wishers, government, opposition or whomever! The opposition must know that they carry a responsibility in this sense, as does the government of the day that is doing its part through Nyota and related projects.
There is an uncomfortable contradiction in the current political moment. Some leaders spend heavily to stage demonstrations and maintain political visibility, yet present themselves as champions of the struggling citizen.
Money flows readily for mobilisation but appears scarce when it comes to building enterprises, funding skills training, or supporting community initiatives. The language of solidarity rings hollow when not accompanied by tangible empowerment.
The contrast is particularly stark when placed against ongoing government efforts aimed at youth inclusion through infrastructure expansion, digital economy initiatives, affordable housing projects and labour export programmes designed to widen employment pathways.
These initiatives may not be perfect, but they reflect an attempt to create structured opportunity rather than episodic mobilisation. If the urgency expressed in opposition rhetoric is genuine, then constructive engagement with such programmes would strengthen outcomes rather than weaken them.
Opposition politics plays a vital role in democratic governance. It interrogates policy, exposes excess and ensures accountability. However, effective opposition does more than protest; it proposes, negotiates and refines.
If the issues being raised are as urgent as claimed, then constructive engagement with government institutions, parliamentary processes and policy forums becomes a patriotic obligation rather than a political concession.
The exploitation of youth anger is particularly troubling. Young people deserve pathways to employment, entrepreneurship and civic participation, not inducements to serve as foot soldiers in political contests.
When demonstrations are populated by individuals transported from Nairobi rather than local residents, the line between genuine civic expression and political staging becomes dangerously blurred.
Kenya stands at a generational crossroads. Gen Z voters are not merely a voting bloc; they are the country’s productive future. Winning their trust requires authenticity, measurable action and a willingness to invest in their potential long before ballots are cast.
The politics of volume may dominate the present moment, but the politics of solutions will define the future. Leaders who truly seek the confidence of young Kenyans must move beyond slogans and spectacle to deliver opportunity, dignity, and inclusion now.
Anything less is not mobilisation. It is performance. These politicians are moneyed, and they should go to homes where kids lack school fees and support, for instance.
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