IMANI: Kigame’s idea to put a price on political promises may help hold leaders accountable

Yet, for many citizens, these pledges have become a bitter currency, often devalued by broken commitments once the ballots are counted.

It is against this backdrop that a provocative proposal by public commentator and musician Reuben Kigame has reignited a crucial national conversation.

Kigame has proposed a radical legal remedy to political dishonesty: a law that would criminalise deliberate lies told by politicians to secure votes.

Under his proposal, a leader who promises to drill a borehole or build a road—and fails to deliver within their term—would face jail time or have their property confiscated to fulfil the pledge.

While Kigame’s proposal may sound drastic, it touches on a wound in Kenya’s democratic practice: the widening gap between campaign rhetoric and post-election performance.

The current legal framework addresses specific electoral malpractices but falls short of criminalising unfulfilled campaign pledges.

This makes it difficult to effectively hold leaders accountable for their campaign promises.

This has probably contributed as one reason Gen Z are more hands-on in dealing with matters, seeing as there's little hope for recourse from institutions—especially where politicians are found ‘deficient’.

While some instruments are available, they are largely ineffective.

Consider the Election Offences Act which primarily deals with the conduct of the election itself. It penalises bribery, treating it as a serious offence. Yet, the vice still goes on, with politicians openly flaunting such activities and walking scot-free.

More recently, Parliament passed the Election Offences (Amendment) (No. 2) Bill, 2024, which seeks to strengthen accountability for electoral officials—such as IEBC officers who delay results. But its provisions on candidates primarily focus on false statements about a candidate's character or collusion with officials, not the veracity of their development promises.

The law is currently structured to ensure a free and fair voting day, not to police the content of campaign manifestos for the subsequent five years.

The Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission noted in a recent statement that its enforcement powers under the Electoral Code of Conduct are typically limited to the official campaign period, leaving a constitutional gap once a candidate is sworn into office.

This gap is where the concept of "political accountability" becomes critical.

Organisations like the Kenya Human Rights Commission define political accountability as public officials taking responsibility for their actions and decisions, emphasising that it "promotes transparency, builds public trust and allows citizens to assess their leaders’ performance".

Currently, the primary tools for assessing performance are the ballot box every five years and the largely defunct right of recall.

The right to recall, enshrined in Article 104 of the constitution, was intended to be a powerful tool for citizens to remove errant MPs before their term ends.

However, this right has become a "legal illusion". Following a 2017 High Court ruling, Parliament failed to amend the law for MPs and Senators, meaning that while county assembly members can be recalled, national legislators remain shielded from mid-term accountability.

A functional recall mechanism would allow constituents to remove a leader who, after promising a road, spends five years in slumber.

Kigame’s proposal, therefore, attempts to address a genuine constitutional deficit. It seeks to transform a moral contract between a leader and the electorate into a legally binding one.

While the idea of jailing a politician for a broken promise faces significant hurdles—including the difficulty of proving "deliberate" intent versus resource constraints—it resonates with a populace weary of empty rhetoric.

Nonetheless, vague legal provisions criminalising false statements could threaten freedom of expression. Any new law targeting "lies" by politicians would need to be carefully crafted to avoid being weaponised against dissent or political rivals, a scenario that played out with the Computer Misuse and Cybercrimes Act.

Looking forward, the quest for "people-centred" accountability may not lie solely in punitive jail terms for unfulfilled promises. Instead, a more sustainable path appears to be the operationalisation of existing constitutional tools.

For instance, there is a demand for the full implementation of Nadco’s recommendations to ensure that election pledges are treated as binding contracts through public participation and oversight. But to actualise this would require political goodwill, which doesn't seem to be in plenty supply.

Whether the solution is criminal prosecution, a revived recall law, or a cultural shift where voters prioritise track records over promises, the demand for integrity is no longer a passive hope; it is becoming a constitutional demand.

For now, the law does not provide for the jailing of leaders for unfulfilled campaign promises. But the debate Kigame has sparked signals that the electorate is no longer content to wait five years for justice. As one activist put it during a push for electoral reforms, the goal is to ensure that leaders understand they are "public servants, removable and responsive"—not rulers entitled to a five-year holiday from accountability.