Kenya stands at an inflection point in its long and often painful journey toward justice. The publication of the Reparations Guidelines, 2026 by the Kenya National Commission on Human Rights is a moral signal, not merely a technical or administrative milestone. It affirms that as a nation, we are prepared to confront past injustices with honesty, and more importantly, with action.
But if we are to be candid, guidelines alone do not deliver justice. Implementation does. And implementation, if it is to be meaningful, must be anchored in a clear philosophy of governance.
From where I stand, as governor of Mombasa and as a leader shaped by social democratic values, reparations must be understood not just as compensation for harm, but as instruments for correcting inequality and restoring dignity in a substantive, enduring way.
At their core, the guidelines adopt a broad and progressive definition of reparations, encompassing compensation, restitution, rehabilitation, satisfaction and guarantees of non-repetition. This is consistent with global best practice. However, the real question is whether we will interpret these provisions narrowly, as a checklist exercise, or expansively, as a framework for transformation.
For far too long, many Kenyan communities have lived with the lingering effects of historical injustices whether through state excesses, systemic marginalisation, or economic exclusion.
In such a context, reparations cannot be reduced to individual payouts. They must also speak to collective harm. Entire communities have borne the cost of past violations, and it is only just that they are recognised and supported collectively.
This is why a stronger emphasis on community-level interventions (schools, health facilities, economic infrastructure) must be central to the reparations agenda.
Equally important is accessibility. The guidelines rightly emphasise that the process must be inclusive and non-discriminatory. Yet we know from experience that many citizens, particularly the poor, the vulnerable and those in informal settlements, are often excluded not by law, but by logistics.
If reparations are to be meaningful, they must be brought closer to the people. This means decentralising registration and verification processes, leveraging county structures and actively reaching out to those who might otherwise remain invisible.
Rehabilitation is another area where we must be deliberate. The guidelines recognise the need for medical, psychological and social support for victims. This is not a peripheral issue.
Many victims of human rights violations carry invisible wounds: trauma, anxiety, loss of livelihood and social dislocation. Reparations that do not address these realities are incomplete. We must therefore integrate rehabilitation into our public health systems, ensuring that victims have sustained access to care, including mental health services, not just one-off interventions.
There is also an economic dimension that cannot be ignored. Human rights violations often result in lost opportunities; jobs that were never secured, businesses that never recovered, education that was interrupted. The guidelines acknowledge this, but we must go further.
Reparations should actively restore economic agency. This means linking victims to livelihood programmes, skills development and access to capital. It also means ensuring that they are not left at the margins of economic growth, but are deliberately included in it.
Perhaps the most critical pillar, however, is the guarantee of non-repetition. Reparations are not only about the past but they are also about the future. The guidelines call for accountability, institutional reform and stronger oversight.
These are not optional extras; they are the foundation of public trust. Citizens must see that violations have consequences, that institutions are capable of reform and that the state is committed to protecting rights going forward. Without this, reparations risk being perceived as an attempt to close a chapter without truly addressing its causes.
Transparency will also determine the credibility of this process. The provisions on reporting, record-keeping and audit are essential, but they must be brought to life.
Kenyans deserve to know how many claims have been received, how decisions are made and how resources are allocated. A transparent, publicly accessible system for tracking progress would go a long way in building confidence and ensuring accountability.
Finally, we must confront the question of financing. Reparations cannot be an unfunded mandate. If we are serious about justice, then we must be equally serious about resourcing it.
This calls for a deliberate national commitment, including the establishment of a dedicated reparations fund and clear frameworks for collaboration between national and county governments.
The promise of the Reparations Guidelines, 2026 is real. They provide us with a structure, a language and a starting point. But whether they succeed will depend on the choices we make now. Will we treat reparations as a procedural obligation, or as an opportunity to reshape our social contract?
For me, the answer is clear. Justice must be felt, not just declared. It must be seen in the lives of those who have waited longest for it. And it must leave our society more equal, more humane and more united than we found it.
That is the test before us. And it is one we cannot afford to fail.
The writer is ODM deputy leader and Mombasa governor
