Democracy in Kenya was never allowed to fully take root. From the very beginning, at independence, it has been deliberately stunted by a political class that thrives on public despair. For decades, hopelessness has been used to keep the majority quiet, distracted and unaware that power belongs to them, and that they have the constitutional right to exercise it directly.
Chapter One of the Constitution begins with a simple but radical truth: All sovereign power belongs to the people. Yet this foundational principle has long been ignored and dismissed as abstract. As we learned from the gentleman from Homa Bay County: “The people shall... mandatory.” And this is the foundation of the now famous June 25th movement led by Gen Z.
The false narrative that the Kenyan proletarian has only one tool—his vote—has now been thoroughly debunked. The myth that civic power is limited to elections every five years has been shattered by a new generation that understands both the letter and spirit of the Constitution. This was sparked on June 25, 2024 and firmly confirmed in this week’s protests. The date is now etched in the country’s civic memory as the day young Kenyans breached Parliament, not just physically, but symbolically.
A protest that began as opposition to a punitive Finance Bill morphed into something deeper. A population long treated as spectators in their own democracy re-entered the arena with intent. What had once been voter apathy gave way to collective agency.
Fearful of public backlash
This awakening is not without historical context. Political theorists like Robert Putnam, Boix and Posner, and Alexis de Tocqueville have long argued that the strength of a democracy is not just found in its institutions, but in the civic. Where citizens are engaged, politically equal and bound by mutual trust and solidarity, institutions perform better, and governments grow more accountable. Putnam, underscored that the civic nature of a society, its depth of engagement, habits of cooperation, tolerance and mutual trust is what ultimately shapes the quality of governance. In such societies, public officials are forced to listen, and power becomes less about control and more about responsibility.
In Kenya, this theory is no longer confined to textbooks. It is playing out in real time. Young people who once dismissed politics as a rigged game now see it as their space to occupy and shape. In digital spaces, they dissect bills, debunk propaganda and demand accountability. They message their MPs directly, launch online petitions and expose opaque deals, from the Finance Bill to the failed Adani airport takeover. Lawmakers are no longer operating in secrecy. The people are alert and unrelenting.
The shift has rattled the ruling class. Some legislators now avoid tabling controversial motions, fearful of public backlash and digital organising, which they now call “cyber crimes” and are determined to “regulate”. Others have taken to quietly seeking validation from prominent youth voices online, hoping to co-opt them or neutralise their dissent. But the youth are not easily bought or distracted. They demand inclusion, not influence. Participation, not patronage.
Tocqueville said that civil associations are the bedrock of functioning democracies. When citizens organise and engage voluntarily, it builds social trust and strengthens collective responsibility. Boix and Posner argued that this civic engagement reduces the burden on State coercion, as people begin to enforce shared norms themselves. A population that helps write the rules is more likely to uphold them. This is already unfolding in Kenya, where public order is increasingly shaped by civic consensus rather than blind obedience.
Abductions and extrajudicial killings
Yet trust cannot exist in a vacuum. Kenya today suffers a dangerous trust deficit. Police officers, tasked with protecting the public, are now feared, as reports of brutality, abductions and extrajudicial killings continue to rise. Francis Fukuyama, writing in 1995, warned that trust is the engine of prosperity. It lowers transaction costs, enables cooperation and fuels innovation. Where trust is low, governance becomes expensive, society fractures and economic activity slows.
Kenya is now renegotiating its social contract. No longer satisfied with voting every five years, citizens, especially Gen Z, are demanding real-time participation. They are reclaiming power from representatives who forgot they were delegates, not rulers. As Rice and Feldman noted, an active citizenry views itself as a collective of equals and feels a duty to defend the public good. Kenya’s youth are embodying this principle. Their digital resistance is not simply activism. It is the practice of democracy itself.
Kenya is at a critical juncture where the old habits of secrecy, suppression and self-preservation are being challenged, not by opposition parties or foreign actors, but by the citizens themselves. Many of them are young. Most are connected, informed and courageous, ready to pay the ultimate price. They understand the Constitution better than those who swore to defend it. And they are refusing to be mere spectators.
Whether the ruling class evolves with this new political consciousness or clings to the decaying status quo will determine Kenya’s future. But one thing is certain: the people have remembered that power begins and ends with them.
The writer is a whistleblower, strategy consultant, and a startup mentor; nelsonamenya.com
