Since 2013, the same handful of men have rotated between the presidency, the deputy president’s office and the opposition benches, each presenting himself as the answer to a crisis he helped create, and the campaigns for 2027 promise another round. You can often recognise a populist by his promise to defend the common man against establishment elites, long before he takes office and the economic consequences of his policies become clear.
In 2017, Ray Dalio’s firm, Bridgewater Associates, studied 14 historical populist leaders across 10 countries. It found that populism grows when the common man becomes fed up with wealth and opportunity gaps, perceived cultural threats, establishment elites and a government that does not work effectively for him. This frustration brings strong leaders to power who are often confrontational rather than cooperative.
Their economic policies typically include protectionism, nationalism, increased infrastructure spending and larger budget deficits. The most important warning sign is how they handle conflict: can opposing sides coexist and make progress, or do they try to block and hurt each other until the government can no longer function?
Inequality is a legitimate concern, and infrastructure spending does not automatically make a government populist. The danger arises when a leader claims to speak for the people, casting critics as enemies, judges as saboteurs, journalists as agents and citizens demanding accountability as obstacles to development.
In 2013, Uhuru Kenyatta urged the world to let Kenyans choose their leaders. Amid the ICC cases, Jubilee cast Uhuru and William Ruto as defenders of sovereignty against Western interference, turning their prosecution into a national cause. In office, Uhuru reinforced this narrative, telling the African Union the ICC was the “toy of declining imperial powers”.
Large infrastructure projects offered visible evidence of delivery, but their value depended on what they cost, how they were procured and whether their benefits justified the borrowing. A road or railway does not become a sound investment simply because a president commissions it, and questioning its cost does not mean opposing development. The hostility towards scrutiny became unmistakable in 2017, when Uhuru called Supreme Court judges wakora after they annulled his election and promised to “revisit” the matter.
By 2022, the deputy president of the previous decade was campaigning as the outsider who would rescue hustlers from dynasties, an insurgency led from the centre of the government it denounced. In January 2024, amid court setbacks to government programmes, President Ruto accused judicial officials of corruption and denounced “judicial tyranny and judicial impunity”. Corruption allegations require investigation, but a president cannot make obedience to a judgment depend on whether it permits his programme to proceed.
In October 2025, Ruto warned that furniture importers would face heavy taxes and “sweat”. Kenyan carpenters deserve support, but dearer imported furniture does not make their workshops more productive. Protection must come with a credible programme to improve production, a timetable for assessing results and an explanation of what consumers will pay. Otherwise, households face higher prices without any assurance that local industry will become competitive.
When citizens challenged the Finance Bill’s demands for revenue in 2024, security forces responded with killings, abductions and torture documented by Human Rights Watch, because a government elected to serve struggling Kenyans had decided that their opposition to its economic decisions was a threat.
A competent government would improve education by equipping people with knowledge, practical skills, good character and a strong work ethic. It would reduce corruption by making public spending transparent, investigating wrongdoing and enforcing the law regardless of who is involved. It would bring Kenyans together by treating communities fairly, giving people equal opportunities and setting national goals that citizens can work towards together.
It would direct money and talent towards productive activities by funding projects based on their economic value and appointing people on merit.
It would help Kenyan businesses compete by lowering electricity and transport costs, improving access to credit and helping them adopt the best technology available. As production and incomes grow, it would reinvest in infrastructure, education, research and development, so that workers produce more for each hour worked and earn more.
It would expand trade by helping Kenyan firms reach regional and global markets, simplifying customs and keeping trade routes reliable. It would develop financial markets that turn savings into investment, allowing businesses to raise money to expand and innovate. Each step should strengthen the next, with progress measured through learning outcomes, productivity, exports, jobs and household incomes.
Candidates should explain how they would carry out this work, what it would cost and when citizens could expect results. A candidate who answers those questions with a slogan, an enemy and a headcount of his community is auditioning for the same role Kenya has filled since 2013, and we already know how that performance ends.
