Central Organisation of Trade Unions (Cotu) Secretary-General Francis Atwoli gestures during a press conference where he urged Raila Odinga to call off his planned swearing-in as the people's president in 2017.
On paper, the Francis Atwoli-led Central Organisation of Trade Unions (Cotu) was born, 60 years ago, to unify Kenya’s fragmented labour movement. But in reality, it was conceived as a political tool to contain the rise of an independent and militant workers’ front that threatened Jomo Kenyatta’s consolidation of power.
When Mzee Kenyatta engineered the formation of Cotu in 1965, he made a declaration that has lived beyond its promise: that "Kenya must have industrial peace.” The envisaged “peace” was an era of political obedience in which the umbrella workers’ body did not exist to destabilise the workings of the capitalist economy.
Unlike other umbrella labour bodies that emerged from worker activism, Cotu was born from a deliberate effort by the State to control independent and radical unions. It was Mzee Kenyatta’s way of building a postcolonial state – a space where political obedience would thrive and radicalism was muted.
The first Cotu Secretary General was the pro-government Clement Lubembe, who came from Tom Mboya’s Kenya Federation of Labour (KFL) faction and was selected as a compromise candidate. He was deputised by Denis Akumu from the rival Kenya African Workers’ Congress (KAWC) in the power-sharing arrangement encouraged by Mzee Kenyatta.
What has followed in the last six decades has been a delicate dance between the Cotu leadership and the Executive where workers’ rights have often been sacrificed at the altar of supposed national stability and economic growth. State House, the seat of power and birthplace of Cotu, became the playground where the labour leaders often kowtowed to the Executive tunes.
This may explain Francis Atwoli’s recent statement expressing his willingness to work with President Ruto to create an enabling environment for Kenyan workers, as well as to continue advocating for their rights. This declaration comes despite the fact that, during the election campaigns, Mr Atwoli had accused Dr Ruto of corruption. The Secretary-General has led the labour movement since 2001 and over the years has worked with Presidents Daniel arap Moi, Mwai Kibaki, Uhuru Kenyatta, and now William Ruto.
To understand the modern-day Cotu, it is important to unpack why it is a shadow of other umbrella organisations such as the Congress of South African Trade Unions (Cosatu). The South African union has historically maintained a strong ideological identity rooted in Marxist and workerist traditions. Interestingly, Cosatu has always had linkages with the ruling African National Congress (ANC).
President William Ruto and Cotu Secretary-General Francis Atwoli during the 60th Labour Day celebrations at Uhuru Gardens National Stadium in Nairobi County on May 1, 2025.
Let’s start from the beginning. A year after Kenya became independent, some trade unionists–among them Denis Akumu, Peter Oduya, and Ochola Mak’Anyengo – broke away from Mboya’s Kenya Federation of Labour (KFL) to form the Kenya Federation of Progressive Trade Unions, which was later renamed the Kenya African Workers’ Congress (KAWC). The Akumu-led body presented itself as a bold and militant alternative to the KFL, which had grown cosy with government elites and foreign donors.
It was also said that Labour Minister Ngala Mwendwa was openly sympathetic to Mboya’s KFL, and offered it preferential treatment. The first was recognition at the International Labour Organisation, the exclusive participation in the Labour Advisory Board and a privileged seat in government negotiations.
The battle for the control of labour organisations in Kenya soon became a contest between Mboya and Jaramogi Oginga Odinga. While KAWC started with fewer affiliated unions, it quickly gained mass support. People from key sectors – dock workers, oil workers, quarry miners, construction workers, and railway employees–streamed into its ranks. Public rallies in Nairobi, Mombasa, and Kisumu drew thousands and a quiet revolution was underway.
This move shook the foundations of Mboya’s once-dominant KFL. But by the mid-1960s, Mboya was a government minister, and KFL’s leadership had become increasingly aligned with the State’s interests. The controversy started during the signing of a tripartite agreement that was to freeze wages and strikes during a time of rampant unemployment. While KFL signed the agreement, KAWC refused. Its leaders argued that workers should not bear the brunt of economic stagnation and called out the government for being too soft on employers. Consequently, more unions broke ranks with Mboya’s KFL to join KAWC. A crisis was now brewing, and Mzee Kenyatta was under pressure to intervene. His solution was to set up a commission of inquiry to investigate the state of the labour movement.
But all the appointed ministers in the inquiry were pro-KFL, prompting KAWC to threaten a boycott. The President added two respected nationalists with Pan-African credentials – Achieng Oneko and Joseph Murumbi. In its report, the commission recommended the dissolution of both the KFL and the KAWC. In their place would rise a new unified body that came up with an uneasy marriage: Cotu.
Former trade unionist Dennis Akumu.
In the inaugural elections, three names rose to the top: Clement Lubembe (KFL), Denis Akumu (KAWC), and Stephen Kioni the first secretary general of the Kenya National Union of Teachers. To avoid reigniting factional tensions in the fragile unity, Mzee Kenyatta personally oversaw a power-sharing formula – Lubembe became general secretary, Akumu his deputy, and Kioni the assistant.
From the onset, the scars of division were apparent. Former KFL-affiliated unions remained tightly tethered to government positions. Some were even accused of receiving clandestine foreign funding from Western-aligned federations. This prompted a tug-of-war within Cotu itself.
In 1966, the split became political as Jaramogi quit the ruling party Kanu. Thirteen trade union leaders, fed up with what they saw as betrayal of the worker, resigned from Kanu citing the government's failure to implement wage policies, its negligence towards the unemployed, and bias in favour of wealthy employers. Lubembe, under pressure, called an emergency meeting and suspended the 13 leaders from Cotu. Dennis Akumu and Ochola Mak’Anyengo were later detained as threats to national security.
Tom Mboya.
With Jaramogi politically neutralised, a new storm began to swirl within Kanu. Mboya’s leadership of Cotu, through Lubembe, was interpreted as a threat to the oligarchs around Mzee Kenyatta. Akumu, released from detention in May 1967, re-entered the labour scene with ferocity. By February 1969, he unseated Lubembe in a heated election for the Cotu secretary-generalship, sweeping in with a team of loyalists who took control of the executive committee. Just months later, Mboya was assassinated, and Akumu’s grip on the movement tightened further.
The government would only survive Akumu by creating divisions within Cotu and that is how the James Karebe faction, aligned to the old KFL, emerged. As the battles continued, Mzee Kenyatta again ordered an election in 1975 after meeting the factions at State House. Juma Boy was elected and the President appointed Karebe as deputy secretary-general. This did not end the deep divisions.
It was only after Mzee Kenyatta’s death in August 1978 and the ascent of Daniel arap Moi that Juma Boy’s faction cemented its dominance. The labour movement, once split by ethnicity, now evolved into a political arena. Like Akumu before him, Juma Boy had one foot in the union and another in Parliament, representing Kwale Central Constituency from 1969. In 1983, Juma Boy travelled to England for heart surgery. He would not return alive.
Juma Boy was succeeded by Justus Mulei, the man who steered the organisation through the stormy years that followed the failed 1982 coup. Mulei’s reign saw the body held hostage by the ruling party. In 1986, and under pressure, he quietly handed over the mantle of leadership to Joseph Mugalla, a pro-Kanu trade unionist.
Joseph Mugalla’s reign began in a political climate thick with fear and suspicion. The ouster of Attorney General Charles Njonjo in 1984 had marked the climax of a brutal political purge. Cotu became less a defender of the worker and more a mouthpiece of the ruling party. By 1990, the union was officially tethered to Kanu, its independence smothered in the name of “national unity.” When the opposition planned the historic Saba Saba rally that year, hoping to spark a return to multi-party politics, Cotu condemned the movement. As opposition leaders Kenneth Matiba, Charles Rubia, and Raila Odinga were whisked into detention, the union's silence was deafening – its solidarity with the state louder than any slogan.
Broke ranks
In December 1991, 15 powerful unions broke ranks with Cotu. Led by Wafula wa Musamia of the Kenya Quarry and Mine Workers Union, they declared Cotu a compromised institution. But the Moi regime was unyielding. Registration of the new federation was blocked and with no legal recognition, the breakaway union was strangled.
In April 1993, as economic despair tightened its grip, Mugalla led a rebellion. No longer had the government’s lapdog, Cotu demanded a 100 per cent wage hike and the dismissal of Finance Minister George Saitoti. The government offered 17 per cent.
Mugalla, who was also serving as an MP, called for a nationwide strike - a bold move that led to his arrest and a charge of incitement. But the case quickly crumbled in court. Undeterred, the government staged a dramatic piece of political theatre: a breakaway faction within Cotu, led by Johnson Ogendo, held an illegal meeting where they announced a new leadership.
Mugalla pushed back and ultimately prevailed. But in 2001, he was succeeded by Francis Atwoli, whose cosy relationship with the government ensured that Cotu remained tethered to the state — just as Mzee Kenyatta had envisioned decades earlier. Today, at Solidarity House, the echoes of a once-radical workers’ movement have all but faded. Labour Day rallies, once brimming with defiance and purpose, now suffer from poor turnout and lack the revolutionary spirit of the past.
