In the heart of Kenya, a palpable tension courses through the streets as citizens gather in protest. Holding placards emblazoned with “WANTAM,” a slogan that creatively encapsulates their desire for President William Ruto to serve just a single term, they assertively raise their index fingers aloft. “He must go,” they declare, setting their sights on 2027, just four years away. Some even argue that three years too long.
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It might seem counterintuitive, but the rise of Kenya’s fifth president, Ruto, has been marked less by popularity and more by a rapid descent into unpopularity—a fate sealed within two years of assuming office. His introduction of ambitious tax measures, perceived by many as a betrayal of his promises to uplift the working class, sparked widespread outrage. Ruto has defended these taxes as essential for maintaining governmental operations. Yet, this justification has not soothed a discontented populace.
As protests crescendo, Ruto finds himself at the center of a growing storm. Last year, he weathered a vigorous tax-protest movement. Streets filled with thousands of youths shouting for change culminated in chaos that saw at least 22 lives lost during a violent clash at the parliamentary building in Nairobi. Ruto, firm in his resolve, stated, “That will not happen again.”
But now, the nation faces yet another wave of demonstrations, ignited by the tragic death of a blogger while in police custody. Many Kenyans view this incident as symptomatic of governmental failure, exacerbating an already volatile situation. “He has control of the institutions, but he doesn’t have control of the people,” reflects Karuti Kanyinga, an analyst and professor at the University of Nairobi. His words hint at a broader truth: Ruto’s governance may rest on shaky ground, marked by a glaring “low level of public confidence.” For many, he is now considered the most despised figure in the country.
As it stands, Ruto is likely to retain power until 2027. Yet, Kanyinga predicts an escalation of violence as young people and opposition leaders intensify their campaign for reform. “This is only the beginning,” he warns.
Central to the unrest is a deep-seated public discontent. Protesters are voicing their frustration over rampant corruption, characterized by the embezzlement of public resources and the ostentatious lifestyles of politicians. The characterizations of Ruto as “Zakayo,” a nod to the infamous tax collector Zacchaeus from biblical lore, resonate loudly, while others call him “mwizi,” meaning ‘thief’ in Kiswahili. This language reflects not merely dissatisfaction but an emotional undercurrent that pulls at the fabric of Kenyan society.
What fuels this anger further is the perception that Ruto engages in relentless deal-making, both transparent and opaque. A glaring example is his decision last year to annul a massive agreement worth approximately $2 billion with India’s Adani Group, which would have granted control over Kenya’s main airport. The timing of this disclosure, coming just months after violent protests against tax hikes, only added fuel to the fire. Many equate such moves with a ruler who is aloof and unyielding, a sentiment echoed by analysts.
Ruto’s frequent proclamations about widening the tax base seem to fall on deaf ears, particularly as discussions about new debt negotiations with the International Monetary Fund draw scrutiny. Critics argue that these reforms primarily benefit politicians and the elite, leaving vulnerable populations to bear the brunt of fiscal changes. In a conversation with Harvard Business School’s Class of 2025, Ruto remarked, “I cannot preside over a bankrupt country.” But who truly benefits, and at what cost?
“The protesters feel unheard, and a lingering grief festers from last year’s events,” notes Meron Elias, an analyst at the International Crisis Group. The emotional toll is evident. Peter Kairu, a 21-year-old student, expresses skepticism: “I don’t expect the government to address corruption and nepotism.” His perspective is a stark reminder of a generation wrestling with ideals of change.
Eileen Muga, grappling with unemployment in Nairobi, shares a chilling sentiment: “You almost disappear the moment you voice concerns about the government.” Her fears encapsulate a broader anxiety felt by many, forming a chilling backdrop against which the protests unfold.
Just last week, as thousands marched in Nairobi to commemorate last year’s protests against tax hikes, Ruto admonished his challengers. “I am not going anywhere,” he declared, claiming that if there’s no Kenya for him, there won’t be one for the citizens either. The speech, while intended to resonate as a call for unity, undoubtedly strikes fear in the hearts of many.
Interestingly, Ruto’s interior minister, Kipchumba Murkomen, has taken on a similarly forceful stance against the protesters, vowing to respond with stern measures. This increasingly aggressive opposition creates a tension-laden atmosphere, raising significant questions about the direction of Ruto’s administration.
Ruto’s political history is filled with maneuvering and power plays. As deputy president, he effectively outmaneuvered his predecessor, Uhuru Kenyatta, in what became a tumultuous power struggle. Reports of his displeasure with Kenyatta are familiar in political circles, revealing a man who tenaciously clings to authority. Having narrowly defeated Raila Odinga in the 2022 presidential election—widely backed by Kenyatta—he’s now co-opted Odinga into a more collaborative relationship, strategically eliminating a potential rival.
Yet, Ruto’s governing strategy suffered a palpable setback when he and his deputy, Rigathi Gachagua, found themselves at loggerheads. Legislative moves led to Gachagua’s impeachment, further amplifying perceptions of Ruto’s intolerance and mistrust—a sentiment many now attribute to his presidency.
Throughout his campaign, Ruto positioned himself as the champion of the “hustler nation,” a rallying cry aimed at economically empowering ordinary Kenyans. This message resonated deeply, particularly with the millions burdened by joblessness and inequality. However, after taking office, his narrative shifted. Ruto underscored a pressing need to make Kenya’s debt sustainable and introduced controversial tax hikes merely months into his presidency—a move that left many wondering if he had indeed overpromised.
“There’s a palpable sense of disappointment,” says attorney Eric Nakhurenya, a government policy analyst. “That’s why Kenyans are angry.”
As the protests continue to unfold, one can’t help but wonder: where do we go from here?
Is there still hope for reform, or will this cycle of discontent become a grim hallmark of Ruto’s administration?
In the face of uncertainty, the people of Kenya grow restless, holding steadfast to the dream of a government that listens and acts on the behalf of its citizens.
Edited By Ali Musa
Axadle Times international–Monitoring
