For years, ICT Principal Secretary Edward Kisiang’ani has paraded himself as a defender of the Constitution and a top-tier political analyst. But these days, he is less of a pundit and more of a walking, talking case study of severe Ruto Syndrome. With a very bruised ego. 

Kisiang’ani’s problem is not anger. It is hunger. Hunger for the spotlight. Hunger for relevance. His tummy may suggest that he has had enough. But no. His appetite for praise and his thirst for media worship are far from being quenched. He wants more. More headlines. More attention. More praise. 

For heaven’s sake, we are journalists. Not choir members singing Kisiang’ani’s, or the government’s praises. We don’t massage self-conceit, whether fragile or mighty. Our job is to tell the truth, not to babysit feelings. We don’t kneel. We don’t chant, and we definitely don’t massage bruised egos. A man of his standing should quit acting like a desperate teenager texting “hey” for the 15th time after being ignored. 

The media reports what is, not what he wishes was. If he wants validation that badly, he should try motivational speaking. Not politics. 

Probably you might not have noticed, but Kisiang’ani has a very sensitive stomach for the truth. If we report killings, he cries foul. If we expose corruption, he suddenly remembers press freedom has “limits”. With Ruto Syndrome, the man just loathes the media. 

You know things are bad when even good news causes panic. When we report that an MP is using NG-CDF wisely (building schools and fixing roads) they still get rattled. It’s almost as if they are allergic to development … or just shocked that someone isn’t eating the funds. 

Our very own People Daily pointed out that the government was taking a nap on duty. And just like that, Kisiang’ani woke up. Not to fix things. But to dish out summons in one hand, righteous anger in the other. 

Remember when a daily newspaper exposed how the government and a telecommunications company teamed up to snoop on Kenyans? That story shook the country, and rightfully so – our data and privacy had been thrown out the window. But Kisiang’ani, with his bruised ego, didn’t say a word. Not a single complaint about the telecom giant. With his ever-loyal allegiance, he just looked the other way. 

Another newspaper has been running bold headlines about how the government and Raila Odinga threw Kenyans under the bus. Kisiang’ani, in classic fashion, responded by yanking government ads from the paper. 

Kisiang’ani, in trying to punish the media house for its critical coverage by cancelling its media contract with the Ministry of Irrigation, only exposes the government’s deeper crisis. They don’t understand what truly ails their reputation or how to shift public perception. Pulling advertising won’t win them allies – it just makes the problem worse. 

If a media house struggles to pay its journalists, they’ll leave. And who replaces them? Legit Gen Z reporters – idealistic, fearless and with nothing to lose. They’ll come in hungry, determined to make a name for themselves with even sharper critiques and harder-hitting stories. 

Censorship through economic pressure isn’t control; it’s an open invitation for relentless scrutiny. 

Again, before Kisiang’ani got a government title, he was a media darling. The media gave him a stage. Turned him into a respected analyst and even polished his public image. Now that he is in government, he is treating journalists like enemies. An ungrateful guest. 

Power comes and goes, and Kisiang’ani is no exception. 

One day, he will be out. Maybe even sooner than he thinks if that PS reshuffle lands badly for him. And when that day comes, we will be right here, reminding him that we still won’t be available to babysit his bruised ego. 

— The writer is a Sub-Editor with People Daily