Kenya killing its future: Gen-Z blood will haunt the Ruto regime 

Across the world today, the most dynamic force for political, social and economic transformation is not found in dusty parliaments or ageing presidencies.

It is found in the boldness, creativity and restless idealism of youth, and nowhere more so than among the so-called Gen Z generation. 

In the last decade, they have taken centre stage, shaking entrenched systems, demanding new ways of thinking, and pushing stagnant societies towards long-overdue change. 

In Chile, it was the student-led movement that forced a referendum to rewrite the constitution inherited from the dictatorship.

In Hong Kong, Gen Z protesters led the fight for civil liberties against an increasingly authoritarian regime. In Nigeria, the #EndSARS movement ignited a reckoning on police brutality and government corruption.

In Taiwan, it is young voters and innovators who are reshaping the island into one of the most dynamic democracies in Asia. In Vietnam and Indonesia, youthful entrepreneurship and digital innovation are driving economic miracles. 

The common thread in these stories is that countries willing to embrace rather than repress their youth are reaping enormous benefits.

They are refreshing tired democracies, powering new industries and healing long-standing wounds of inequality and corruption. Under  President William Ruto, Kenya, sadly, is taking the opposite path. 

Here, we are watching a tragic and deliberate campaign to suffocate youthful energy, to silence dissent and, most horrifically, to kill the very generation whose vision and vitality this country desperately needs.

One year after the June 2024 Finance Bill Protests, where scores of young Kenyans were gunned down for demanding a better future, the pattern has become undeniable. 

The killings are not spontaneous. They are not the isolated actions of rogue officers. They are part of a cold and calculated effort, orchestrated by elements within the political elite and the shadowy security apparatus, to crush new thinking before it can take root. 

The June 25, 2024, massacre, for massacre it was, exposed the brutal lengths to which the state will go to protect a rotten status quo.

Gen Zs across the country had risen in unprecedented numbers, fuelled not by ethnic loyalties or political tribalism but by a common dream that Kenya could be better than this.

They protested against a Finance Bill that was both morally obscene and economically ruinous, a bill that punished the poor with punitive taxes while shielding the wealth of a tiny elite. 

But their demands went far beyond fiscal policy. They called out corruption. They called for transparency. They demanded that leaders be held accountable for decades of economic mismanagement, spiralling debt and broken promises.

They wanted a country that works for all, not just for the privileged few. And for this, they were met with bullets. 

Across the streets of Nairobi, Kisumu, Mombasa, Nakuru and Eldoret, peaceful demonstrators were shot in broad daylight. In estates like Kayole and Mathare, young men were rounded up and executed under the cover of night. In universities, student leaders were arrested or disappeared.

Online activists faced surveillance, harassment and arbitrary detention. The message was clear; dissent would be punished with death. 

New generation 

Let us not deceive ourselves. This violence is not accidental. It is political. It serves a purpose. 

Kenya’s old guard understands the threat posed by a new generation of Kenyans who reject ethnic politics, who see through the empty rhetoric of “development,” and who are unwilling to be silenced.

This is a generation that is connected to the world,  that draws inspiration from global movements, and that demands the same rights and opportunities enjoyed by their peers in more just societies. 

That is precisely why they are being hunted. To understand how dangerous this path is, we must look beyond our borders. Nigeria’s #EndSARS protests in 2020 offer a sobering parallel. 

What began as a peaceful movement against police brutality was met with lethal force, most infamously during the Lekki Toll Gate massacre. The Nigerian government sought to crush the protests through fear and violence. 

Yet, the long-term result has been deeper political polarisation, massive youth disillusionment, and a brain drain that is hollowing out Nigeria’s economy. Young Nigerians, disgusted by state violence, are emigrating in record numbers.

Many no longer believe in peaceful change, a cautionary example for countries like Kenya facing similar tensions between an awakening youth and a fearful political elite. 

Hong Kong tells a similar story. When youthful protesters were met with tear gas, mass arrests and draconian laws, the city’s standing as a free and open society was destroyed.

Thousands of talented young people fled abroad. Innovation stalled. The creative industries withered under censorship and repression. 

In contrast, countries that have embraced youthful energy are reaping rewards. Vietnam, often cited as a model of rapid development, has deliberately invested in its young population by fostering digital literacy, entrepreneurship and civic engagement.

Indonesia, the world’s fourth-largest democracy, has seen Gen Z and millennial voters reshape national politics, pushing leaders toward reform.

Even in Rwanda, one of Africa’s most tightly controlled states, strategic investment in youth leadership and tech-driven enterprises has powered sustained economic growth. 

Kenya, once a beacon of promise in East Africa, risks being left behind. Already, the signs are ominous. Emigration among skilled young Kenyans is rising sharply.

More and more bright minds are seeking opportunities in Europe, North America, and even other African states. 

Disillusionment is growing. A generation that should be building businesses, leading communities and revitalising politics is instead being silenced, or killed. 

We must ask ourselves, who benefits from this bloodshed? The answer is painfully obvious. The corrupt political cartels, the entrenched bureaucracies and the tribal kingpins who fear the rise of a post-ethnic, meritocratic generation. It is they who profit from fear. It is they who order the killings. It is they who protect the killers. 

State propaganda 

The police officers who pull the trigger are not acting on personal initiative. They are acting with the knowledge that they will be shielded from accountability. Investigations stall. 

Parliamentary oversight is paralysed. State propaganda reframes murdered youths as “thugs.” 

The machinery of impunity grinds on. 

Perhaps the most sinister aspect of this campaign is its future orientation. These killings are not just about controlling protests today.

They are about sending a message to tomorrow’s potential activists that to speak out is to risk death. It is an attempt to normalise fear. To embed submission deep in the national psyche. 

But this must not stand. Kenya cannot thrive while murdering its future. We cannot build an economy by burying our best and brightest.

We cannot nurture democracy while criminalising youthful dissent. We cannot claim to be a civilised nation when our streets run red with the blood of young patriots. 

One year on, we must remember every young Kenyan who fell in this undeclared war. And among them, we must say the name of Albert Ojwang.

Ojwang was no criminal. No thug. No threat to society. He was a sharp, principled, courageous young Kenyan, the kind of voice this country desperately needs.

For daring to ask questions that others feared to ask, for standing against injustice, he was murdered. Not by accident, not by chance, but by design, by human hands serving a faceless system of fear and terror. 

Extra-judicial murder 

Ojwang’s death is not just a personal tragedy. It is a national indictment. His killers, like the killers of so many others, sleep tonight behind walls of privilege. But justice has a long memory. 

The families of the fallen will never forget. Nor should we. 

But do not get it twisted. This is not a call for revenge. No parent should ever suffer the loss of a child, at least not in such a tragic and needless manner.

But perhaps the deeper punishment is this – may Ojwang’s killers never lose their own. May their children live long, safe and free, and may that freedom haunt those who denied another parent that same joy. 

Let us not pretend ignorance. In slums, in opposition strongholds, in universities, the pattern of extra-judicial murder is clear. We are being taught to mourn without resistance, to normalise atrocity.

But this time, we must not move on. If we allow this violence to become the new normal, we are not victims; we are accomplices. The blood on the streets will stain us all. 

Kenya stands at a crossroads. We can embrace the transformative power of our youth, as other nations have done, and build a future worthy of their dreams. Or we can continue down this bloodstained path, and condemn ourselves to stagnation, decline and utter mediocrity.

The choice is ours.

But the clock is ticking. For a nation that kills its youth is a nation killing its own future. And the blood of this generation will haunt us all – and the ruling Ruto regime. 

The writer is a lecturer and PhD student in International Relations at USIU-Africa. 

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