I am not a politician or a lawyer. I am someone who believes in the power of technology to build, not break, our country. But this month, Kenya reminded us just how fast that power can shift.

It started with a tweet. A simple tool created by Rose Njeri, a young software developer. Her bot enabled Kenyans to submit objections to the Finance Bill 2025 directly to Parliament via social media. No protests. No shouting. Just code. The bot did what every civic education programme dreams of making public participation easy and real. Within 48 hours, it had processed over 13,000 submissions. She was arrested soon after, under the Computer Misuse and Cybercrimes Act. Her crime? Making public participation easy.

The message of her arrest was unsettling. It warned young computer scientists that they may get into trouble if their code is too powerful. Or worse. This is the same law used in over 50 percent of digital-related arrests in Kenya since 2020, according to the Bloggers Association of Kenya. A law meant to protect digital space is now being used to shrink it.

Then came the death of Albert Ojwang, a blogger. He died in police custody. Initially, silence. Then denial. Then, finally, the truth was confirmed by President Ruto himself: Ojwang passed on at the hands of the police. In just one week, we lost both a voice and a right.

This is not just about two people. It is about a power shift. Kenya has over 10 million active X users, with most of them under the age of 40. This generation organises, educates, and protests online. They don’t go to town halls; they build them digitally. Their hashtags trend faster than most government press briefings.

A 2024 report from Policy, a civic tech organisation, found that 68 percent of Kenyan youth trust online platforms more than traditional institutions for civic engagement. But with that trust comes tension. Because what was once dismissed as “just tweets” now shapes public opinion and public pressure. We are witnessing a shift. Young people, accustomed to Wi-Fi, are rethinking traditional methods of activism such as rallies, press conferences, and street demonstrations. And some in power are not ready. So they regulate. They intimidate. They arrest.

As an innovation evangelist, I celebrate tech that serves people. Yet, this technological advancement is overshadowed by the State’s fear of it, preventing me from fully celebrating. We must not criminalise creativity. We must not punish participation. Instead of being seen as tools for inclusion, these innovations are treated as threats. However, the paramount threat is not the technology itself, but the unwillingness to heed warnings.

Let us be clear: Kenya’s youth are not just angry. They are builders. Coders. Organisers. They are shaping the future, often with nothing but a smartphone and an idea.

If Kenya is to grow, it must grow with its innovators. I am not against them. Let us build systems that protect digital freedoms, not crush them. Let us not be afraid of civic tech. The future of our democracy may well depend on this.

The writer is an Innovations Evangelist and a PhD Candidate; machariamuhoho@gmail.com