The brutal suppression of economic activists who speak truth to those in power is now becoming a chilling reminder that the rot in Kenya’s political system runs deep.

Activists like Kebaso Morara, who have been exposing the government’s failures and lies, are being targeted, and the crackdown reveals a government terrified of accountability. What are they hiding?

The saying, “The more things change, the more they stay the same” could not ring truer in Kenya. Whistleblowers like Morara and John Githongo are treated as enemies of the State, their only “crime” being their efforts to unveil the corruption that has gripped the nation for decades.

This culture of silence and intimidation isn’t new – it’s a repeat of what happened to Githongo, whose shocking revelations of graft during President Mwai Kibaki’s tenure exposed the scandalous Anglo-Leasing affair. Millions of dollars were siphoned off in fraudulent security contracts, with top government officials complicit.

Michela Wrong’s book It’s Our Turn to Eat perfectly captures this vicious cycle of corruption. Wrong revealed the entrenched culture where Kenya’s political elite view public office not as a place to serve citizens, but as a feeding trough to enrich themselves.

After each election, the new elites shuffle in to carve up the State, profiting while ordinary Kenyans suffer. This self-serving behaviour continues to not only derail economic progress but also entrench inequality, leaving ordinary Kenyans to shoulder the burden of a plundered economy.

Under President William Ruto, the same script is playing out. He rose to power on promises to uplift Kenya’s “hustlers”. Instead, critics argue that Ruto has continued the patronage politics of his predecessors, surrounding himself with loyalists to ensure the continuity of this corrupt order. Access to power still means access to resources, while the “hustlers” he claimed to champion remain trapped in abject poverty.

The government’s failure to address the real issues facing Kenyans – such as rising inflation, unemployment, and the collapse of public services – only scratches the surface. Rather than tackle these challenges head-on, the administration seems more focused on consolidating power and allowing those in its inner circle to “eat” at the expense of everyone else.

What is particularly alarming is the way the government handles dissent. Instead of addressing legitimate concerns raised by activists like Morara, the State has resorted to repression. Whistleblowers now face police harassment, trumped-up charges, and smear campaigns, all aimed at silencing their voices. These tactics are meant to intimidate and suppress any attempts to expose the corruption rotting the system from within.

This aggressive pushback against those who dare to challenge the government raises a critical question: How can Kenya ever hope to achieve meaningful change when those who speak truth to power are relentlessly attacked? The government’s crackdown on activists is a clear signal that transparency and accountability are unwelcome, and that the machinery of the State is being used to protect the corrupt rather than serve the people.

The ongoing suppression resonates deeply with the fundamental truth about Kenya’s political culture that Wrong’s book reveals  – politicians are not just stealing resources, but also maintaining power through a well-oiled system of impunity.

The brutal truth is that even though ordinary Kenyans know their leaders are “eating”, they feel powerless to stop it. It’s one thing for politicians to enrich themselves; it’s another when they do so with such blatant impunity that they “vomit on our shoes”.

Kenyans must demand more from their leaders. The public needs to rally behind whistleblowers like Morara, who risk everything to expose the truth. Without systemic reforms and a genuine commitment to fighting corruption, Kenya will remain