There is a rhythm to Kenya’s political season, not defined by manifestos, but by chants. This year, it’s “Wantam”, “Tutam,” or simply “Tawe”. These slogans are more than noise. They are fuel.

In a country battling rising living costs, youth unemployment, and institutional distrust, emotionally charged language holds immense power. Data and white papers don’t sway crowds. They respond to tone, rhythm, and a shared sense of frustration.

We are shifting from policy-based politics to performance-driven populism. What matters is what does not make the most sense; it’s what makes the most impact. In rallies, the loudest voice wins. Online, it’s the meme or viral clip, not a well-reasoned argument, that spreads.

This emotional energy can connect and mobilise. But it also distracts.

The slogan “Tawe!”, meaning “No” in Luhya, has resonated throughout opposition strongholds in western Kenya. In areas like Trans Nzoia and Kakamega, leaders such as George Natembeya have used it to voice public frustration over exclusion and poor leadership. At its core, the chant symbolises a call for fairness, inclusion, and accountability values rooted in Article 10 of the Constitution. However, while the crowd expressed strong emotions, few understood what Article 21(c) proposed or why the digital tax was controversial. The performance overshadowed the policy. Is it being used for the right purpose?

French social thinker Gustave Le Bon warned about this in his 1895 classic book, The Crowd: A Study of the Popular Mind. In crowds, people lose independent judgment. Emotion spreads. Rational debate fades. Symbols overpower substance. Kenya’s “Wantam”, “Tutam”, and “Tawe movement” fit this pattern perfectly.

Today, over 13 million Kenyans use social media daily. More than 60 percent of youth get their political content via TikTok, X, and WhatsApp. In that world, emotion beats evidence. Policy is often the first casualty.

Even our language reflects this shift. “Wantam”, short for “one term”, carries no proposal, just discontent. But it unites. Politicians, influencers, and comedians have learned that the fastest way to gain attention is to tap into this emotion. And it works sometimes to inform, often to distract.

This rise in emotionally driven politics may seem energising. But when feelings replace facts, policy suffers. And when policy fails, ordinary Kenyans bear the brunt. Slogans can’t build roads, fix tax systems, or lower healthcare costs. Clapping back at opponents does not hold them accountable.

History shows that when emotion rules, institutions weaken. Leaders stop solving problems and start performing. Populism distracts from real accountability.

That’s why Kenyans should worry. Behind the viral chants, real issues persist: fuel price hikes, a weak shilling, crumbling healthcare, and ballooning debt. These aren’t emotional problems; they’re policy problems, demanding serious, sober solutions.

We can’t and shouldn’t remove emotion from politics. People must care about their country. But purpose must guide passion.

The writer is an Innovations Evangelist and a PhD Candidate; [email protected]