“Freedom,” wrote Michel Foucault, “is the refusal to be governed.” He wasn’t speaking of anarchy or disorder. He was naming something deeper to resist imposed systems of rule and to insist on more dignified, participatory forms of governance. In its many forms, that refusal is alive and well in Kenya.
More and more, Kenyans are showing they are in the mood to push boundaries. We are no longer simply asking for better governance. We are resisting the structures and practices that continue to shut people out of decisions affecting their lives. The refusal to be governed in the current political moment is a desire to expand civic space, challenge political impunity, and demand inclusion where there has been exclusion.
Foucault’s philosophy of resistance is not a call to unconstitutional or unorthodox clamour for power. It is an insistence that power must always be questioned. It thrives on civic vigilance, asking who benefits from silence, who defines the rules, and who gets to speak. That is the Kenya we are entering—a society where the public no longer swallows official narratives without scrutiny.
Nowhere is this clearer than in the public spats between President William Ruto and his former Deputy President Rigathi Gachagua. It is an open contest of influence, exposed daily through media headlines, statements, and strategic leaks. Each man is asserting his version of power, refusing to surrender ground or allow the other to dictate political outcomes unchallenged.
Foucault reminds us that power is not confined to offices or titles; it is everywhere. Gachagua is maximising power around him; in the streets, markets, and under-the-tree meetings. Dr Ruto is on the offensive charm to wrestle influence out of his nemesis. Each leader is activating power from where he stands. Each weaponises media, language, and institutional networks in a bid to control the public narrative.
The public, meanwhile, is watching closely, aware that something bigger is unfolding beneath the surface.
Yet, the most striking example of resistance today is not among the political elite. It is in the streets, the slogans, and the refusal of ordinary citizens to remain passive. The phrase “Ruto Must Go” has gained ground despite strong warnings from State security. This isn’t merely a protest chant. It is a political clarion that speaks of dissatisfaction, disillusionment, and a demand for a different leadership style from the Kenya Kwanza government.
For those listening closely, it’s not a call for lawlessness. It’s a refusal to be governed without consultation or consent. It reflects a desire to reclaim public agency. To be clear, there is no appetite for anarchy. But there is growing frustration with a system that seems deaf to its people’s everyday realities. I argue that the “Ruto Must Go” chants should be understood in this light—not as a push toward collapse but as a push toward better politics.
Equally revealing is the new national yearning for truth. Across both pro-government and opposition camps, there’s a steady stream of exposés and counter-allegations. Truth has become political capital. And in this climate, anyone who appears to dodge it quickly loses credibility. The Kenyan public is increasingly allergic to spin. Politicians, who once thrived on coded language and vague promises, find themselves exposed by a citizenry that knows how to read between the lines. The age of quiet compliance is fast fading away.
Consequently, this rise in civic alertness places new demands on political actors. Honesty is no longer a virtue to be praised; it is the bare minimum expected. Those running for office must now engage with a smarter, more demanding, and far less forgiving public. There is no patience left for half-truths and no tolerance for leaders who pretend not to know what the people want. Truthfulness, fairness, and openness are non-negotiables in a country rethinking what it means to be governed.
As Foucault framed it, the refusal to be governed is not a phase. It is the starting point for new forms of more honest, participatory, and accountable politicians. Political actors must adapt or risk becoming irrelevant in a society that is slowly finding its voice.
Dr Mokua is the executive director of Loyola Centre for Media and Communication
“Freedom,” wrote Michel Foucault, “is the refusal to be governed.” He wasn’t speaking of anarchy or disorder. He was naming something deeper to resist imposed systems of rule and to insist on more dignified, participatory forms of governance. In its many forms, that refusal is alive and well in Kenya.
More and more, Kenyans are showing they are in the mood to push boundaries. We are no longer simply asking for better governance. We are resisting the structures and practices that continue to shut people out of decisions affecting their lives. The refusal to be governed in the current political moment is a desire to expand civic space, challenge political impunity, and demand inclusion where there has been exclusion.
Foucault’s philosophy of resistance is not a call to unconstitutional or unorthodox clamour for power. It is an insistence that power must always be questioned. It thrives on civic vigilance, asking who benefits from silence, who defines the rules, and who gets to speak. That is the Kenya we are entering—a society where the public no longer swallows official narratives without scrutiny.
Nowhere is this clearer than in the public spats between President William Ruto and his former Deputy President Rigathi Gachagua. It is an open contest of influence, exposed daily through media headlines, statements, and strategic leaks. Each man is asserting his version of power, refusing to surrender ground or allow the other to dictate political outcomes unchallenged.
Foucault reminds us that power is not confined to offices or titles; it is everywhere. Gachagua is maximising power around him; in the streets, markets, and under-the-tree meetings. Dr Ruto is on the offensive charm to wrestle influence out of his nemesis. Each leader is activating power from where he stands. Each weaponises media, language, and institutional networks in a bid to control the public narrative.
The public, meanwhile, is watching closely, aware that something bigger is unfolding beneath the surface.
Yet, the most striking example of resistance today is not among the political elite. It is in the streets, the slogans, and the refusal of ordinary citizens to remain passive. The phrase “Ruto Must Go” has gained ground despite strong warnings from State security. This isn’t merely a protest chant. It is a political clarion that speaks of dissatisfaction, disillusionment, and a demand for a different leadership style from the Kenya Kwanza government.
For those listening closely, it’s not a call for lawlessness. It’s a refusal to be governed without consultation or consent. It reflects a desire to reclaim public agency. To be clear, there is no appetite for anarchy. But there is growing frustration with a system that seems deaf to its people’s everyday realities. I argue that the “Ruto Must Go” chants should be understood in this light—not as a push toward collapse but as a push toward better politics.
Equally revealing is the new national yearning for truth. Across both pro-government and opposition camps, there’s a steady stream of exposés and counter-allegations. Truth has become political capital. And in this climate, anyone who appears to dodge it quickly loses credibility. The Kenyan public is increasingly allergic to spin. Politicians, who once thrived on coded language and vague promises, find themselves exposed by a citizenry that knows how to read between the lines. The age of quiet compliance is fast fading away.
Consequently, this rise in civic alertness places new demands on political actors. Honesty is no longer a virtue to be praised; it is the bare minimum expected. Those running for office must now engage with a smarter, more demanding, and far less forgiving public. There is no patience left for half-truths and no tolerance for leaders who pretend not to know what the people want. Truthfulness, fairness, and openness are non-negotiables in a country rethinking what it means to be governed.
As Foucault framed it, the refusal to be governed is not a phase. It is the starting point for new forms of more honest, participatory, and accountable politicians. Political actors must adapt or risk becoming irrelevant in a society that is slowly finding its voice.
Dr Mokua is the executive director of Loyola Centre for Media and Communication
By Elias Mokua