Whoever whispered to President William Ruto the idea of impeaching his deputy must truly love this country—not because the advice was sound, but because in trying to isolate or oust Rigathi Gachagua, they may have unwittingly handed Kenya the opposition leader it sorely needs.
Gachagua’s emerging defiance is doing what few expected: injecting discipline, clarity, and urgency into an opposition that has for too long wallowed in hesitation, betrayal and confusion.
Since the advent of the Jubilee coalition in 2013, Kenya’s opposition has seemed stuck in a loop of missteps. Each electoral cycle brings late declarations, ambiguous coalition deals struck behind closed doors, public posturing, last-minute defections, and ultimately, mass voter disillusionment.
Raila Odinga’s Azimio coalition fell into the same trap in 2022. A combination of internal sabotage, misaligned messaging, and opaque strategy made it easy for President Ruto to outflank them with ruthless efficiency.
The tragedy isn’t the loss itself; it’s that the loss keeps happening the same way. Despite widespread public dissatisfaction with successive governments, Kenya’s opposition has repeatedly failed to convert frustration into organised, timely, and effective political action.
There’s always a sense that the opposition wakes up too late—announcing candidates months before elections, chasing elusive unity only when it’s politically convenient, and treating voters as afterthoughts in a drama largely confined to boardrooms and press conferences.
That’s what makes Gachagua’s current posture so refreshing—and, to some, so threatening. In a now-viral video, the embattled deputy president sheds all pretense. He is decisive. He is blunt. He speaks in clear, unequivocal terms. Either you are with the movement he’s shaping, or you’re not. There’s no double-speak, no attempts at pleasing all sides, no retreating to coded language. That kind of clarity is rare in Kenyan politics. It is even rarer in opposition circles, where mistrust, infiltration, and indecision have long ruled supreme.
Critics claim Gachagua is “too predictable.” But in a political terrain rife with betrayal, that predictability is not a weakness—it’s a superpower. It creates stability. When vision is clear, when direction is known, and when roles are defined, it becomes difficult for state-sponsored spoilers to destabilise a movement. It becomes easier to organise, to plan, and most importantly, to inspire. Predictability, in this context, means dependability. It tells the public and political allies alike: here is a man who means what he says, and says what he means.
No one will confuse Gachagua for a suave orator or master tactician. His style isn’t polished. It doesn’t come with the cosmopolitan charm or legalistic vocabulary we often associate with elite Kenyan politicians. But therein lies his strength. Gachagua’s brand of politics is grounded, raw, and unfiltered. It speaks to ordinary Kenyans in a language they understand—direct, emotional, and unapologetically populist. While many political elites obsess over image, Gachagua has leaned into substance, however imperfect. He is not courting editorial boards; he is rallying the grassroots.
In a political climate fatigued by elite paralysis and endless negotiation, his approach feels like a breath of fresh air. He is signalling early. He is drawing lines now. He is telling potential allies: don’t show up to the table empty-handed or unsure of your loyalties. Most critically, he is telling voters: this time, you will not be left in the dark until the final moments. This is the kind of opposition politics Kenya desperately needs—transparent, timely, and tactical.
The truth is, Kenya’s opposition does not lose elections because it lacks support. It loses because it lacks discipline. It loses because it chronically delays decisions. It loses because it often fails to inspire confidence in its ability to govern. The electorate is not blind. Voters know when politicians are improvising. They know when unity is forced. They know when decisions are made to benefit a few and not the many.
Gachagua, whether by design or circumstance, is doing something different. He is organising early. He is refusing to play second fiddle. He is asserting ideological and strategic independence. Whether he ultimately runs for president or not, he is already changing the tempo of political engagement. He is forcing conversations to happen now, not in 2026. And by doing so, he is forcing other opposition figures to either match his urgency—or be left behind.
If Gachagua continues on this trajectory, he may very well become the surprise no one saw coming—the disciplined general who leads a revolt not only against Ruto’s government, but against the culture of confusion that has long plagued the opposition itself.
This is not to say that Gachagua is perfect. No politician is. But what he is offering—early signaling, firm convictions, clear lines of engagement—is what the opposition has lacked for a decade. The question is no longer whether he belongs in the opposition. The question is whether the opposition is ready to match the discipline he’s now imposing by example. Let those who have ears hear. The time to plan for 2027 is now—not in 2026, not after party nominations, not after yet another round of elite miscalculations.
By Gitobu Imanyara