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There is a peculiar kind of theatre unique to Nairobi that plays out daily, from the chaotic roundabouts of the central business district to the noise-filled estates on the periphery.
We watch as county askaris descend upon hawkers in a flurry of flying vegetables and confiscated goods, only for the same stalls to reappear the moment the enforcement vehicles disappear. We see the barricades erected against pavement parking for a week, ignored for a month, and finally demolished to make way for the very vehicles they were meant to block.
This is the enforcement gap. We have bylaws for noise pollution, yet our matatus blast music that rattles windows. We have planning regulations, yet buildings sprout like weeds on riparian land. We have traffic laws, yet our roads are a daily testament to their status as suggestions rather than commands. The technical apparatus – laws, the inspectors, and the machinery – is often there. What is missing is the will, the discipline, and the culture of consequence.
This deficit is a cultural inheritance that flows from the top. For decades, the political signal seems to suggest that compliance is optional for those with connections, and enforcement is a tool to be wielded selectively against the weak. When a powerful developer builds on a road reserve and faces no penalty, or when a political ally’s illegal business operates with impunity, it teaches the public that the law is a thing to be feared only if you lack the resources or the connections to make it disappear.
This is precisely why the question of who sits in the governor’s office is critical. In a field of potential candidates, the scrutiny of their past is not just about what they promise, but what they have done. Several candidates have openly indicated their interest in the seat held by Governor Johnson Sakaja. They include Kasarani MP Ronald Karauri, Embakasi East MP Babu Owino, Embakasi North MP James Gakuya and others yet to say so. City residents must raise fundamental questions on their next governor and their ability to transform or restore Nairobi’s famed glory.
Now, do the current aspirants offer different leadership? Do they instil an understanding that a rule without a credible, consistent penalty is merely a suggestion? In the private sector, leaders learn that the system only works when everyone, including themselves, is subject to its rigours.
Enforcement of city bylaws, for instance, should not be seen as a political tool for patronage, but as the bedrock of a functional city. Of course, we must temper this with an honest and necessary caveat. Governing a city of over four million people is not like running a private company. A CEO can fire non-performers; a governor must negotiate with a county assembly. A business can choose its clients; a city government must serve everyone, including those who break its bylaws. The translation from corporate discipline to public service is not automatic. The dynamics of power, politics and patronage are infinitely messier than a balance sheet.
But the premise remains valid. The central question for the next governor of Nairobi should not just be about their vision, but about their relationship with the very concept of enforcement. Have they ever had to enforce something difficult, something sustained, something deeply unpopular, and seen it through to the end?
Because until we elect a leader who views the law as a binding contract, Nairobi’s pencils will remain sharper than its ink.
The writer comments on topical issues
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We watch as county askaris descend upon hawkers in a flurry of flying vegetables and confiscated goods, only for the same stalls to reappear the moment the enforcement vehicles disappear. We see the barricades erected against pavement parking for a week, ignored for a month, and finally demolished to make way for the very vehicles they were meant to block.
This is the enforcement gap. We have bylaws for noise pollution, yet our matatus blast music that rattles windows. We have planning regulations, yet buildings sprout like weeds on riparian land. We have traffic laws, yet our roads are a daily testament to their status as suggestions rather than commands. The technical apparatus – laws, the inspectors, and the machinery – is often there. What is missing is the will, the discipline, and the culture of consequence.
This deficit is a cultural inheritance that flows from the top. For decades, the political signal seems to suggest that compliance is optional for those with connections, and enforcement is a tool to be wielded selectively against the weak. When a powerful developer builds on a road reserve and faces no penalty, or when a political ally’s illegal business operates with impunity, it teaches the public that the law is a thing to be feared only if you lack the resources or the connections to make it disappear.
This is precisely why the question of who sits in the governor’s office is critical. In a field of potential candidates, the scrutiny of their past is not just about what they promise, but what they have done. Several candidates have openly indicated their interest in the seat held by Governor Johnson Sakaja. They include Kasarani MP Ronald Karauri, Embakasi East MP Babu Owino, Embakasi North MP James Gakuya and others yet to say so. City residents must raise fundamental questions on their next governor and their ability to transform or restore Nairobi’s famed glory.
Now, do the current aspirants offer different leadership? Do they instil an understanding that a rule without a credible, consistent penalty is merely a suggestion? In the private sector, leaders learn that the system only works when everyone, including themselves, is subject to its rigours.
Enforcement of city bylaws, for instance, should not be seen as a political tool for patronage, but as the bedrock of a functional city. Of course, we must temper this with an honest and necessary caveat. Governing a city of over four million people is not like running a private company. A CEO can fire non-performers; a governor must negotiate with a county assembly. A business can choose its clients; a city government must serve everyone, including those who break its bylaws. The translation from corporate discipline to public service is not automatic. The dynamics of power, politics and patronage are infinitely messier than a balance sheet.
But the premise remains valid. The central question for the next governor of Nairobi should not just be about their vision, but about their relationship with the very concept of enforcement. Have they ever had to enforce something difficult, something sustained, something deeply unpopular, and seen it through to the end?
Because until we elect a leader who views the law as a binding contract, Nairobi’s pencils will remain sharper than its ink.
The writer comments on topical issues
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By Steve Mwangi