Editor’s note: In this opinion piece, Kimutai Kirui argues why he believes that the presidency absorbs the anger, but the real power—and often the real failure—sits closer to home: governors, MPs, and MCAs who spend public money, pass laws, and shape daily life yet rarely face the same level of scrutiny.
We often elect ineffective leaders like Hon. Oscar Kipchumba Mkatabati Sudi or puppets and pawns imposed by leaders like the same Sudi, a leader who contributes little substantively in Parliament yet remains loud in public political discourse, verbal and physical violence and bribery in the name of empowerment attached to the re-election of the president.
“Kapseret produced a political figure who draws national attention less for legislative depth and parliamentary contribution and more for a style of politics defined by volume, confrontation, and visibility over substance. The concern is not personality, but performance: limited visible engagement in structured parliamentary debate, contrasted with a consistently high profile in public political theatre. At a time when governance demands seriousness and policy discipline, Kenya’s deficit is not in voices—it is in leadership that converts influence into meaningful parliamentary work!”
Oscar Sudi’s survival is pinned on the president’s shadows.
That’s why leaders like Sudi, who tie every action to the president while knowingly shifting the blame upward to the president for failures rooted elsewhere, will pick up traction… That’s why he must be seen close to the president.
We often elect ineffective leaders, and in some cases, political pawns shaped by influential figures who project authority while contributing little substantively in parliament. Some remain highly vocal in public political discourse, frequently framing their actions as “empowerment” and linking local political activity to support for the president’s re-election while shifting blame upward for failures rooted elsewhere.
The president is responsible for failures that originate in local governance structures and/or the police.
Governance outcomes are not determined by the presidency alone but by leadership at every level.
When local leadership fails, it is misleading to externalise all blame to the State House.
Accountability must be correctly assigned across all tiers of government.
Elect your MP wisely; don’t elect a political party.
Failures and shortcomings in this country do not start and stop at the presidency.
The reflex to blame the president for everything is politically convenient—but constitutionally shallow.
The real test of governance begins with who we elect as MCAs, governors, and Members of Parliament.
“These Are Not Ceremonial Offices; They Control Budgets, Pass Laws, And Shape Daily Life At The Grassroots!”
The president is only one actor in a much larger system—a single cog in a complex machine of influence and power.
When that machinery fails, it is often because multiple gears are broken, not just one.
Accountability must be shared, not outsourced.
A nation cannot demand discipline at the top while excusing negligence at every other level.
For too long, Kenya has practised selective accountability.
Public anger is routinely directed at the president, while governors and Members of Parliament—despite exercising substantial constitutional authority—often escape equivalent scrutiny.
Political scientists describe this as presidentialisation: the tendency to personalise government performance in the presidency even where power is constitutionally dispersed.
The Constitution of Kenya (2010) rejects that model.
Sovereign power belongs to the people and is delegated to distinct institutions—the executive, Parliament, the judiciary, constitutional commissions, and county governments—each with independent constitutional responsibilities.
No office governs alone!”
Parliament’s mandate extends beyond lawmaking. Under Articles 94 and 95, it legislates, oversees the executive, approves taxation and expenditure, vets appointments, and safeguards the public interest. County governments are constitutionally responsible for devolved functions, including health, county roads, agriculture, markets, and local economic development.
Where these functions fail, constitutional responsibility rests first with those entrusted to perform them.
Comparative democracies reinforce the same principle.
In the United States, Congress checks the president through legislation, appropriations, investigations, and oversight.
In the United Kingdom, ministers remain accountable to Parliament under ministerial responsibility.
Germany’s Basic Law deliberately disperses power to prevent executive dominance, while South Africa’s Constitution entrenches institutional accountability across all spheres of government.
As James Madison argued in Federalist No. 51, “Ambition must be made to counteract ambition.” Constitutional government depends not on trusting individuals but on institutions restraining one another.
President William Ruto has repeatedly alleged that this constitutional balance has been compromised by corruption within Parliament.
He has claimed that some parliamentary committees operate as “extortion rings”, where cabinet secretaries, governors, state officials, and business leaders allegedly pay for favourable reports, legislative concessions, or protection from scrutiny.
He has further alleged that commercial interests use illicit payments to shape legislation, including claims that a committee received KSh 10 million to influence anti-money laundering legislation and that some lawmakers demanded up to KSh 150 million from county governments to shield governors from accountability.
These allegations remain disputed, and Parliament has demanded evidence.
That insistence reflects the rule of law: allegations must be tested through independent investigation, not political rhetoric.
Nevertheless, the constitutional question remains. If Parliament is entrusted with scrutinising the executive, who scrutinises Parliament when allegations concern Parliament itself?
Constitutional scholar Guillermo O’Donnell described this as horizontal accountability—the obligation of state institutions to monitor and restrain one another.
When oversight institutions themselves become compromised, democratic accountability begins to erode.
Political economists describe this as state capture: the subordination of public institutions to private or political interests (Hellman, Jones & Kaufmann, 2000).
This is why accountability cannot end at the presidency.
Governors and MPs sought office on their own manifestos, control independent budgets, and exercise constitutionally protected powers.
“THEIR LEGITIMACY RESTS NOT ON LOYALTY TO THE PRESIDENT”, BUT ON MEASURABLE PERFORMANCE.
BEFORE ASKING VOTERS TO REWARD THEM WITH ANOTHER TERM—OR INVOKING SUPPORT FOR THE PRESIDENT AS POLITICAL CAPITAL—THEY SHOULD FIRST PRESENT THEIR OWN SCORECARDS!
IN A CONSTITUTIONAL REPUBLIC, PROXIMITY TO POWER IS NOT A DEFENCE AGAINST ACCOUNTABILITY! “
A healthy democracy does not judge one office while excusing the rest.
“It Measures Every Elected Leader Against The Constitution, The Promises They Made, And The Mandate They Were Given!”
Parliament does not take instructions from the president—unless it chooses to.
Under Article 94 of the Constitution of Kenya (2010), legislative authority belongs to Parliament, not the executive. In principle, it is a coequal arm of government, not a branch of implementation.
The president may set the national policy tone and legislative agenda, but Parliament is not constitutionally required to comply. It legislates, oversees, and scrutinises—independently.
That is the point of separation of powers, from Montesquieu to Madison’s Federalist No. 51: institutions are designed not to obey each other but to check each other.
So when Parliament aligns with the executive, it is not obedience. It is a political choice.
The presidency is a creature of the Constitution, like the legislature or judiciary.
Real accountability does not travel upward by reflex – it is enforced where power is exercised.
National Police Service
By law, the police are not an extension of the presidency.
Their operational and investigative functions are constitutionally insulated from executive control.
Constitutional independence:
Under Article 245(2)(b) of the Constitution of Kenya (2010), the Inspector-General exercises independent command and is not subject to direction in the investigation, prevention, or detection of crime.
Appointment vs control:
The president appoints the inspector-general with parliamentary approval, but the appointment does not translate into operational command.
Unlawful orders:
Under Article 2 (constitutional supremacy) and Articles 28 and 47, police officers are bound by the Constitution and may not execute unlawful instructions from any authority.
Operational policing remains under the Inspector-General, not State House.
The design is deliberate: to separate policy leadership from operational command, ensuring policing is governed by law, not political direction.
Police do not take operational instructions from the president or the cabinet secretary for the interior.
They are trained professionals, bound by law, procedure, and a duty to uphold human rights and human dignity.
When the president directs that Nairobi—or any part of the country—be secure, that is policy direction, not field command.
Execution rests entirely with the police command structure on the ground.
When things go wrong, accountability must follow that chain.
Misconduct by officers is not a presidential act; it is a failure within the service and its supervision.
The handling of the disabled demonstrator in Nakuru was unacceptable—unprofessional, undignified, and potentially criminal.
We commend IG Kanja for the timely response.
Yet public reaction too often defaults to blaming the president, ignoring where operational responsibility actually lies: within the police command, not the State House.
Many times, we blame the president for issues that clearly originate in local leadership—decisions and conduct tied to MPs and county authorities, including figures such as the Hon. Oscar Sudi and governance structures in places like Eldoret.
In Eldoret, a few known police officers are aligned with fraudsters involved in land and economic crimes, closely intertwined with MPs in activities related to ethanol, second-generation alcohol, narcotics, and/or county interests.
This leads to public frustration that is often redirected toward the president.
Even the governor was once heard telling the police, “hio shamba ni ya mtu mkubwa sana, wacha,” reinforcing the belief that influence, rather than procedure, shapes enforcement outcomes.
(We therefore call on IPOA and the National Police Service to review and, where necessary, restructure policing in Uasin Gishu—particularly at inspector and chief inspector levels—to restore professionalism, neutrality, and public confidence in law enforcement.)
How does constituency-level influence over local business activity and regulation become a national presidential issue?
The president is not a ward administrator, a licensing officer, or a local market regulator.
President Ruto, as a former MP and Cabinet minister, performed, and now, as Head of State, operates at the national policy level, not the micromanagement of local political economies.
President Ruto performed in Parliament.
He was a graduate and is now a PhD holder, unlike Oscar Sudi, a problem Kapseret donated to the National Assembly, who, in every turn, name-drops the president’s name to intimidate, coerce and bully others around him.
The name of the president is mischievously attached to shady deals by many fraudsters, elected or not.
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Traders in Eldoret are facing a deeply strained and increasingly hostile business environment.
Businesses were closed to facilitate the launch of a clothing line in Eldoret, widely believed by many to be linked to Hon. Sudi and his proxies here in Eldoret and Nakuru.
Oscar Sudi was seen by many as undermining livelihoods on one hand while preaching unity to struggling traders on the other.
If traders in Eldoret feel squeezed or displaced, those questions must first be directed to the leaders who control those spaces at the county and constituency levels.
In conclusion, not every political outcome is presidential.
Not every local reality belongs to the State House. Accountability begins with correctly locating where power actually sits.
Stop blaming the president for what the likes of Oscar Kipchumba Sudi do.
The presidency operates in its own orbit.
We must depoliticise the police service.
That begins with a simple principle: individual accountability without exception.
Every officer who commits atrocities, abuses authority, or fails in duty must be held personally responsible through swift and lawful processes.
At the same time, accountability cannot stop at the uniform.
Politicians who interfere with policing and officers who act as instruments of political or informal power networks must also be exposed and prosecuted without fear or favour.
A professional police service cannot exist where blame is diffused upward to politics and responsibility is evaded downward to rank. Consequences must be certain, personal, and consistent for policing to be lawful—and truly independent.”
The author is Kimutai Kirui, a Kenyan political analyst and human rights activist known for his work in Uasin Gishu County, where he has championed justice in cases ranging from police brutality to land disputes affecting widows.
Views expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not represent the editorial position of news9.africa.
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