President William Ruto’s rare apology for the historical exclusion of Northern Kenya from national discourses during the 2026 Madaraka Day celebrations in Wajir was more than a Kenyan political moment. It highlighted one of Africa’s enduring postcolonial challenges: building inclusive nations from states whose borders were drawn by colonial powers with little regard for geography, identity, or existing systems of governance.

Across Africa, the divide between the centre and the periphery has shaped conflict, underdevelopment, and mistrust between neglected citizens and the state. From Northern Mali and Niger to Ethiopia’s frontier regions and Kenya’s northern counties, many communities have experienced independence differently from those living closer to centres of power. The challenge has never been merely administrative; it has been the creation of a shared political community in which citizenship carries equal meaning regardless of geography.

This is what made Ruto’s apology significant. Inclusion begins with acknowledgement. States cannot effectively address historical exclusion while denying that it exists. As Nelson Mandela understood during South Africa’s transition from apartheid, national unity is strengthened not by denying historical grievances but by confronting them honestly. Reconciliation begins with recognition.

Kenya’s own history illustrates this pattern. Sessional Paper No. 10 of 1965 prioritised investment in “high-potential areas,” concentrating development around established centres while neglecting vast regions such as Northern Kenya. Over time, these disparities became embedded in both policy and national thinking. Northern Kenya came to be viewed primarily through the lenses of drought, insecurity, and remoteness rather than through its economic potential, strategic location, entrepreneurial culture, and human capital.

Economist David Ndii has argued that Northern Kenya should be viewed not as a burden but as one of Kenya’s greatest unrealised opportunities. Ndii's argument is grounded not in sentiment but in economics, and it is reinforced by official KNBS data. The KNBS Economic Survey 2026 notes that agriculture, forestry and fishing account for over one-fifth of Kenya's economy and grew by 3.1 per cent in 2025. KNBS's 2025 Economic Survey data also shows the scale of livestock demand: in 2024, 2.2 million cattle and calves, 10.7 million sheep and goats, and 239,000 camels were slaughtered, with camels up 29.9 per cent, cattle and calves up 17.9 per cent, and sheep and goats up 8.01 per cent.  Northern Kenya's pastoral economy is already estimated to be worth roughly KSh 100 billion annually, making livestock the country's third-largest agricultural subsector after tea and horticulture. Kenya's arid and semi-arid lands, which account for nearly 80 per cent of the national landmass, support more than 60 per cent of the country's pastoral production. Livestock contributes approximately 10 per cent of Kenya's GDP and nearly half of agricultural GDP, while providing around 90 per cent of employment and more than 95 per cent of household incomes across many ASAL communities. Yet the greatest opportunity lies beyond livestock production itself. Ndii has repeatedly argued that value addition through slaughterhouses, leather processing, cold-chain logistics, meat packaging and regional export infrastructure could expand the sector from a Sh100 billion economy into an industry approaching Sh800 billion. Processing livestock within Northern Kenya rather than transporting live animals to southern markets could increase the value of an animal by as much as eight times.

Viewed through this lens, Northern Kenya is not a marginal frontier dependent on state transfers but one of Kenya’s most significant untapped economic assets. The region occupies a strategic position linking Kenya to Ethiopia, Somalia, and the wider Horn of Africa, making its development both an economic and geopolitical imperative.

Africa’s history also offers a warning about the dangers of exclusion. As famine scholar Amartya Sen observed, major famines are often not caused by an absolute lack of food but by failures of information, accountability, and political response. During Ethiopia’s devastating 1983–1985 famine, drought and conflict played a major role, but the tragedy was amplified by delayed acknowledgement from political leaders. Information was filtered through bureaucracy, fear, and ideological certainty, producing a distorted picture that obscured suffering and slowed action. The catastrophe was not caused by a lack of knowledge, but by a refusal to know. An out-of-touch elite mistook silence for stability while peripheral communities paid the price.

One of the most revealing lessons from Wajir is how quickly governments can act when political priorities change. Roads were upgraded, a modern stadium was built, boreholes were drilled, and supporting infrastructure appeared within a remarkably short period. The lesson extends beyond Kenya: development is ultimately a reflection of political choices. Projects delayed for decades are often completed once governments decide they matter.

As Albert Einstein observed, “The significant problems we face cannot be solved at the same level of thinking we were at when we created them.” The challenge of building inclusive nations requires precisely that kind of imagination and leadership. Governments must move beyond inherited assumptions, intellectual laziness and at times outright willful ignorance that treat peripheral regions as security concerns or humanitarian burdens and instead recognise them as sources of opportunity, innovation, and national strength.

Whether the apology becomes a turning point or not remains to be seen. Citizens will judge it not by the words spoken in Wajir but by what follows them. Yet the gesture itself carries an important lesson for Africa. Nations grow stronger when they confront uncomfortable truths rather than bury them beneath narratives of unity. The centre has little to lose from inclusion and everything to gain through stronger social cohesion, expanded markets, and the full utilisation of human potential.

History shows that internal divisions rarely remain purely domestic. During the Cold War, global powers often exploited ethnic, regional, and political fault lines across Africa to advance their strategic interests, turning local grievances into proxy conflicts. From the Horn of Africa to Central and Southern Africa, unresolved tensions were frequently amplified by external actors pursuing geopolitical objectives rather than local stability. While the geopolitical landscape has changed, the risk remains. Today, competing powers and other external actors can still exploit unresolved grievances and perceptions of exclusion to pursue their own agendas.

The lesson for Africa is clear: inclusive governance and national cohesion are not only developmental goals but also safeguards against external manipulation. Nations that address historical injustices, invest equitably in all regions, and strengthen a shared sense of citizenship are better positioned to protect both their stability and their sovereignty.

Wajir’s significance, therefore, extends beyond a single apology, a stadium, or a road. It serves as a reminder that the unfinished project of nation-building across Africa is ultimately about ensuring that no community feels excluded from the national story. Countries that succeed in that task will be better equipped not only to unlock their full economic potential but also to navigate an increasingly competitive international environment on their own terms.

Abdikarim is a Governance/Communication expert and a PhD candidate