You may not like his style, but that doesn't make Ruto a dictator

President William Ruto addresses residents after the launch of the Sogoo-Melelo-Ololung’a Road during a tour of Narok County, on May 7, 2025.  [Kipsang Joseph, Standard] 

There is a worrying lack of depth in the way many young Kenyans, especially Gen Z, engage with politics. For Gen Z, everything is about “vibes.” Everything is “down with the system.” But when you strip away the slogans and trending hashtags, what’s left is often an alarming ignorance of how power actually works.

Unknown to them, politics isn’t child’s play. Politics isn’t content creation. Politics is a vast field of social sciences that great thinkers like Aristotle, Edmund Burke, Jeremy Bentham, and others worked to untangle.

For those familiar with political gymnastics, the chants, activism, and loud rants on blogs and social media don’t translate into victory. They’re merely forms of activism. It’s well established that activism can help shape the conversation but cannot win votes on its own.

Consider the recent outrage when Prime Cabinet Secretary Musalia Mudavadi labelled Burkina Faso’s Ibrahim Traore a dictator. The backlash was loud, emotional, and misguided. Young Kenyans, captivated by Traore’s anti-Western speeches and viral TikTok clips, rushed to defend him as though he were a revolutionary messiah. In truth, Mudavadi was correct.

Traore seized power through a military coup. He suspended the constitution, dissolved democratic institutions, and put soldiers in charge of government ministries. That is not a new model for African leadership; it’s textbook dictatorship. It’s seizing power through unorthodox means. No parliament. No judicial checks. No elections. No accountability. Just guns and a uniform. A revolution devoid of laws.

Now, compare this to Kenya, where Dr Ruto, love him or loathe him, is an elected leader operating within a constitutional framework. When he made those “shoot the legs” and “jail the thugs” remarks during protests, they sparked justified outrage. But the remarks were made within a system that still has functioning courts, Parliament, an independent media, and an electoral commission. You may not like his tone, or protest his policies, or even dislike his work ethic—but you still have legal avenues to push back. That’s not how dictatorship works.

Let’s be clear: If Ruto were to wake up tomorrow, dissolve the judiciary, hand over power to the military, shut down the press, and start ruling by decree—that would be dictatorship. Until then, calling him a dictator while romanticising a military junta in Burkina Faso is not only lazy but intellectually bankrupt—ideologies propagated by naive TikTokers, sadists, anarchists, and unpatriotic leaders.

The current obsession with revolutionary aesthetics over actual systems is dangerous for a democratic country. Passion is not a substitute for knowledge. Screaming “power to the people” means nothing if you can’t define the power structures you’re claiming to oppose.

Do you want to hold leaders accountable? Good. But do it with facts, not fantasy and the fallacy of sensationalising trivial issues. Stop putting every loud, gun-waving, anti-imperialist mouthpiece on a pedestal just because they know how to go viral. Leadership isn’t about trading barbs or posting clever jibes. Real leadership is not about optics. It’s about structure, legitimacy, and the rule of law.

So, before you tweet “Ruto is a dictator” or “Ruto is a tyrant,” ask yourself: Do you even know what a tyrant or dictator looks like? Do you understand what dictatorial nations look like? Are you aware of life in those countries?

Let me ask: Have you ever met a racist? They’ll tell you they’re not, because most don’t even know they are. What about a tribalist? They’ll respond, “Ruto is a tribalist!” But by what measure? Has the President espoused tribalism, or has he condemned it?

Often, pro-Ruto supporters aren’t bothered by the “Wantam” slogans from the opposition, and even joke about them. The script isn’t new. We know how it ends. Elections in Kenya are never won through noise or vibes. They are won with votes, ground strategy, numbers, and unity. And now, just as in 1992, they’re falling for the illusion that noise equals power. It does not, in real politics.

You see the shouting on X spaces, Facebook, TikTok—the hashtags, the chants in bars, people intoxicated by digital bravado chanting “one term.” But here’s the inconvenient truth: Most of those shouting cannot believe that sugarcane farmers are finally being paid, teachers are getting real jobs, 25,000 housing projects are underway, airports are running profitably, inflation is down, food prices have stabilised and the economy is on the right-take off.

The Opposition against Ruto today has little to do with failed promises or missed opportunities. Many have merely become victims of the viral “one-term” chants propagated by regime critics. Those campaigning against him cannot fathom that Kenya could actually be transformed in just 25 months.

Mr Toroitich is a communication lecturer and researcher