Ruto may be the West's blue-eyed boy but their hugs are never free

French President Emmanuel Macron and President William Ruto during the Africa Forward Summit in Nairobi. [File, Standard]

The West's cosiness is a prize every leader from the developing world craves, but it can be either a dividend or a tragedy. It must be handled with a pinch of salt—those who mistake a photo-op for political endorsement often come home outmanoeuvred.

History offers a warning. During the Cold War, the West embraced Suharto, Mobutu Sese Seko, Augusto Pinochet, Kamuzu Banda and Siad Barre. When priorities shifted, they were left to paddle their own canoe. Most, like Pinochet, Barre and Mobutu, met a tragic end. When Western interests no longer align, you are dropped like a hot potato.

Today the West wants the same old things in new packaging: minerals, markets, security, and to contain China. Kenya knows that embrace. We vividly recall the post-election imbroglio of 2007. As violence tore the country apart, Washington flew in Condoleezza Rice. She landed in Nairobi, met mediator Kofi Annan and forced through the Kibaki-Raila deal. No consultation to divulge what Kenyan voters wanted!

That moment laid bare an uncomfortable truth: Africa's democracy on a Western leash. It raises a hard question for 2027. If the vote turns into a circus, will Washington force another backroom fix? Time will tell whether its friendship with Kenya is genuine. His courtship with the West has been methodical and should be judged in sequence.

In 2023, Ruto started to project himself as Africa's new statesman. At COMESA, he was blunt: "Our people cannot trade without worrying which currency to use... we must urgently address this." Brave and bold, though the late Muammar Qaddafi walked a similar path and it ended tragically. That same year, King Charles III chose Kenya for his first Commonwealth state visit, a diplomatic boon from the former colonial power. France followed, with Emmanuel Macron deepening ties on climate, infrastructure and regional security.

America's courtship began in earnest under Biden. Kenya became the first sub-Saharan non-NATO ally, joining Egypt and Tunisia, and Biden granted Ruto a rare state visit in 2024. Since the $175,000-a-month deal with Continental Strategy, Ruto has lifted his profile in Washington, earned a G7 invitation and secured a critical minerals agreement.

Nairobi now hosts conference after conference as foreign leaders pour in. UN agencies - UNICEF, UNFPA and UN Women - are shifting operations to Nairobi, cementing it as the UN's African hub to rival Geneva, Vienna and New York. That lifts Kenya's profile and hands Ruto serious "bonga" points.

Diplomatically, Ruto's Kenya looks like the reliable partner in a shaky neighbourhood: Washington's go-to, quick to deploy into Somalia, South Sudan, the DRC, even Haiti. He speaks the West's language fluently - climate action, green energy, digital innovation and democracy. He has been received with honours reserved for trusted allies, secured investment pledges and won backing for Kenya's peace role.

At home, they still call him the "flying President", a globetrotter who rarely misses a foreign trip and seldom delegates. However, Musalia Mudavadi recently went to Moscow over Kenyans secretly recruited to fight for Russia in Ukraine. Abroad, he is a different proposition: eloquent and charismatic. With re-election approaching, cultivating the West is politically prudent. He remains the West's blue-eyed boy.

But when Washington, London or Brussels rolls out the carpet, forget the pomp. Ask what Kenya extracts: market access for tea, coffee and horticulture, factories on our soil, technology transfer. They come to gain from us. We must gain from them. It never flows one way. It is quid pro quo.

As the saying goes, he who pays the piper calls the tune. Western hugs are never free. They come with a price tag. Great powers chase interests, not friends. Today's ally can quickly become tomorrow's foe.

Then there is the opaque Ebola quarantine facility in Laikipia. The President's men have a ready answer: nobody pitches a tent on your land for free. When reports emerge of Americans exposed to Ebola in the mineral-rich east of the DRC, Kenyans are right to ask: are they diplomats or mining personnel?

We saw it again recently. President Trump hosted Presidents Felix Tshisekedi and Paul Kagame in Washington, where peace and mineral agreements were featured. If the West can broker resource deals, why not a durable end to conflict? The same powers that champion human rights have watched instability persist across the Sahel and the Horn, while Libya's collapse after Western intervention remains a sobering lesson.

Kenya sits on strategic rare minerals, and Washington is paying close attention. That is why Western interest has spiked. Beijing is watching too. China bankrolled much of Kenya's infrastructure - roads, the standard gauge railway, ports. How Nairobi balances Washington and Beijing will be watched in every capital.

We want Kenya close to the West, but with enough spine to say no when it is no, and yes when it is yes. Ruto's team has looked fuzzy before, as when the United States and Israel squared off with Iran. In diplomacy, bold positions earn respect. Ambiguity does not.

Western ties can bring real gains - jobs, security, tourists, trade and know-how. Goodwill should be converted into hard returns: stronger partnerships in higher education, healthcare, artificial intelligence, water and security. Diplomacy is not measured by state visits, but by opportunities created for ordinary citizens.

Ruto must not mistake warmth for loyalty. The same governments embracing him today will distance themselves tomorrow if Kenya slides into democratic decline, endemic graft, electoral malpractice or rights abuses. They have done it before, backing leaders until their value faded or their mess became too expensive. He should use his global clout at the UN General Assembly in September to push for a UN fit for a 21st-century multipolar world - more inclusive, more representative.