There is no shortage of wisdom about what makes a good speech.
Winston Churchill, in a subtly sexist assessment, says a good speech should be like a woman's skirt: "Long enough to cover the subject, but short enough to create interest."
Mark Twain famously observed, "It usually takes me more than three weeks to prepare an impromptu speech." Thomas Jefferson warned that "Speeches measured by the hour will die by the hour."
And Plato reminds us that "A wise man speaks because he has something to say; a fool speaks because he has to say something."
With those timeless principles in mind, what exactly was wrong with President William Ruto's speech during his national address last week?
Of course, nobody expects the President to write his own speeches like Abraham Lincoln did in the 1860s. That responsibility belongs to professional speechwriters. Soon enough, people who delegate the writing of speeches to those less than themselves must realise that the first qualification of any speechwriter is not necessarily mastery of language or the subject matter, but ability to instill a sense of intimacy between the speaker and the audience.
A competent speechwriter writes in the speaker's voice, not their own. They know the speaker so well that readers or listeners cannot separate the words from the person delivering them. At the same time, the speechwriter must also understand the audience well enough to anticipate and manage expectations.
This delicate bridge between speaker and audience was completely missing in the President’s speech-it felt disconnected from both himself and his audience.
The television production of the address only reinforced that disconnect: The cameras repeatedly focused on a handful of people listening to the president. Some appeared distracted. Whether intentional or not, the images created the impression that the President was addressing an almost empty room; the image of a man speaking to himself.
Next, the President’s address, though flowery, offered few fresh ideas. Instead, it appeared to recycle familiar comparisons that Kenyans have heard for decades. We were once again reminded how Singapore, South Korea, Malaysia, Thailand, Indonesia and Mauritius transformed their economies while Kenya lagged.
While there is nothing factually wrong with those comparisons, they are no longer original. Three cycles of Kenyan leaders have repeated the same examples for the last few decades, so much that they have since become tired clichés that a well-trained parrot can recite just as convincingly.
The address also failed on delivery. To be fair, President Ruto genuinely tries to drive his points home. Unfortunately, trying too hard can undermine authenticity, making an entire speech sound and look like a performance rather than a conviction.
In the end, the president’s address to the nation ended up sounding hollow, cold and inhuman, almost robotic. This brings us to perhaps the most uncomfortable question: could artificial intelligence have played a significant role in drafting the President’s speech?
Two publicly available AI detection tools suggested the President’s speech was written by robots. One of them indicated that approximately 15.8 percent of the speech exhibited characteristics commonly associated with AI-generated text.
The second tool was even harsher, suggesting that 18 per cent of the president’s speech, including the opening paragraph, displayed AI-like characteristics.
Granted, AI detection tools are not infallible. But the issue here is not whether AI detection software is reliable-it is not. The issue here is not even about the use of AI in speech writing. There is absolutely nothing wrong with using new technology in modern writing. Used properly, AI can help polish grammar and generally ensure that embarrassing typos do not slip through.
But there is a critical distinction: AI should not be caught writing speeches for presidents. In fact, the moment AI begins generating presidential speeches, such AI becomes treasonous-guilty of taking the president’s voice hostage.
Never trust AI in writing is a rule of thumb for any writing. For presidential speeches, the standard should be even higher: the script should bear no obvious fingerprints of artificial intelligence- not because AI is inherently bad, but because a president's words must feel unmistakably human.
The writer is a media and public communications consultant.