When cash politics turns against politicians

Residents of Ol Kalou town receive goodies donated by the government ahead of the July 16 by-election in Ol Kalou constituency. [James Munyeki, Standard]

For decades, money has been one of the most powerful currencies in Kenyan politics, because candidates have relied on cash handouts to attract crowds, reward supporters and create the perception of popularity.

History, however, teaches us that the use of huge amounts of cash does not necessarily translate into votes, as the recent OI Kalou constituency by-election showed us.

Money dished out in campaigns has also created conflict, violence and attacks through the use of hired goons. Politicians giving out cash have also found themselves in trouble when money runs out.

In the 1992 presidential campaign, Kanu splashed truckloads of money that almost caused inflation in the country, with opposition strongholds of Ford Kenya and Ford Asili being the main beneficiaries of the handouts.

The infamous YK 92, then chaired by the late Cyrus Jirongo, dished out the money in places like Bungoma to contain the Ford Kenya wave but opposition leaders Kijana Wamalwa and Mukhisa Kituyi rallied voters with the resonating “Khulia Mu Kanu na Khukona Mu Ford (Luhya for We eat in Kanu and sleep in Ford)” call.

In that election, all-powerful Kanu politicians, including long-serving Cabinet Minister Elijah Mwangale, were sent packing by the youthful rookie opposition politicians. Pundits now argue that a similar pattern could be replicated by the Edwin Sifuna Linda Mwananchi wave in 2027.

From church fundraisers and funerals to campaign rallies and community events, political generosity has become an established feature of Kenya’s electoral culture.

Events in Ol Kalou and Kimilili are forcing politicians to confront an uncomfortable reality that while money can create excitement, fill venues and dominate campaign conversations, it does not necessarily mean people will vote for you.

The culture of handouts appears to have created a new challenge for politicians themselves. The same cash politics designed to build loyalty is increasingly creating expectations that, when unmet, can quickly turn into frustration and anger.

In Kimilili, MP Didmus Barasa reportedly ran for safety on Thursday in his home town, after a crowd turned hostile while demanding money after what he ran out of the much he had. Vehicles were damaged, stones were thrown and security officers had to intervene.

The incident was not merely about one politician or one rally. It exposed the deeper consequences of a political culture where citizens have increasingly come to associate public engagement with immediate financial rewards.

Weeks earlier, the Ol Kalou by-election offered another important lesson.

The constituency became the centre of intense political activity, with senior government officials making appearances, development projects being announced and various forms of support reaching residents.

Free gas cylinders, food and other goodies became part of the campaign environment, while local businesses enjoyed increased activity as millions of shillings circulated.

Yet when voters went to the ballot, they made their choice.

The electorate voted for the candidate they believed represented their interests, despite the resources deployed during the campaign.

The outcome reinforced a lesson  Kenya’s political history has repeatedly provided: money may influence the campaign atmosphere, but it does not determine what happens inside the polling booth.

Political analyst Josphat Gichuhi says the persistence of handouts is linked to how politicians have traditionally positioned themselves within communities.

“For a long time, politicians or would-be aspirants of various elective positions have come out as saviours of communities, as people who would come and help those who are in need, and then they’ll be seen as people who can represent a larger electoral constituency,” Gichuhi said.

He explains that giving financial and material support during weddings, funerals, disasters and community events became a way for politicians to demonstrate leadership and concern.

“People coming out to give financial support mostly, and other material support, either in weddings, burials, funerals, and in times of other disasters like flooding, has been a way of trying to splash an element of concern and leadership for the community,” he said.

For years, these platforms became political entry points. Politicians used them to build relationships, introduce themselves to voters and present themselves as leaders capable of solving community problems.

But Gichuhi argues that this approach is gradually losing influence as voters begin questioning whether handouts represent genuine leadership.

“Those have for a long time been the only existing platforms, including churches and projects, where people would go and try to sell their manifesto, in the manner of speaking,” he said.

“But now, those kinds of politics are changing because people are realising that they never carried any substance, they never carried any specific agenda for the people. It was just a way of endearment,’’ he added.

That shift is reflected in the questions voters are increasingly asking about campaign spending.

Gichuhi says citizens are questioning why politicians spend enormous sums seeking office when the financial benefits of holding elective positions are significantly lower.

“People are beginning to ask, why are you giving us so much money when we know accumulatively, even if we elect you, if you take an MP, they are not going to make more than what, Sh60 million or Sh120 million. Why would you want to spend more, or half of that kind of money, to campaign for your position?” he said.

Kenya’s political history provides several examples showing that financial muscle does not guarantee electoral victory.

In 1992, businessman Kenneth Matiba invested heavily in his presidential campaign but lost. In 2002, Uhuru Kenyatta entered the presidential race backed by the state machinery and significant resources, yet voters overwhelmingly supported Mwai Kibaki and the National Rainbow Coalition, driven by a national desire for change.

The same pattern has appeared in parliamentary and county elections, where wealthy candidates have spent millions on campaigns only to lose to competitors who better connected with voters’ political expectations.

Western Kenya has repeatedly demonstrated this reality.

Across Bungoma, Kakamega, Busia, Vihiga and Trans Nzoia, politicians have for years invested in donations, fundraisers, community projects and cash distributions in search of political support.

However, when voters enter the polling booth, decisions have often been shaped by deeper political considerations, including party loyalty, leadership records and national political trends.

The region’s voting history shows that generosity during campaigns does not automatically create loyalty.

Gichuhi argues that voters are increasingly looking beyond immediate benefits and assessing the character of leaders.

“People are beginning to look into the character and conduct of the individuals. Chapter Six of the Constitution talks about our values, and they are beginning to question, if you have a coloured past, even if you give us money, we are not going to vote for you, even though you are giving us money now,” he noted.

He believes Kenya is experiencing a quiet political awakening.

“There is a paradigm shift happening politically, where people are beginning to be more issue-based, to reflect and wonder, even though you give me money now and I vote for you, what will become of my life in five years when you’ll be in office,” he said.

Political commentator Fanya Mambo Kinuthia believes this shift could redefine the 2027 election landscape.

He argues that Kenya is moving away from a political culture where wealth determines influence towards one where credibility and connection with citizens matter more.

“The Kenya of 2027 will be very different from every other Kenya that we have had in the past,” Kinuthia said.

He argues that in previous elections, politicians accumulated wealth because campaign spending was considered a pathway to power.

“Before the Ol Kalou election, people used to amass wealth to steal from public coffers and every other place so that they can buy political office. What determined whether you would be voted for was how much money you spent on a campaign,” he noted.

According to Kinuthia, this created a cycle where leaders sought to recover campaign investments once elected.

“When someone is voted for, the first thing they want to do is recover the money they spent on elections, probably double and have a bigger kitty for the next election,” he said.

But he believes recent developments point to a different political consciousness.

He points to instances where citizens have voluntarily contributed small amounts to support candidates as evidence that voters are beginning to challenge the dominance of money in politics.

“It was a sign of defiance. It was a sign of trying to show politicians that this time around your money will equate to nothing,” Kinuthia said.

He argues that leaders supported by citizens rather than financial networks may be more accountable because they recognise where their mandate comes from.

“If people give you money, they will for sure give you their vote. We are moving to a situation where we shall have accountability because leaders will know they owe their positions to Mwananchi,” he asserted.

For Kinuthia, the greatest lesson from Kimilili and Ol Kalou is that politicians must redefine what they offer voters.

“2027 is going to be not about how much a man has. It is going to be about how much a man is. It is not what you have. It is who you are,” he said.

The incidents in Kimilili and Ol Kalou therefore represent more than campaign controversies. They reveal a deeper change in Kenya’s political relationship between leaders and voters.

Kimilili has shown the danger of creating expectations through handouts, while Ol Kalou showed that even massive resources cannot override voter choice.

“As Kenya moves towards the 2027 General Election, politicians may have to accept a reality that history has repeatedly demonstrated. Money can attract crowds. It can create visibility. It can temporarily influence public attention. But it cannot guarantee trust. And when Kenyans step into the polling booth, the final power remains with the voter,” Kinuthia said.