It's time for Kenya to change its currency of politics

Nyaribari Chache MP Zaheer Jhanda spotted issuing cash handouts to his constituents during a rally.[Courtesy]

For many years, Kenyan politics has had a complicated relationship with money. From the old days of political rallies where leaders arrived with food and other forms of assistance, to today's “empowerment” events where cash is handed out before cheering crowds, one thing has remained familiar: Money has often become a language of political connection.

As Kenya looks towards the 2027 General Election, perhaps it is time to ask ourselves a difficult question: Have we allowed the handout to become more important than the idea, the envelope more attractive than the policy, and the immediate benefit more memorable than long-term development?

This is not a problem that began with today's politicians. Kenya's political history has long included patronage, personal networks, and material assistance. What has changed is the scale and visibility of the practice. Today, a political contribution can be captured on a mobile phone, uploaded to TikTok, Facebook or X and watched by thousands of people within minutes.

The result is a political culture where a politician can give a few hundred or thousand shillings to a group and receive more immediate recognition than a representative who has spent months working through a parliamentary committee. A politician can contribute to a fundraiser and receive applause, while serious oversight or legislative work may pass almost unnoticed.

The Ethics and Anti-Corruption Commission's National Ethics and Corruption Survey covering the 2022 General Election found that more than 70 per cent of respondents who reported receiving electoral bribes received between Sh30 and Sh1,000. The survey also found that 17.7 per cent said bribery influenced their voting decisions, while 82.3 per cent said it did not.

These figures do not mean that everyone who accepts money changes their vote, nor that every politician who gives money is committing an electoral offence. Kenya's Elections Act prohibits giving money, gifts or other valuable consideration to induce voters to vote or refrain from voting for a particular candidate. The deeper issue, however, is the political culture that has allowed money to become such a powerful instrument of political mobilisation.

Consider Turkana. In a county characterised by its vast geographical size, dispersed settlements and significant economic challenges, a few hundred shillings can mean a great deal to a struggling household. It would be unfair to lecture a parent struggling with food, school fees or transport about refusing assistance. Poverty is not a political crime.

But Turkana should not have to remain a place where political assistance is mistaken for development.

A bursary programme with clear eligibility criteria, a public budget and accountability is different from a politician personally handing money to residents at a political gathering. One is a public intervention designed to serve citizens through an established system; the other can create a personal relationship between a politician and a voter.

A young Turkana student does not ultimately need a politician who occasionally puts Sh1,000 in their pocket. They need an education system that gives them a genuine chance to complete their studies and compete for employment. A pastoralist does not simply need a politician to contribute to a fundraiser after livestock losses. They need reliable water, veterinary services, markets, roads, security and policies that support pastoral livelihoods.

The same reality can be seen in Nairobi. Walk through Kibera, Mathare, Mukuru or Korogocho, and it becomes easy to understand why handouts remain attractive. When someone is struggling to put food on the table, Sh500 is not an abstract political concept. It can be lunch, transport or something to take home to the family.

Mr Lomenen is a student at Mount Kenya University, pursuing a Bachelor of Media and Communication.