Why politicising schools risks long-term harm to the economy
Columnists
By
Patrick Muinde
| Jan 10, 2026
As learners return to school for the 2026 academic year, the nation is gripped by a dangerous debate over the allocation of Grade 10 slots in national schools.
From the outset, this column holds that no matter how “educated” the debate may sound, there can be no positive outcome from turning learning institutions into village enclaves.
There is ample evidence in literature to support this view, alongside clear local case studies within our education sector. We have witnessed once-giant public universities, former citadels of excellence, crumble under the weight of political interference and ethnic undertones.
There is no learning institution that can survive such myopic arguments. Political expediency must not be allowed to undermine public learning institutions at whatever level.
This debate on localising public institutions fails on several fundamental factors that define the target school’s identity, constitutional values and guarantees of learners rights provided in the Basic Education Act. Further, it deprives host communities of the social, economic and prestige benefits that accompany the success of such institutions.
Indeed, who would not take pride in seeing a local institution, built through community effort, grow into a national icon? Is it not a shared human desire to create things that outgrow and outlive us? Surely, it best serves both the interests and the pride of any community to host an institution that serves the entire nation.
More specifically, there are several factors that have shaped the development of school’s in the country over the years. First, the country’s post-independence developmental philosophy was founded on the harambee spirit. It was the official policy of the government that public officials and political elites mobilize local communities to build schools, hospitals and other public amenities.
Obviously, given our historically ethnic based political and governance structures, some areas benefited more than others. In any case, it is public knowledge that development in Kenya has historically been skewed based on political loyalty to the Presidency and the ruling party. This is precisely the malady devolution set out to cure in 2010, when it was entrenched as a constitutional value in our democratic and governance system.
In all fairness, no one should expect regions that suffered from systemic politically engineered underdevelopment for five decades to catch-up with other regions in just ten years. At professional level, I have been in the devolution space since its inception in 2013. I have personally traversed far and wide across the country. I have listened to tales of hope and despair in equal measure. It is ignorance of the highest order to suggest that any learner should be denied a fair chance in life because of historical injustices they played no part in, or the failures of their local leaders.
Second factor that may explain some of the huge disparities on development of educational institutions is geographic size and climatic conditions of different regions. Vast regions with challenging climatic conditions require deliberate, strategic national interventions to improve access to basic public services and amenities.
Take, for example, Turbi Ward in Marsabit—the largest of the country’s 1,450 wards, covering 10,821 km². It is larger than nine counties combined: Mombasa, Vihiga, Nairobi, Nyamira, Kirinyaga, Kisii, Busia, Bomet, and Kisumu. Imagine what it will cost for the elected local Member of County Assembly or the Governor just to traverse across the ward to inspect development projects.
In my home county of Machakos, Masinga Sub-County spans 1,411 km²—larger than Mombasa, Vihiga, Nairobi, Nyamira, Kirinyaga, and Kisii counties combined—yet it has no national school. Masinga has no national school. The questions that we must ask as a nation then are: Are learners born in places like Turbi or Masinga children of this country? Do they have equal rights guaranteed in our constitution similar to those of learners born in Nairobi, Mombasa, Kiambu or Eldoret? What justification can a public school anywhere in the country advance to deny children from these regions access to education?
A third factor that has large impact on development of educational institutions is leadership and governance structures. On this factor, I can unapologetically state that anyone who has not engaged in alumni activities of their former schools or served in a Board of Management (BoMs) of a local village level school has no moral authority to lecture us on this matter.
Local schools are chronically deprived of skilled Board of Management members needed to provide effective policy direction and oversee school administrators. Moreover, because these schools draw learners primarily from their immediate locality, they remain limited by the resources of their communities and rarely outgrow the village mindsets in which they are situated.
For majority of these schools, what would easily pass as the budget for lunch for one week at Alliance or Mangu is the budget for a whole term, including contracting BOM teachers. Due to these limitations, a rogue administrator can single-handedly run down the institution and get away with it by compromising BOMs with few coins or just a nice chicken meal at scheduled board meetings.
Tragically, corruption networks operating in other sectors of the economy also control the education sector. Lucky for the national schools, they can attract high quality boards and leverage on their strong alumni networks to forestall entrenchment of high-level corruption. We have seen alumni from the national schools read the riot act to school administrators if they dare misbehave. Reducing these institutions to village enclaves and depriving them of robust governance structures would be a strategic blunder beyond the remedy of the political leaders pushing this agenda.
The final factor to consider is community resources and access to physical infrastructure. It is clear to anyone that building a quality school requires substantial financial investment.
Moreover, to attract students from well-endowed families who can meet the high costs of national schools and tap into their extensive networks, a school must be situated in an area with strong physical infrastructure.
This explains why high-quality schools are often concentrated in areas with good roads, amenities, and favorable climates. Yet, these natural and structural advantages should never be used to deny learners from disadvantaged communities access to such institutions. Psychological research shows that travelling—whether within a country or abroad—offers significant benefits. Exposure to new environments stimulates the brain, enhancing cognitive function and boosting creativity and problem-solving skills.
Further, travelling enhances personal growth and self-development through increased confidence and independence, adaptability and resilience and fostering of a growth mindset. Traveling also enhances a person’s social and cultural development by broadening their horizons and empathy, improves communication skills and builds connections.
So why would anyone condemn our young people to remain confined within their villages of birth in the name of protecting local institutions? Economists recognize that while modern economies depend on interconnected infrastructures, human capital—alongside data and energy—is increasingly viewed as a key driver of future growth. How then do we destroy institutions that manufacture the very human capital we desire for growth to serve sectarian political agendas?