Disaffected workers unlikely to influence 2027 poll outcome

A recent conversation with a friend was revealing. His principal grievance against the Kenya Kwanza administration was what he described as its raid on the payslips of formally employed Kenyans. These taxpayers, he argued, had been squeezed so relentlessly that they would vote the government out of office at the next election. But is that prediction justified?

The employment figures suggest a more complicated picture. According to the Kenya National Bureau of Statistics, Kenya has approximately 3.2 million workers in formal employment. Of these, 2,497,004, or about 77 per cent, earn less than Sh100,000 a month. By contrast, only 397,551 workers, representing roughly 12.4 per cent of the formal workforce, earn above that threshold. They are also the most exposed to the administration’s heavier deductions from salaries.

The distinction matters. While the burden of taxation and statutory deductions may be felt by formally employed Kenyans, those most affected constitute a relatively small segment of the electorate. Their disaffection may be politically consequential, but it is unlikely, on its own, to determine the outcome of next year’s election. The question therefore is not simply whether the government has alienated salaried workers but whether their discontent can spread beyond their relatively narrow demographic and become a broader electoral revolt.

A section of Kenyans yearns for a repeat of 2002 when the candidate backed by the government of the day was defeated by the Opposition. Yet the political arithmetic of next year’s election is markedly different.

In 2002, victory required a simple majority. Under Kenya’s current constitutional framework, a presidential candidate must secure more than half of all votes cast and at least 25 per cent of the votes cast in each of at least 24 of the country’s 47 counties. The difference is consequential: A candidate must not only win nationally but also establish a sufficiently broad geographical base of support.

Kenya has 47 counties and 1,450 wards. Only one candidate, it is claimed, has visited every ward more than twice. If these wards are the building blocks of the county-level support needed to satisfy the constitutional threshold, then the logic of campaigning from rooftops of vehicles becomes clearer. Such campaigns may appear unconventional, even theatrical, but they offer a means of reaching voters across a dispersed electorate, particularly beyond the major urban centres.

The central point is that presidential elections are not won on national arithmetic alone. They are also contests of geographical reach, personal contact and the painstaking accumulation of support across the country. In an election governed by both a national majority and a county-based threshold, the candidate who has cultivated a presence at the grassroots may have a distinct advantage in the task of building a nationwide coalition.

As next year’s presidential election approaches, other numbers tell their story. Fifteen aspirants have so far declared interest in the highest office. Twelve have previously served in one or other arms of government. A mere two place economic policy at the centre of their platforms. And among the crowded field, just one woman has offered herself for the highest leadership. The arithmetic is stark: A contest shaped by political experience, sparse economic vision and a striking gender imbalance. Naturally, none of the candidates is Gen Z.

Mr Khafafa is a public policy analyst