An early letter to the citizen

A voter casts her vote during the 2022 General election voting at Uhuru Gardens Primary School, Langata Constituency, Nairobi. [File, Standard]

Dear Citizen,

We are still some distance from the proverbial 8 a.m. when politicians promise they will have beaten their opponents. Yet the political theatre is already warming up: declarations of certain victory, massive rallies, billions being discussed, crowds being mobilised. But loud confidence can conceal deep uncertainty. When someone insists, "We will beat them by 8 a.m.," the very thing being declared is the thing they most fear—that they could be beaten before the day even begins.

While they prepare for their 8 a.m., you have something more important to do: think. Do not let the noise of the campaign trail make you forget who ultimately decides. The politician may have the microphone, the motorcade, the money and the crowd. But the citizen has the vote. Those who hold political power do so because citizens entrust it to them. You have the power to empower. And your power is a trust.

The power-conscious voter understands that this power carries moral responsibility. The question is not "Did you vote?" but "How did you exercise the power entrusted to you?"

For the Christian citizen, that question goes further. Our vote should seek alignment with the will and standards of God as discerned through Scripture, conscience, truth, justice, integrity, stewardship, human dignity and love of neighbour. We must not claim that God has endorsed a candidate when Scripture has given no such revelation. But we can ask whether the values behind our vote are consistent with the values God has revealed. That makes citizenship a moral vocation.

An election is a moment when a people considers competing visions of its future. What kind of country do we want to become? A country where truth matters. Where public resources are treated as a trust. Where justice does not depend on whom you know. Where leaders are accountable. Where young people can imagine a future at home.

This is why the claim, "Our development record is what will speak for us," matters. Those making it are presenting an examination paper. But what if the people set a different one? What if Kenyans examine not only the development record but also the moral record? What happened to truth, integrity, accountability, justice and human dignity?

If Kenyans were loved and valued by their leaders, they would know it—not because leaders said so, but because their lives would be exhibits of it. The opposite is also true. When people are not loved, valued, or cared for by those who lead them, their lives eventually become exhibits of that too.

Imagine candidates who received a purportedly leaked examination paper, prepared all their answers around it, walked confidently into the examination room—and discovered a completely different paper. Shock! The people are the exam setters. Candidates can present themselves, but they cannot dictate the questions. They must prepare for the one the people have decided to set.

Every examiner needs a marking scheme. That is your vision. Settle on it before you settle on a person, then ask what kind of leadership can take us there. Do not choose a candidate first and wait for your vision to conform to theirs. Five years is a long time to live with an unexamined choice.

Samuel learned the danger of doing otherwise. He surveyed the candidates and thought some appeared suitable, while David was not even presented as the obvious choice. The lesson is not to choose the least-known person. It is that familiarity, appearance and prominence are no substitute for discernment.

Scripture gives us a vocabulary for examining leadership: truth, integrity, justice, wisdom, stewardship, courage, compassion, humility, accountability and service. God does not have one morality for the sanctuary and another for the public square. A leader cannot be truthful in church and become respectable through deception in public office. Stewardship does not stop at the church door; it applies to public resources. Justice does not become optional when dealing with political opponents. The moral architecture remains the same.

Personality can attract. Tribe can mobilise. Money can organise. Slogans can excite. None of these can build a nation. A country requires institutions. Institutions require values. And values require people who embody them.

Ask, then: What vision is being offered? What record supports the promises? What values are visible in conduct? How are opponents treated? What happens when the person is corrected? That moves the citizen from applause to examination, and politics from personality to purpose.

It also moves us beyond the narrow question, "Who is one of us?" The ballot asks a deeper one: "What are we entrusting to this person?" Identity matters, but it should not exhaust our political imagination.

Tweak the tribe as we have known it. Let us grow the Integrity Tribe. If tribes can be mobilised, surely another kind can be built—citizens united not by ethnicity but by integrity, justice, accountability and a shared vision for Kenya. I call such a citizen an integrityist.

The integrityist does not ask, "Where is my tribe?" but "Where is integrity?" They are not tribe-sited; they are Kenya-sited. They listen to what people say, observe what they do, and examine what they defend. Do they speak about positioning their tribe within Kenya, or positioning Kenya among nations?

Your vote is enormous in meaning. You temporarily hand another person enormous public power: to make decisions, allocate resources, appoint officials and shape institutions. Leadership is stewardship. The office is borrowed. The resources are entrusted. The authority is delegated. To rig an election is to counterfeit the people's voice — and forgery of a nation's 'yes' is no small sin.

You may not climb to the pulpit to preach, but the voting booth is your opportunity to preach your sermon. It is not about what you have overheard. It is about what you have examined.

That is why this letter comes early. Long before the proverbial 8 a.m., there is time to listen, think, examine and form a position. Let your decision be an intentional one—not one made for you by money, crowds, slogans, fear or political theatre. Ask yourself: what kind of Kenya are we planting? Discern the vision beneath the noise, and understand what your choice entrusts.

The politicians will have their 8 a.m. You have your weeks before it. Use them. The booth may be your pulpit, but your sermon begins long before you enter it.

@edward_buri