The Youth Will Not Save Kenya · Kenya Insights

By Salim Maliq

For years, Kenyans have been told that the future of this country belongs to the youth. Somewhere along the way, a statement about demographics became a political philosophy, and the promise of generational change became an article of faith.

Young people are told to take over. Elect younger leaders. Replace the old politicians. Give the next generation a chance.

It sounds reasonable. It is also dangerously incomplete.

Kenya has already offered glimpses of what this supposed political future looks like. The experiences of Johnson Sakaja and Mutula Kilonzo Junior raise an uncomfortable question: what if age was never the problem in the first place?

There was a time when Sakaja and Mutula represented the promise of a different kind of politics. As senators, they were articulate, confident and capable of interrogating government policy, challenging legislation and speaking to the frustrations of a generation impatient with the political establishment.

Sakaja championed issues affecting young people, including legislation around startups, while Mutula established himself as a forceful voice on constitutional questions and devolution. From the Senate, both appeared to embody a political generation that could do things differently.

They were asking questions of those in power. They were scrutinising other people’s decisions. They were making the case for accountability.

Then came the real test: executive power.

When the critics become the decision-makers

When Sakaja became Nairobi governor, the demands of leadership changed fundamentally.

The job was no longer about delivering persuasive speeches, sponsoring motions or questioning another administration. It was about running one of Kenya’s most complicated county governments, managing public finances, supervising procurement, directing a bureaucracy and delivering essential services to millions of residents.

The distinction matters because the skills required to challenge power are not necessarily the skills required to exercise it responsibly.

Sakaja’s administration has faced parliamentary scrutiny over county spending and questions about the accuracy of some of his performance claims. In March 2026, the Senate County Public Accounts Committee fined him Sh500,000 and ordered his arrest after he failed to honour its summons concerning billions of shillings allocated to Nairobi County.

The governor subsequently appeared before the Senate. The episode nevertheless underscored the importance of accountability, particularly when elected leaders are required to explain how public resources have been used.

These developments do not, by themselves, establish personal corruption or prove that every aspect of his administration has failed. They do, however, illustrate the scrutiny that accompanies executive office and the responsibility leaders have to account for their decisions.

The lesson is not that young leaders cannot govern. It is that the promise of a youthful politician must be measured against the realities of governing.

Mutula offers an important counterpoint.

His administration in Makueni has received praise from the Senate Public Accounts Committee for automating county revenue collection and improving fiscal management. The county reported collecting Sh1 billion in its own-source revenue in the 2023/2024 financial year, a development the committee commended.

At the same time, parliamentary scrutiny of Makueni’s water and sanitation companies has identified structural and financial challenges requiring intervention.

These contrasting experiences make the argument more compelling, not less. Some young leaders perform well in particular areas. Others face serious questions about their administration. The point is that age alone cannot explain the difference.

If youth automatically produced competent government, these distinctions would be unnecessary.

The outsider illusion

The same political fantasy extends beyond governors.

Mohamed Ali entered Parliament with a reputation built through investigative journalism and exposing alleged wrongdoing. Jaguar arrived as a youthful celebrity associated with empowerment and the demand for generational change. Jalang’o entered elective politics with enormous public visibility and a strong connection to ordinary Kenyans, particularly young people.

Their backgrounds and political journeys differ. Yet their appeal reflects a recurring feature of Kenyan politics: the belief that someone who comes from outside the traditional political establishment will automatically represent a better alternative.

The outsider is presented as the antidote to the system. The youthful candidate becomes the symbol of a fresh beginning. Familiar faces are blamed for the country’s problems, while new faces are offered the benefit of the doubt before they have demonstrated what they can do.

But political experience has a way of complicating these narratives.

Entering Parliament is not the same as running a government. Exposing wrongdoing is not the same as building an institution capable of preventing it. Connecting with ordinary citizens is not the same as managing public finances or delivering reliable services.

A good legislator can identify a problem, expose an abuse, oppose a bad bill or articulate public anger. These are important functions in a democracy.

A good executive must do much more.

They must appoint competent officials, control expenditure, manage competing interests, resist pressure from friends and political allies, navigate bureaucracy, deliver services and accept responsibility when the machinery under their supervision fails.

These are different responsibilities requiring different skills.

The mistake is to assume that someone who can brilliantly explain why a system is broken must automatically know how to fix it.

Youth is not a qualification

This is where Kenya’s obsession with young leaders becomes dangerous.

We have increasingly treated youth as a qualification in itself, as though being 35 instead of 65 automatically makes someone more honest, more competent or more courageous.

It does not.

A young politician can be corrupt. A young politician can be tribal. A young politician can become transactional, intolerant of criticism and protective of the same networks of privilege they once condemned.

They can also be principled, competent and committed to public service.

Age establishes neither outcome.

The incentives that shape Kenyan politics do not disappear when a younger politician enters office. The pressure to reward political allies, protect influential networks, finance political ambitions and maintain patronage can affect leaders across generations.

A politician who rises by condemning an entrenched political culture may eventually find that the same culture offers the easiest route to retaining power.

That is why replacing older politicians with younger ones, without changing the standards by which leaders are selected and held accountable, risks reproducing the very system voters want to dismantle.

The faces change. The methods remain.

The questions voters should be asking

Instead of asking how old a candidate is, Kenyans should ask what that candidate has demonstrated about their character, competence and respect for public institutions.

How did they behave when their political allies were wrong?

How did they handle public money when they were responsible for spending it?

Did they build institutions capable of functioning beyond their personal influence, or did they concentrate power around themselves?

Did they reward competence or loyalty?

Did they welcome scrutiny when it became uncomfortable, or did they treat accountability as an attack on their authority?

And perhaps most importantly, what evidence exists that they will govern differently from the people they spent years condemning?

These questions should apply equally to presidential candidates, governors, senators, MPs and members of county assemblies.

They should also apply to older politicians. Rejecting the assumption that youth guarantees good leadership does not mean embracing the equally flawed belief that age guarantees wisdom.

The objective is not to defend one generation against another. It is to establish a standard of leadership that applies to everyone seeking public office.

Kenya’s political debate must move beyond age and appearance towards measurable performance, institutional integrity and accountability.

Candidates should be judged by their records, their decisions and their willingness to subject themselves to the same rules they demand of others.

Promises of transformation are easy to make during campaigns. The more revealing evidence comes when leaders control budgets, make appointments, award contracts and decide whether to comply with oversight institutions.

That is where political character becomes visible.

A new generation needs a new political culture

Kenya does not need to stop electing young people. It needs to stop electing people simply because they are young.

There is a profound difference.

The next generation should enter politics, contest elections and occupy positions of authority. Young Kenyans have every right to participate in shaping the country’s future, and their exclusion from leadership would be both unjust and counterproductive.

But youth should be an opportunity to prove oneself, not a certificate of competence.

Political parties must do more than market candidates as symbols of generational change. They should demonstrate how they identify capable leaders, enforce internal accountability and prevent public office from becoming a vehicle for private interests.

Voters, too, must resist the temptation to confuse charisma with competence, popularity with integrity or youthful energy with administrative ability.

A candidate’s age might tell us something about their generation. It tells us very little about how they will exercise power.

The experiences of leaders such as Sakaja and Mutula demonstrate why the distinction between political promise and executive performance deserves serious attention. Their records must be assessed on their own merits, including both achievements and shortcomings, rather than reduced to a simplistic verdict on their generation.

Ultimately, Kenya’s challenge is not merely to change the people occupying public offices. It is to change the political culture that determines how those offices are used.

A new generation is not the same thing as a new political culture.

And before Kenyans hand anyone the presidency on the strength of a promise that they represent the future, they should ask a more important question.

What have they done with power when they actually had it?