In June 2024, as a Finance Bill laden with a raft of tax proposals considered punitive to ordinary Kenyans made its way through parliament, young Kenyans poured into the streets in loud, defiant albeit largely peaceful protest.
Kenya is no stranger to protest, but there were a number of striking elements about these particular protests.
First, the demographic of the protesters: they were young, well-educated, well-spoken and from across the socio-economic spectrum including, and perhaps notably, the middle class. What’s more, the tens of thousands who poured onto the streets were those who had previously been dismissed as mere keyboard warriors venting their frustrations anonymously behind screens but never showing up on the ground when it mattered. This is the generation that at the last general election, less than two years ago, was accused of being hopelessly politically apathetic.
This time was different.
They had a solid grasp of the issues, a strong ability to articulate their views on these issues and deep expertise in leveraging digital channels to disseminate these views and organise action around them. The Finance Bill at issue was framed by the government as being necessary to alleviate Kenya’s debilitating international debt burden as well as invest in strategic projects to enhance the country’s future economic well being.
The protestors demurred. They said they understood the need for taxes but that the punitive taxes being imposed on Kenyans were based on a budget that had been padded excessively to make provision for corruption, to fund unconstitutional roles and offices, to pay government officials exorbitant salaries, way above what they ought to be paid, and to waste on unnecessary expenses like endless foreign trips and dubious allowances.
Second, the protestors declared themselves tribeless, partyless and leaderless at the outset. They were simply Kenyans, they said, their common allegiance being to the country they called home. This immediately set these protests apart from the protests of my generation.
Back in the nineties when we agitated successfully for the restoration of multiparty elections, the introduction of presidential term limits and, eventually, the end of President Moi’s 24 year rule, the protests had clear, visible leaders from civil society, the political realm and the Church. The Church in particular had a strong and effective voice in the movement under the auspices of the National Council of Churches of Kenya.
This time, however, the Church appears to have been caught flat footed. Before the protests it did not appear as though the Church empathised sufficiently with the adverse effects the prevailing cost of living crisis had had on its congregants. Once the protests began, reports spread of strategically placed churches denying protesters refuge when they sought to escape the onslaught from riot police sent to disperse them.
Further, a ripple of discontent spread online as people grumbled about churches providing a platform for politicians to politic at the pulpit. Church leaders were accused of sanitising politicians in lieu of calling them out, of benefitting from the proceeds of corruption and of living large on the proceeds of their poor congregants.
Soon a hashtag parallel to the protests emerged online, demanding that young people #OccupyChurches in their respective locales to ensure that they did not allow politicians to sully the pulpit. Leaders at a prominent church which had announced a fundraiser with the first lady, a self-proclaimed Christian, as chief guest, received a loaded message informing them that the youth would also attend the fundraiser. The church promptly cancelled the fundraising event.
As the protests continued, some churches belatedly read the room and began to respond more positively. One strategically placed church spread the word that its premises were open for protestors should they need refuge or brief respite. Another which has historically provided support and refuge to protestors hosted a requiem mass for the young protestors who had been tragically killed during what were supposed to be peaceful protests.
Today the protest mood persists, albeit in more muted tones than at the height of the protests in the second half of June. In the past two weeks, the government has made a number of concessions in response to the protestors’ demands. In lieu of signing the offensive Finance Bill, President Ruto sent it back to parliament with instructions to parliament to review it. Last week, he fired his entire cabinet.
In the midst of all this, can the Church recover its footing?
I believe institutions have a scaffolding role to play in times such as these. Scaffolding is best known as the temporary framework that is used to support people and materials in the construction of buildings. The term scaffolding is also used in education to describe the guiding support a teacher provides to a learner as they acquire a new skill or learn a new concept. Scaffolding does not sit at the centre of things but it is crucial to the building process.
Some institutions in Kenya have stepped forward to play their scaffolding role brilliantly. The Law Society of Kenya, for example, promptly deployed lawyers across the country to provide legal support to protestors who had been arrested. When President Ruto appointed a taskforce to audit public debt to appease the protestors, the Law Society of Kenya, whose President had been appointed as one of eight taskforce members, promptly declined the appointment on her behalf.
It declared the taskforce unconstitutional as it usurped the existing constitutional role of the Auditor General. In doing so, it not only displayed a high level of integrity but it also modelled to Kenyans how to think about the role of the executive and the paramount place of the constitution as a guiding document in the life of the nation. By providing critical legal scaffolding during this time, the Law Society of Kenya and its leadership gained credibility among Kenyans.
In the same vein, could the church scaffold this pivotal national moment with spiritual guidance and pastoral care? Could it provide much needed language and models of justice in society? Certainly, the Bible has these aplenty. A personal favourite is God’s command to the Israelites in Leviticus 19 not to reap the edges of their fields or go over their harvest fields a second time to pick up what they might have missed the first time round but rather to leave these for the poor to find and glean. A simple yet profound way to serve economic justice while preserving the dignity of the poor.
Unfortunately, when the Law Society of Kenya rose to this particular occasion, the Church stumbled badly. Many view the church as heavily compromised and out of touch, lacking the righteousness that comes alongside justice in the Bible, and failing hopelessly in supporting the poor and marginalised. There is much work that needs to be done if the Church desires to regain its lost moral authority and without that moral authority, the Church cannot hope to provide the spiritual scaffolding needed in this crucial moment.
If the leadership of the Church can reflect deeply about its role in society as the instrument of God’s compassion and justice on earth and how it has failed to fulfil that role, if it can come before its congregants and repent for all the ways in which it has indulged the ills of the political class rather than rebuked them, if it can deign to listen to the young people in its ranks and heed their calls for accountability, if it can begin to raise these young people to places of meaningful leadership within the Church that empower them to shape the future of church and society, then there is hope.
If however the Church misses the moment, then its place at the heart of Kenyan society is at serious risk. Its marginalisation might not happen all at once and might not even be discernible at first, but in fifty years’ time, should we find that the role of the Church in Kenyan society is inconsequential, we would do well to see this moment as a pit stop on the road to that future irrelevance.
Wambura Kimunyu is an education technology entrepreneur and publisher from Nairobi, Kenya.
