Kenyans Never Learn: The Virtue Of Leaderless Revolt In The Fight Against The Evil Political Class

Kenyans never learn. Every so often, we take to the streets, waving banners, chanting for change, and what do we do next? We ask, “Where is our leader?” It’s as if the notion of a united, leaderless revolution is unfathomable. We’ve come so far without a face at the helm, tribeless and fearless, but some of us insist on pointing fingers at one another, asking, “Who’s in charge?” To those calling for leaders, here’s some friendly advice: Keep quiet. Your eagerness for a leader is the very weakness our rotten political class hopes we’ll fall for.

We are here because we’re leaderless. We’re here because we refuse to allow any single individual to bear the brunt of this movement’s weight. A leader gives our enemies a target, an address, a name to hang their dirty tricks on. Do you not see? The calls for “we want leaders” are whispers from state infiltrators, trying to corral us back into the familiar pit where they can pick us off, one by one. Give them a leader, and they will take a thousand pictures, create a hundred scandals, and, if need be, eliminate one more inconvenient voice from the public sphere.

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This country has seen enough “leaders” rise to glory only to crumble under the weight of promises whispered in the corridors of power. A leader offers the system a face to surveil, to hunt, to buy off with a plush office and a meaningless title. You, my friend, calling for a leader, you may as well hand the system the keys to your house and a welcome mat. Give them a leader, and watch how quickly our “people’s champion” is found dining in private clubs with the very oppressors they claimed to defy.

A leader today would be a prize for our political class, an easy pawn to parade and pulverize. But with a leaderless movement, we become the Hydra; cut off one head, and two more rise. The government can’t arrest all of us, can’t silence millions of us, can’t defame a movement without a face. Do you think our leaders in government don’t know this? Oh, they know – and they’re terrified. They’ve grown fat on our habit of rallying around individuals who then become the state’s next meal.

Think, brethren, think! Give the system a leader, and they will say, “Ah, this leader is from this tribe!” And suddenly, the revolution becomes a tribal dance in their narrative, a matter of one community pitted against another. Imagine the delight of the media as they dissect this leader’s tribal affiliations, the headlines practically writing themselves: “Is this a Luo rebellion? A Kikuyu uprising? A Kamba insurgence?” The government will fan these flames, hoping we’ll burn each other down.

We hand them the tribal narrative the moment we give them a leader. Suddenly, it’s not about Kenyans crying for justice; it’s about the tribe of the leader chosen. They will spin it, twist it, and throw it back at us like seasoned puppeteers. “Oh, it’s a Kikuyu leading? A Luo? Must be that tribe’s agenda then.” And once again, we’ll be back to where we started, bickering over tribal lines while they laugh from their cushy seats.

The tragic comedy of Kenyan protests is that we seem to believe in selecting leaders before the war is won. We’re still in the trenches, folks. Only when victory is in sight do we need leaders, not before. Let those with true leadership in their hearts rise naturally. But to pick a leader now, in the middle of the battlefield, would be like crowning a king in the middle of a siege. The best generals emerge from the battle, not from backroom deals.

And let’s be real, if you start choosing leaders now, you’ll end up elevating infiltrators faster than you can say “betrayal.” Who do you trust with the responsibility of this movement? You think our rogue state doesn’t have its fingers in this pie, ready to bake out their chosen patsy? Look around. The “leaders” we pick may very well be the ones singing praises for the same regime tomorrow, pocketing dirty money, while we’re left wondering how it all went wrong again.

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Do you think these movements, these demands for change, can be led by people appointed through online polls? TikTok influencers, Instagram personalities… it sounds absurd, but that’s what happens when we choose leaders from social media clout. These movements are national, and they must remain beyond the petty theatrics of social media. A leader thrust from Instagram is only as powerful as their next post, not the years of suffering that drive our cause.

With a leader, we give the government a bullseye to aim at, a fixed point of destruction. You think they won’t dig up every skeleton in their closet, tarnish every good deed, twist every intention? Watch as this hypothetical “leader” becomes the poster child of hypocrisy, their image shattered, their influence tainted by accusations both real and manufactured. The system knows this game well; they’ve been at it for years, dismantling any person brave enough to rise.

The beauty of being leaderless is that we become untraceable, a ghostly opposition they can’t quite touch, much less control. This is what keeps them awake at night, the knowledge that they can’t bribe, intimidate, or imprison an idea. They’re scrambling to label us, to assign us a name they can attack. But if we remain a sea of nameless, faceless resistance, all they’re left with are the shadows they fear most.

And please, let’s not delude ourselves into thinking a political party formed now could solve our woes. Form a party, and you hand them another card to play: “Oh look, it’s a political agenda! They’re not citizens demanding justice; they’re politicians vying for power.” It transforms us from citizens crying out for change into one more political faction, dismissed with the same disdain they hold for the opposition they already control.

We started this movement because we wanted to break away from the disease that is Kenyan politics. We wanted accountability, a system that doesn’t collapse under the weight of its own rot. But the moment we start vying for positions, scrambling for titles, it’s no longer about change; it’s about who sits at the table. And we already know what happens when Kenyans get their “leaders” at the table – they get fat, they get lazy, they forget.

They call us delusional, those of us urging caution. But when this movement is betrayed, as all movements with leaders have been before, remember these words. This state knows that time will wear down the purest of intentions, and the moment a leader steps forward, the system’s traps close around them. It’s not a question of if, but when they’ll succumb, and when they do, we’ll be here, mourning the cause we once championed.

Happy are those foolish enough to crave leadership in this movement, for their lives will be scrutinized, their pasts unearthed, every misstep magnified. If they’ve ever dared to question the regime, it’ll be turned into fuel for a scandal, real or fabricated. The very people they thought they could lead will watch them crumble, broken by a system designed to eat its own young.

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So, let us remain leaderless, a phantom presence that eludes capture, an essence that cannot be destroyed. Let them chase shadows while we become stronger, more unified in our faceless determination. Leaderless, tribeless, fearless – that is our strength. Let the system tremble as it realizes that we are not the sheep they thought we were. We are the storm, vast and unstoppable, unchained from any name or tribe.

The people asking for leaders, for organization, are still trapped in the old way of thinking, conditioned to believe that power comes only from hierarchy. But true power, true change, will come from us all standing together without a head to cut off, without a voice to silence, without a leader to betray us. So, let the state wonder, let them search for the face of this movement in vain, because we are the many, we are all, and we refuse to be led astray by the temptation of individual power.

To those who still want leaders, enjoy the nostalgia of it. But for the rest of us, we march on, leaderless, united, and powerful. Let the rogue system choke on its own strategies, while we continue, relentless, knowing that we’ve finally found the one thing they can’t buy, silence, or destroy: a movement of minds, hearts, and souls, unbound by the chains of leadership, bonded only by the fire for change.

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