Kenya Keeps Fumbling Her Foreign Policy As Its Determined By the Greedy Desires Of a Single Man Who Has Put Their Greed First, Not The Country’s
Kenya’s foreign policy once stood tall with a sense of purpose, a dash of East African solidarity, and the occasional flair for showmanship. We were famed for the gallant African statesmanship of old, forging alliances with neighbors and positioning ourselves as a beacon of peace. Yet somewhere along the line, we seem to have meandered into a labyrinth of ill-conceived photo ops, ill-timed handshakes, and questionable friends who pop in for tea, leaving us to deal with the diplomatic hangover.
When President Ruto took office, many believed he would embrace the country’s tradition of neighborly relations. After all, East African integration wasn’t just a lofty goal—it was an essential economic lifeline. But the fanfare quickly dissolved into confusion when a series of handshake tours turned into a greatest-hits montage of questionable allegiances. Instead of forging new, robust partnerships, Kenya appeared to cozy up to figures as murky as Lake Turkana at dusk.
At first, the photo ops were shrugged off as rookie mistakes, blamed on overenthusiastic aides hungry for social media likes. But it soon became evident that there was a distinct pattern—a pattern that involved high-level courtesy calls by personalities whose reputations, to put it politely, are best described as “under investigation.” Kenya’s leadership, caught like deer in headlights, simply kept smiling for the cameras.
Our neighbors, with eyebrows arched higher than the peak of Mount Kenya, began to watch these developments with more than a little suspicion. How exactly did we go from the region’s voice of reason—organizing peace talks, championing democracy, and stabilizing conflict zones—to an administration that barely coordinates its own photo sessions, let alone foreign policy?
To be fair, no government is immune to gaffes. But Kenya’s new diplomatic persona seemed determined to break all previous records for stumbles. From contradictory statements on the status of our cross-border friendships to last-minute cancellations of crucial regional summits, the Ruto administration performed a fascinating tango of miscommunication. Each step seemed choreographed to leave East African allies wondering whether Kenya was still that trustworthy partner or a brand-new contestant in a very chaotic game.
The Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) saga is perhaps the most telling. Once upon a time, Kenya’s peacekeeping efforts in the Congo were heralded as proof of our commitment to regional stability. We dispatched troops, offered technical support, and took part in initiatives to quell simmering tensions. However, the new government’s approach to DRC quickly took a turn for the bizarre. Vague commitments, inconsistent statements, and unclear endgames left Congolese officials scratching their heads. Was Kenya in or out, up or down, or stuck somewhere in between?
As if that weren’t enough, the drama with South Sudan almost felt scripted for a reality show. Despite Kenya playing a historical role in brokering peace deals for the fledgling nation, one can’t ignore the noticeable cooling of relations. Invitations to high-profile summits became scarce, and attempts to engage South Sudanese leadership sometimes resulted in cryptic silence. No one would be surprised if Juba occasionally peered across the border at Nairobi and simply said, “Thanks, but we’re good.”
Then there was the matter of domestic legal entanglements meeting the delicate ecosystem of international relations. Imagine the scene: a Kenyan leader proclaiming the rule of law at home while rubbing elbows with figures who, in other jurisdictions, might be waiting for a date with the courts. The comedic potential of these encounters was hard to resist for local satirists. Cartoons depicted official visits as half handshake, half fingerprinting sessions. The irony wasn’t lost on anyone—except, apparently, on those at the top.