In the aftermath of the powerful Gen Z-led protests that recently swept across Nairobi, a contentious decision by the Kenyan government has come under intense scrutiny: the directive to ban media live streaming of the demonstrations. While authorities defend the move as a necessary measure to shield children from disturbing scenes and prevent incitement, critics are raising alarms about the implications for press freedom, transparency, and the very fabric of democratic governance.
Appearing before the National Assembly Committee on Delegated Legislation on Thursday, Information, Communication and Digital Economy Cabinet Secretary William Kabogo attempted to justify the government's stance. He asserted that the action was taken within the "spirit of the watershed period," aiming to prevent children from being exposed to real-time images of injuries, deaths, and property destruction aired during the protests. “Generally, the main reason for switching off was within the parameters of the watershed period. There was a lot of violence being aired on national TV, and the violence was aired when children and such like people are watching TV,” Kabogo stated. He added that the Communications Authority intervened based on "expert advice" as protests escalated from peaceful beginnings in the afternoon.
However, the government's defense rings hollow to many observers. CS Kabogo himself faced considerable difficulty in pinpointing the precise legal basis under which this sweeping directive was issued. Kathiani MP Robert Mbui sharply critiqued this ambiguity, emphasizing that such significant actions, which impinge on fundamental freedoms, "should be backed by law" and "not left to the whims of the CS." Mathare MP Anthony Oluoch echoed this sentiment, demanding clear legislative provisions for when live streams can, or cannot, be stopped. Kabogo's candid admission of a "legislative gap" – stating, “I should be able to put it in black and white on which circumstances” – only fueled concerns that the shutdown was arbitrary rather than legally sanctioned.
The argument of protecting children, while ostensibly noble, appears disingenuous in the context of a blanket ban on live media coverage during a national crisis. In today's hyper-connected age, information, violent or otherwise, disseminates rapidly through social media platforms, rendering a traditional TV blackout largely ineffective as a "shield." Instead of controlling information, such a ban merely pushes it into less verifiable and often more sensationalistic online channels, potentially exacerbating misinformation and panic.
Interior Cabinet Secretary Kipchumba Murkomen further inflamed the debate by accusing media houses of becoming "the center of mobilisation for some of these protesters." This assertion, echoed by the Communications Authority of Kenya (CA) which claimed the directive was "legal, targeted, and intended to prevent incitement" rather than being a "blanket ban," paints the media as an accomplice rather than a watchdog.
While it is true that media freedom, protected under Article 34(1) of the Constitution, is not absolute and must be balanced against prohibitions on hate speech and incitement (Article 33(2)), the government's approach raises serious questions about its commitment to transparency. A blanket ban on live coverage, regardless of specific content, constitutes a de facto act of censorship. It denies citizens real-time, independent eyes on events unfolding in their nation, particularly concerning the actions of state security forces.
The decision fosters an environment of suspicion and erodes public trust in both the government's narrative and the ability of traditional media to perform its vital role. In a healthy democracy, media acts as a crucial check on power, providing independent reporting that holds institutions accountable. By attempting to control the flow of information during a period of public unrest, the government inadvertently suggests it has something to hide, further fueling public resentment and suspicion.
