The streets of Kenya have become a crucible of public frustration, with citizens taking to demonstrations to voice grievances ranging from the soaring cost of living to deep-seated concerns about governance. Yet, a chilling and recurring theme has emerged from these protests, transforming public dissent into profound outrage: the alleged use of excessive force by the very police officers sworn to protect and serve. Across the nation, a deep sense of betrayal is palpable as Kenyans grapple with reports of citizens being killed and injured by those meant to safeguard their lives.
The core of this outrage lies in the fundamental breach of trust. The National Police Service (NPS) is mandated to uphold the law, maintain order, and protect lives and property. However, during recent demonstrations, particularly those commemorating the historic Saba Saba Day, the narrative from the ground paints a grim picture of disproportionate and often lethal force. Reports, including those from human rights organizations, speak of tear gas canisters fired directly into crowds, rubber bullets morphing into live ammunition, and violent assaults on unarmed protestors. The human toll is not just statistics; it is a profound betrayal of the social contract.
For many Kenyans, the irony is heartbreaking. They are protesting against a government they feel is unresponsive to their economic hardships and democratic aspirations. Yet, in their attempt to exercise their constitutional right to peaceful assembly, they are met with a response that, for many, feels like a direct assault from their own state. The images and testimonies circulating – of young lives lost, of severe injuries sustained, of families mourning loved ones – fuel a collective anger that transcends political affiliations.
This isn't an isolated phenomenon; a historical shadow of police brutality hangs over Kenya. Past eras have been marred by similar patterns of state violence against dissenting voices. This history informs the current outrage, as citizens see not just a one-off incident, but a recurring failure of accountability and reform within the police service. The pain of the past echoes in the present, making current abuses even more intolerable.
Official responses from the government and police often frame protestors as "criminals" or "elements of ill intent" who "infiltrate" peaceful demonstrations, or even as engaging in "terrorism disguised as dissent." While the need to maintain order and prevent destruction is acknowledged, this narrative often clashes sharply with the lived experiences of citizens who claim to be peacefully protesting. When government officials laud police "professionalism and restraint" even as death tolls rise and countless injuries are reported, it further alienates a public demanding transparency and genuine accountability.
The calls for justice and accountability are now resounding louder than ever. Human rights organizations, legal bodies, and civil society groups are relentlessly pushing for thorough, independent investigations into every death and injury. They demand that officers found culpable of excessive force be held individually responsible, effectively ending the pervasive culture of impunity that has long plagued the force. Families of victims seek closure and compensation, but more importantly, a guarantee that no other family will endure their pain.
