On Sunday May 18 the Karen and Wamunyoro homes of Democracy for Citizens Party (DCP) leader Rigathi Gachagua were surrounded. By armed officers from the Directorate of Criminal Investigations (DCI), backed by General Service Unit (GSU) and National Intelligence Service (NIS) operatives who descended after a week in which the former Mathira MP dominated headlines with the launch of his party and a viral interview on the Oga Obinna show. Like Jaramogi in 1966, a deputy president, once at the heart of Kenya’s power structure—found himself a target of the state he helped build. Similar scenes unfolded at the homes of Trans Nzoia Governor George Natembeya in Kitale a day later when a team from the Ethics and anti-Corruption Commission (EACC) flanked by police showed up to lay a five-hour siege that was disrupted by local youth sympathetic to the governor. Peter Salasya and Cleophas Malala have also recently faced their own brushes with state intimidation. These raids, cloaked in the guise of law enforcement, signal a chilling truth: Kenya’s political elite continue to wield state institutions as weapons against dissent, perpetuating a cycle of repression that traces back to the nation’s founding.
From Allies to Adversaries
The four figures at the center of this storm—Rigathi Gachagua, Cleophas Malala, Peter Salasya, and George Natembeya—represent a cross-section of Kenya’s fractious political landscape. Gachagua, impeached as Deputy President in October 2024, was once a loyal ally of President William Ruto. A Kikuyu stalwart and former MP for Mathira, his abrasive style and championing of regional interests made him a polarizing figure. His impeachment, on charges of ethnic incitement and oath violation, marked the beginning of his fallout with Ruto’s regime. Raids on his homes and disruptions of his political events in 2025 underscore the state’s determination to sideline him as a 2027 presidential contender.
Cleophas Malala, the fiery former Kakamega Senator, has aligned with Gachagua, condemning the raids as “dictatorship” and declaring, “No amount of intimidation can stop the inevitable; Ruto’s One Term Reality.” His outspoken criticism has placed him in the state’s crosshairs, echoing the targeting of regional leaders who challenge central authority. Peter Salasya, the populist MP for Mumias East, was arrested in May 2025, ostensibly for his vocal opposition to Ruto’s economic policies, including the contentious Finance Bill 2025.
George Natembeya, Trans Nzoia’s Governor, completes this quartet. A former Regional Commissioner under Uhuru Kenyatta, Natembeya’s ambition for the 2027 presidency and his critiques of Ruto’s governance have made him a target. Reports of him going into hiding to evade arrest in May 2025 highlight the state’s aggressive pursuit of perceived threats. These four, once part of or close to the establishment, now face its wrath, their dissent framed as a danger to national stability.
Echoes of Kenyatta’s Era: Framing Dissent as Treason
This pattern of repression is not new. Under Jomo Kenyatta’s presidency (1963–1978), dissent was a dangerous endeavor. Ideological opponents like Jaramogi Oginga Odinga, Joseph Murumbi, JM Kariuki, Bildad Kaggia, and Achieng Oneko faced harassment, detention, or worse for challenging Kenyatta’s capitalist, pro-Western regime that many felt was also quite tribalistic. Odinga, Kenya’s first Vice President, was sidelined during the 1966 Limuru Conference, forcing him to resign and form a new party. Subsequently,his socialist Kenya People’s Union (KPU) was branded a communist threat. His detention after the 1969 Kisumu massacre cemented the state’s intolerance for ideological divergence. .
JM Kariuki, a populist Kikuyu MP, was assassinated in 1975 after exposing elite corruption, his death a stark warning to critics. Bildad Kaggia and Achieng Oneko, Mau Mau veterans, were also detained for their socialist leanings and allyship with Oginga Odinga; their dissent demonized as tribalism or pro-communist sentiment. Kenyatta’s regime used the provincial administration—District Officers and Provincial Commissioners—to enforce control, a tactic mirrored in today’s raids by DCI and GSU. Then, as now, ideological divides were framed as existential threats, justifying brutality and marginalization.
The Jekyll and Hyde Contradiction
Unlike Kenyatta’s dissidents, who fought for equitable land redistribution and socialism, today’s targeted politicians carry their own baggage. Rigathi Gachagua and George Natembeya, in particular, embody a Jekyll and Hyde duality, critiquing state abuses while having been complicit in similar systems. Gachagua served as a District Officer in Molo during Daniel arap Moi’s regime, a period marked by state-sanctioned ethnic clashes in the Rift Valley. His role in the provincial administration, a colonial relic used to exert control, ties him to the very machinery he now decries. Corruption allegations, including a 2022 court order to repay KSh 202 million, further complicate his anti-establishment stance.
Natembeya, as Rift Valley Regional Commissioner, was equally entangled. Known for advocating excessive force to extract information from bandits in Baringo, Samburu, and West Pokot, he once embodied the state’s monopoly on violence. His current persecution, including raids and threats of arrest, is a bitter irony, as he faces the same apparatus he once wielded. This duality sets modern dissidents apart from Kenyatta’s era, where figures like Odinga and Kaggia, despite their flaws, were driven by ideological clarity. Today’s politicians often navigate power struggles masked as principle, their own skeletons—corruption, complicity—used to discredit their opposition.
Ruto’s Irony: From Victim to Perpetrator
The deepest irony lies with President William Ruto himself. As Uhuru Kenyatta’s Deputy President (2013–2022), Ruto endured harassment, particularly in Uhuru’s second term. Publicly humiliated and sidelined, he condemned the weaponization of state institutions. Yet, three years into his presidency, Ruto’s administration mirrors its predecessor’s tactics. The raids on Gachagua’s and Natembeyas homes, betray the promises of reform that fueled Ruto’s 2022 campaign.
Government spokespersons deflect criticism, with Isaac Mwaura asserting the governments commitment to upholding the rule of law. “Actions by our security agencies are within the legal framework and aimed at ensuring national stability.” Such rhetoric echoes Kenyatta and Moi’s justifications, framing dissent as a threat to order. Kenya’s history reveals a grim pattern: every administration—Kenyatta, Moi, Kibaki, Uhuru—faced harassment from its predecessor, only to perpetuate the cycle. Ruto, once a victim, now continues this tradition, undermining his own pledges.
Breaking the Cycle: A Call for Reform
Kenya’s political repression, from Kenyatta’s detentions to Ruto’s raids, is a cycle rooted in the demonization of dissent and the misuse of state power. The Katiba 2010 promised change through devolution, aiming to dismantle the provincial administration’s stranglehold. Yet, Regional Commissioners and centralized security forces persist, undermining county autonomy and enabling crackdowns. The judiciary, despite occasional pronouncements, struggles against executive overreach, while corruption scandals often taint both government and opposition figures
To break this cycle, Kenya must strengthen independent institutions. The Ethics and Anti-Corruption Commission (EACC) and judiciary need teeth to hold leaders accountable, regardless of allegiance. Devolution must be fully realized, dismantling colonial-era structures like the provincial administration as well as devolving in some form the intelligence and internal security apparatus. Above all, Kenya’s political culture must evolve to tolerate ideological diversity without resorting to ethnic framing or violence. As 2027 looms, the nation stands at a crossroads: repeat history’s mistakes or forge a new path where dissent is not a crime but a cornerstone of democracy.
Written by Otieno Arudo