If the “Gen Z” protests were a purely organic movement of young people acting independently, their approach might have looked different, more constructive, informed, and inclusive of all levels of government. Instead, what has unfolded since 2024 bears the hallmarks of a politically charged campaign, amplified by youthful language and coordinated messaging across social media platforms.
Most participants are between 17 and 23 years old, an age marked by ongoing psychological and cognitive development. While many have genuine frustrations, others appear to have been drawn into a political process they neither initiated nor fully understood. Their mobilisation suggests participation in a broader contest that goes beyond tax policy or governance reform; it touches on power dynamics at the national level.
The “Gen Z” label itself has functioned less as a neutral descriptor and more as a branding tactic. It presented an amorphous and decentralised force that has proven difficult for the state to engage or counter without risking accusations of targeting the youth.
This dynamic has partly leveraged the emotional intensity of adolescence. Neuroscientific research, including studies by Dr Jay Giedd and Dr Laurence Steinberg, shows that the prefrontal cortex, the part of the brain responsible for executive decision-making, impulse control and long-term planning, continues developing into the mid-twenties. This stage, combined with high unemployment, political disillusionment and intense digital exposure in Kenya, has made young people especially responsive to viral content and online mobilisation. As a result, what seemed like spontaneous, decentralised action has also reflected careful harnessing of collective outrage and social media virality.
The singular focus on the national government, while county-level failures have received comparatively little attention, raises questions. Devolution, hailed as Kenya’s most transformative governance shift since multiparty democracy, gave counties control over critical services such as healthcare, agriculture, early childhood education, water and local infrastructure. Yet, protests have largely spared governors, county assemblies and local administrations from scrutiny. This suggests a gap in civic engagement or possibly a deliberate emphasis on national-level grievances.
The situation is stark in the health sector. The Social Health Insurance scheme (SHA), central to Kenya’s universal health coverage ambitions, is struggling to gain traction, not necessarily due to flawed design but partly because county governments, where health is constitutionally devolved, have not fully mobilised communities or built the necessary public trust. Many counties continue to grapple with weak health systems, yet governors and local health executives rarely feature in public debate on the crisis.
Meanwhile, several political figures have sought to align themselves with the protests. Kalonzo Musyoka has positioned himself as sympathetic to the youth, though his efforts have so far had limited impact. His political trajectory, marked by shifting alliances and regional support bases, has yet to inspire broad national resonance among younger Kenyans who often express a preference for new leadership models.
Deputy President Rigathi Gachagua has also weighed in, at times framing the protests in regional and ethnic terms. However, this narrative appears out of step with younger generations, who are more focused on transparency, accountability and merit-based governance rather than traditional political fault lines.
Kenya’s political class has been unsettled by the Gen Z movement, not because of its overwhelming power, but because traditional levers of control, patronage, ethnic mobilisation and mainstream media influence are less effective in a digital era. With a leaderless, decentralised and highly networked constituency, even a viral video or meme can dramatically shift public narratives.
For the movement to have lasting impact, however, its members must also reflect on how systemic corruption took hold in the first place.
Corruption in Kenya, analysts argue, grew from everyday practices, small bribes to fast-track services or avoid penalties, that over time entrenched a culture where money overshadowed merit.
Politicians, recognising that voters increasingly expected handouts, sought to amass resources from public coffers to fund campaigns. Changing this cycle will require both rejecting corrupt leadership and confronting the societal norms that enable such systems.
The movement’s next phase may require pivoting from protest to purposeful civic engagement.
To effect meaningful change, Gen Z must hold all levels of government accountable, not only Nairobi but also Kakamega, Kilifi, Kericho and Kisii. True reform will demand confronting governance failures wherever they occur and channelling energy into building systems that work for all Kenyans.
The writer
is a political
commentator
