The Independent Electoral and
Boundaries Commission has issued
Gazette notices outlining key deadlines, but beneath these dates is a
legal and political trap that is unsettling aspirants and laying bare
the manipulation of electoral rules.
At the heart of this turmoil is a
seemingly straightforward requirement: anyone intending to contest
as an independent candidate must
not be a member of a political party
at least 90 days before the election.
That sets the deadline for party
resignation on August 29.
Fail to exit by then, and you forfeit
the right to run as an independent.
Likewise, candidates under party
banners must submit their names
and symbols by September 17, as
stipulated by the electoral commission.
This creates a brutally narrow
window of decision-making for aspirants—particularly those in dominant-party strongholds like Nyanza,
where ODM’s grip on the political
landscape often leaves little room
for dissent or fair competition in primaries. And herein lies the strategic twist.
ODM, and other major parties,
can use this law to their advantage.
By delaying party primaries until after the 90-day cut-off, they effectively eliminate the threat of defections.
Aspirants who lose at the nomination stage will have no legal avenue
to vie independently.
It’s a legal move, yes, but it raises
a troubling question: are electoral
laws being used to promote democracy, or to suppress it?
Another legal provision, often
overlooked, compounds this dilemma.
REGISTERED MEMBER
According to the Political Parties
Act, anyone running on a party
ticket must have been a registered
member of that party for at least six
months before the election in this
case, by May 27, 2025. That door is
already closed.
No latecomer or defector has a
realistic chance of jumping into a
different party now.
What we’re witnessing is a quiet
form of political exclusion technically lawful, but morally questionable.
Aspirants are being boxed in by
legal deadlines, but it’s not the law
itself that’s flawed; it’s the way political parties manipulate these provisions to protect vested interests and
suppress competition.
ODM’s own track record in party
primaries is less than stellar.
From bungled nominations to
opaque consensus building and the
infamous issuance of direct tickets,
the party has often sidelined popular
candidates in favour of politically
connected ones.
This has not only cost ODM in
terms of public trust but has also
contributed to growing voter apathy
in its strongholds.
Many simply no longer believe
that their voice counts—not even
in the first stage of selecting candidates.
The universal suffrage model for
party primaries, where members
vote to choose flag-bearers, is an
ideal ODM rarely lives up to.
But the alternative consensus or
direct nominations has proven just
as undemocratic. It’s a lose-lose situation for aspirants and voters alike.
In more mature democracies, political parties are internally democratic.
Membership actually means
something, and the process of
choosing candidates is transparent,
credible, and respected.
In Kenya, however, party nominations too often feel like a coronation—decided not by members, but by party elites behind closed doors.
What the electorate yearns for
is a credible, inclusive and fair
nomination process—essentially a
mini-election within parties.
Yet no party, not even the best
resourced, has demonstrated the
ability or will to run such an exercise with integrity.
COSTLY AND CHAOTIC
It’s too costly, too chaotic, and perhaps more damningly, not in their
political interest.
This legal and political deadlock
is pushing many capable individuals
away from politics altogether.
The cost of entry is too high, the
process too opaque, and the outcomes too predetermined.
We cannot build a robust democracy if the path to the ballot is rigged
long before the first vote is cast.
The IEBC must enforce the law,
yes, but Kenyans must also demand
reforms that restore fairness to the
political process.
Timelines should not be traps.
Laws should protect choice, not restrict it. And party democracy must
be more than a slogan.
As November approaches, we are
reminded once again that Kenya’s
problem is not that we lack rules,
but that too many of them serve the
few, not the many.