KHALID: Learn from Nepal that enforcing Constitution our only safeguard

When Kenyans fought for a new constitution, they did so with the hope that this document would finally liberate the country from the cycle of impunity, corruption and inequality that had defined governance for decades.

The promulgation of the 2010 Constitution was a moment of triumph, but 15 years later, the hard truth is that Kenyans are yet to reap its full fruits.

The constitution remains largely on paper, with key provisions undermined or ignored, while leaders toy with dangerous ideas that threaten to roll back democratic gains.

One of the most glaring lessons for Kenya lies in the experience of Nepal. The Asian nation, like Kenya, grappled with political instability, poor governance and a people's quest for reforms.

Nepal's constitutional journey was marked by hopes of creating a fair and democratic state. However, failure to fully implement its constitutional provisions, coupled with political elites prioritising personal and partisan gains over national interest, including the ban on social media, led to cycles of unrest and instability. Kenya risks treading the same path if we continue treating our own constitution as a suggestion rather than the supreme law of the land.

Attempts by certain leaders to expand their terms from five years to seven years are a dangerous precedent. Such moves are not innocent proposals for "stability" as some claim; they are direct assaults on the people's sovereignty. The five-year electoral cycle was deliberately designed to keep leaders accountable and ensure that power truly rests with the people. Extending political terms without the people's mandate would amount to betraying the very foundation of democracy and steering the nation toward the slippery slope that has plunged other countries into authoritarianism and instability.

It took Kenyans decades of sacrifice, sweat and blood to win the 2010 Constitution. From the resistance movements of the 1990s, through detention, torture and loss of life, ordinary Kenyans demanded a charter that would protect their rights, curb excesses of power and entrench accountability. Yet, 15 years since its promulgation, much of the constitution remains unimplemented. The delay has not been accidental but systematic, deliberate and engineered by a political class that views full implementation as a threat to its entrenched interests.

Take Chapter 6 on Leadership and Integrity, for instance. This chapter envisioned a Kenya where leaders would be held to the highest ethical standards. Leaders facing corruption charges were never supposed to set foot in public office. Appointments were supposed to be based on merit and integrity, not tokenism and political loyalty. Yet, today, Chapter 6 has been reduced to a dead letter. We see leaders with questionable records being rewarded with powerful positions, while those who champion meritocracy are sidelined. The erosion of this chapter has hollowed out the vision of an accountable and servant leadership that Kenyans demanded.

Equally troubling is the violation of Chapter 4, the Bill of Rights. The constitution promised a society where freedoms and rights would be respected, protected and fulfilled. Yet, our security system continues to operate under a culture of impunity, meting out violence against citizens, especially young people who dare to question government excesses. Police brutality, extrajudicial killings and unlawful detentions remain the order of the day. Instead of serving the people, parts of the security sector are entangled in state capture, shielding the powerful while victimising the powerless. This is not what the constitution envisioned.

Meanwhile, Kenyans continue to shoulder a heavy burden of taxes in an economy choked by the high cost of living. The promise of equitable development, social justice and dignity for every Kenyan remains unfulfilled. Despite paying dearly to fund government operations, citizens struggle daily with unaffordable food, healthcare and education. The constitution was meant to address inequality and uplift the quality of life for all, yet the majority remains trapped in poverty while a small elite flourishes under the status quo.

The lesson from Nepal is clear: a constitution is only as strong as the will to implement it. For Kenya, failure to make operational constitutional provisions will breed frustration, disillusionment and eventually, instability. Kenya cannot afford to walk that path. The threats to our democracy, from term extension schemes, to disregard of integrity standards to systemic violations of rights, must be confronted with urgency.

The solution lies not in amending or diluting the constitution, but in fully implementing it. Every chapter, from leadership and integrity, to the Bill of Rights, to devolution, must be put into practice in both letter and spirit. Our leaders must be reminded that this is not their constitution; it is the people's constitution.

As for Kenyans, we must remain steadfast. We cannot allow ourselves to be lulled into complacency or distracted by short-term gains whilst our hard-won freedoms are eroded. The cost of silence is far too high. As history and the experience of Nepal remind us, the collapse of constitutional order never begins with a bang. It starts with small compromises, ignored violations and tolerated betrayals.

If we truly want to avoid going the Nepal way, then we must demand the full and uncompromising implementation of the 2010 Constitution. Nothing less will secure our democracy, protect our rights and deliver the Kenya that generations fought for.