WANJAWA: Kenya: A nation held hostage by the tongues of its politicians

Kenya is not short of problems. From youth unemployment, hunger, poverty, floods, insecurity to a choking public debt, the country is weighed down by urgent, existential and complex challenges. Yet, if one were to judge by the conduct of our political elite, you would think the greatest national priority is trading insults in public rallies and, increasingly, in spaces that once commanded reverence.

The now-familiar public spats between President William Ruto and his former deputy Rigathi Gachagua have reduced political discourse to a contest of egos. This is no longer politics as we know it—it is politics as theatre, and a dangerously corrosive one at that.

Let us be blunt: Kenya is being held hostage by the tongues of its politicians.

Civil society and the Kenya Conference of Catholic Bishops have called out this behaviour for what it is - an embarrassment and a betrayal of public trust. But embarrassment is too mild a word. What we are witnessing is a systematic erosion of the moral and institutional foundations of leadership.

To understand this moment, we must move beyond outrage and into analysis. As C. Wright Mills argued, personal troubles are often public issues in disguise.

The insults, the chest thumping, the thinly veiled threats - these are not random outbursts. They are symptoms of a political system that rewards noise over substance and conflict over competence.

In such a system, silence is political death. Measured speech is weakness. Outrage is currency.

This is where the logic of performance comes in. Erving Goffman would remind us that public life is a stage, and our politicians are seasoned actors. The rally is their theatre, the microphone their weapon, and the crowd their judge. Every insult is calculated. Every jab is rehearsed. Every outburst is designed to produce applause, headlines, and ultimately, political survival.

But there is a cost to this performance - one that the country is now paying in full.

When leaders normalise abuse, they lower the threshold of acceptable behaviour across society. Politics becomes a blood sport, not a marketplace of ideas. Citizens retreat into hardened camps. Dialogue gives way to shouting. Disagreement morphs into hatred.

We are not just witnessing incivility; we are witnessing the slow normalisation of contempt.

From a conflict theory lens, this is hardly surprising. Politics is about power, and power is rarely pursued politely. Language becomes a weapon, used to intimidate, delegitimise, and dominate. But when this logic becomes absolute, it consumes the very system it seeks to control. Institutions weaken. Trust evaporates. Governance becomes secondary to spectacle.

And so, the bar keeps falling. Yet at its core, this is not just a political failure—it is a moral collapse.

Leadership is, fundamentally, an ethical enterprise. It demands restraint, responsibility, and respect for the dignity of others. Whether one draws from classical ethical traditions or African communitarian philosophy, the message is the same: power must be exercised with a sense of duty to the collective.

What we are seeing today is the abandonment of that ethic.

And the consequences are not abstract. They are deeply psychological and profoundly social. Language shapes perception. When citizens are routinely exposed to hostile rhetoric, they internalise it. It spills over into social media, workplaces, and communities. It breeds cynicism, fuels polarisation, and in extreme cases, lays the groundwork for open conflict. This is how nations unravel - not always through dramatic, but through the steady corrosion of norms.

So, what is to be done?

First, we must confront an uncomfortable truth: our political culture reflects, in part, what we tolerate. Leaders speak the language that wins them applause. If insults draw cheers, insults will multiply. If dignity is demanded, dignity will emerge.

Second, institutions must rediscover their spine. Political parties cannot continue to look the other way as their members drag public discourse into the gutter. Codes of conduct must mean something. Accountability must be real.

Third, the media must make a choice. It can continue to amplify conflict for ratings, or it can elevate substance and restore balance to public debate. What it chooses will shape the political incentives of tomorrow.

Fourth, the law must be applied without fear or favour. Hate speech and incitement are not theoretical concerns; they are real threats to national cohesion. Enforcement must be consistent, not selective.

Finally, and most importantly, leadership itself must be reimagined. The country does not need louder leaders; it needs wiser ones. It does not need sharper insults; it needs sharper ideas.

Kenya stands at a dangerous crossroads. We can continue down this path, where politics is reduced to a shouting match and leadership to performance art. Or we can demand a return to civility, substance, and moral responsibility.

The choice is ours but so are the consequences. For if we allow our leaders' tongues to run wild, we may soon find that it is now just our politics that has lost its way but our nation itslef.