Government's budget priorities will leave the country worse off

Kenya’s 2025/2026 budget estimates, recently tabled before Parliament, paint a worrying picture of a government adrift—one that is not merely tightening the belt, but tightening it around the necks of the most vulnerable. In a year when the cost of living has reached punishing heights, when public hospitals are collapsing under the weight of patient demand, and when families are desperate for some relief, the proposed budgetary cuts threaten to plunge the country deeper into crisis. Worse still, some of the areas spared from the austerity knife are the very ones that least deserve more funding.

At the centre of this fiscal controversy lies the baffling decision to slash the budget for the Kenyatta National Hospital (KNH) Burns Management and Paediatric Emergency Centre by a staggering Sh900 million—bringing the allocation down to just Sh1.2 billion. This is not a routine adjustment. It is a devastating blow to Kenya’s premier referral hospital and its ability to respond to life-threatening emergencies involving children and burn victims. It is, quite literally, a matter of life and death. Let us be clear: burns are among the most excruciating and complex injuries to treat. They require specialised infrastructure, trained personnel, intensive care units, and long-term rehabilitation.

In Kenya, where domestic fires, industrial accidents, and road crashes are frequent, the demand for such services is acute. KNH serves not just Nairobi but the entire country, often receiving referrals from ill-equipped county hospitals. Cutting Sh900 million from such a critical centre is not just poor planning—it is a national disgrace. Even more disturbing is the broader trend emerging from the 2025/2026 estimates: Awidespread reduction in allocations to nearly every ministry, department, and agency that serves the public. From healthcare and education to agriculture and social protection, the message is clear—the government is retreating from its responsibility to deliver essential services. But even in this grim context, some cuts stand out as especially cruel.

Education, the lifeline for millions of Kenyan children, has not been spared. Capitation for secondary schools is set to reduce, yet the demand for free and quality education is growing. The Higher Education Loans Board (HELB) is struggling to meet the needs of students from poor backgrounds, but its allocation remains insufficient. In the health sector, county-level hospitals are facing budgetary strangulation, even as the government claims to be pursuing Universal Health Coverage.

So where is the money going? Shockingly, despite the austerity rhetoric, the budget allocates billions more to the offices of the Presidency, State House renovations, and non-essential foreign travel. The security sector, which already consumes a disproportionate share of the budget, continues to enjoy largesse. Large infrastructure projects with questionable economic returns are still prioritised, even as our human infrastructure—our people—are neglected. This is not fiscal prudence. It is fiscal mismanagement wrapped in the language of austerity. It reveals a government that is out of touch with the suffering of its people and out of step with the country’s real priorities.

We are constantly reminded that the government must “live within its means.” But who determines what those means are? And why should the poorest bear the brunt of budget cuts, while the political elite continue to enjoy luxury perks and expansive allowances?

Indeed, austerity is not inherently wrong. Any responsible government must ensure that spending is aligned with national priorities and that wastage is eliminated. But austerity must be smart. It must be strategic. And above all, it must be fair. Cutting funding for paediatric emergency services while increasing allocations for non-essential executive expenditures is the very definition of bad economics and ethics.

Moreover, the government’s budget-making process remains shrouded in opacity. Public participation—enshrined in Article 118 of the Constitution—is largely cosmetic. Communities are rarely consulted in any meaningful way, and by the time the estimates reach Parliament, the numbers are treated as a foregone conclusion. This undermines not just the spirit of the Constitution, but the very idea of democratic accountability.

The 2025/2026 budget is a moral document. It reflects the values of those who crafted it. And what it reveals is deeply disturbing: A government that prioritises palaces over patients, conferences over classrooms, motorcades over medicine. But it doesn’t have to be this way. There is still time to revise the estimates before the budget is passed. Parliament must rise to the occasion and demand a people-centered realignment of priorities. The Budget and Appropriations Committee, in particular, must take a firm stand. Legislators must ask themselves: What legacy do we want to leave? One of complicity or one of courage?

Civil society, media, and the public at large must also raise their voices. We must not normalise cuts to critical services. We must demand transparency, equity, and a focus on the basics—healthcare, education, agriculture, and social welfare. We must make it politically costly for any administration to treat budgeting as a playground for elite interests.

In the end, a country’s budget is not just a set of numbers. It is a statement of who and what matters. If we allow this budget to pass unchallenged, we are endorsing a vision of Kenya where survival is a privilege and suffering is the price of poor governance.

Kenya deserves better. Our children deserve better. And burn victims—already enduring the worst pain imaginable—deserve better than to be told their lives are not worth the investment. This budget, if passed in its current form, will not just fail to solve our problems—it will sink us deeper into them.