Letters of Betrayal: How TSC lost its narrative

Institutions, like people, live and grow through the stories they tell. A good story lifts and motivates, while a broken story diminishes, demoralises, and erodes trust. The way an institution tells its story shapes how society perceives it.

Some organizations in this country have mastered the craft of telling stories that harm their brand. At the heart of this problem that I want to address today is the Teachers Service Commission (TSC). Its story no longer reflects integrity, fairness, or professionalism. Instead, it is tainted by politics, weakened by injustice, and unresponsive to the cries of teachers.

Let me explain. It is a fact of life that stories shape identity and perception. But the story TSC is telling is neither exciting nor inspiring. It is not a tale of service but one of despair. It has become a national tragedy authored by the very custodians entrusted with the welfare of teachers.

Consider this: employment letters of a constitutional commission are routinely handed over to politicians, who distribute them like political sweets during burials and roadside rallies. Nothing could be more shameful.

A document that ought to crown years of training and sacrifice, a symbol of fairness and professionalism, is debased into political largesse. This is not simply an administrative lapse. No.  It is the betrayal of a constitutional promise. It mocks every ideal of independence.

When the framers of the 2010 Constitution anchored TSC as an independent commission, they envisioned a body that would rise above the petty politics of the day. It was meant to guarantee fairness in recruitment, promotions, transfers, and discipline. It was to ensure that the teacher, who shoulders the delicate responsibility of shaping the next generation, would never again be at the mercy of political winds. That dream is now being squandered.

What remains of the commission’s credibility when employment letters are turned into political tokens? For a teacher who has studied diligently and waited for years, what does independence mean when their appointment letter is handed out by a politician at a funeral? For the young graduate who believes in merit but discovers that connections carry more weight, what lessons are we teaching? Are we saying politics is more powerful than professionalism? Patronage is stronger than merit?

But this is not all. The lived experiences of teachers reveal an institution adrift. I recently met a mother of young children who was transferred more than 200 kilometres from Nairobi, supposedly on promotion to deputy principal. She is convinced the move was engineered to create room for a politically connected individual. She has appealed and pleaded, but her cries are met with silence. Instead of safeguarding justice, TSC comes across as a callous enforcer of injustice.

Then there is the story of a 58-year-old man, standing at the twilight of his teaching career. After decades of shaping young minds in Nairobi, one would expect his final years to be spent mentoring the next generation and serving his community. Instead, he is uprooted and sent 250 kilometres away, again to make way for a “correctly positioned” individual. Such stories flow from teachers’ lips with painful regularity.

Worse still, politicians have now arrogated to themselves the power to decide who becomes a school principal. This is a dangerous development. TSC is an independent constitutional body. It cannot allow its mandate to be hijacked by political barons. To cede ground is to betray the spirit of the Constitution.

What our schools need are men and women of integrity, visionary administrators who can guide institutions with fairness and wisdom. They do not need clansmen, brokers, or the politically well-connected. Anything less corrodes merit, weakens professionalism, and robs our children.

Admittedly, the commission has done well in disciplining sex pests and curbing corporal punishment in schools. In this one area, it deserves commendation. But even here, the vigilance appears selective. Why come down hard on individual misconduct while ignoring the larger institutional rot? You cannot disinfect one corner of the house while the rest of it is collapsing under the weight of termites of corruption. Selective vigilance is no vigilance at all.

The cost of these failures is enormous. When teachers are treated with contempt, their morale collapses. When they are transferred arbitrarily, families are torn apart. Children grow up without the presence of their mothers and fathers. Classrooms turn into spaces of silent resentment rather than inspired learning. A wounded teacher cannot inspire hope and cultivate dignity in others.

The power of a story lies not only in what is told but also in what is concealed, twisted, or silenced. TSC’s story is broken precisely because it refuses to confront its contradictions. It trumpets its triumphs against rogue teachers while masking its betrayal in transfers and appointments. It boasts of efficiency while ignoring the anguish of those uprooted without reason. The result is a tale told in fragments, incoherent and corrosive. A commission that cannot tell its story truthfully cannot expect to command trust.

We often underestimate the symbolic power of institutions. A constitutional commission should embody fairness, independence, and professionalism. When such a body falls, it erodes not only the confidence of teachers but also the faith of citizens in the Constitution itself.

If TSC can be captured, what hope remains for other commissions? If teachers, the very storytellers of our nation, can be betrayed, what future are we building for the children they teach?

The Teachers Service Commission stands at a crossroads. It can either continue down the road of shame, where employment letters are used as political gifts and transfers as punishment, or it can reclaim the noble vision that gave birth to it.

To rise again, it must purge itself of political capture, reassert its independence, and return to the principle of fairness. Behind every transfer, every posting, every appointment letter, lies a human being, a family, and a future. That truth must never be forgotten.

At its best, TSC should embody a story of service, dignity, and merit. It must reclaim its voice and author a better story, not a broken narrative. For if the storytellers of a nation are betrayed, then the entire society is condemned to live inside a shattered story.

Prof Egara Kabaji is a writer, educationist, and researcher based at Masinde Muliro University. He is also the Vice President of the Pan African Writers Association (PAWA) and the Chancellor of Mt. Kigali University, Rwanda.