Much-hyped security meetings are a waste of money and time

In just six months, Kenyans have witnessed an expensive circus parading as a national security initiative. Security barazas, public meetings held across all 47 counties, were supposed to reassure citizens and demonstrate the State’s commitment to fighting crime. Instead, they have become spectacles of waste, consuming scarce resources, while insecurity continues to ravage communities.

At each of these events, millions of shillings are spent not on strengthening intelligence, not on equipping local police posts, and not on protecting vulnerable communities. Instead, funds are blown on convoys of gas-guzzling vehicles, helicopter hire, lavish catering, and hotel accommodation. One county baraza alone consumes a minimum of Sh15 million, money that could have built police housing, bought patrol vehicles, or provided surveillance equipment.

Catering alone tells the story. Rice, beef stew, chapati, bottled water, and endless tea served to thousands, including deputy county commissioners, chiefs, and police commanders, all facilitated with cash. These meetings are less about security and more about spectacle, designed to showcase the State’s supposed power and reach. The confidential vote funds meant for classified intelligence operations are now being siphoned into public relations events that deliver no meaningful change.

The contradiction is staggering. Just weeks ago, this country lost an assistant chief in a brutal attack. Cross-border crimes persist in Makueni. Farmers in Kitui continue to clash with armed herders. University students in Machakos face nightly robberies. Yet while citizens suffer, officials criss-cross the country, staging grand events and consuming millions.

This is governance turned on its head. Instead of deploying resources to where they are needed most, leaders prefer optics. Instead of strengthening grassroots intelligence, they chase headlines. The State is performing security rather than providing it.

Security analysts have pointed out the obvious: Chiefs and police officers already give daily reports on crime and insecurity. That is their core duty. Why then pour billions into security barazas that duplicate these roles? The answer is simple, politics, not policy. These barazas are less about curbing insecurity and more about consolidating political visibility.

Like expensive campaign rallies disguised as State functions, they serve those in power more than the people they are meant to protect. When chiefs are forced to mobilise crowds, when administrators are compelled to spend days organising food and transport, the focus shifts from solving insecurity to managing optics.

The misuse of confidential vote funds to finance these barazas is particularly alarming. Classified funds are meant for discreet intelligence gathering, tracking organised crime, countering terrorism, and preventing cross-border smuggling. Redirecting them to public rallies not only weakens intelligence work but also signals to criminals that the State is distracted.

When billions are funnelled into allowances, helicopter hire, and catering, the result is predictable: Police lack fuel for patrols, rural posts lack radios, and intelligence officers lack basic tools. The State can not pretend to be serious about insecurity while treating security as a stage play.

The Kabete meeting offers a clear case study. Over 2,000 people were hosted, including high-ranking administrators, police, and local leaders. The crowd was fed, speeches were made, and pledges were given. But within weeks, attacks occurred in the same region. Citizens know this pattern: Baraza after baraza, speech after speech, yet insecurity persists.

Why? Security requires resources, intelligence, and follow-through, not rallies. The baraza model confuses activity with achievement. It mistakes publicity for policy. In the process, it diverts resources from where they are desperately needed.

What we are witnessing is the inversion of governance. The people pay for security, yet what they receive is theatre. The State spends more on staging shows than on protecting lives. Those entrusted with ensuring safety become event organisers. Confidential vote funds meant for silent, effective operations become loud spectacles of waste.

The result is deadly. Communities at the border remain vulnerable. Farmers clash with herders because preventive measures are underfunded. Students fall prey to gangs because patrols are irregular. Chiefs risk their lives with little protection while senior officials pose for cameras at catered events.

Governance has been turned on its head: What should be bottom-up intelligence is replaced with top-down propaganda. 

The opportunity cost is immense. Every Sh15 million spent on a single county baraza could finance: Ten well-equipped police patrol vehicles. Hundreds of radios and body cameras for officers. Decent housing for police families, reducing low morale. Community intelligence networks to detect threats early.

Instead, those millions buy beef stew, chapati, and sound systems. The spectacle goes on while insecurity festers.

Kenya does not need more barazas. It needs better governance. The fight against insecurity must shift from optics to outcomes. Funds must be redirected to intelligence gathering, equipment, and rapid response. Chiefs and local officers, already embedded in communities, must be empowered, not sidelined into crowd management for political shows.

Accountability is also essential. Parliament must scrutinise the misuse of confidential vote funds. Citizens must demand transparency on security spending. If we continue to accept this circus, insecurity will persist, and more lives will be lost.

The barazas reveal a deeper truth: When governance is turned into spectacle, citizens pay the price. Security is not a rally. It is not chapati and beef stew. It is the quiet, consistent, disciplined work of protecting lives. The billions wasted on spectacles must be reclaimed for real solutions. For now, Kenyans are watching a dangerous theatre, one where the actors dine well, the crowds clap loudly, and criminals continue to roam free. Governance has been turned on its head.