When State turns into a criminal enterprise it foments a revolution

This week, the Eliud Lagat affair has exposed, with chilling clarity, the depths to which President William Ruto’s administration is willing to sink in its contempt for Kenyans.

The message has been delivered unambiguously: no amount of public outcry, no volume of protests, and no evidence of wrongdoing will compel this administration to hold one of its own accountable. Instead, the state has chosen defiance, stonewalling, and ultimately, a dangerous game of political attrition—dragging out the crisis in hopes that public anger will eventually dissipate. But Kenyans must not relent. The stakes are far too high. 

We watched in disbelief as Interior CS Kipchumba Murkomen, the Inspector General of Police, and the Director of Criminal Investigations marched into Parliament and lied not just to the Senate, but to the nation. These were not minor misstatements or bureaucratic evasions. They were bold-faced lies, told under oath, before the representatives of the people. Lies are intended to obstruct justice, shield criminals, and mock the rule of law. Lies that confirmed our worst fears: we are not merely dealing with incompetence, mismanagement, or policy disagreements. We are dealing with a well-dressed criminal enterprise that has captured the state. 

At the centre of this storm is DIG Eliud Lagat, whose continued occupation of office, despite a mountain of evidence against him, is both a symptom and symbol of a deeper rot. In any functioning democracy, his resignation or removal would have been swift and uncontroversial. Instead, we are witnessing the mobilisation of state machinery to protect one man and, by extension, protect the interests and secrets of those above him. This is no longer about one official. It is about a system determined to preserve itself. 

What is most disturbing is not simply the lies told in Parliament, but the audacity with which they were delivered. There was no shame, no fear, no pretension of respect for the institutions of accountability. Instead, there was a calculated demonstration of impunity—a public declaration that the law is malleable, the truth negotiable, and the people irrelevant. When those entrusted to serve the public instead serve criminal interests and dare the public to respond, the republic stands at the edge of a precipice. 

The Lagat affair is not an isolated incident. It is part of a pattern—a governance culture where murder, theft, and cover-ups are not aberrations but methods of rule. We saw this same arrogance in the handling of past scandals, in the brutal suppression of dissent, in the systematic weaponisation of state institutions against perceived opponents, and in the normalisation of state-sponsored corruption as an instrument of political survival.

Each of these episodes chips away at the foundation of our nation, eroding public trust and turning government into a tool of organised plunder. At its core, this is not simply about corruption. It is about the transformation of the state into a criminal syndicate.

Already, the cost of this criminality is being felt by ordinary Kenyans: in rising poverty, in broken healthcare systems, in a collapsing shilling, in a justice system that serves the powerful and punishes the weak, and in the growing sense of despair that pervades our society. 

But despair is what this administration hopes for. By dragging out the Lagat affair, by lying to Parliament, by weaponising state organs to protect their own, they seek to exhaust the public’s outrage—to make impunity feel normal, inevitable, and unchangeable. They are betting on our silence. We must not give them that victory. 

Throughout our history, Kenyans have risen against tyranny, against dictatorship, against injustice. From the fight for independence to the struggle for multi-party democracy to the battle for constitutional reform, our people have repeatedly demonstrated the courage to stand against oppressive regimes.

We must demand immediate removal and prosecution of Lagat and all those implicated in this scandal. We must demand that Parliament assert its constitutional authority to hold the Executive accountable. And above all, we must remain vigilant, organised, and unyielding in the face of state-sponsored criminality.