In Kenya, extreme police violence inflames Generation Z

At least sixteen people were killed and more than 400 injured, 83 of them seriously, [on June 26] during protests against police violence that shook Kenya, a year after the youth attack on Parliament. [Already in June 2024, Kenyan protesters stormed the Kenyan Parliament in Nairobi. They were denouncing new taxes.] The country has been experiencing a wave of police violence for several weeks, and at least 20 people have been killed by the police this month alone.

A week earlier, police shot an unarmed street vendor, Boniface Kariuki, in the head during unrest following the death in Nairobi police custody of another young man, Albert Ojwang. [This blogger was found dead in a police cell on June 8. He had been arrested for “falsely posting” on social media.] Outrage over both incidents forced a deputy police commissioner to resign (even though the state is preventing prosecution) and led to the indictment of several officers. However, justice remains elusive for most of the victims, including the more than 60 people killed by police during the 2024 protests.

Combating police violence was a key plank of William Ruto's 2022 campaign, but since taking office, he has fallen back on the old habit of his predecessors: resorting to force to quell public discontent. This problem, which persists despite decades of attempted reforms, underscores how difficult it is to transform colonial institutions designed to reinforce the domination and interests of a tiny elite. It is not just political but institutional.

The Kenya National Police Service is a direct descendant of the colonial police, whose function was not to serve or protect the population, but to dominate and exploit it. From the beginning, the police have been the armed wing of a violent and dispossessing state.

Described by a 2009 report as a “punitive citizen control unit,” its recruitment, training, and practices are designed to dehumanize its members, separate them from the citizens they are supposed to serve, and ensure their loyalty to the ruling class. Barracked in poor conditions, poorly paid, and isolated, police officers often behave more like an occupying force and an extension of the elite’s exploitative mechanisms than a public service.

They are not just instruments of politics. They are part of a vast system of extortion.

Police checkpoints are like toll booths, and most arrests—one in five Kenyans are taken into custody every two years—are simply to extort money. And this is systemic, not one-off. In Kenya. Looters and Grabbers. 54 Years of Corruption and Plunder by the Elite 1963-2017 [“Looters and Grabbers. 54 Years of Corruption and Plunder by the Elite 1963-2017” by Joe Khamsi, published in 2018, a settler recounts in 1907, just a year after the police force was established: “From time to time, I hear a native say he was stopped by an Indian policeman. When I ask him how he got on, he always says, ‘Oh, I gave him something.’ ”

The 2010 Constitution, which was the first genuine attempt to overthrow the system inherited from colonialism since independence in 1963, attempted to free the police from the clutches of the executive and guarantee their operational independence.

These reforms, however, have borne little fruit, despite changes to its organization and the increase in human rights training.

While the judiciary is partially exercising its newly acquired independence since 2010—invalidating unconstitutional laws and even annulling a presidential election in which the incumbent had been declared the winner—the police remain firmly attached to the executive branch. None of its chiefs has publicly challenged a dubious presidential directive or put forward a citizen-centered vision of public order. Deference and complicity are the default mode.

It's worth noting that the problem isn't unique to Kenya. Around the world, police forces rooted in colonial violence are proving staunchly resistant to reform. From Nigeria's Sars [anti-robbery unit] [repeated violence by this unit sparked a spontaneous protest movement in the country, which began in 2020 on Twitter, #EndSars, before erupting into widespread demonstrations] to South Africa's militarized police, all attempts to build a democratic and accountable police force have failed due to their deep and structural corruption.

The West is also not immune to the boomerang effect of colonialism: states apply against their populations the repressive techniques developed to control colonized territories. This has been seen recently in the violent repression of protests against the [Gaza] genocide, as well as in the ongoing attacks on immigrant communities in the United States.

All of this raises the question: Is the police truly capable of reform? Achieving the change Kenyans dream of requires a radical rethinking of what public safety means, who defines it, and who benefits from it. And this is where Kenyan youth can make a difference.

Despite everything the state has inflicted on her over the past year—from attempts at seduction to violence, kidnappings, and murders—she has demonstrated a persistent ability to educate citizens and demonstrate her commitment in new and effective ways.

This generation was labeled apathetic in 2022 because of its refusal to engage in the ritual of elections, which for sixty years had served only to legitimize a corrupt elite. They have proven themselves anything but apathetic. Using digital tools and the internet, they have created a broad movement free of their elders' obsession with ethnic identity, organized massive online training sessions on a wide range of topics—from constitutional rights to the complexities of tax policy—and inspired the population not only to demand change but also to believe in the possibility of bending the state to their will.

This power could now be used to design a community-based approach to crime and security without being held hostage to inherited ideologies.

This Gen Z, which goes beyond demanding accountability for state violence to calling for a reassessment of the Constitution and the functioning of police agencies, could revolutionize what Kenyans believe is possible. This would require starting from the premise that systems inherited from colonialism cannot be reformed—or prosecuted—and must be simply abolished and replaced with systems rooted in the communities they are meant to serve.