Kenyans are drunk-but don't blame alcohol

Kenyan Flag. [Courtesy]

Kenya’s deeper leadership crisis may be the intoxication of power and the gradual loss of our national moral compass.

A nation can be awake and still not be sober. It can hold elections, pass budgets, debate policies, build infrastructure, fill churches, and yet gradually lose its moral balance. Kenya must therefore ask a question deeper than who controls government: Are we sober?

I am not speaking primarily about alcohol. I am speaking about the intoxication of power.

There is a drunkenness that does not come from a bottle. Leaders can become drunk on applause, politicians on crowds, governments on parliamentary numbers, religious leaders on political access, and citizens on ethnicity. Eventually, wrongdoing becomes acceptable because it is committed by “our side.”

The Old Testament understood this moral intoxication remarkably well. Isaiah 5 portrays a society in which arrogance, self-indulgence and corrupted judgment coexist. The tragedy is not merely that people behave badly, but that they lose the ability to distinguish good from evil. Isaiah warns against those who call evil good and good evil. That remains one of the clearest descriptions of national moral confusion.

A sober society condemns wrongdoing even when the offender is politically useful. An intoxicated society changes its definition of wrongdoing depending on who is accused.

Genesis offers an even deeper diagnosis. Humanity is created in the image of God and entrusted with authority over creation. Yet biblical dominion is not unrestricted ownership. Genesis 2:15 describes the human vocation in terms of cultivating and guarding, serving and protecting. Authority is therefore entrusted for stewardship.

That principle should unsettle every holder of public office. A president does not own a republic. A governor does not own a county. A Cabinet secretary does not own a ministry. A Member of Parliament does not own a constituency. A civil servant does not own a public office.

Authority is entrusted. The danger begins when a steward starts behaving like an owner.

Genesis 3 introduces the temptation to “be like God.” The story exposes the perennial human desire for autonomy without boundaries: Authority without accountability and power without responsibility.

Political intoxication begins when election is confused with infallibility, criticism becomes betrayal, constitutional limits are treated as inconveniences, and institutions begin revolving around personalities rather than principles.

Deuteronomy 17 makes the point more explicit. Israel’s king was not permitted to multiply wealth endlessly or elevate himself above others. Most importantly, the king remained under the law.

That is a remarkably modern political principle from an ancient text: The ruler is also ruled.

A constitution matters most when it becomes inconvenient to those exercising power.

Leviticus 16 contributes another important insight. In its priestly theology, wrongdoing is not merely individual guilt. Sin contaminates communal life, fractures relationships and disorders the moral environment. Corruption behaves in much the same way.

It does not remain inside the pocket of one corrupt official. It enters institutions. It teaches younger officers how the system works. It tells businesses that connections matter more than competence. It persuades young people that integrity is naïve and convinces citizens that public service is another route to private wealth.

Eventually, corruption stops appearing abnormal. It becomes culture. That is when a nation is dangerously intoxicated. But sobriety cannot be demanded from politicians alone. Citizens must also examine themselves.

If we condemn corruption nationally but celebrate questionable wealth when it benefits our community, are we sober? If we reject tribalism until our preferred candidate is criticised, are we sober? If we demand accountability from political opponents but manufacture excuses for allies, are we sober?

Democracy cannot remain morally healthy when citizens outsource conscience to political parties.

The Church must face the same examination. There is nothing wrong with pastors meeting presidents. The danger begins when access silences truth. There is nothing wrong with politicians attending church. The danger begins when the pulpit becomes a campaign platform. There is nothing wrong with praying for leaders. The danger begins when prayer becomes public relations.

Nathan confronted David. Elijah confronted Ahab. Biblical prophecy was never partisan loyalty dressed in religious language.

Kenya therefore needs more than another political realignment. It needs moral sobriety.

Sobriety means leaders remembering that power is temporary stewardship. It means citizens judging conduct by principles rather than ethnicity. It means institutions remaining stronger than personalities. It means religious leaders retaining the freedom to tell truth even when truth threatens access and privilege.

Micah 6:8 reduces public morality to three enduring demands: Do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with God.

Perhaps humility is what our politics most urgently needs.

Intoxicated power says, “I cannot be questioned.” Sober leadership says, “I am accountable.”

Intoxicated politics asks, “How do we remain in power?” Sober politics asks, “What happens to the people because we are in power?”

Kenya must therefore ask itself, beyond party colours, ethnic loyalties and political slogans: Are we truly sober, or have we simply become accustomed to our intoxication?