Ad Ban or Censorship? The Government’s New Tool to Muzzle Media

 In March 2025, the government abruptly canceled all state advertising contracts with Standard Media Group—home to The Standard, KTN, Radio Maisha, and Standard Digital. Ostensibly a matter of compliance, the directive came amid rising tensions over the outlet’s independent coverage of government scandals. The move triggered alarm among media practitioners, press freedom advocates, and legal experts who see clear signals of economic coercion used to stifle dissent. At stake is Kenya’s constitutional guarantee of press freedom and the broader democratic culture that sustains it.

The Kenya Editors’ Guild swiftly condemned the government’s decision, noting that state advertising is not a privilege, but a public service that must be distributed transparently across media entities. This was not an isolated incident: it marked the third directive from the same ministry official targeting Standard Group—raising credible fears of an orchestrated campaign to suppress critical journalism. According to the Guild, any attempt to use taxpayer funds for political leverage is a direct assault on democracy.

Financially, the impact is substantial. Historically, state advertising contributions from ministries and agencies range between KSh 3 billion and 4 billion annually—an essential lifeline for media houses struggling amid digital disruption and falling revenues. The Standard reported a half‑year loss of KSh 300 million in 2023, highlighting how critical government ads are to financial viability. The withdrawal of government funding thus threatens long-term survival.

Critics—including urban civil society actors and international watchdogs—argue this is less about compliance and more about retaliation. Standard had recently broken coverage of alleged procurement scandals involving government ministries. Shortly thereafter, the Ministry of ICT directed the Ministry of Irrigation to cancel Standard Group’s role in public awareness campaigns—for initiatives like the National Irrigation Sector Investment Plan. Standard was replaced by more government-aligned outlets such as The Star and KBC—clear patterns seen as punitive censorship.

Further analysis by constitutional scholars emphasizes that such a directive is inconsistent with Kenya’s legal frameworks. While the Information and Communication Act (KICA) allows for content regulation under specific criteria, constitutional guarantees guard against state use of economic muscle to influence editorial decisions. State control of advertising budgets as a weapon is a chilling precedent that undercuts pluralism—especially given that industry players lack formal recourse to appeal such administrative decisions.

The Communications Authority, the sector regulator, provides legal backing for content takedowns, but critics see it as politically appointed and often complicit with executive diktats. The Authority’s contentious order in June 2025 to halt live coverage of protests—later reversed in court—exemplifies how regulatory organs can suppress media under ambigious or misstated legal authority.

Media economists warn that the industry risks a downward spiral: as independent outlets lose state revenue and corporate advertisers follow suit, journalistic capacity diminishes. Fact-checking vanishes. Investigative reporting retreats. Only compliant media outlets survive—transforming journalism into a captive discipline journals call "consent production." Standard narrative now risks becoming the exception, not the norm.

The effect on journalism is visible on the ground. Reporters Without Borders documented increasing threats, assault cases, and arrests by police during protests—especially for those covering politically sensitive issues. The Standard has recorded multiple violent attacks on its journalists by state authorities. The ad ban intensifies their financial and legal vulnerabilities, making self-censorship a rational survival strategy for many newsrooms.

Digital watchdogs echo these dangers globally. When governments restrict state media funding, they don't just hurt businesses—they send a signal: dissent will cost. As one media governance authority put it, using economic tools to target editorial independence is censorship by other means. Kenya risks sliding into that model—strategically controlling narratives not through explicit laws, but through financial pressure.

Yet there is pushback. In March 2025, the High Court issued a judgment quashing earlier government directives that had centralized advertisement rights exclusively in The Star and KBC. The court ruled such moves unconstitutional, affirming that state funds cannot be weaponized to suffocate independent media—even if no criminal law is broken.

Even so, the government’s repeated directives and apparent disregard for transparency signal that legislative victory is only part of the battle. Industry leaders now call for clear regulatory reforms: public media procurement must be adjudicated independently, not issued at the discretion of ministry officials. Civil society proposes an independent board to oversee state ad distribution, ensuring proportional and evidence-based allocations.

The broader implications for democracy are serious. Kenya’s press freedom ranking slipped in recent RSF tables. International actors note that state actors are increasingly shunning critical outlets in favor of more compliant media—even private corporates like Safaricom have cut ad spend on mainstream media in response to press scrutiny and shifted to Standard or The Star for safer engagement.

Moreover, the strategy aligns with a global playbook where post-election regimes curtail the media by economic suffocation, regulatory overreach, and digital controls—manifesting in everything from contrived tax audits to forced broadcast closures.

Kenya’s next steps will define its democratic character. Will public advertising come under transparent, legal parameters? Will the Ombudsman or Media Council mediate disputes between government and media? Will Parliament reinforce protections in the bill of rights for editorial independence—extending beyond content to the economic foundations of journalism?

The vivid lesson is that press freedom cannot rely solely on constitutional clauses. It must be built into economic and regulatory ecosystems. When the state removes ads from one media house, it places editorial independence in jeopardy.

This isn’t theoretical. Kenyan citizens now face biased information environments, diminished oversight on policymaking, and increasingly uniform political narratives. Without diversified streams of viable journalism, accountability erodes, civic literacy falls, and media becomes a mirror image of power—rather than a check on it.

Ultimately, assuming the ad ban remains unchecked, Kenya risks hollowing out one of its most important democratic safeguards. But if civil society pursues judicial wins, legislative reforms, and alternative funding models, there is hope.

Kenya’s constitution may promise press freedom—but without enforcement, transparency, and financial resilience, those rights exist in name only. The ad ban against Standard is neither an administrative hiccup nor a business issue—it’s a test: can Kenya protect its independent media even when it rises in voice?

Answering that question will tell us whether Kenya’s democracy is maturing—or merely consolidating control cloaked in legality. Press freedom is not just about speech. It’s about survival. And when survival becomes conditional, democracy weakens.