Kenya’s Democratic Reversal: How Power Is Being Recentralized

 Kenya’s promise of democratic transformation rested, in part, on the revolutionary glow of devolution. The 2010 Constitution was designed to disperse power—to entrust governance closer to the people through 47 county governments empowered with key service delivery mandates. But today, that promise is slipping away. Across the corridors of State House and parliamentary chambers, power is flowing upward—not downward—closely echoing the centralized structures of pre‑2010 Kenya. The outcome is not just political injustice—it is democratic reversal.

Governors across the country are now openly accusing the national executive of systematically eroding devolution gains. Nyeri Governor Mutahi Kahiga lamented that governors are subject to unprecedented scrutiny, while national actors—presidents, Cabinet secretaries, and MPs—escape comparable accountability. He framed the basic unfairness: counties receive just 15 percent of the national budget but endure disproportionate scrutiny, whereas national institutions controlling far larger resources face minimal oversight.

Further evidence of this centralizing trajectory is found in legislative and institutional decisions. The Ministry of Devolution has been downgraded to a department, shrinking both its budgeting clout and its institutional standing. Governors note with alarm that the passage of county funds from Treasury is now delayed, unpredictable, and politicized. As a result, some counties have gone without crucial allocations close to fiscal year’s end—a crippling blow to local development plans.

Moreover, recent arrests of sitting governors—such as those in Kiambu and Trans Nzoia—raise troubling questions. Authorities justified arrests under charges of financial mismanagement, but the timing fuels suspicions of selective justice that targets county leaders while sparing national officials accused of far greater malfeasance. The perception is increasingly that devolution is being used as a political battlefield rather than a civic instrument of empowerment.

National civil society groups, academics, and activists have warned that Kenya is settling into a paradox: devolution exists in law, but its spirit is hollowing out across policy and politics. Functions constitutionally meant for counties—from health, housing, land allocation, and agriculture—are being quietly recaptured by the national level. This de facto clawback undermines constitutional intent and reinforces central control over critical public services.

This reversal isn’t simply administrative—it carries real consequences. Development partners like the World Bank are already bypassing national structures to transfer funds directly to counties, signaling frustration with the bottlenecks in national disbursement. For citizens, this drama translates to under-resourced hospitals, unbuilt roads, slow emergency response, and stalled local innovation—despite constitutional guarantees of equitable access and local accountability.

In economic terms, Kenya has invested over KSh 3.6 trillion into devolved units since 2013—equivalent to over $30 billion in county budgets. Yet multiple reports reveal that up to 50 percent of development funds go unspent, while salary expenditures consume 40–60 percent of county budgets—well above the constitutional ceiling. This financial inefficiency, coupled with rising corruption cases in counties, risks discrediting the very rationale of devolution. But the challenges are not solely financial—they're institutional: counties lack autonomy, resources, or voice.

Deepening the crisis are overlapping mandates. When national government launches affordable housing or community health programs—functions constitutionally-rostered to counties—it effectively undermines accountability. Counties struggle to set priorities; local facility staff report to national agencies; and development plans lose coherence. This duplication erodes trust in both levels of government and fosters frustration among citizens who see no one fully responsible for public welfare.

Academic and civil society observers nevertheless note that institutional alignment demands more than goodwill—it requires constitutional enforcement. Bodies like the Intergovernmental Budget and Economic Council (IBEC) must be empowered to resolve disputes. New legal clarity is needed on fund allocation and enforcement of county rights. Without such mechanisms, the supposed ‘cooperative governance’ devolved in theory remains fragile in practice.

Meanwhile, political positioning ahead of the 2027 elections raises further alarm. Governors see a strategic narrative emerging: central officials positioning counties as corrupt, ineffective, and mismanaged—justifying greater central oversight and public resentments that distract from national accountability. This orchestrated erosion threatens to recast counties as scapegoats, while national elites consolidate control—an inversion of the Constitution’s original social contract.

The impact on democratic culture is profound. Devolution was meant to allow citizens to shape public policy, conduct participatory budgeting, and hold local leaders to account. When authority climbs back to Nairobi, community voices are marginalized. Participation becomes performative. Transparency withers. And power, once decentralized, reverts to the few—a reversion reminiscent of pre‑2010 governance.

What Kenya needs now is both defensive vigilance and constructive reform. Civil society and county governments must assert the constitutional separation of powers, demanding legal audits of devolved functions and challenging executive overreach in courts. Legislators sympathetic to devolution must block retrogressive bills, reject unconstitutional reallocations of county mandates, and uphold the independence of county institutions—legislative assemblies, offices of the county ombudsman, and local auditors.

Institutions like the Council of Governors should pursue strategic litigation to enforce Article 6, Article 174, and the Fourth Schedule mandates. They should collect and publicize data on county absorption rates, pending allocations, and budget timing. And they should forge partnerships with development partners to develop direct-funding pipelines—multiplying institutional leverage over the Treasury.

Citizens also have a stake: public participation isn’t just an ideal—it’s a legal obligation. Counties and civic groups must demand consistent forums where county budgets and development plans are debated before adoption. They must insist on real-time information mapping service delivery progress—not just ceremonial town halls that rubber-stamp allocations.

At the same time, this struggle cannot be posed as counties versus the national government—it is about reclaiming Kenya’s moral architecture. Devolution is not a regional grant—it’s a design choice: elected local leadership empowered to deliver dignified outcomes to citizens. Provincial mayors and governors should not be scapegoats or political tokens—they should be partners in a decentralized republic.

At the core of this reversal lies a question of commitment: does the presidency truly respect constitutional separation of powers? Or is the resurgence of centralized authority a reaction to political discomfort—an instinct to adapt to dissent with control rather than reform?

No outcome is inevitable. Kenya may still deepen devolution if institutional actors and reformists organize. In states worldwide—from Indonesia to India—decentralization succeeded where laws empower local governments with fiscal autonomy and oversight regimes. Kenya could follow if bold, sustained advocacy materializes.

Failure, however, risks serious consequences. Without devolved governance, citizens revert to being subjects, not stakeholders. Local leadership—allied with national figures—can be sidelined, stripped of resources, and eroded by political rivalry. The county is at risk of becoming cliché, not constituency.

In the coming months, political stakeholders must decide: will Kenya double down on centralized control that stashed power in fewer hands and diluted public access? Or will it recommit to a constitutional democracy where county governments have real authority, capacity, and accountability?

The answer matters. Because if power is not shared, trust breaks. Democracy erodes. Devolution becomes parody. But if Kenya reaffirms decentralization—reinvigorates county funding, defends local autonomy, and insists on institutional enforcement—then the promise of participatory governance can survive the present crisis.

Kenya faces a stark choice: reverse course toward consolidation—or reclaim constitutional promise and deepen democratic pluralism. The trajectory of devolution is now the trajectory of the republic.