The Political Elite’s Game of Musical Chairs: Same Faces, Different Offices

 Kenya is caught in a frustrating political loop: power merely swaps chairs while the same faces cycle through leadership positions, offering no real change. One Cabinet Secretary (CS) is sacked; eight months later, they’re reappointed. MPs switch parties, switch offices, but deliver the same empty sermons. This is the political elite’s game of musical chairs—while the citizenry waits for transformation. What makes it worse is that each seat switch replicates the same old problems: impunity, self-enrichment, and lack of accountability.

In the last cycle alone, President Ruto dismissed twelve CSs during the 2024 youth protests, only to reappoint half of them within the first half of 2025. Nationwide, analysts describe this as symptomatic of how Kenya’s political leadership recycles the same cast of flawed characters, regardless of past failures. The result? Investors grow wary; public trust erodes; structural reforms stall; and ordinary people bear the brunt—in debt, taxes, and declining public services.

But against that inertia, two individuals stand apart: Senator Okiya Omtatah and Former Chief Justice (CJ) David Maraga. Both have emerged as principled champions of law, accountability, and systems change—working neither from Cabinet power nor tribal bases, but through civic courage. Their rising clout isn’t coincidence; it tests the public's appetite for grounded, honest leadership over political stagecraft.

The Rinse-and-Repeat Elite

What does this musical chairs look like in practice? CSs are reshuffled—fired today, rehired tomorrow. Parliament appoints and reappoints, but rarely reforms. State institutions shake with every stylistic facelift, but never overhaul. The narrative is clear: Kenya is run by a political cartel more interested in survival than service.

Analysts like Stephen Ndegwa describe this cycle as evidence that “the same false promises by individuals who… were the chief architects of the very problems they now feign to solve” persist post-independence. “They reinvent their narratives and switch allegiances… every regime change is a mere redistribution of loot and power among the same clique”. Whatever report is released, whatever review is promised, nothing changes—not in policy, not in accountability.

This system thrives on stability at the top and stagnation below. Complaints are met with reshuffling, not root reform. Civil remedies die in procedural limbo. Worse yet, public grievances are portrayed as youthful impatience or partisan extremism. Musicians, teachers, civil servants, even boda riders—none escape the sense of betrayal.

Why Omtatah and Maraga Matter

In contrast to career politicians, Omtatah and Maraga have built reputations on civic integrity and constitutional stewardship, not tribal loyalty or party pedigree.

Senator Okiya Omtatah, a human rights activist turned senator, has been relentless in calling out executive overreach. He’s challenged the Deputy President’s regional favoritism, highlighting how it fractures national unity. He’s petitioned the courts over controversial decisions by the Judiciary Leadership. He fights for fiscal discipline, advocating an independent treasury to curb political interference in budget allocations. Most importantly, he’s pledged to block politicians from direct access to public funds—a move aimed at cutting off patronage channels.

Former CJ David Maraga, on the other hand, has already set powerful legal precedents. In 2017, he led the historic nullification of a presidential election—a constitutional tremor that told the nation no office is above the law. In 2020, he issued a rare advisory to dissolve Parliament for failing to implement gender equality provisions—a direct use of judicial tools to hold power to its own promises. Even after stepping down, he remains a voice for judicial independence and constitutional fidelity.

Neither man is recycling old self-serving rhetoric. Instead, they consistently push systems of accountability and structures that transcend office.

Breaking the Cycle Means More than New Faces

Most reform-minded voters ask: why not field new people? Because Kenya’s problems go deeper than choice of leader—they lie in the architecture of governance that permits the same incompetence to return.

Omtatah and Maraga both argue that change must include strong institutions—not just strong personalities. Omtatah’s vision includes fiscal autonomy, an empowered judiciary, and constitutional literacy among citizens. Maraga prescribes judicial independence backed by political respect for the rule of law. Both also emphasize civic responsibility: one paved by rights, the other by dignity.

In short, they offer Kenya a chance to move from shallow personnel swaps to deeper regime reform: from repeating the elite to reinforcing democracy.

The reaction to Maraga and Omtatah’s potential joint bid shows just how hungry Kenyans are for functional change. A TUKO poll revealed that 40.8% of respondents would back a Maraga–Omtatah ticket if elections were held today—outranking the current Ruto–Kindiki–Raila coalition. Why? Because respondents see in them values—integrity, lawfulness, trustworthiness—over popularity or power.

Their popularity, then, is not nostalgia for old wisdom but anticipation for new governance: a Kenya where succession isn’t just velocity but virtue.

The Leadership Kenya Needs

To understand how Omtatah and Maraga position themselves differently, consider what each represents:

• Omtatah stresses fiscal sanity—an independent treasury, clear budgets, and constrained commandeering of public funds. He respects constitutional boundaries, but goes further—he wants structural insulation from self-serving spending.

• Maraga exemplifies judicial courage. He has singularly shown that courts—not parties—should decide outcomes. His legacy isn’t party politics; it’s respect for systems, procedure, and the power of nullification to uphold integrity.

Together they stand for a Kenya that transcends career politics and embraces constitutional service.

Kenya’s current failure isn’t in identifying change agents—it’s in resisting them. The public wants champions who won’t just fix roads, but who will repair systems. Politicians brought in for image often turn into part of the problem once inside—unable or unwilling to act against their benefactors.

But Omtatah and Maraga reject that paradigm. Their power lies in being outside yet inside: influential enough to reform, yet independent enough not to be compromised. They bring moral authority: Maraga legally enforced change; Omtatah legally demanded change. Not by rhetorical flourish, but by petition, argument, and binding legal precedent.

A New Model for Kenyan Democracy

Kenya’s model of governance must evolve. It cannot remain a cycle where “who” changes, but nothing does. Here’s what a Maraga–Omtatah transitional path would look like:

1. Fix fiscal architecture by making the Treasury constitutionally independent and technocratic.

2. Strengthen judiciary independence, protecting it from political interference and ensuring its rulings aren’t ignored.

3. Reform political appointments, making them merit- and evidence-based—not party-based.

4. Institutionalize civic education, enabling citizens to hold leaders accountable beyond elections.

5. Enforce anti-impunity mechanisms, ensuring that public office is a public trust, not a private club.

This is not utopia—it’s constitutional potential.

Imagine a Kenya where:

• A CS cannot return to office after failing without transparent vetting or public justification.

• A budget cannot be accompanied by impunity, but must be subject to public oversight and judicial vetting.

• A Chief Justice is not reversed on technicalities, but is defended by Parliament as the guardian of democracy.

• Politicians remember they derived office from citizens—not vice versa.

Omtatah and Maraga’s blend of legalism, moral courage, and system-oriented reform offers such a possibility. This isn’t hero worship—it’s a call for reform-minded leadership that writes terms into law, not just speeches.

The Road to 2027

The question now: will the public engage? Will media highlight competence, not connection? Will voters move beyond lobbying for kitchen allowances to demanding structural transformation?

The stakes are clear: if recycled crooks continue, Kenya’s political future will resemble its past failures. But if structural reforms led by credible, ethical actors are embraced, we could witness a governance renaissance.

Kenya's future cannot ride on yet another version of the same old cast in a different play. We need actors who refuse to play theatre—and who demand the stage be rebuilt. Omtatah and Maraga are that. Not because they are perfect, but because they have shown they can heal institutions—and thereby help heal a nation.

Choosing a leader isn’t just about who can win. It’s about who can fix. Maraga fixed the judiciary. Omtatah fights for budgets that serve people. Together, they form a blueprint for rewriting governance—from impunity to integrity, from recycling to reform. Their rise marks not a rerun, but a reboot.

Kenya, the music stops soon. The question is: who will walk away with the chair—and more importantly, who will take responsibility for remaking it?