Why Kenya’s Narrative War Between Government, Media, and Citizens Matters for Democracy
Editor’s note: In this piece, Grace Wangeci, a communications professional with over a decade of experience in strategic communications, advocacy, and public affairs, examines the contest between the Kenyan state and the media in shaping national narratives. Drawing on local and global examples, Wangeci explores how government control and citizen counter-stories collide, raising urgent questions about trust, accountability, and the future of democracy.
Globally, states compete with the media to control public narratives, often portraying the media as an adversary rather than a partner in the democratic space. In Kenya, the recent clash between the Ministry of Health and the press, in which the Ministry accused journalists of "distorting" its messaging regarding its most publicised SHA reforms, highlights a deeper issue in their relationships; this situation reflects a broader discomfort with scrutiny rather than a commitment to transparency.
Source: Getty Images
I see similar antagonisms worldwide; for instance, in Russia, independent outlets have been shuttered or forced into exile under wartime censorship in its conflicts with Ukraine. Consider India as well, where tax raids and regulatory crackdowns on critical newsrooms have raised alarms about the shrinking of press freedoms.
In Tanzania and Uganda, the state is increasingly clamping down on journalists and digital platforms, a trend that has become common during election cycles. These cases represent a recurring pattern of an "iron fist" when faced with political or economic strain in their attempt to dominate the national narrative, which is often at the expense of dissent, accountability, and democratic debate.
The state’s tightening grip on the media
Kenya is no exception; the central government has tightened its grip on the media, raising pertinent legitimacy questions. One is left to wonder, among these two actors, who defines the national story? Is it the state, characterised by its carefully packaged optimism, or the citizens, who express their raw digital counter-narratives of daily struggle?
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President William Ruto’s administration has invested heavily in shaping a story of economic transformation. We have seen the government project higher taxes and subsidy cuts as short-term pain for long-term gain. The government has occasionally framed its strategy as a patriotic sacrifice for a prosperous tomorrow. Through government press briefings, cabinet communiqués, and taxpayer-funded advertisements, the administration has sought to entrench this message of resilience and recovery from what it terms unfavourable economic conditions locally.
But as you shift your focus to the same discourse on digital platforms, the story sounds vastly different. These avenues have become drivers for resistance; youthful Kenyans have turned TikTok, X, and Facebook into arenas for sharing dissent.
They use these platforms to share their grievances comically using memes, livestreams, and viral hashtags that document their lived experiences capturing unemployment, soaring food prices, and aggressive taxation. For these citizens, official optimism is disconnected from everyday reality, and they term their counter-narratives as immediate, irreverent, and increasingly influential.
Silencing critics and the rising cost of dissent
The State has exerted a strong influence on critics, responding and attempting to alter the narrative. In June 2025, as citizens marked the anniversary of tax protests, the government ordered major broadcasters to suspend live coverage; some were taken off air altogether.
The government's attempt to stifle coverage only served to confirm concerns that people view dissenting voices as threats rather than active participants in public discourse. It reinforced and projected an image of a state that does not accept criticism and would do anything to suppress its own perceived narrative.
The death of blogger Albert Ojwang in police custody earlier that month highlighted an even darker turn of events. He was allegedly arrested for making posts critical of a senior officer, and Ojwang died from head injuries that were inconsistent with the official explanations. With this story running wildly online, it reminded the citizenry of the state’s undoing, and this became a rallying point for outrage and mistrust.
Activists and media stakeholders have always faced this government’s wrath firsthand; beyond these flashpoints, they have been assaulted at national events, independent filmmakers arrested on World Press Freedom Day, and reporters obstructed or harassed while covering protests. The pattern indicates that the state’s efforts to control the narrative are increasingly extending from newsrooms into social media timelines.
The media is always caught in the conflict between the state and its citizens. The mainstream media occupies an uneasy middle ground while fulfilling its mandate and constitutional obligation to the public.
The media has for long ranked high as a checker on government excesses, but it now faces accusations of timidity, driven by economic dependence on state advertising and the ever-present threat of regulatory sanction. For some citizens, this has eroded trust in legacy outlets, yet traditional media still matters.
A government directive has more authority when it is aired during primetime news; on the other hand, a viral video carries weight when reported in newspapers, online media outlets, or echoed in live radio interview sessions. This indicates that the interaction between professional journalism and citizen-driven storytelling continues to shape which narratives persist and which ones diminish.
The government needs to understand that narratives still matter to its subjects. These accounts are not merely competing narratives; instead, they serve as instruments of power. Narratives play a critical role in shaping citizens' interpretations of hardship, viewing it either as a patriotic duty or as systemic betrayal. Narratives have the power to influence protest movements, policy legitimacy, and ultimately, electoral outcomes.
Legitimate dissent runs the risk of marginalisation as mere noise whenever the government's messaging dominates unchallenged. Moreover, when citizen counter-narratives take prominence, the leaders are forced to respond to discontent, which sometimes is unpredictable.
Discouragingly, when citizens lose trust in both government and media, a vacuum is created that is quickly filled with misinformation and conspiracy, further destabilising the democratic debate itself. This is why both players, the government, and the media need to take charge of their individual narratives independently without competing or compromising each other.
Source: Getty Images
As a nation, our challenge lies not only in identifying the most compelling narrative but also in building trust. For the state, this means that its narratives are accompanied by honesty about hardship and tangible relief that matches rhetoric.
On the other hand, for the media, this means reclaiming independence and serving as a bridge between power and people rather than a megaphone for either side. And lastly, for the citizens, it means harnessing digital energy for constructive civic engagement that presses for reform without succumbing to disinformation.
The battle for Kenya’s narrative should be seen as a battle for its democracy, and whoever wins the story shapes not only perception but also policy and reform. The choice before us is stark: do we want to be a nation that silences uncomfortable truths to protect official optimism, or one that embraces them to build a more accountable future?
The author is Grace Wangeci, a communications professional with experience in strategic communications, advocacy, and public affairs.
Views expressed are solely those of the author and do not represent the position of TUKO.co.ke.
Source: TUKO.co.ke
