Ruto’s Second-Term Gamble and the Perils of Incumbency in 2027

By Dr. Luchetu Likaka

Kenya’s politics rarely reward complacency. History shows that presidents who misread the public mood, underestimate economic pain, or overplay the power of the state often discover too late that incumbency can be a curse as much as a shield.

As the country edges toward 2027, the administration of William Ruto is already confronting the familiar ghosts that haunt every Kenyan leader seeking a second term: anger over the economy, distrust of institutions, and the ever-present risk of political polarisation sliding into unrest.

Ruto rose to power on a promise to uplift the “hustler” at the bottom of the economic ladder.

That promise has become his most dangerous political liability.

Taxes have risen faster than wages, food and fuel prices have remained stubbornly high, and unemployment, especially among the youth, has become a daily reminder that campaign slogans do not pay rent.

Governments do not fall because of statistics; they fall because of how people feel when they queue for unga or scroll through their phones looking for work.

In the popular imagination, Ruto now appears less as a champion of the poor and more as a president presiding over austerity.

The second blunder has been the state’s response to dissent.

Street protests and online mobilisation, driven largely by young Kenyans, have exposed a generational shift in politics.

This is a cohort less tied to ethnic kingpins and more animated by issues like jobs, freedoms, and fairness.

Heavy-handed policing has not silenced them; it has amplified their grievances.

In modern politics, batons and tear gas do not project authority, they broadcast fear.

An incumbent who looks afraid of his own citizens is already losing the moral argument.

Economic Pain and Political Liability

Equally damaging is the creeping perception that independent institutions are being bent toward political survival.

Kenya’s painful past has taught voters to be suspicious when the police, the courts, or electoral bodies appear too close to State House.

Trust is the currency of elections; once it is devalued, every government action looks like manipulation.

Ruto’s administration risks turning routine governance into a permanent legitimacy contest, where even good policies are viewed through a lens of doubt.

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Lessons from Kenya’s Electoral History

To understand why this matters, one must look at Kenya’s electoral history.

Violence has never been accidental; it has been political.

The clashes of the 1990s, the catastrophe of 2007–2008, and the unrest surrounding the disputed 2017 poll all followed a similar script: a polarised electorate, an incumbent accused of using state machinery to cling to power, and an opposition convinced that the ballot had been stolen.

The relatively peaceful 2022 election was not proof that Kenya has outgrown its demons; it was evidence that elite restraint and institutional balance can temporarily hold them at bay.

But history warns that when those restraints weaken, the demons return.

The lesson is simple: contested elections plus economic anger create combustible politics. And incumbents sit at the centre of that fire.

Ruto is not merely campaigning against rivals; he is campaigning against the daily lived experience of millions who feel poorer than they did in 2022.

No amount of road launches or foreign travel can erase the memory of an empty wallet.

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Three Forces That Will Shape 2027

The 2027 contest will therefore be shaped by three forces. First, the economy.

If living costs remain high and jobs scarce, the election will become a referendum on survival. Second, institutions.

Any hint that the electoral process is being choreographed from above will harden opposition and invite unrest.

Third, the opposition itself. Should it unite behind a single narrative of economic justice and democratic reform much as it did in 2002 to end the era of Daniel arap Moi.

Ruto’s incumbency will become a burden rather than an advantage.

There is also a generational twist. Kenya’s youth are no longer content to be mobilised by tribal arithmetic.

They organise digitally, think globally, and vote pragmatically.

Their loyalty is to opportunity, not to political dynasties.

Any president who dismisses them as noisy but harmless misreads the future.

Elections are no longer won only in rural rallies; they are fought on timelines and hashtags, in the language of frustration and satire.

Violence in 2027 is not inevitable. Kenya has shown it can conduct competitive elections without mass bloodshed.

But peace depends on political choices. If the state leans toward repression instead of dialogue, and if politicians retreat into ethnic fortresses instead of policy debate, the familiar cycle could re-emerge.

The greatest danger is not opposition mobilisation; it is an incumbent who believes force can substitute for consent.

Ruto’s predicament is therefore stark.

He can reset by easing the tax burden, protecting institutions, and engaging critics as citizens rather than enemies or he can double down on control and hope that incumbency will save him.

Kenyan history suggests that hope is a weak campaign strategy. Power is never permanent here; it is borrowed from voters and reclaimed when expectations collapse.

The road to 2027 is thus more than a race between politicians.

It is a test of whether Kenya has matured beyond elections as moments of fear and into elections as moments of choice.

For Ruto, the danger is clear: the very blunders that secured his image as a tough reformer could remake him as the president who forgot that hunger, anger, and memory are the most powerful opposition leaders of all.

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Dr. Luchetu Likaka PhD is a Distinguished Consultant Criminologist and Sociologist, Boasting over 15 years of Experience in the Field. PHOTO/ Luchetu Likaka