OPINION: Kenya’s generational war on free speech and art as resistance

An AI-generated image shows a film theatre with the words "Echoes of War" written on the stage. Photo/Grok
Ten years ago, Kenya’s courts affirmed students’ constitutional right to artistic expression. Today, that right is under siege again.
The state’s suppression of Echoes of War—a play by Butere Girls High School critiquing governance and generational disillusionment—mirrors past crackdowns, revealing a decades-long pattern of silencing dissent.
Kenya's 2025 National Drama and Film Festival exemplifies the tension between artistic expression and state control.
Originally intended as a platform for creativity and cultural celebration, the festival became a scene of turmoil and protest, marked by the use of tear gas by the Kenyan police against both protestors and members of the press documenting the events.
Central to this conflict was the play "Echoes of War" by former senator Cleophas Malala, whose provocative narrative challenged the prevailing government discourse.
Malala's work articulated the struggles against a heavily regulated media landscape, provoking a strong response from state authorities, who viewed the resonating themes as a direct threat to their power.
This incident highlights the broader implications of censorship and the societal consequences of silencing dissenting voices in artistic endeavours.
Rights group Amnesty International expressed deep
concern over this incident, stating that these actions violate children's
rights and suppress fundamental freedoms
essential to a democratic society.
The festival revealed a growing unease among government officials, indicating that it may be more about a covert political campaign than artistic expression. This has unveiled a troubling pattern of state-sponsored repression regarding free expression and press freedom.
Former Senator Malala is under scrutiny from the authorities for allegedly manipulating schoolchildren for his political agenda, and he now finds himself at the centre of a fierce governmental crackdown.
Interior Cabinet Secretary
Kipchumba Murkomen, a close associate of the incumbent president, criticised
Malala for using his scripts as “craftily induced skits” to promote his
activism agenda.
Critics argue that the government’s heavy-handed response—ranging from arrests to accusations of political manipulation—exemplifies a troubling trend of curtailing free expression among Kenya’s youth.
“We are witnessing a scene where art is being criminalised,” said a local activist, echoing the sentiments of many who believe that the state’s reaction constitutes a direct attack on free speech and the democratic process.
The backlash has reverberated through both educational institutions
and the media, where pressure is mounting on teachers, directors, and
scriptwriters to conform.
Kenya’s history of political violence has often overshadowed demands for accountability, but youth-led movements are shifting the narrative. The country finds itself caught in a relentless cycle of censorship and human rights abuses.
Through the metaphoric drama of an infamous play—reborn to challenge the status quo—the nation is compelled to confront its institutional silence and the suppression of its most vulnerable voices.
This time, Echoes of War has reopened old wounds and sparked new debates as the nation stands at a crossroads.
The play is a powerful commentary inspired by Kenya’s Gen Z movement, particularly the #RejectFinanceBill2024 protests, which saw young Kenyans take social media by storm to demand accountability from political leaders.
The narrative is set in the fictional Royal Velvet Emirates and centres on a country that has recently emerged from civil war. Young people lead efforts to restore institutions and promote improved justice, healthcare, and educational systems.
The characters in the novel navigate challenges and obstacles, showcasing the power of youth activism and determination in shaping a better future for their community and nation.
Through this narrative, the play critiques the tyrannical
governance characterised by repression and the refusal to adapt, portraying the
struggle of a society yearning for progress and reform.
The history of interference in Kenyan school plays is not new. The government always pushes back when the conversation revolves around demanding accountability or when the discussion concerns expression, youth agency, and state censorship.
“We are witnessing a scene where art is being criminalised,” said a local activist, echoing the sentiments of many who believe that the state’s reaction constitutes a direct attack on free speech and the democratic process.
The backlash has reverberated through educational
institutions and the media, where pressure is mounting on teachers, directors,
and scriptwriters to conform.
1. Moi’s Tyranny (1978–2002)
Daniel Arap Moi’s 24-year rule set the template for repression.
Plays like Kamandura Secondary’s 1997 critique of dictatorship and Nyanza students’ 2001 corruption-themed drama were banned, with artists and journalists jailed or disappeared.
Moi weaponised colonial-era laws to conflate
dissent with treason, fostering a culture of fear under the guise of
“stability.”
2.
Kibaki’s Democratic Façade (2002–2013)
Mwai Kibaki’s presidency brought hope with the progressive 2010 Constitution, which included Article 33’s guarantees for free speech.
Yet in 2013, his administration banned Shackles of Doom—another Butere Girls play by Malala—for critiquing corruption.
Activist Okiya Omtatah successfully
challenged the ban in court in
the case - Omtatah
Okoiti v Attorney General & 3 others [2013] KEHC 6184 (KLR), with Justice David Majanja upholding the
students’ rights to “speak, challenge, and create.”
Under Uhuru Kenyatta, repression escalated. In 2017, TV stations were shut down to block coverage of opposition leader Raila Odinga’s symbolic inauguration.
In 2019, Moi Girls Eldoret’s play It Is Well—addressing domestic violence and impunity—was nearly banned before public outcry forced its reinstatement.
Activist Caroline Mwatha (who was
found dead in 2019) and a Kenyan election
official (murdered in 2017) became symbols of state
brutality.
William Ruto, who promised “bottom-up” reforms, has intensified censorship. The 2024 #RejectFinanceBill protests saw Gen Z activists abducted, journalists attacked, and internet blackouts imposed.
Malala’s arrest over Echoes of War—a play inspired by these protests—signals
the state’s fear of youth-led dissent.
In his recent post on X, Activist and politician Hon. Omtatah said: ‘Now, over a decade later, Echoes of War… faces similar resistance. This isn’t just about one play—it’s about defending the very right to free expression in our education system… The classroom is not a cage. Our stages must remain free.”
His words echo a painful truth: Kenya’s rulers, across regimes, fear the power of art and education to unmask their failures. Numerous other X users also voiced their concerns following this incident.
The
Crackdown on Gen Z
The Senators' case is one of many that seeks to expose the truth about the government and challenge its authority.
The recent abductions of outspoken youths on social media and Gen Z participants in the #RejectFinanceBill protests—demanding accountability—led to mass abductions, police brutality, and a state-sanctioned internet blackout.
Critics
were labelled “anarchists,” journalists were teargassed, and dissent was framed
as treason.
This demonstrates the same government brutality, albeit under different rulers.
In this stark narrative of power and resistance, every character mirrors the lived experiences of countless Kenyans whose voices have been stifled by oppressive governance.
The play challenges us
to remember that art is not merely entertainment but a vital instrument of
change—a loud, defiant cry against the forces that seek to silence a
generation's hopes.
Artistic expression is a barometer of democracy. Kenya’s history shows that regimes that fear creativity often fail to address systemic issues like corruption and inequality.
Plays like Echoes of
War—which mirrors Gen Z’s digital activism—are not threats but diagnostic
tools, exposing governance failures and amplifying marginalised voices.
Kenya’s leaders face an inescapable truth: a generation raised on empty promises and repression will not be silenced. The state’s relentless crackdowns—on protests, art, and dissent—echo tactics once used to suffocate past movements.
Yet, as Justice David Majanja warned in 2013, “The classroom is not a cage,” nor is free speech a privilege to be revoked by those clinging to power.
Today, Gen Z’s defiant cries of “Haki yetu iko wapi?” (Where is our justice?) and their viral reimagining of Echoes of War highlights a refusal to accept a future scripted by fear.
The parallels are undeniable. Each banned play, each arrested activist, and each internet shutdown exposes a leadership class that conflates critique with betrayal.
However, history’s
lesson is clear: repression breeds resistance, not compliance. Armed with
creativity and collective rage, Kenya's youth demand accountability—not as
petitioners but as architects of the nation’s soul.
The stakes could not be higher. A country that stifles its storytellers and students is not merely eroding democracy; it is drafting its own epitaph. Yet, within this crisis lies hope.
The same energy fueling today’s protests—raw, decentralised, and unyielding—can still steer Kenya toward liberation.
For that to happen, those in power must
choose: Will they heed this generation’s call for justice, or will they
continue writing the final lines of their own demise?
The answer will reveal whether
Kenya’s future resonates with the clatter of cages or the triumph of voices
finally set free.
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