President Dr William Ruto with Speaker of the National Assembly Dr Moses Wetang’ula…Photo/courtesy.
By Peter Mwibanda
Published: August 24, 2025
NAIROBI (IP) The Anti-Graft Campaign: A Sword Drawn… But Pointed Where?
From early 2025, President Ruto launched repeated attacks on MPs and the Judiciary, accusing them of turning institutions into “extortion rings” and “judicial shields for looters.”
His speeches have branded Parliament as corrupt, judges as complicit and called for swift, decisive crackdowns.
In response, the Ethics and Anti-Corruption Commission (EACC) opened probes into several MPs for alleged bribery, kickbacks from ministries, and extortion of government officials.
A Presidential Anti-Corruption Task Force tightly controlled from State House was quickly formed—consisting of key state institutions like NIS, DCI, ARA and others.
But there’s a critical link missing in this chain of justice: the ODPP and the Judiciary.
ODPP: Where Cases Go to Die
While the EACC may investigate and the president may thunder, it is the Office of the Director of Public Prosecutions (ODPP) that must file charges and see justice done.
Yet under current DPP Renson Ingonga, the office has developed a reputation for doing the exact opposite.
Dropped Cases, Powerful Friends
Since 2023, the ODPP has dropped or frozen numerous high-profile cases involving Ruto’s allies, citing “lack of evidence.” These include:
The Aisha Jumwa corruption case (shields a powerful CS)
The Rigathi Gachagua KSh 7.3 billion graft case, dropped days after Ruto’s inauguration
The Kimwarer and Arror dam scandals, involving former ministers
Investigations into Kenya Kwanza-linked procurement fraud — quietly buried
In nearly all these cases, investigative files were returned to the EACC with demands for “more evidence,” even when parliamentary reports and financial audits suggested clear misconduct.
Critics argue that the ODPP has been transformed into a political firewall, shielding allies while only moving on low-hanging, expendable targets—often from the opposition or internal rivals.
The Judiciary: A Co-Conspirator by Silence?
Equally troubling is the judiciary’s role. President Ruto has repeatedly accused certain judges of issuing anticipatory bail to corruption suspects and stalling prosecutions.
Yet his administration continues to ignore judicial recommendations on police accountability and civil society groups accuse the courts of selectively fast-tracking pro-government cases while stalling public interest suits.
Moreover, the Constitutionally protected independence of the judiciary is now under pressure.
The recent legal victory halting Felix Koskei’s overreach was cheered as a rare win but also exposed how far the executive had gone unchecked.
The fear is real: judges are either being co-opted, intimidated, or sidelined in the service of political expediency.
The Real Targets: Allies Turned Enemies?
Ruto’s harshest words have been aimed at MPs, Cabinet Committees, and even Parliament Speaker Moses Wetang’ula—once close allies.
Inside political circles, there is growing speculation that this anti-corruption campaign is simply a cloak for an internal purge.
With 2027 looming and public anger boiling from Gen Z-led protests, Ruto appears to be sanitizing his inner circle—either through co-option, coercion or political assassination by scandal.
Names like Kimani Ichung’wah, Speaker Wetang’ula, and even Kithure Kindiki have been whispered as “next in line” for political elimination not for lack of loyalty—but for being no longer useful.
Gen Z: Watching, Marching, Remembering
While Parliament and Judiciary fumble, Kenya’s youth are awakening.
Gen Z and Millennials, outraged by broken promises, state brutality and rampant economic failure, have transformed into an unforgiving watchdog movement.
They livestream protests, leak government documents and crowdsource legal advice. They don’t fear the old guard’s power—and they remember every betrayal.
The brutal police response to youth-led tax protests in June–July 2025—which left over 60 dead—only deepened the generational rift.
Gen Z isn’t fooled by anti-corruption slogans. They want receipts. They want blood—not just bluster.
Conclusion: Bonfire of the Pretenses
Ruto’s anti-corruption war is being waged with fire and fury. But fire that burns without direction is just arson.
If this is truly a Clean Hands Revolution, where are the arrests? Why are cases collapsing? Why does the ODPP only strike downwards, never up?
If this is reform, it must be blind and ruthless—regardless of loyalty or legacy. Otherwise, it’s just smoke, mirrors, and daggers drawn behind cloaks of legality.
And when the smoke finally clears, Kenyans will not ask who Ruto accused. They will ask who he protected.
