Executive speeches without political will to walk the talk will not spur development

President William Ruto’s recent address to the nation was a classic study in executive indifference. It was an exercise given less for the purpose of communicating a clear vision than for the sheer necessity of saying something.

 As citizens gathered to listen to the president in a country burdened by myriad crises, the speech stood out as an antithesis to their expectations. A country grappling with escalating insecurity, human rights abuses, a punishing cost of living, a crumbling education system, and a paralysed health sector where nurses are once again on strike, cannot find solace in abstract promises and wishful projections. Abstract economic theories are not a panacea to daily survival.

 Throughout the president’s address, references were made to global success stories like Singapore, which has become the standard playbook for developing nations seeking a blueprint for rapid transformation. But invoking Singapore without replicating its foundations is a hollow rhetorical gimmick that no longer excites anyone. We must ask: What did Lee Kuan Yew and his contemporaries do right that our leadership refuses to emulate?

 First, they prioritised absolute institutional integrity and zero tolerance for corruption. These leaders built a culture where high-ranking officials were held to strict moral and legal standards. Graft was treated as an existential threat to the state, not just as some executive nuisance to be politicised.

 Second, Singapore’s human rights and governance models, while often critiqued for strict authoritarianism, were anchored in predictability, public order, and a relentless commitment to meritocracy. They did not tilt their education systems in favor of the monied and ruling class. Instead, they built world-class, highly funded public schools where a child’s future was determined by talent, not by family wealth or political connections.

In comparison, our current political trajectory strays far from these lessons. How do our leaders rate on integrity and corruption when public resources are routinely treated as political spoils? How can we claim to aspire toward first-world status when basic public healthcare collapses because nurses are forced onto the streets to demand fundamental rights and unpaid wages? How, when the Law Society of Kenya and its members lose faith in our judicial system?

 This glaring governance failure mirrors a deeper crisis of nationhood. Decades after independence, Kenya remains fractured by petty leadership squabbles and entrenched tribal biases. We have allowed identity politics to replace statecraft, creating a system where public appointments and resource allocations are viewed through ethnic arithmetic and parochial rather than national interest. A country divided against itself cannot build the institutional stamina required to emulate Asian economic wonders.