**Somali leaders travelling on Kenyan passports have reported difficult experiences at JKIA in Nairobi.** [File, Standard]

Recent reports that Somalia's Deputy Prime Minister returned his Kenyan passport after allegedly being manhandled at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport are about far more than an immigration dispute. They illustrate how the actions of a single frontline official can undermine decades of painstaking diplomacy and erode one of Kenya's greatest strategic assets: its soft power. For a country that aspires to be East Africa's diplomatic, commercial and logistical hub, the treatment of senior visitors, investors, refugees and ordinary travellers is not merely an administrative matter—it is an instrument of foreign policy.

The incident highlights a broader strategic risk. Kenya may be gradually eroding one of its greatest but least appreciated national assets: the goodwill it has accumulated over decades by hosting Somali refugees, students, entrepreneurs and families. Soft power is the ability to influence others through attraction, trust and enduring relationships rather than coercion. It is built patiently over generations but can be weakened by repeated acts of bureaucratic insensitivity.

The returns on that investment are already visible. Congresswoman Ilhan Omar is perhaps the best-known example. Kenya formed part of her journey before she entered American politics. Likewise, Somali-born Ahmed Hussen, who spent part of his childhood as a refugee in Utanga, Mombasa, before emigrating to Canada, went on to serve in several senior cabinet positions, including Minister of Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship and Minister of International Development. The same is true for other elected county officials in North America and Europe. Their stories illustrate a broader truth: today's refugee, student or entrepreneur may become tomorrow's cabinet minister, influential legislator, global investor or strategic partner. The relationships forged during those formative years cannot later be purchased through public relations campaigns or diplomatic receptions.

Ironically, while Somali cabinet ministers and senior officials travelling on Ethiopian passports are routinely welcomed in Addis Ababa as partners in regional diplomacy, some Somali leaders travelling on Kenyan passports have reported difficult experiences at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport. Several later went on to receive Turkish diplomatic passports, a NATO and G20 member state, and subsequently enjoyed the respect and privileges that accompany diplomatic status. The contrast raises an uncomfortable question: what are Ethiopia and Turkey recognising that Kenya is overlooking?

The answer lies in strategic statecraft. What is the value of having a foreign Deputy Prime Minister carry your passport? It is almost certainly far greater than the fleeting satisfaction of an officious immigration encounter. A foreign leader who chooses to retain Kenyan citizenship or a Kenyan passport represents far more than an individual traveller. Such a person embodies an enduring connection to Kenya and a potential bridge for diplomacy, trade, security cooperation, investment and regional diplomacy. Many Western governments have long recognised this strategic reality. When their nationals rise to positions of influence in Somalia or elsewhere, they celebrate those achievements, cultivate those relationships and recognise them as valuable channels of diplomatic access and soft power. Kenya should be asking how to deepen such goodwill—not how to undermine it at the immigration desk.

The strategic consequences of decisions made by junior officials are not merely theoretical. History repeatedly demonstrates that the trajectory of international relations can hinge on the judgment of a single individual. During the Cuban Missile Crisis in October 1962, Soviet naval officer Vasili Arkhipov overruled the commander of the nuclear-armed submarine B-59, refusing to authorise the launch of a nuclear torpedo against U.S. naval forces—a decision widely credited with averting a catastrophic nuclear war. If one relatively junior officer could alter the course of world history, it should not be surprising that the conduct of a frontline immigration officer can shape diplomatic relationships for decades to come.

The Horn of Africa has repeatedly demonstrated that today's exile may become tomorrow's head of government. During the final years of President Daniel arap Moi's administration, Raila Odinga escaped into exile through Uganda before returning to become Kenya's Prime Minister. Across the border, Ethiopia's former Prime Minister Meles Zenawi spent years in exile during the struggle against the Derg regime. According to several historical accounts, members of the Ethiopian resistance at times relied on Somali travel documents and regional support networks. The precise passport matters less than the enduring lesson: political identities evolve, but relationships forged in exile often endure for decades.

Kenya's influence today extends well beyond the Horn of Africa. By hosting landmark global gatherings—including the France–Africa Summit and the inaugural Africa Climate Summit—and serving as home to the United Nations' largest headquarters outside New York, Nairobi has cemented its position as one of Africa's foremost diplomatic capitals. The country's designation as a Major Non-NATO Ally of the United States, alongside its leadership in advancing peace processes in South Sudan and Somalia, further underscores its growing diplomatic and security role.

As Kenya expands its diplomatic and economic engagement across Africa, its reputation increasingly depends not only on its foreign policy but also on the experiences of visitors, investors, diplomats and government officials at its borders. Every unnecessary confrontation or poor encounter diminishes Nairobi's reputation as a welcoming regional hub and weakens Kenya's appeal as Africa's preferred gateway for business, diplomacy and international engagement.

From health checks to customs and immigration, Jomo Kenyatta International Airport (JKIA) has acquired an unenviable reputation as every traveller's dread—a travel experience unlike any other, but for all the wrong reasons. Kenya's principal international gateway should therefore be viewed as a strategic asset rather than merely a transport hub. First impressions matter in diplomacy as much as they do in business. World-renowned travel content creator Drew Binsky included Jomo Kenyatta International Airport among the world's ten worst airports in one of his travel reviews, while British broadcaster Jeremy Clarkson has described JKIA as one of the world's most frustrating airports. Although such assessments are subjective, they shape the perceptions of millions of potential tourists, investors and business travellers. For a country seeking to project soft power and position itself as Africa's premier gateway, the traveller's experience at JKIA is not merely an operational issue—it is a strategic one.

The strategic benefits of soft power extend well beyond improving a country's image. States that cultivate goodwill often enjoy easier diplomatic engagement, stronger trade and investment flows, greater tourism and more effective regional cooperation because partners are more inclined to trust their intentions. Soft power also creates informal networks of influence. Alumni, diaspora communities, entrepreneurs and cultural ambassadors frequently become bridges between governments, opening doors that formal diplomacy alone cannot. During periods of political tension, these relationships preserve dialogue, reduce misunderstandings and create opportunities for mediation. For a middle power such as Kenya, whose regional leadership depends as much on credibility and partnerships as on military or economic strength, investing in soft power multiplies the effectiveness of traditional diplomacy while delivering long-term strategic and economic dividends. Ever wondered why colonial powers like Britain and France each maintain the Common wealth and franco-phone relations to this Day?

Governments far wealthier and more powerful than Kenya invest heavily in lobbying firms and public diplomacy to buy influence abroad. Kenya already enjoys an advantage many of them would envy—a reservoir of goodwill earned over decades—but risks throwing it away through the actions of a few poorly supervised officials.

Every interaction at the border is either an investment in Kenya's future influence or a withdrawal from it. The foreign ministry may spend years building goodwill abroad, only for it to be eroded in moments by the actions of a single frontline official. Countries that understand this recognise that first impressions are often lasting impressions. Immigration officers are not merely processing travellers; they are exercising state power on behalf of the Republic. Their decisions can shape diplomatic relationships, investment decisions and national reputation long after the passport has been stamped.

As I have argued elsewhere, Kenya’s national interest cannot be contingent upon the whims and personal discretion of a rogue street-level bureaucrat. Decisions taken by frontline immigration officers are not merely administrative acts; they are exercises of state power with potentially far-reaching diplomatic, economic and strategic consequences.

The writer is a Governance and Communication Expert