A Seasoned Lesson in Truth, Moral Reckoning, Conscience, and the Ghosts of Leadership

By Professor Peter Ndiang’ui, Fort Myers, Florida

I have learned that President William Ruto’s birthday falls around this time. I have never, in all my years, wished anyone an unhappy birthday, and I will not begin with him. However, I have reached a point where politeness must yield to principle, and sentimentality must submit to truth—the very first pillar of the Rotary Four-Way Test, to which I offer unwavering allegiance.

And truth, unfiltered and fearless, demands that we confront an uncomfortable reality: unless there is real transformation in him, President Ruto is in no position to experience genuine happiness today—or on any other day—while burdened by the immense moral weight trailing his leadership.

Yes, amid the flood of birthday wishes that will be sent his way, Ruto will no doubt perform happiness. But unfortunately, no amount of staged charisma, choreographed cheer, or presidential theatrics can conceal the fact that he is surrounded by deepening public distrust and widespread unhappiness. His tenure has become associated with abductions, extrajudicial killings, violent policing, corruption, untruths, and a style of leadership steeped in vindictiveness and habitual deception.

This year alone, the country has lost several leaders, particularly those opposed to him, and rumors and accusations have pointed fingers in his direction. A leader cannot slog through such a swamp of allegations and expect to emerge with a clear conscience or a joyful heart. Even if he convinces himself otherwise, he knows—more intimately than anyone—that real happiness cannot coexist with such moral shadows.

Many Kenyans will dutifully wish him a “happy birthday,” but most will do so out of obligation, fear, or political protocol, not sincerity. They understand, as he must understand, that wishing joy upon a leader presiding over national suffering is akin to wishing life upon a corpse—symbolic at best, absurd at worst. True happiness demands redemption, transformation, and moral awakening, and these are things no leader can fake.

There is a striking irony in the fact that Ruto’s birthday arrives in the heart of the Christmas season, a time devoted to compassion, humility, justice, and renewal. Dickens’ A Christmas Carol offers an eternal indictment of moral emptiness. Ebenezer Scrooge, wealthy, feared, and powerful, was spiritually desolate. His fortune could not buy peace because he lacked humanity. His prestige masked an inner void. Only when he confronted the suffering he had caused did he discover the path to genuine happiness.

Ruto may surround himself with wealth, loyal advisers, and the trappings of state power, but none of these can drown out the cries of a nation overwhelmed by hardship and injustice.

No leader who instructs police to shoot citizens in the legs can expect peace of mind. No leader weighed down by allegations of killings, including high-profile ones, can expect restful sleep. No leader presiding over poverty, hunger, and desperation can claim to know joy. Happiness does not take root in the soil of oppression. It does not blossom when injustice is normalized. It withers in a nation where suffering becomes routine.

The Trial of Ebenezer Scrooge sharpens the lesson further. It asks whether a person responsible for great harm can find redemption. The answer is yes—but only through deep moral reckoning and transformation. One must face the truth, acknowledge wrongdoing, and commit to real change. This is the crossroads Ruto stands at, yet refuses to walk.

No cake sliced behind State House walls, no choreographed ceremony, no echo chamber of praise, and no polished propaganda can grant him the happiness he seeks. Only conscience grants that, and conscience is a judge that cannot be bribed or silenced.

If President Ruto truly desires happiness—not the hollow performance of it, but the real, soul-settling kind—he must embrace what Dickens made clear. Happiness springs from relationships, not hoarded riches. It comes from generosity—not politically weaponized charity, but genuine compassion. It thrives on moral purpose, not the silencing of critics, not the manipulation of citizens, and not the consolidation of power.

Cruelty isolates. Injustice corrodes. A suffering nation becomes its leader’s silent jailer. Only kindness liberates. Only redemption restores.

Ultimately, the choice lies with William Ruto alone. Kenyans may offer him birthday wishes out of etiquette, fear, or political necessity, but they cannot manufacture happiness for him. No greeting or celebration can soothe a conscience that refuses to face itself. If he chooses truth, humility, and genuine transformation, he may one day know happiness. If he does not, then today’s festivities—no matter how elaborate—will remain hollow and fleeting.

I will not pretend that a simple birthday greeting could change this. Happiness cannot be performed, purchased, or pretended. It must be earned—through justice, humility, compassion, humanity, and moral rebirth. Since I am not optimistic that William Ruto is capable of the same, I choose to save my words.