PRESS RELEASE-DIASPORA TIMES EDITORIAL|8/11/2025

Running a state—especially one as complex as Kenya’s—requires a level of intellectual rigor, policy literacy, and diplomatic understanding that cannot be replaced by street smarts alone.

Kenya’s biggest tragedy today is not simply that we have a President who makes questionable decisions—it is that William Ruto surrounds himself with advisors who, by any serious standard of statecraft, are wholly unqualified for the complexity of governing a modern nation.

At the center of this dysfunction are two men whose portfolio, if applied in any serious democracy for senior advisory positions, would be laughed out of the room. The first is Oscar Sudi, Ruto’s political bulldog, a man whose political career is built on intimidation, crude verbal assaults, and populist theatrics. His formal education ended in Standard Three. He began as a tout and navigated the murky waters of backroom deals and transactional politics to emerge as an MP—not through intellectual merit, but through raw street cunning and patronage loyalty.

The second is Farouk Kibet, Ruto’s principal advisor and personal secretary, effectively the gatekeeper of the presidency. Farouk is a Standard Six dropout whose power is derived not from expertise in governance, law, or economics, but from his proximity to Ruto’s ear. In Kenya’s political ecosystem, he is feared more than Cabinet Secretaries, and his word can kill or make a political career.

It is not a crime to lack a formal education. Many people without academic credentials have contributed positively to their communities. But running a state—especially one as complex as Kenya’s—requires a level of intellectual rigor, policy literacy, and diplomatic understanding that cannot be replaced by street smarts alone. A nation’s fate is too delicate to be shaped in backroom conversations between a president and men whose worldview is limited to parochial politics, vendettas, and transactional loyalty.

Contrast this with functioning democracies and historical examples of statecraft. When U.S. President Richard Nixon needed to navigate the treacherous geopolitical landscape of the Cold War, his National Security Advisor was Henry Kissinger—a Harvard-educated scholar of international relations, a man fluent in multiple languages, steeped in history, and capable of crafting the delicate diplomacy that opened relations between the U.S. and China. Kissinger’s advice was grounded in years of academic research, policy analysis, and global perspective.

Even in Africa, there are lessons. When Nelson Mandela took power in South Africa, he surrounded himself with advisors like Thabo Mbeki—a man with degrees from Sussex and the University of London—who could negotiate trade deals, understand global finance, and articulate South Africa’s vision to the world. Mbeki was not just a loyal comrade; he was an intellectual engine.

In Rwanda, President Paul Kagame’s closest advisors include technocrats with Ivy League and European university training in economics, engineering, and international law. They are not perfect, and Kagame’s governance has its share of controversy, but the machinery of state is staffed by people who can read and write detailed policy briefs, interpret global economic trends, and engage in high-level negotiation without being overrun by their own ignorance.

In Kenya under Ruto, by contrast, political strategy appears to be conceived not in policy think-tanks but in informal roadside-style meetings where the loudest voice and most sycophantic praise win the day. The result is a presidency that reacts impulsively, mismanages international relations, mishandles domestic unrest, and underestimates the intellectual demands of running a modern economy.

The problem is compounded by the fact that both Sudi and Farouk operate not as public servants but as political enforcers. They are more useful to Ruto as intimidators than as policy advisors. Their role is to keep dissent within the ruling coalition at bay through threats, public humiliation, and sometimes outright political thuggery. This may serve Ruto’s short-term political survival, but it sabotages Kenya’s long-term stability.

It is no surprise, then, that Kenya today faces incoherent foreign policy stances, inconsistent economic programs, and embarrassing diplomatic blunders. When a head of state chooses his inner circle based on loyalty over competence, the country gets the government it deserves: one that is intellectually bankrupt, strategically shortsighted, and morally compromised.

The lesson is simple: a president’s advisors shape the destiny of a nation. When they are thinkers, the country moves forward. When bullies and school dropouts are elevated for loyalty alone, the country stumbles into crisis after crisis. Kenya, tragically, is living proof of this today.