The streets of Nairobi are no longer safe. Women walk in fear, clutching their handbags tightly. Commuters sneak anxious glances over their shoulders. Mobile phones are gripped nervously, used only in short bursts before being tucked away. Every pedestrian, whether student or civil servant, is now a potential target. What was once a bustling capital of commerce, culture, and civic energy is fast descending into something far darker, a city ruled by the very same chaos its leaders once cultivated.

What’s happening in Nairobi today is not merely a rise in petty crime. It is a systemic breakdown. Marauding youth gangs have taken over parts of the Central Business District (CBD), harassing, mugging, and assaulting innocent citizens in broad daylight. They operate with frightening coordination and confidence, splashing human waste on victims to create confusion, brandishing knives, lurking in alleyways and even masquerading as TikTok content creators. These are not crimes of desperation; they are operations of impunity.

But the real scandal is not just the crimes themselves, it is where these youth came from and who enabled them. In the government’s zeal to crush the Gen Z-led protests earlier this year, it deployed hired goons to infiltrate and sabotage peaceful demonstrations. Paid with taxpayer money, these young men were weaponized as political tools, armed with crude weapons, encouraged to incite chaos, and protected by the very institutions meant to uphold law and order. Now, as the protests have died down, those same youths have not disappeared. They have simply changed targets. Having tasted unaccountable power on the streets, they’ve turned against the citizens themselves.

Let’s be clear: this is a monster the state helped create.

For weeks now, Nairobians have taken to social media to cry for help. Viral TikTok videos show victims bleeding, screaming, or being dragged through the streets as bystanders watch helplessly. Young women narrate tales of being followed from Galitos or Archives only to be attacked a few steps from their matatu stage. Others recount threats of being stabbed with syringes unless they hand over their belongings. Even security guards trying to protect pedestrians have been assaulted. And yet, for far too long, the government remained silent, dismissing these cries as exaggerations, urban myths, or isolated incidents.

Only after intense public pressure did the Interior Ministry act. On September 5th, over 200 suspects were arrested in a sweeping operation targeting criminal gangs operating in the CBD. Interior CS Kipchumba Murkomen issued stern orders for a crackdown, even warning that criminals posing as street children would not be spared. But these arrests, though welcomed, feel too little too late. Nairobians are not asking for symbolic raids. They are demanding systemic change.

Because the real problem is deeper: it is a state that treats the youth not as citizens but as pawns; a police force that responds only after social media outrage; a government that ignores underlying poverty while fueling chaos through political manipulation. It is not lost on many that some of these same criminals were likely handed crude weapons and brown envelopes during the recent protests, when the state sought to discredit Gen Z movements. That strategy has now boomeranged. Nairobi’s leaders outsourced violence, and now, they’ve lost control over it.

The consequences are dire. Women no longer feel safe going to work or school. Businesspeople are closing early. Tourism is taking a hit. Parents are afraid to send their children into the city. The economic cost is only rivaled by the psychological trauma inflicted on a population that now associates the capital not with opportunity but with terror. And yet the silence from the highest offices remains deafening.

President William Ruto has said nothing. Deputy President Rigathi Gachagua, so quick to lecture hustlers on loyalty, has offered no solution. Nairobi Governor Johnson Sakaja, who once campaigned on order and dignity for the city, has been virtually invisible. And the Nairobi police, many of whom were last seen beating Gen Z protestors in June, are either overwhelmed or indifferent.

Meanwhile, the statistics paint a grim picture. According to the 2025 Economic Survey, reported crimes in Nairobi doubled between 2020 and 2023. Even with a minor decline in 2024, the numbers remain far above pre-pandemic levels. But more worrying is the kind of crime: increasingly violent, public, and brazen. This is not just criminality, it is collapse.

And it didn’t happen in a vacuum. This is what happens when a nation loses its moral compass. When politics becomes a blood sport, and youths are given pangas instead of purpose. When leaders prefer hiring thugs to silence critics rather than hiring teachers, engineers, or doctors to build the nation. When a regime that thrives on fear and deception forgets that eventually, the chaos it sows begins to consume even its allies.

The Nairobi insecurity crisis is a warning. It tells us what happens when the state abandons its role as protector and becomes a manipulator. It tells us what happens when law enforcement becomes a tool for repression rather than justice. It tells us that you cannot fund disorder and expect order to prevail. It tells us that the line between political violence and street violence is thinner than we think—and once crossed, incredibly hard to reestablish.

This crisis can still be reversed, but it requires more than PR stunts and show arrests. Nairobi needs:

• A permanent, visible police presence in hotspots, backed by community trust, not brute force.
• The dismantling of the networks that paid, trained, and mobilized goons during protests.
• Investment in youth jobs, training, and mental health, so that knives are replaced with opportunities.
• Accountability from those who, whether in politics or law enforcement, enabled this culture of impunity.
• A president willing to walk the streets, not in an armored convoy, but shoulder to shoulder with the people whose votes he sought.

The longer this goes unaddressed, the more likely Nairobi becomes a cautionary tale for other cities across Kenya. Mombasa, Kisumu, Eldoret, Nakuru—they are watching. And so is the diaspora, the international community, and every Kenyan child who asks their parents, “Why is our capital so dangerous?”

It is time to end the silence. Time to name the goons. Time to trace the money. Time to reassert the rule of law, not just against poor hustlers, but against powerful puppeteers.

Otherwise, Nairobi will not be known for its skylines or startups. It will be known for the day the government lost its grip, and the city was left to bleed.

This editorial reflects the voice of concerned citizens and observers within and beyond Kenya. It calls on the government to protect its people, not prey on their fear. It is not an accusation of criminal guilt but a demand for accountability, justice, and decency in public office.

DISCLAIMER:
This editorial reflects the views and concerns of a broad section of citizens, observers, and members of the Kenyan diaspora. It is based on publicly available information, media reports, eyewitness testimonies, and independent political analysis. The purpose of this piece is to raise awareness, call for accountability, and promote dialogue on urgent public safety and governance matters. It does not constitute an accusation of criminal conduct against any specific individual unless such claims have been confirmed by competent judicial authority. The Diaspora Times upholds the constitutional right to free expression, responsible journalism, and the duty to speak out in defense of human dignity and democratic values.