The Fire Ruto Cannot Contain: When the President Points Fingers with Dirty Hands

In a nation already simmering with discontent, President William Ruto has thrown gasoline into the fire. During a public address, the Head of State accused members of Parliament of accepting bribes to pass the Anti-Money Laundering and Counter-Terrorism Financing Bill—an accusation so incendiary it has shaken the foundations of Kenya’s fragile democracy.

But what Ruto started as a political maneuver has boomeranged spectacularly. The backlash has been swift, furious, and bipartisan. Enraged lawmakers, from both Kenya Kwanza and the opposition, have now turned the spotlight on the President’s own executive machinery. If Parliament must be scrutinized, they argue, then so must the Cabinet Secretaries who have morphed overnight from broke bureaucrats to philanthropic millionaires, throwing money around in “empowerment” programs and flamboyant Harambees without a single traceable income stream to justify their newfound opulence.

Ruto’s remarks, intended to shame and control Parliament, have instead opened a Pandora’s box. For a man who promised a new era of transparency, this sudden outburst reeks of strategic deflection. If the President knows which MPs took bribes, then why hasn’t he initiated criminal investigations? Why resort to public shaming unless he himself is dancing precariously close to the edge?

What Ruto fails to recognize is that corruption cannot be fought through sensationalism. It requires the rule of law—precise, impartial, and unwavering. His statements were not only reckless but potentially unconstitutional, as they undermine the independence of the legislature and invite political witch-hunts disguised as anti-graft crusades.

The lawmakers are now demanding an audit of the Executive itself—a move long overdue. How does a Cabinet Secretary who lived humbly two years ago now afford to fly private jets to attend church fundraisers and hand out Sh1 million in cash offerings? Where is the oversight over these so-called “empowerment” funds? Who authorized these mysterious allocations?

The President may have hoped to intimidate Parliament into compliance, but instead, he has ignited a firestorm that could consume his own administration. Kenyans are not blind. They see the double standards. The same government that cries “corruption” in Parliament is the one that pushes multi-billion Shillings projects without public participation, awards tenders without transparency, and floods social media with videos of Cabinet Secretaries giving out suspicious bundles of cash.

Let’s be clear: corruption is Kenya’s cancer. But if the President’s life is truly “on the line” for fighting it, then he must first purge his own house. He cannot demand accountability while shielding his allies. He cannot preach ethics while empowering a cabal of wealthy functionaries who behave like untouchable demigods. Fighting corruption begins with integrity—and integrity begins with consistency.

By turning this into a public spectacle, Ruto has broken the last vestiges of trust. Now, even genuine anti-corruption measures risk being seen as political vendettas. What we are witnessing is not a cleanup. It’s a meltdown.

Kenya is dangerously close to institutional collapse—not because of external enemies, but because the leadership is eating itself alive. The President must stop governing through provocation and start leading through example. Parliament, for all its faults, is not the only rotten apple. The entire executive branch needs the same audit, the same accountability, and the same shame—if not more.

What began as a public relations ambush may now become Ruto’s greatest political miscalculation. The fire he lit to burn others may very well engulf State House itself.

Disclaimer
This commentary reflects the views of the author and not necessarily those of any political entity or institution. The Diaspora Times believes in robust civic engagement, accountability, and fearless expression of truth.