Article by QS Nyaga B. Kithinji-Kenya

President William Ruto has begun sketching a post-State House future unlike any pursued by a Kenyan head of state: he says he will trade politics for the pulpit. “When I’m done with my tour of duty as president, I will go back to my calling of being an evangelist,” he told supporters last year, repeating the pledge in public appearances ever since.

That promise now sits beside a headline-grabbing construction plan. Ruto has authorised an 8,000-seat cathedral inside State House grounds and insists the KSh 1.2 billion (≈ US$9 million) cost will come from his “personal funds,” not the Treasury. Much of the domestic debate still circles the legality of building a private sanctuary on land owned by the Republic, but analysts say the far bigger story is what the project reveals about the president’s next act.

A Church Shaped Like a Shield

Ruto’s political rise has been entwined with Kenya’s burgeoning Pentecostal networks, many of which already regard him as a divinely favoured leader. A purpose-built cathedral would hand him a permanent platform, complete with broadcast facilities, security infrastructure, and instant brand recognition. Should he register a new denomination—an option Kenyan law readily allows—its assets could be vested in a board of trustees and enjoy tax privileges that make financial scrutiny far lighter than that faced by commercial enterprises.

Religious trusts are notoriously opaque. Once property is transferred to a church entity, recovering it—whether for creditors or investigators—becomes exponentially harder. Governance activists argue that such structures could let Ruto ring-fence a fortune while re-casting himself as a persecuted man of faith if future corruption inquiries gather pace.

Legal and Operational Fog

Jurists see several unresolved questions:

• Land Tenure: State House is public land; converting part of it to private religious use may require National Land Commission approval. None has been announced.
• Public-Service Support: Even if capital costs are privately met, security, utilities, and upkeep would likely be billed to the national budget, blurring the “personal funds” claim.
• Secularism Clause: Kenya’s Constitution bars establishment of a state religion, yet a presidential cathedral risks merging national symbols with one faith tradition.

No agency has spelled out how these hurdles will be cleared; construction appears to be moving on the strength of presidential fiat alone.

A Narrative of Victimhood Ready-Made

Ruto’s approval ratings have plunged amid tax protests, corruption allegations, and a cost-of-living crisis that has twice sent thousands into the streets. In such a climate, adopting an overtly religious mantle offers political utility. Critics can be framed as enemies of the gospel, while any legal probe can be cast as an assault on the church. He’s building a wall of Christianity around himself, and walls are easier to defend than palaces.

What Comes Next

For now, neither Kenya’s procurement watchdog nor its land commission has published guidance, and no court challenge has been filed. If the cathedral rises, it will do more than replace a tin-roofed chapel behind State House. It will furnish the sitting president with a launching pad—complete with a ready congregation—from which to re-enter public life as “Pastor Ruto,” armed with the moral authority of the cloth and the institutional shelter of a church.

Whether that pulpit becomes a beacon of faith or a fortress of impunity will depend not only on Ruto’s intentions but on whether Kenyan institutions—and voters—insist on clear lines between gospel, government, and gain.