Tear gas filled the air in Nairobi on Thursday as thousands of citizens tried to reach the barricaded Parliament building. It wasn't 2024 anymore, but it certainly felt like it. Exactly two years after young citizens stormed the legislative building over crippling tax hikes, the streets erupted again. This time, the fight shifted from blocking new financial burdens to demanding basic justice and promised compensation for the lives lost during that historic uprising.
Police didn't hold back. Law enforcement officers deployed roadblocks on all major highways cutting into Nairobi, effectively locking down the central business district. Shops stayed shuttered. Public transit ground to a halt. When families of the victims tried to lay wreaths at the barbed-wire barriers protecting Parliament, police fired warning shots and blanketed the area with tear gas. By the time the smoke cleared, Interior Minister Kipchumba Murkomen confirmed that police had arrested 355 people across multiple towns, labeling them as criminals trying to cause chaos under the guise of peaceful assembly. For another look, consider: this related article.
The real tragedy is that ordinary citizens seeking accountability were caught up in the dragnet. The tension shows that the wounds of June 25, 2024, remain entirely open. When Kenyans mark the anniversary of deadly protests in 2024, they aren't just remembering a historical moment. They're confronting an ongoing state of political tension that has failed to resolve the core issues of economic hardship and police accountability.
The Broken Promise of Government Compensation
The immediate trigger for the latest unrest centers around a contested 15 million dollar state compensation fund. Following the global outrage over the 2024 crackdowns, which left at least 60 people dead and dozens missing according to the Kenya National Commission on Human Rights, President William Ruto promised reparations. The government framed this fund as an acknowledgment of harm. Similar analysis on this matter has been published by Wikipedia.
Yet, families on the ground tell a completely different story. They report a total lack of transparency regarding who gets paid and how the selections are made. During the march, grieving mothers openly challenged the state's slow-walking of the process.
Edith Wanjiku joined the crowds in Nairobi to demand answers for her 19-year-old son, Ibrahim Kamau, who was shot in the neck and killed during the height of the 2024 unrest. She explained to reporters that her family handed over all required legal documentation to the state-funded Kenya Human Rights Commission months ago. Despite doing everything by the book, nothing happened. Wanjiku noted that only about two out of every ten families whose children were killed near Parliament have actually seen any money. The criteria remain a complete mystery to those waiting for help.
For others, money isn't even the primary goal. Gillian Munyao, the mother of Rex Masai—one of the earliest and most prominent casualties of the 2024 anti-tax movement—made her stance clear. She stated plainly that financial compensation cannot replace genuine judicial accountability. Her message to the administration was simple: arrest the officers who pulled the triggers.
While the head of the compensation panel, Makau Mutua, insists that the verification process is ongoing and that every valid claim will eventually be settled, the delays have completely destroyed public trust. So far, authorities have charged only three police officers in connection with the dozens of protest deaths. For a population demanding systemic reform, three low-level indictments feel like an insult.
Behind the Arrest Numbers and Urban Lockdowns
The scale of the state security response on Thursday reveals how terrified the current administration remains of organic, youth-led political mobilization. This wasn't a localized incident in Nairobi. The unrest and subsequent police operations spread aggressively across several counties, turning multiple urban areas into tactical conflict zones.
Data released by the Ministry of Interior outlines exactly where the state focused its crackdowns:
Nairobi saw the heaviest police presence and recorded 161 arrests. Officers systematically cleared the streets, targeting anyone gathering in groups near the city center or police stations where activists attempted to deliver petitions.
Kajiado became another major flashpoint, resulting in 123 detentions as local youth blocked roads and faced off against anti-riot units.
Kiambu saw 36 individuals taken into custody as police worked to keep major transport corridors open leading into the capital.
Smaller towns like Bungoma and Nyeri also reported running battles between citizens and security forces, showing that the dissatisfaction isn't isolated to the capital's middle class or activist circles.
Interior Minister Murkomen defended the sweeping actions, claiming suspects face serious criminal charges including robbery, vandalism, obstruction of roads, and attempted theft. Government officials repeatedly asserted that these measures were mandatory to protect private property and keep businesses from being looted.
Inspector General of Police Douglas Kanja even released a statement assuring the public that the nation was perfectly secure, urging people to return to their normal daily routines. But you can't easily convince people things are normal when they have to dodge tear gas canisters just to walk past a storefront. Journalists on the scene confirmed that a significant portion of those tossed into police trucks weren't looters at all, but regular citizens, peaceful marchers, and bystanders.
Ruto and the Changing Face of State Power
President Ruto tried to play both sides ahead of the anniversary. He publicly declared that the state would permit peaceful demonstrations, honoring the democratic right to assembly. In the same breath, he issued a stern warning against any attempts to shut down the country, protectively framing his heavy security deployment as a defense mechanism for school children and workers.
Ruto recently argued that the state's compensation fund represents a formal acknowledgment that harm occurred, but explicitly clarified that it does not equal an admission of state guilt. He cautioned that payouts shouldn't be viewed as a reward for violence or criminality.
That specific rhetoric deeply upsets human rights defenders and opposition figures. High-profile leaders like former Vice President Kalonzo Musyoka, former Justice Minister Martha Karua, and former Chief Justice David Maraga chose to march directly alongside the victims' families. They laid flowers directly on the razor-wire barricades surrounding the legislative buildings to send a clear message: the state cannot rewrite the history of its own violence.
By framing the memory of the 2024 anti-tax demonstrations as potential criminality, the government tries to delegitimize the core grievances that brought millions of Gen Z protestors into the streets in the first place. The original 2024 finance bill proposed sweeping tax hikes on basic necessities, including bread, diapers, and fuel, at a time when the average citizen was already drowning under an unprecedented cost-of-living crisis. The youth didn't riot out of a desire for destruction; they marched because they could no longer afford to live.
Two years later, the structural economic issues haven't magically disappeared. The government still faces massive international debt obligations and pressure from global financial institutions to increase domestic revenue. While the specific 2024 finance bill was withdrawn after the parliament building was breached, the administration has consistently tried to introduce alternative revenue-raising measures through the back door. This leaves the population locked in a state of permanent economic anxiety.
Next Steps for Civil Society and Citizens
The heavy-handed response to the anniversary demonstrations proves that standard street protests face diminishing returns and escalating physical risks in the face of militarized police tactics. If you want to support accountability and navigate this ongoing crisis safely, you need to shift toward organized, long-term civic strategies rather than relying solely on spontaneous gatherings.
Document everything safely. If you witness police overreach or arbitrary detentions, record clear video evidence from a safe distance without interfering with law enforcement operations. Human rights groups rely heavily on verified citizen footage to identify rogue officers and secure the release of wrongfully detained individuals.
Support local legal aid networks. Organizations like the Law Society of Kenya and the Kenya Human Rights Commission actively track detainees and provide emergency legal representation. Keep their emergency contact numbers saved and share them within your community networks.
Focus on local legislative tracking. The battles over taxation and public spending are shifting to county levels and specific sector regulations. Follow the budget making processes closely and participate in public memorandum submissions before bills ever reach a final vote stage.
The events of this anniversary show that a state cannot police its way out of an economic crisis or force citizens to forget the heavy price they paid for speaking out. True stability won't return through urban lockdowns or hundreds of arbitrary arrests. It will only come when the families of those who died finally get the open transparency and judicial justice they have been denied for two long years.
