Kenya’s President William Ruto recently declared that all abducted protesters and activists have been released and reunited with their families. This statement, delivered with the confidence of a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat, would be comforting if it weren’t for the four missing individuals whose families are still searching for them in anguish. The president’s claim is not just a lie, it’s an accidental confession. By asserting that “all the abducted have been released,” he inadvertently confirmed that the abductions were state-sponsored. After all, who else releases abductees? Kidnappers don’t hold press conferences.
The missing four: activists, protesters, or simply unlucky citizens who asked too many questions, are either rotting in undisclosed detention centers or, worse, lying in morgues under anonymous tags. The government’s refusal to acknowledge them is a calculated move. Admitting to even one missing person would unravel the entire facade. The families of these individuals are left in a nightmare, oscillating between hope and despair, while the government gaslights the public with declarations of a crisis resolved.
This isn’t just about disappearances; it’s about a government that has perfected the art of deception. When confronted with allegations of abductions, officials employ a three-step strategy: deny, deflect, dismiss. First, they deny any involvement, claiming the reports are opposition propaganda. Then, they deflect blame, suggesting victims “abducted themselves” or were taken by “criminals.” Finally, they dismiss concerns entirely, urging Kenyans to focus on infrastructure projects instead. It’s a script straight out of an authoritarian playbook, one that Kenya’s youth are no longer buying.
The abductions follow a chilling pattern. Victims are snatched in broad daylight by armed men in unmarked cars, held in secret locations, and subjected to torture. Billy Mwangi, a 24-year-old student, was abducted after posting an AI-generated image of Ruto in a coffin. He was beaten, stripped naked, and deprived of food for days before being dumped miles from his home, traumatized and terrified. Others, like brothers Jamil and Aslam Longton, were held for 32 days in dark cells, beaten with electric cables, and threatened with death if they spoke out. These aren’t isolated incidents; they are part of a systematic crackdown on dissent.
The government’s denials grow more absurd by the day. Officials claim abductions are staged by “political detractors” or “organized crime,” ignoring the fact that the abductors operate with military precision, access secure locations, and vanish without a trace, capabilities far beyond ordinary criminals. Even more damning is the case of a government minister’s son, who was abducted by the National Intelligence Service (NIS) and only released after his father appealed directly to Ruto . If the state isn’t behind these operations, why do victims keep resurfacing with stories of state agents?
The president’s sudden “concern” for the abducted is equally farcical. In November 2024, Ruto dismissed reports of abduction as “fake news.” By December, under mounting pressure, he promised to “stop them.” This rhetorical shift wasn’t born of newfound empathy but of international scrutiny and domestic outrage. Western allies, including the U.S. and EU, have raised alarms, while Kenyan courts have threatened to jail top security officials for contempt if they fail to produce missing persons.
The abductions are more than a human rights crisis; they are a threat to Kenya’s democracy. When the state kidnaps its citizens, it erodes trust in institutions, fuels public anger, and risks destabilizing the country. Already, protests demanding the release of the missing have been met with tear gas and arrests, creating a vicious cycle of repression and resistance. The government’s heavy-handed tactics mirror those of Daniel arap Moi’s dictatorship in the 1980s, but today’s youth, armed with smartphones and social media, are harder to silence.
Justice remains elusive. Families of the disappeared are left with no answers, no bodies, and no accountability. The courts, though independent, are hamstrung by a government that ignores their orders. The Kenya National Commission on Human Rights (KNCHR) has documented 82 abductions since June 2024, with at least 29 still missing. Yet, not a single official has been charged. Ruto’s government, which rose to power on promises of reform, has instead become the very monster it vowed to slay. The “hustler” who once sold chickens and promised “freedom is coming” now presides over a regime that disappears its critics. The bitter irony isn’t lost on Kenyans, who once believed in his vision. Today, they see it for what it is: a cruel illusion.
The question now is whether Kenya will succumb to this descent into tyranny or whether its people, especially its fearless youth, will force a reckoning. The answer may determine not just the fate of the missing four, but the soul of the nation itself.
