By Billy Mijungu
The past week has reminded Kenyans of an uncomfortable truth: the distance between governance and tyranny is measured by just one misguided command. When Cabinet Secretary Kipchumba Murkomen called for a shoot to kill response to protests, he didn’t just misspeak; he undermined every sacrifice made in Kenya’s long march toward democracy.
In a constitutional republic, the police are entrusted with the solemn duty to protect life, safeguard freedoms, and uphold the dignity of every citizen. Not to kill. Not to suppress. And certainly not to serve as instruments of political vengeance. Any state officer, no matter how high ranking, must never advocate violence as a means of crowd control. That is not leadership. That is desperation.
History has taught us, painfully, that violence only delays justice. It is tempting, of course, to build political narratives on the backs of broken bodies and silenced voices. But it never lasts. The young generation in the streets today, waving placards and national flags, armed only with hope and hashtags, are not criminals. They are citizens. Their voices are not noise; they are the soundtrack of change.
And it is change that smells in the air, not teargas.
Today, the Officer Commanding Station (OCS) Central finds himself entangled in a political web that may ruin his career for actions and plans he likely did not design. This should be a warning to every police officer: the road to hell is often paved with orders blindly followed. The police service is not a political militia. It is a disciplined, professional institution. And professionalism demands restraint, not recklessness.
Murkomen must apologise. Not because he is weak, but because it is the honourable thing to do. Apologise and step back. Let the police do their job according to the law, not political hysteria. Kenya is still healing from past wounds. We must not allow the ghosts of yesteryears, when citizens feared uniforms and democracy lived in exile, to return.
Let’s not forget: there was once an ICC case in Kenya. Words carry consequences. Commands echo through time. And sometimes, history does not forgive.
So, to every Kenyan out there protesting peacefully, march on. To the police officer who believes in the oath they took, hold the line. And to our leaders, if you cannot smell the fragrance of change, maybe you have been in the corridors of power too long.
