By Dickens Ochieng
For the better part of the last decade, the global conversation has centred around just transition – moving away from fossil fuels toward cleaner energy systems. Wind and solar became the symbols of that future, not only because they were cleaner, but increasingly because they were becoming cheaper and more scalable.
Governments, investors, development finance institutions, and corporations aligned around the same message – that the future would be green.
But something significant is changing beneath the surface. The emergence of AI – and more specifically the global race to build AI data centres – is beginning to reshape energy politics in ways many people have not fully grasped yet.
If you listened carefully during recent discussions at the World Economic Forum, one comment stood out. The CEO of Blackstone, itself a major investor in renewable energy and transition infrastructure, acknowledged a growing reality: that wind and solar alone are not reliable enough to support the uninterrupted power demands required by hyperscale AI data centres.
That statement matters. Because when major capital allocators begin questioning the reliability of renewables for next-generation infrastructure, it signals more than a technical concern – it signals a geopolitical and economic shift.
AI data centres consume enormous amounts of electricity. Not ordinary levels of power, but continuous, industrial-scale, 24/7 energy loads. Countries and companies are now scrambling to secure stable baseload power sources capable of supporting this new digital arms race. Some are even exploring ocean-based cooling systems and alternative energy configurations to reduce pressure on national grids.
And this is where the contradiction begins to emerge. For years, coal plants were being retired, oil and gas investments discouraged, and fossil fuel financing increasingly restricted. Yet now, in the race for AI dominance, we may witness a quiet return to energy sources once politically unpopular – including natural gas, coal-fired power in some jurisdictions, and a renewed global embrace of nuclear energy framed as “clean” and reliable.
Energy transition may no longer be driven primarily by climate politics. It may increasingly be driven by compute power and AI competitiveness.
That changes everything. It changes how governments think about energy security. It changes how investors allocate capital. It changes which countries become strategically important. And it changes the future of global climate commitments.
For Africa, this moment raises critical questions.
Will African countries once again be told to limit fossil fuel development while major economies quietly expand theirs to power AI infrastructure?
Will Africa’s vast reserves of gas, critical minerals, land, and renewable potential become strategic assets in the new AI-energy economy?
Or will the continent once again remain a supplier of raw inputs while others capture the value?
There is also a deeper community question.
What happens to communities that were promised a green transition economy if global priorities suddenly shift toward energy abundance at all costs? What happens to climate financing commitments? What happens to environmental justice conversations when technological supremacy becomes the dominant political objective?
And perhaps the biggest question of all: can the planet realistically sustain an AI revolution powered by exponentially growing energy consumption while still meeting global climate targets?
The AI race is not only reshaping technology. It is quietly rewriting the future of global energy politics.
In Kenya, we have not been exempted from the AI data centres gold rush. There have been ambitions to host a Microsoft AI data centre in Kenya.
We are witnessing a sudden and aggressive surge in energy demand driven by the global AI and data-centre race. With an overly ambitious president, Kenya has renewed its plan to put up a nuclear power plant at breakneck speed. We see the speed even when it means bypassing the people, whose views are actually critical to the project.
But this raises a deeper and more uncomfortable question: is the country truly prepared for such a leap, or are we chasing an illusion of technological prestige without fully understanding the economic, environmental, and institutional burden that comes with it?
Artificial intelligence is rapidly transforming the global economy. Kenya, positioning itself as East Africa’s digital and innovation hub, understandably wants to be part of this future. The promise sounds attractive – more investment, more jobs, stronger infrastructure, and global relevance in the digital economy. Nuclear energy is therefore presented as a symbol of modernity and energy security – a way to provide stable, large-scale power beyond what hydro, geothermal, and solar currently offer.
However, the conversation cannot end at ambition alone. Nuclear power is not merely a technology project – it is a test of national readiness. It demands decades of regulatory discipline, highly specialized human capital, political stability, emergency preparedness systems, long-term waste management, and enormous financial commitment. Even some developed nations continue to struggle with the true cost and risks associated with nuclear energy.
Kenya must therefore confront difficult realities. Can the national grid efficiently absorb and distribute nuclear-generated power? Do we possess the institutional strength to manage safety standards free from corruption, political interference, or procurement scandals? Are citizens adequately informed about the environmental and health implications? Most importantly, are we investing in nuclear power because it is genuinely the best solution for Kenya’s future energy needs, or because the global AI boom has created pressure to appear technologically competitive?
There is also the danger of confusing visibility with progress. In many developing economies, mega-projects often become symbols of ambition while underlying structural challenges remain unresolved. Kenya still faces electricity access inequalities, high power costs for manufacturers, transmission losses, and unreliable supply in some regions. If these foundational problems persist, then a nuclear plant risks becoming an expensive monument to aspiration rather than a practical solution for ordinary citizens.
This does not mean Kenya should reject nuclear energy outright. On the contrary, the discussion is necessary and timely. But the country must approach it with realism rather than excitement driven by the AI gold rush. True technological advancement is not measured by how quickly a nation adopts grand projects, but by whether those projects are sustainable, inclusive, economically sound, and beneficial to future generations.
The real question, therefore, is not whether Kenya can build a nuclear power plant. The real question is whether Kenya is building the institutional, economic, and ethical foundation required to manage one responsibly in an age where the hunger for energy is accelerating faster than our readiness to supply it.
The writer is an advocate of the High Court.
