Devolution

When feeder roads are paved without county input, it’s not development—it’s constitutional sabotage. National road agencies KURA and KERA are sidelining local governments, undermining Kenya’s devolution dream, and centralizing power by stealth. Governors Anyang’ Nyong’o and James Orengo need our support: if counties don’t fight back, the Second Liberation may be lost under a fresh coat of bitumen.

In the thick of Kenya’s democratic experiment lies a constant tension between power shared and power reclaimed. The latest chapter unfolds not in courtrooms or parliament chambers—but on the roads, quite literally.

A recent statement from Professor Anyang’ Nyong’o, Governor of Kisumu, cuts to the core of this matter. Frustrated by what he describes as creeping centralization, he calls out the Ruto administration for what he sees as a reversal of Kenya’s hard-won gains under devolution. He doesn’t mince words. He likens the moment to a return to the 'pre-devolution times of the Nyayo era' and urges progressive forces to resist what he frames as an assault on the constitutional order.

Is this just political theatre or is there substance beneath the surface?

To be fair, the Kenya Urban Roads Authority (KURA) and Kenya Rural Roads Authority (KeRRA) are not Ruto-era inventions. They are long-standing national agencies created to serve specialized infrastructural functions. But as with most things Kenyan, the devil is not in the existence of institutions, but in how they are deployed.

And that’s where the real debate begins.

Form vs Function

On paper, devolution is Kenya’s great democratic promise—a bold redistribution of resources, representation, and decision-making. The Constitution of Kenya 2010 envisioned counties as the nerve centers of public service, especially in functions like health, agriculture, and yes—roads.

Yet, under the Kenya Kwanza administration, we’ve seen a silent consolidation of infrastructure functions back to the national level. Whether it’s through national road agencies resurfacing village access roads without a whisper to the local leadership, or budget allocations favouring parastatal projects over county priorities, the message is clear: we build, you manage the politics.

This is not just bureaucratic turf war—it’s a deeper assault on the foundational theory of subsidiarity.

Subsidiarity vs Administrative Capture

Subsidiarity, a concept rooted in governance theory and Catholic social thought, holds that matters ought to be handled by the smallest, lowest, or least centralized competent authority. It is the intellectual backbone of Kenya’s devolved system.

When counties are bypassed by national road agencies, when local needs are subverted by national blueprints, when governors have to beg for funds already constitutionally guaranteed, subsidiarity becomes a punchline—not a principle.

What we’re seeing may better fit the theory of administrative capture: a phenomenon where institutions designed for public interest are subtly redirected to serve elite political goals. In this case, national agencies become instruments of political reward, visibility, and control—while county governments are reduced to spectators in their own jurisdictions.

The net effect? Counties shoulder the political burden for roads they didn’t build, while national figures reap the credit—and votes.

Some may argue that the central government stepping in ensures uniform standards, speeds up implementation, and avoids county-level mismanagement. Fair enough.

But then the question becomes: who decides the priorities? If a rural road is repaired, but it wasn’t the county’s top concern—has development occurred or has democratic intent been undermined?

Even more insidious is the trend of national projects being imposed without reference to County Integrated Development Plans (CIDPs). The 2010 Constitution was explicit: local development must be locally led. Anything else is a regression.

Let’s not pretend all county governments are perfect stewards of public funds. They too have their share of waste, ghost projects, and patronage. But that is no justification for dismantling the very structure that holds them accountable—proximity to the people.

What Ruto’s government seems to be doing is replacing a flawed but fixable devolved framework with a politically expedient central command system. And as history warns us, once power is recentralized, it rarely returns.

Global Lessons

Globally, countries like Singapore and the United Arab Emirates (UAE) have topped road quality rankings not simply by centralizing power, but by mastering the balance between national coordination and local implementation. Singapore’s transport system is globally lauded, yet its efficiency hinges on well-structured cooperation between central government and municipal authorities. Standards are set nationally, but execution is localized, ensuring infrastructure reflects ground realities—not just elite priorities.

The UAE, ranked fifth globally, channels billions into roads and public transport through a federal model that still respects the autonomy of individual emirates. Infrastructure works because implementation is context-specific, even when guided by a national vision.

Across Africa, Namibia and Rwanda provide even sharper lessons. With some of the best roads on the continent, they’ve succeeded not by sidelining local governments but by aligning national funds with local priorities through transparent planning frameworks. Rwanda’s system in particular emphasizes district ownership of infrastructure, giving local leaders real input while ensuring results are audited against national standards.

These examples underscore the very point Governor Nyong’o is making: that development without devolution breeds disconnection. When national agencies act unilaterally, roads may be built—but trust is eroded, and governance diluted. Kenya doesn’t need to copy foreign models wholesale, but it can borrow the principle: strong central coordination works best when it empowers—not replaces—local authority.

If the Ruto administration truly seeks world-class infrastructure, it must treat counties not as contractors or spectators, but as co-architects of the national journey.

The Second Liberation Can Still Be Lost

Governor Nyong’o’s tone may sound urgent to some. But dig past the rhetoric and you’ll find a legitimate fear: that Kenya’s most ambitious democratic experiment is being unpicked quietly, technocratically—and with plausible deniability.

Devolution was not handed to us. It was fought for, bled for, negotiated into a Constitution that promised not just service delivery, but dignity through self-governance.

To undo that in the name of “efficiency” is to forget the very ethos of our republic.

Let the governors manage their roads. Or at least, let them manage their mandate.

Gem Musings is a seasoned International Relations and Public Affairs Strategist with extensive experience in global diplomacy, communication, and policy analysis.