By Dr. Isaac Kinity
Worth Noting:
- For decades, the ID vetting process, while imperfect, served as a necessary checkpoint to filter out non-Kenyans and prevent individuals with questionable backgrounds from acquiring official documents. It was not a foolproof system, but it was a crucial line of defense. To abolish it altogether is akin to removing the last lock on a door that has already been forced open too many times.
- History has not been kind to nations that disregard the lessons of their past. Kenya, too, bears deep scars—etched in the ruins of the 1998 U.S. Embassy bombing, the wails of those who lost loved ones at Westgate and the silence that lingers in Garissa University, where 148 promising lives were snuffed out in cold blood. The perpetrators of these horrors did not materialize out of thin air.
In matters of national security, complacency is a slow poison and reckless decisions are the kindling that fuels catastrophe.
President William Ruto’s decision to abolish the vetting process for ID applicants in northern Kenya is not merely an administrative adjustment but also an open invitation to disaster. By stripping away a crucial safeguard, Kenya has flung its doors wide to those who seek to sow terror, bloodshed and ruin.
This is not fear-mongering. It is a reality that history has proven time and time again. Kenya has suffered deeply at the hands of terrorism, and each attack has carried the unmistakable fingerprints of foreign infiltration. From the 1998 U.S. Embassy bombing in Nairobi to the Westgate Mall attack in 2013, the Mpeketoni massacre in 2014 and the Garissa University bloodbath in 2015, the pattern remains the same. Infiltration, recruitment, execution. And now, by removing the vetting process, the government has made the work of extremists easier than ever.
For decades, the ID vetting process, while imperfect, served as a necessary checkpoint to filter out non-Kenyans and prevent individuals with questionable backgrounds from acquiring official documents. It was not a foolproof system, but it was a crucial line of defense. To abolish it altogether is akin to removing the last lock on a door that has already been forced open too many times.
History has not been kind to nations that disregard the lessons of their past. Kenya, too, bears deep scars—etched in the ruins of the 1998 U.S. Embassy bombing, the wails of those who lost loved ones at Westgate and the silence that lingers in Garissa University, where 148 promising lives were snuffed out in cold blood. The perpetrators of these horrors did not materialize out of thin air. They infiltrated our borders, exploited our weaknesses and turned our streets into battlegrounds. And now, the government has seen fit to make their work even easier.
The argument that vetting was discriminatory against ethnic Somalis is a hollow excuse for a poorly thought-out policy. If there were injustices, the proper course of action was reform, not eradication. By eliminating vetting altogether, the government has abandoned prudence in favor of political expediency, trading the safety of 50 million Kenyans for the illusion of inclusivity.
And let us not ignore the deeper implications of this move. By removing vetting, the government has created a dangerous loophole that will be exploited not only by terrorists but also by human traffickers, organized crime syndicates, and other transnational criminals. A Kenyan national ID is a powerful document that grants access to banking, travel and government services. In the wrong hands, it becomes a weapon. It is unfathomable that this reality was overlooked in making such a reckless decision.
Even more troubling is the notion that this move could be a calculated ploy to pressure the United States into restoring aid to Kenya. If indeed President Ruto believes he can leverage insecurity as a bargaining chip, he is tragically misguided. The United States does not negotiate with threats, least of all those that put its own citizens at risk. Kenya, too, should not gamble with its security for political gains.
If the Kenyan government believes that by exposing the nation to potential attacks it can manipulate international allies into providing financial support, then it is playing a perilous game that could cost innocent lives. The consequences of such recklessness will not be felt by those making policy decisions from the safety of government offices, but by ordinary Kenyans who will bear the brunt of the next terrorist strike.
A nation that forgets the cost of past mistakes is doomed to pay the price again, often in blood. I implore the Kenyan government to reconsider this reckless course. The ID vetting process must be reinstated immediately and unconditionally. The alternative is a path toward peril, where the next attack is not a question of “if” but “when.”
The weight of this decision will not be carried by those who made it. It will be carried by the victims of the next attack, by the families who will once again mourn their loved ones, by the communities that will once again live in fear. Kenya cannot afford another Westgate, another Garissa, another Mandera massacre. And yet, with this decision, the government has made such tragedies all the more likely.
This is not just about border security. It is about the very survival of a nation that has suffered too much and learned too little. If we continue down this road, we may soon find ourselves looking back, wondering how we allowed history to repeat itself again.
The writer is a Kenyan born seasoned human rights activist who is currently residing in Connecticut, United States of America and a member of various international human rights bodies including Amnesty International. He is also a Member of the Presidential Advisory Board RNC, USA.
Jerameel Kevins Owuor Odhiambo