At first, the march was peaceful. The mothers and other relatives of the victims of police attacks against the 2024 protesters, including those who were calling for justice, carried crosses and flowers as they sang freedom songs. They wanted the demonstration to be peaceful; after all, it was a memorial for their loved ones.
Then the police started firing tear gas canisters at them. To Nairobi-based journalist, influencer, and blogger Juma Fredrick, it was almost like a challenge, inviting a fight.
“Not long afterwards, a female police officer was injured on the head along Banda Street. I remember ambulances and people screaming. I ran for my life. Instead of a peaceful march, we ended up adding new names to the list of those who might never get justice,” Juma told Journalists For Justice (JFJ).
Live footage from the June 25, 2025, protests showed young people scattering in panic, choking and screaming as the police charged.
“I later watched on TV and read reports that many were taken to the hospital that day. Lives were lost,” the journalist, who had joined thousands of Kenyans in the streets to remember and honour the young men and women shot by the police during the protests in 2024, said. Many of them died.
Juma’s words cut to the heart of a year of turmoil that has seen Kenya’s streets transformed into battlegrounds, a profound human rights crisis pitting a restless, digitally-savvy youth against a government increasingly reliant on force and intimidation. What began in June 2024 as widespread anger over proposed tax hikes has spiralled into a nationwide movement demanding an end to police brutality, corruption, and state impunity, leaving dozens dead and the country’s democratic foundations in jeopardy.
It also shattered Kenya’s carefully cultivated international image as a champion of human rights, taking up prominent roles in United Nations forums and peacekeeping missions. The contrast between the country’s global rhetoric and its domestic conduct has never been starker.
Between June 2024 and July 2025, Kenya’s towns were rocked by relentless cycles of protests, organised by a largely leaderless youth movement and met with overwhelming force and bloody repression by security services in the full glare of international news media and the internet. The state’s violent response has only served to radicalise a new generation of activists, whose demands have broadened from economic relief to fundamental questions of governance and justice.
A nation in protest, a state on the attack
The initial trigger of the protests was the Finance Bill 2024, but other incidents of excessive force by security agents, including the death of teacher and blogger Albert Omondi Ojwang in police custody in June 2025, poured fuel on the fire, galvanising a fresh nationwide outcry against police brutality.
The youth, especially the so-called Gen Z, led the charge. Their protests –organised largely online and leaderless by design – paralysed major cities and forced the government to reckon with a generation unwilling to accept business as usual.
The state’s response was swift and severe. Security agents, armed with live bullets, tear gas, and batons, met the demonstrators with overwhelming force.
“They treated us like we were a threat. There was no warning, no attempt to talk to us. Tear gas was fired directly into crowds, even when people were kneeling with their hands up. Others were hit with what looked like rungus (batons) and kicked when they fell. Even medics who were trying to help were chased away and harassed,” said Juma during the interview.
The human toll has been staggering. On June 25, 2025, the anniversary of the previous year’s anti-tax protests, the violence peaked as security forces met demonstrators with live bullets. Amnesty International and the government-sponsored Kenya National Commission on Human Rights (KNCHR) reported 19 fatalities, 531 injuries, 15 enforced disappearances, 179 arrests, 2 cases of individual rape, 2 cases of gang rape, and 1 attempted gang rape.
The violence erupted again on July 7, revered in Kenya’s political history as Saba Saba Day. The day marks the 1990 pro-democracy protests that helped usher in multi-party politics after decades of one-party rule. Only in 2025, it left 11 people dead. By July 11, 2025, KNCHR had recorded at least 38 deaths and 130 injuries from the Saba Saba protests alone.
ALSO READ: Freedom and human rights under siege in Africa amid rising repression
“On Saba Saba Day, it was the same story. I left my house in Kasarani and headed to my workplace in Ngara, where I joined other youth who came out because this day has always been about the fight for democracy and freedom. Instead, the streets became a war zone,” Juma recounted.
He kept updating other netizens on X (formerly Twitter) about what was happening on the ground. He later watched a video clip of a man, later identified as Harrison Wachira, being dragged away by police officers after being shot in Juja.
“I could not believe what I was seeing — a man shot and then treated like trash. That image has stayed with me. It made me angrier than scared; angry that we have to watch our people being pulled on the ground like that,” he added.
The figures from 2024 were even grimmer, with KNCHR reporting at least 60 deaths between June and July 2024 due to excessive police force, Amnesty International Kenya documenting at least 65 individuals killed and 89 forcibly disappeared. The Human Rights Watch (HRW) similarly reported at least 63 killed and 87 abducted between June and October of that year.
Disappearances, detentions, and a rising tide of fear
Beyond the visible toll of fatalities and injuries, a more insidious pattern has emerged: enforced disappearances and arbitrary arrests. Over 600 protesters were detained in 2024 alone, many held beyond the legal 24-hour limit. Lawyers and medics — on the scene to try to help the wounded or defend the detained — were also targeted.
Enforced disappearance, once sporadic in Kenya, has become alarmingly common. The Law Society of Kenya (LSK) reported at least 72 such cases in 2024, while the coalition Missing Voices noted a 450 per cent increase compared to the previous year. As of mid-2025, the whereabouts of at least 26 protesters from the previous year remained unknown.
The deployment of the military to support police in quelling protests marked a new low in the country’s history, raising fears of further militarisation of law enforcement and a slide towards authoritarianism. The Law Society of Kenya called it an “intimidatory tactic” and a breach of constitutional safeguards.
The government’s response has been defined by uncompromising and often threatening rhetoric from the highest offices, even after the brutality of police officers received harsh condemnation, not just locally but from the international community as well.
On June 24, a coalition of 12 Western diplomatic missions issued a joint statement urging restraint and warning that the use of plainclothes officers in unmarked vehicles “erodes public trust”.
National Assembly Speaker Moses Wetang’ula said the protesters would be allowed to proceed peacefully, but what followed on June 25 was the opposite of peace. The UN Human Rights Office was unequivocal about the killings: “Law enforcement should only use lethal force when strictly necessary to protect life or prevent serious injury from an imminent threat.”
The UN Human Rights Commission condemned the police actions as “deeply concerning” and “a clear violation of both international human rights law and Kenya’s constitution.”
In contrast, the Kenyan government projected an image of control and professionalism to the diplomatic corps. In a statement issued on June 26, Prime Cabinet Secretary Musalia Mudavadi defended the government and applauded the security forces.
“We commend our security forces for their professionalism and restraint in the face of extreme provocations. Their actions prevented further escalation,” he said.
This starkly contrasts with the reality on the ground and the government’s stand. Interior Cabinet Secretary Kipchumba Murkomen issued a “shoot-to-kill” order (which he later claimed was taken out of context, after it received sharp criticism) to police commanders on June 27. He was quoted as saying: “Ukiua watu kumi, kumi na tano, watu ishirini sio wengi, mimi nitakutetea, hii ni amri kutoka juu.” (If you kill 10, 15, or 25 people, it’s not many; I will defend you — this is an order from above.)
Barely two weeks later, his boss, President William Ruto, following the Saba Saba protests, issued a stern warning and directive to security forces: “Anyone going to burn people’s property should be shot in the leg, be hospitalised and later taken to court upon recovery. Do not kill them but break their leg(s). Anyone who attacks a police station, that is a declaration of war.”
On July 11, Murkomen termed the unrest a “failed coup”.
“We must say it as it is, there was no protest or maandamano. It was an attempted coup, an act of terrorism, a failed attempt to change the regime,” he said.
This marked a change in the authorities’ stance against arrested protesters, who are now being charged with serious crimes such as terrorism.
On July19, 2025, police raided activist Boniface Mwangi’s office and arrested him at his home. He was later charged with unlawful possession of ammunition. Initially accused of facilitating terrorism during the June 25 protests, Mwangi’s case sparked national outrage and international condemnation. Civil society organisations decried the charges as politically motivated, part of a broader pattern of judicial harassment targeting dissenters.
At least 37 other protesters faced terrorism-related charges at the Kahawa law courts. The charges were based on alleged destruction of public property, including police stations and court buildings.
“When leaders say we are terrorists or that police were right to use force, it tells families they don’t matter,” Juma said. “It’s like living in a country where speaking the truth makes you an enemy of the state.”
Presidential adviser David Ndii defended the crackdown on the protesters. He shared a screenshot of the definition of terrorism on X as “the calculated use of violence or the threat of violence to instil fear and coerce governments or societies into achieving political, religious, or ideological goals.”
Critics have said this definition of protest and dissent could erode media freedoms and expose civic activists to criminal liability under Kenya’s anti-terrorism laws.
“Ndii’s definition is a misuse of anti-terrorism laws. They were not envisaged to be used for regular arson,” said a government official who did not want to be named.
Religious leaders have condemned the violence and called for dialogue.
“Let’s stop destroying our country. Kenya is in a very sad and dangerous state… The state, through ineptitude or deliberate provocations, has turned expressions of discontent into murderous chaos,” said the Inter-Religious Council of Kenya on July 9.
Silencing the messenger: media and digital repression
The government has always strived to control the narrative. During the June 2025 protests, the Communications Authority of Kenya (CA), as it did in June 2024, issued a circular to all television and radio stations, directing them to immediately cease live coverage of the nationwide protests commemorating the first anniversary of the June 2024 demonstrations. The memo cited Article 33(2), which limits freedom of expression when it amounts to propaganda for war, incitement to violence, hate speech, or advocacy of hatred; Article 34(1), guaranteeing freedom of the media but allowing regulation to ensure responsibility; and Section 46I of the Kenya Information and Communications Act, empowering the CA to regulate broadcasts in the public interest, warning that failing to comply could result in regulatory sanctions.
ALSO READ: Deadly duty: Journalists pay a high price as attacks on the media shoot up
Critics argued these provisions were misapplied because live coverage of peaceful protests is protected under the Constitution. Stations defied the order until CA officials, backed by police, raided transmission sites and physically cut off free-to-air signals on the major stations, including NTV, K24, and KTN, preventing live broadcasts until the High Court ordered their restoration later that day.
The authorities also increased surveillance, throttled internet access, and advanced the Assembly and Demonstrations Bill 2024, which would require organisers to get permits and give the police broad powers to reject applications, and the Public Order (Amendment) Bill 2025, which would ban gatherings within 100 metres of key government buildings and allow the Interior CS to designate protest zones – measures critics have warned would all but outlaw picketing.
Civil society has not been spared. Human rights defenders, journalists, and protest organisers have faced arbitrary arrests, threats, and even deportation. The case of Martin Mavenjina, a senior legal adviser on transitional justice at the Kenya Human Rights Commission (KHRC), who was deported to Uganda without due process after being detained on July 5, 2025, showed that the state’s resolve to silence dissent is not limited to digital activists and protesters, but the civil society as well. The following day, “state-sponsored goons” invaded KHRC’s offices, attacking staff and stealing equipment as they prepared for a press conference. The message was unmistakable: dissent will not be tolerated.
Perhaps the most alarming consequence of the crisis has been how the executive branch of the government has been emboldened to launch a frontal assault on the judiciary. President Ruto has publicly accused the courts of sabotaging his agenda and openly defied court orders. After police ignored a habeas corpus application for three abducted activists in August 2024, the authorities responded by withdrawing the presiding judge’s security detail – a move that was, at the time, widely considered a chilling threat to judicial independence.
Accountability elusive, justice deferred
While some police officers have been charged for their actions, such as in the death of blogger Albert Ojwang and mask vendor Boniface Kariuki, whose shooting in the head was captured on video, most cases have stalled. Director of Public Prosecutions (DPP) Renson Ingonga approved murder charges against police officer Klinzy Barasa Masinde for killing Kariuki. The officer, arraigned at the Milimani law courts, pleaded not guilty to the charges.
However, beyond these headline-worthy incidents, dozens of families are still waiting for justice. In Mwiki, 19-year-old Joshua Steven Njihia was gunned down as he fled tear gas during protests over the rape and murder of Abigael Wina Wanjiku. Ample CCTV footage identifies the shooter, yet there is no record of an arrest or arraignment. And the officers filmed firing live rounds into peaceful crowds – exposed by the BBC Africa Eye’s “Blood Parliament” documentary on April 28, 2025 – have not faced a single prosecution, their identities shielded by procedural delays and opaque oversight.
On June 30, 2025, the High Court summoned top police officials over the disappearance of activist Ndiangui Kinyagia, who reappeared on July 3, just before a court deadline, claiming he had been hiding for fear of his life. Many observers have doubted his assertion, saying the timing of his reappearance shortly before the date the court had ordered the authorities to produce him was suspicious.
The fatal shooting of Rex Kanyike Masai during the Finance Bill protests remains unresolved.
The Independent Policing Oversight Authority (IPOA) reported in May 2025 that it had completed investigations into 22 protest-related deaths from 2024, but only two cases have made it to the courts. IPOA investigations go notoriously slowly as the agency often has to contend with funding shortfalls and non-cooperation from security agencies.
International scrutiny has been rebuffed. United Nations Special Rapporteurs have been waiting for the government to grant them access to investigate police killings. The message is clear: Kenya’s security forces operate with near-total impunity.
It is this lack of justice that has only deepened public anger. What began as a protest against tax hikes has morphed into a movement demanding police accountability and, increasingly, the resignation of the government itself. The state’s violent response has not quelled dissent; if anything, it has radicalised a new generation and broadened the scope of its demands.
“Justice, for me, would mean every officer who killed or brutalised a protester facing trial — not just a suspension, but real prison time,” Juma said. “It would mean the families of the dead Kenyans getting the truth about what happened, not lies or silence. And it would mean never again having to bury people for simply demanding their rights.”
The government’s refusal to allow UN investigations into protest abuses, its attacks on civil society, and its efforts to curtail judicial independence have not gone unnoticed. Human rights organisations, both local and international, have sounded the alarm, warning that Kenya risks squandering its democratic gains.
