In the evolving landscape of Kenyan politics, where a younger, more critical electorate is rising, Kalonzo Musyoka stands as a paradoxical figure.
Long considered a political survivor, Kalonzo is now the embodiment of everything the youth are turning away from: opportunism, indecisiveness, and a lack of ideological grounding.
His history of shifting alliances and unclear convictions is not just a personal flaw but symptomatic of a broader dysfunction in Kenyan politics.
Kalonzo’s political career is a masterclass in strategic alignment. From KANU to ODM-Kenya, PNU, CORD, NASA, and Azimio, his trajectory has consistently favored proximity to power over principle. The turning point in public perception came in 2008, when he accepted the Vice Presidency under Mwai Kibaki after a highly contested and violent election.
Many viewed this move as betrayal—an act that prioritized personal gain over national healing and reform. It earned him the infamous moniker “watermelon,” denoting his contradictory stances: green on the outside (seemingly pro-reform) but red on the inside (establishment).
In a nation where political parties are vehicles for personal ambition rather than ideological missions, Kalonzo has thrived. But the terrain is changing. The youth, who now form the majority of the electorate, are increasingly disillusioned with this kind of politics.
They are demanding clarity, accountability, and consistency—qualities Kalonzo has struggled to embody. His recent calls for holding the Kenya Kwanza government accountable ring hollow in the ears of many young Kenyans, especially when juxtaposed with his long-standing pattern of aligning with whoever is in or near power.
To this critical generation, Kalonzo’s political posture is not just uninspiring; it’s insulting. They watched him flirt with an independent presidential bid in 2022, only to bounce back into the Azimio fold after closed-door negotiations.
His loyalty is continously up for auction, and his political compass appears calibrated only to personal opportunity.
If history is any guide, Kalonzo’s criticisms of the government may not be moral stands but strategic plays to remain politically relevant or negotiate a future alliance. And that, in itself, is disqualifying.
It is therefore deeply problematic for Kalonzo to present himself as a moral voice against the government when, by all indications, he is preparing to cozy up to it once again.
How can one decry extrajudicial killings, economic mismanagement, or constitutional breaches with credibility when they are simultaneously laying the groundwork to join the perpetrators in a future coalition? This is not principled opposition; it is political theater.
The danger of Kalonzo’s politics lies not just in its duplicity but in its normalization of betrayal as strategy.
It sends the wrong message to future leaders: that one need not stand for anything as long as they stand near power. It encourages a culture where ideology is fluid, commitments are temporary, and integrity is negotiable. For a country that has long struggled with governance issues rooted in political opportunism, this is not just disappointing—it’s dangerous.
Moreover, Kalonzo’s brand of politics undermines the opposition’s credibility. The youth understand this.
They have lived through cycles of recycled leadership and seen reform agendas die the moment power is shared.His tendency to oscillate between critique and cooperation no longer inspires confidence.
Instead, it provokes ridicule and anger. The youth demand more than political gymnastics; they want vision, courage, and a genuine commitment to change.
To be fair, political realignments are not inherently wrong. Democracies thrive on negotiation and coalition-building. But when those shifts are motivated solely by self-preservation rather than shared values or public good, they lose legitimacy.
Kalonzo has had decades to articulate a clear political philosophy or lead a movement that inspires lasting change. He has chosen, instead, to play it safe and to be everyone’s deputy but no one’s champion.
If Kalonzo hopes to remain politically relevant in the years ahead, he must do more than maneuver.
He must commit. Commit to a cause, to a people, to an ideology. Because in this new political moment, indecision is no longer seen as wisdom—it is seen as weakness. And the youth, who are tired of watching their futures bartered away in political boardrooms, will not reward weakness with votes.
Kalonzo Musyoka may still have time to rewrite his legacy. But that window is closing fast. The younger electorate is not merely watching; they are judging.
They know that Kenya deserves better. And unless Kalonzo fundamentally transforms his approach, he risks being remembered not as a statesman, but as a cautionary tale of what happens when politics is treated as a game and the people as pawns.
