Wamuzi News Ke
In a dramatic political twist, President William Ruto’s bold fusion of faith and power is now facing fierce backlash — and fast. What once appeared a masterstroke is revealing cracks, sparking alarm among analysts and religious leaders alike.
As Ruto campaigned ahead of the 2022 elections, his rallies adopted the cadence of evangelical crusades: worship songs, biblical quotations and promises of spiritual revival. “We are an army like David’s,” he declared, casting Kenyans as scrappy underdogs destined for triumph.
That potent religious narrative secured victory. Analysts such as Prof Macharia Munene credited Ruto’s cross‑denominational Christian appeal for tipping the scales, especially after rival Raila Odinga dismissed Christianity as “brainwashing” — a move that backfired spectacularly.
But two years into his tenure, the religious veneer is losing its shine. Critics argue that what began as faith‑driven leadership has morphed into hollow pageantry, masking governance failures. “We don’t need more prayers. We need a working government,” youth in Mombasa declared after a national prayer breakfast, channeling public frustration.
The institutional church is no exception. The Anglican Church of Kenya (ACK), under Archbishop Jackson Ole Sapit, has barred politicians — including President Ruto — from its sanctuary, insisting that worship must remain sacred and free of political influence. Sapit accused the President of using religious platforms to avoid accountability for economic stagnation. “Let’s reprioritise… you’ll break everyone’s back, including your own,” he warned.
Catholic leaders have joined the chorus. Nyeri Archbishop Anthony Muheria criticized Ruto’s approach as “rough, arrogant, and imposing,” citing rising living costs and sky-high taxes. Meanwhile, fiery evangelical preachers are calling Ruto to account — Apostle James Ng’ang’a confronted the government head-on: “Raise taxes… and when someone speaks, you shut their church. Come shut mine if you want!”.
Retired Bishop Silas Yego, too, has demanded responsible use of taxpayers’ money, urging austerity on official travel and perks.
Political theorists now liken Ruto’s religious gambit to Machiavelli’s “The Prince,” where rulers manipulate faith to secure obedience. That comparison is striking as cracks widen between State House and Kenya’s pulpits.
What began as a towering advantage now risks becoming a liability. Ruto’s allies once spoke of revival — now they whisper of reckoning. The Church’s growing defiance is rallying public scrutiny: are prayers a substitute for performance?
As Kenya races toward another crucial election year, Ruto faces mounting pressure. The honeymoon is over, and power rooted in religious spectacle may crumble under its own weight. Only convincing economic results — not sermons — will restore credence to his leadership.
