What Laikipia Can Teach Us About Governing with Citizens
Public participation has become a familiar, almost ritualistic, part of our devolved government. We see notices in newspapers, hear calls for “barazas,” and watch as officials dutifully tick the box for “citizen engagement.” For more than a decade, since we gave ourselves devolution, this process has been hailed as the cornerstone of bringing power closer to the people.
And yet, for many Kenyans, the ritual feels hollow. The venues may be full, but the process is empty. The decisions have already been made. In a recent Sauti za Wananchi survey by Twaweza East Africa in Laikipia County, a striking 63% of residents said they believe public participation is often just about informing them of decisions that have already been made behind closed doors.
Is this widespread feeling of cynicism justified, or is it merely the grumbling of a disengaged populace? In a sense, it doesn’t matter: if citizens feel the process lacks authenticity, then it is already failing to deliver on the promise of devolution and participation, which is to empower citizens. But this is surely not merely a statistic about apathy; it is a statistic about insight. Citizens have learned to recognise a performance when they see one, and it is no surprise they feel excluded and unheard. This is the quiet crisis of devolution. A practice of exclusion is undermining a constitutional promise of inclusion.
But what if we could fundamentally change this dynamic? On July 10th in Nanyuki, something different happened. A forum convened by Twaweza alongside the Laikipia County Government, civil society leaders, and dozens of citizens offered a powerful glimpse into a more promising future. It was an exercise in what public participation should be: an honest, sometimes uncomfortable, but ultimately constructive dialogue.
Why the ‘Baraza’ Fails
To understand why the Laikipia event felt so different, we must first dissect why the traditional model consistently fails. The typical baraza model is fundamentally flawed because it is built on a foundation of unequal power and information asymmetry.
First, it is exclusionary by design. Meetings are often held miles away from the rural communities most affected by service delivery failures. They are scheduled during working hours, a seemingly neutral choice that, in reality, locks out farmers from their fields, women from their informal businesses, and young people from their daily hustles. The language used is often technical, laced with bureaucratic jargon that alienates rather than includes.
Second, it operates within an information vacuum. Citizens are invited to share their views on a multi-billion-dollar county budget without having seen the document. They are asked to prioritise projects without any context on existing commitments or financial constraints. This turns participation into a guessing game, a wish-list exercise detached from the hard realities of public finance. It is an impossible task, and it sets citizens up to be disappointed and leaders up to be accused of breaking promises they could never realistically keep.
Finally, and most critically, the traditional model suffers from a feedback black hole. Citizens take time off work, spend their own money on transport, and summon the courage to speak. They raise critical issues – a clinic without medicine, a shoddily built road, and a school without teachers – and their words seem to vanish into an administrative void. There is rarely a follow-up, no public record of commitments, and no “you said, we did.” This persistent silence is the most corrosive element of all. It communicates to citizens that their voice has no value, breeding the very cynicism that officials later lament.
A Dialogue Grounded in Evidence
The Laikipia forum, themed “Residents of Laikipia Speak,” was intentionally designed to be different. On one side sat the policymakers, the County Secretary, Chief of Staff, and several County Executive Committee Members (CECMs). On the other hand were the intended beneficiaries, community champions, civil society leaders from organisations like Pathways Policy Institute and Caritas, and citizens who had travelled from as far as Mukogodo and Rumuruti. In the middle, acting as an impartial mediator was the data: the results of a representative survey of county residents.
The conversation that followed was electrifying because it was grounded in a shared reality. A nominated MCA, Catherine Ominja, used the data on exclusion to speak powerfully about how participation forums systematically marginalise the very women they claim to serve. Her call for meetings at more convenient times and for actively creating space for women’s voices was not an abstract plea but a practical solution to a documented problem.
Then the data came to life through human stories. A citizen from Ol-Girgiri, Mr Iyen, did not just complain about healthcare; he came with specifics. He stood and asked why two dispensaries, one in Endana and another in Male, were clearly indicated in the finance bill, yet remained unbuilt. This was a citizen holding his government to account using its own public documents. Another resident, Ms Elizabeth from Mukogodo East Ward, pointed to the heartbreaking reality of a dispensary in Loksero that has stood closed and dilapidated since February, leaving six villages without crucial health services. Her testimony transformed a service delivery gap into a powerful story of community abandonment.
A moment of accountability, made possible because citizens were armed with information and given a genuine platform.
The Shift from Listening to Active Responsiveness
The true departure from the old model, however, was in the government’s response. To their immense credit, the county leaders did not retreat into the typical fortress of defensiveness. They listened, and then they engaged.
The County Secretary, Koinange Wahome, did not offer empty assurances. Instead, he committed to a more transparent and honest process, one in which the government openly explains its budget limitations and trade-offs, rather than soliciting endless wish lists. This is a crucial shift towards a more mature, collaborative model of governance. CECM for ICT, Purity Kendi, publicly acknowledged that the county’s official communication channels were failing and pledged to embrace community radio and WhatsApp to reach people where they are. This was not just a promise; it was an admission of a systemic flaw and a public commitment to fixing it.
This is the radical potential of data-driven dialogue. It moves the conversation from generic grievances to specific, actionable problems. It empowers citizens to ask informed questions and challenges leaders to provide substantive answers. It transforms “listening” from a passive, performative act into a dynamic process of active responsiveness.
A New Chapter
Of course, a single forum, no matter how successful, does not solve systemic issues. The challenges of institutional silos, broken promises, and the logistical difficulties of reaching every corner of a diverse county remain. The key now is to ensure this is not a one-off event but the beginning of a sustained movement towards a new governance model.
The recommendations that emerged, from fully operationalising the Public Participation Act with clear feedback mechanisms to exploring a more equitable development framework, such as Elgeyo Marakwet’s, to guide fair resource allocation, must be pursued with vigour. The commitments made by both the county government and civil society must be publicly tracked.
The experience in Laikipia reaffirms a fundamental truth: citizens do not lack interest; they lack meaningful opportunities for engagement. They are tired of being lectured to; they want to be listened to. Suppose we are to realise the full promise of devolution. In that case, we must move beyond the tired rituals of participation and embrace the hard but rewarding work of honest, evidence-informed dialogue. Laikipia has just shown us it can be done. The challenge now is to transform this promising moment into a permanent movement, not just in one county, but across our nation.
This post was written by Filbert Mbugua, consultant, Twaweza Kenya.
