The Judiciary is our hope and the last line of defence which is the giver of justice for all

The judiciary is often revered as the last line of defense for civilians, the guardian of the constitution, and the ultimate interpreter of law. Tasked with protecting the constitution and upholding justice, it wields enormous influence. But recent decisions have raised questions, particularly around the judiciary's impartiality, its commitment to constitutional principles, and its role in times of political turbulence. In Kenya, the ongoing legal entanglement surrounding Deputy President Rigathi Gachagua poses a critical test for the judiciary. This saga has not only sparked debates around the judiciary’s independence but also has civilians wondering: why does the judiciary seem willing to bend the law to align with political winds?

In democratic societies, the judiciary must act as a neutral arbiter, steadfastly upholding the constitution irrespective of political considerations. But when judicial decisions appear swayed by political convenience, people start questioning whether the judiciary is truly insulated from executive influence. Kenya’s 2010 Constitution was designed to safeguard against such interference, establishing an independent judiciary that serves the people, not political leaders. However, when citizens witness judges allowing state offices to assume the powers of the Deputy President—a role enshrined in the constitution—they are left questioning if the law is indeed bendable to suit those in power.

The judiciary, which we often refer to as “learned friends,” is filled with individuals who are highly educated in law, ethics, and justice. With this expertise, they carry the heavy responsibility of interpreting and upholding the constitution. Their decisions can either foster public trust or erode it, depending on how consistent and principled they appear. This very judiciary allowed an executive decision to designate a different state official to perform roles traditionally and legally assigned to the Deputy President. This choice may seem minor to some, but in a country where the constitution is sacrosanct, the question arises: are these decisions simply isolated missteps, or do they reflect a broader willingness to interpret laws in a way that supports the ruling government?

Judicial rulings can send powerful messages about the direction a country is taking. When the judiciary allows exceptions, like in Gachagua's case, where another office steps in to assume some of his functions, what signal does it send? One interpretation is that the judiciary might be setting a precedent where certain constitutional provisions are not as rigid as we thought, and certain roles can be reassigned based on convenience or political necessity. This could mean the law is increasingly becoming malleable, perhaps even to the point of redefining the Deputy President's function—a change that could have lasting implications.

Imagine, for a moment, that this legal battle concludes in favor of Gachagua. What does that imply? Are we prepared to have two de facto Deputy Presidents, each with conflicting powers? Or will it mean that the original case and all related legal wrangling were essentially political theater, a way of “managing” public perception while keeping control in the hands of those in power? If the judiciary's rulings indeed align with what many expect—a verdict that eventually favors the government—the Kenyan people might start to see this case as a script whose ending was already written. Such perceptions fuel public disillusionment, as people sense that the judiciary is increasingly falling in line with the ruling elite rather than adhering to the impartiality that the law demands.

For the ordinary Kenyan citizen, the situation is a reminder of the judiciary's profound impact on everyday lives and the hope they place in it as a protector. When political cases are drawn out for months or even years, citizens wonder whether their voices and rights hold any weight in the face of political maneuvering. Judicial delays, paired with ambiguous or contradictory rulings, sow seeds of confusion and disappointment among the public. It feels as though the law is a tool wielded selectively—firmly applied when convenient, but subtly bent when required by political elites.

It’s essential to ask whether the judiciary’s actions in cases like this discourage genuine civic engagement or, worse, breed resignation among the populace. When citizens see powerful individuals navigating around the constitution with the blessing of the courts, they may feel that the constitution is simply a document whose power is limited to ordinary people, not those in office. This is particularly troubling when it concerns the Deputy President—a role specifically enshrined in the constitution to prevent exactly this type of political manipulation. By allowing another office to assume those duties, the judiciary sends a message that the lines of power are more negotiable than they should be.

What then is the role of the people when faced with a judiciary that seems to be malleable under pressure? Do they have any recourse, or must they simply accept this bending of the law? When judicial rulings start to diverge from public expectations of justice and accountability, the social contract between the government and the people is strained. If this trend continues, people may feel compelled to voice their dissatisfaction in other ways—protests, advocacy, and perhaps even civil disobedience. They are left to question not only the integrity of their leaders but also the very foundation of their legal system. In this way, judicial bias, real or perceived, can have far-reaching consequences, eroding confidence in governance and, by extension, in the law itself.

In Kenya and beyond, we often speak of the judiciary as the "last line of defense." However, in light of cases such as the Deputy President’s, that line feels as though it’s starting to blur. When judicial rulings align too comfortably with the government’s interests, it suggests a troubling shift—a judiciary that may be more attuned to the whims of power than the will of the people. This shift is not only disappointing; it’s dangerous. If the people can no longer trust the judiciary to defend them and uphold their rights, they may begin to doubt the value of the law itself. And if we reach that point, where does that leave us?

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