When Journalism Becomes a Journey Home Never Completed

From Nairobi to exile and back again, journalists, bloggers and activists are confronting a new era of fear in Kenya—one marked by abductions, disappearances, surveillance and a shrinking space for dissent.

On the evening of December 21, 2024, Kenyan cartoonist and activist Gideon Kibet, popularly known as Kibet Bull, finally returned home after days of uncertainty that had gripped his family and fellow activists. His disappearance had become one among dozens of cases that were increasingly defining Kenya’s political landscape. Across social media, human rights organizations, journalists and ordinary citizens demanded answers. When he resurfaced, alive but shaken, relief spread quickly. Yet for many observers, his return did not answer the most important question: why had he disappeared in the first place?

For journalists, bloggers and human rights defenders across Kenya, that question has become disturbingly familiar.

Over the last two years, Kenya has witnessed one of the most significant deteriorations of civic freedoms since the reintroduction of multiparty democracy in the 1990s. What began as youth-led demonstrations against the Finance Bill in June 2024 evolved into a broader confrontation between state power and public dissent. Alongside the protests emerged an alarming pattern of enforced disappearances, extrajudicial killings, arbitrary arrests and digital surveillance targeting individuals perceived as critics of government.

The result has been the emergence of a climate of fear that extends far beyond the streets where demonstrations occurred. It now reaches into newsrooms, university campuses, civil society offices, online platforms and even the homes of ordinary citizens.

“Fear is becoming a governance tool,” says Irũngũ Houghton, Executive Director of Amnesty International Kenya. “When people begin to believe they can disappear for a social media post or for participating in peaceful demonstrations, the democratic space shrinks without a single law being changed.”

The fear is not imagined.

According to data compiled by the human rights coalition Missing Voices Kenya, at least 125 cases of police-linked killings were documented in 2025, representing a significant increase from the previous year. More than half occurred during periods of political unrest and public demonstrations. Simultaneously, rights organizations documented dozens of enforced disappearances involving activists, bloggers, students and government critics.

The figures tell only part of the story.

Behind every statistic is an unfinished journey home.

The Numbers Behind the Fear

For decades Kenya has presented itself as one of East Africa’s most stable democracies, a regional hub for media freedom and civil society organizing. International organizations frequently point to the country’s vibrant press, active courts and robust constitutional protections as indicators of democratic resilience.

Yet recent data paints a more complicated picture.

The Kenya National Commission on Human Rights (KNCHR), a constitutional body mandated to monitor rights violations, documented widespread abuses during and after the anti-government demonstrations that swept across the country beginning in June 2024.

Table 1: Human Rights Violations Linked to Anti-Government Protests

Human Rights Watch, Amnesty International Kenya and KNCHR have repeatedly called for independent investigations into these incidents, arguing that accountability has remained elusive despite mounting evidence.

“The families continue searching while institutions move slowly,” notes Human Rights Watch researcher Otsieno Namwaya. “The absence of accountability creates conditions where violations can continue.”

Many disappearances follow a similar pattern.

Witnesses frequently report individuals being approached by men in civilian clothing, bundled into unmarked vehicles and driven away without explanation. Phones are switched off. Families receive no information. Lawyers struggle to locate detainees. Days later some reappear. Others remain missing.

The recurring nature of these incidents has led rights groups to describe them as a systematic pattern rather than isolated occurrences.

Journalists in the Crosshairs

The dangers are not limited to activists.

For journalists covering demonstrations, corruption investigations or politically sensitive subjects, reporting has increasingly become a high-risk profession.

According to monitoring conducted by the Media Council of Kenya and media freedom organizations, attacks against journalists have risen sharply over the past two years. Reporters covering protests have been assaulted, tear-gassed, detained and in some cases forced to delete footage documenting police conduct.

Table 2: Press Freedom Violations in Kenya

For many reporters, the threat is no longer confined to physical violence.

Editors increasingly describe receiving legal threats, takedown demands and pressure from political actors seeking to shape coverage. Investigative journalists report being followed, monitored online or subjected to coordinated smear campaigns designed to undermine their credibility.

The Kenya Editors Guild has warned about the growing use of Strategic Lawsuits Against Public Participation (SLAPPs), legal actions intended not necessarily to win in court but to drain financial resources and discourage critical reporting.

Such tactics have become common globally.

In countries ranging from India and Turkey to Hungary and Russia, governments and powerful individuals have increasingly relied on legal and economic pressure to suppress independent journalism without imposing outright censorship. Press freedom advocates warn that Kenya risks moving in a similar direction.

The New Battlefield Is Digital

Unlike previous eras when repression primarily targeted newspapers, radio stations or political rallies, today’s struggle increasingly unfolds online.

The rise of Generation Z activism transformed platforms such as X, TikTok, Facebook and Instagram into powerful organizing tools. Young Kenyans mobilized protests, documented abuses and challenged official narratives in real time.

Authorities responded by shifting attention to the digital sphere.

According to Amnesty International Kenya’s report “This Fear, Everyone Is Feeling It,” government critics have faced online harassment campaigns, doxing, unlawful surveillance and location tracking. Some activists reported receiving threats shortly after posting critical content online.

Digital rights organizations have raised concerns about the use of the Computer Misuse and Cybercrimes Act to arrest bloggers and social media users accused of spreading false information or cyber harassment.

Supporters of the legislation argue that governments have a legitimate responsibility to combat misinformation and online abuse. Critics counter that vague provisions can be weaponized against legitimate criticism and investigative reporting.

Martha Karua, former Justice Minister and opposition leader, has repeatedly argued that freedom of expression must remain protected even during periods of political tension.

“When citizens become afraid to speak,” she said during a public forum on constitutional rights, “democracy itself becomes endangered.”

The concern is shared internationally.

The Committee to Protect Journalists, Reporters Without Borders, Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch have all expressed alarm over Kenya’s trajectory, warning that restrictions on press freedom and civic participation undermine constitutional protections enshrined in the 2010 Constitution.

Exile Without Leaving Home

For some journalists, exile has become psychological rather than geographical.

Many continue reporting from Nairobi, Kisumu, Mombasa and Eldoret while living under constant awareness that a phone call, article or social media post could trigger consequences.

Newsrooms increasingly discuss security protocols once associated primarily with conflict zones. Reporters share live locations with colleagues. Sources insist on encrypted communications. Families become accustomed to periods of silence that would once have sparked panic.

The emotional toll is difficult to quantify.

A journalist covering demonstrations in Nairobi described checking rearview mirrors repeatedly while driving home after assignments. Another spoke of avoiding predictable routines. Several activists interviewed by rights organizations reported changing residences multiple times after receiving threats.

This atmosphere produces a form of self-censorship that may be more effective than formal restrictions.

People begin asking not whether a story is true, but whether publishing it is worth the risk.

The calculation changes journalism itself.

A Journey Home Never Completed

Kenya’s Constitution promises freedom of expression, media freedom and the right to assemble peacefully. Those guarantees remain among the strongest in Africa. Courts continue to function independently in many cases, and civil society organizations remain active despite mounting pressure.

Yet constitutional promises mean little if citizens fear exercising them.

Former United Nations Secretary-General and Kenyan statesman Kofi Annan once observed that a society’s strength is measured not by how it treats those who agree with power, but by how it treats those who challenge it.

Today that test confronts Kenya directly.

The stories of abducted activists, assaulted journalists and intimidated bloggers reveal more than individual tragedies. They expose a deeper struggle over the country’s democratic future. Whether through physical force, legal pressure or digital surveillance, attempts to silence dissent ultimately reshape the public sphere itself.

For every activist who disappears and returns, there are families who spend sleepless nights waiting. For every journalist who publishes despite intimidation, there are others who decide a story is too dangerous to pursue. For every citizen who speaks out, there are countless others who choose silence.

That is why the journey home is never merely physical.

It is a journey toward accountability, toward truth, toward a society where criticism is not treated as a threat and where citizens do not fear that expressing an opinion may prevent them from returning home at all.

Until that journey is completed, the fear will remain.

And so will the questions.

About the Author:

Daisy Okiring is a Kenyan digital investigative journalist whose work focuses on accountability, human rights, governance, and the intersection of technology and social justice in East Africa.