Journalism, at its best, is the pursuit of the best obtainable version of the truth.
It is about accurately capturing the texture of public life, whether it’s a new virus quietly emerging on the Ministry of Health’s radar, a record-shattering athletic feat, or an upstart politician briefly defying the laws of political gravity.
The job is to deliver these moments with precision, depth and clarity so the public can see the world around them as it really is.
Given what’s often at stake, this mission is especially crucial in the realm of political journalism.
However, keen observers of Kenya’s political journalism know it often misses the mark.
Rather than delivering meaningful insights into the forces shaping the country, much of our reporting regurgitates well-worn myths about the same personalities and their hold on power.
This failure has been particularly glaring in recent coverage where, instead of serious analysis, we have been treated to shallow speculation about Rigathi Gachagua’s waning political fortunes and Kithure Kindiki’s apparent rise.
Even as the country experiences one of those Lenin-esque weeks where “decades happen,”, this professional shortcoming is having profound consequences on how the public is interpreting what’s happening and, more importantly, what it imagines is possible in the sphere of governance.
That’s why more ink has been spilt on Gachagua’s sudden insights into UDA’s policy failures and Kindiki’s personal history than on the far more consequential story of a resurgent yet half-formed IEBC, which can clear deputy presidential nominees at breakneck speed but remains too weak to recall MPs.
The most obvious reason political journalism so often succumbs to myth-making on behalf of manifestly mediocre politicians is the lure of a form of access journalism that puts a premium on maintaining close relationships with the political actors rather than interrogating their records.
The over reliance on this kind of journalism distorts how we think about politics.
This style of reportage, while exciting, is ultimately a disservice to Kenyans.
It trains the public to think of politics as nothing more than a contact sport, where winning at all costs is the only true virtue, and where the policies that actually change lives are an afterthought.
There is, of course, a strong temptation for newsrooms to focus on personalities because it’s often easier, cheaper and more lucrative to feed the beast of modern journalistic output that way.
The reality is that an in-depth examination of the complexities surrounding educational, agricultural or health reform will likely never attract as many clicks as a sensational story about a purported plot to poison the sitting Deputy President.
However, this temptation must be balanced against journalism’s indispensable role in a democracy.
The challenges we face are too urgent and existential for our political reporting to choose the path of least resistance.
The solution is not simply for journalists to abandon access to the corridors of power.
But there must be a rethinking of what that access is for.
Access journalism can serve the public interest, but only if it’s used to illuminate the actual workings of government, rather than glorify the personalities that populate it.
We need more rigorous and unflinching coverage of the decisions being made by those wielding power and less obsession with petty verbal exchanges.
We must learn to judge our politicians by the positive policy changes they bring forth instead of the drama they create.
This shift requires a new vocabulary, one that recognises the complexity of governance and refuses to reduce politics to an empty spectacle.
Our colleagues in the media must ask tougher questions, probe more deeply and remember that their ultimate loyalty is not to the politicians they cover, but to the people of Kenya.
This is not to suggest that journalists like Eric Latiff , Sam Gituku, Yvonne Okwara and Macharia Gaitho aren’t already contributing valiantly to this effort but rather to say we urgently need more voices like theirs in the ranks.
If we aspire for better politics, our
journalism must help pave the way by refusing to
dress up serious policy failures that harm Kenyans as
personal political triumphs.
