How US-Funded Terror Courts Are Used by the Ruto Regime to Fuel Repression

This year’s commemorations of the Gen Z protests, the 25th anniversary of Saba Saba Day, and the death in police custody of blogger Albert Ojwang brought renewed crackdowns. Activists and protesters now face terrorism charges, raising concerns that POTA has strayed far from its original purpose.

The law was enacted after the 1998 US Embassy bombings in Nairobi and Dar es Salaam, which killed more than 200 people. With support from the US Department of Justice, USAID, and the State Department’s Bureau of Counterterrorism, Kenya received training for judges, prosecutors, and police, alongside funding for court infrastructure. Washington has since invested tens of millions of dollars in Kenya’s security and judicial systems, viewing the country as a critical ally in the region.

But today, the same law is being turned on citizens. During the 2024–2025 protests against corruption, joblessness, and rising costs, authorities increasingly invoked POTA to prosecute demonstrators. Young activists have been charged with terrorism-related offences for little more than organising rallies or posting messages on social media. Convictions can carry life sentences,  punishments far harsher than those for unlawful assembly.

Human rights groups say the abuse is widespread. Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch report over 100 cases since 2023 where POTA was misapplied to opposition figures, journalists, and protesters without credible evidence of terrorist intent. One notable example is activist Boniface Mwangi, arrested during protests against police brutality. Initially accused of “facilitating terrorist activities,” his case was downgraded only after public outrage.

The Kenya National Commission on Human Rights (KNCHR) warns that POTA’s vague language,  covering acts that “cause serious harm to public safety” or “disrupt essential services”,  gives prosecutors a free hand to criminalise dissent. Routing these cases through special courts allows the government to sidestep ordinary judicial scrutiny, eroding due process.

The United States connection deepens the controversy. While funding was intended to boost counterterrorism, critics argue it has emboldened authoritarian tactics. Although the US State Department has urged Kenya to respect democratic norms, it has not moved to review financial support for the courts, despite mounting evidence of misuse.

Warnings about POTA are not new. As early as 2015, outlets such as The New York Times and Reuters flagged the law’s potential for abuse. Ten years later, those fears have been realised. Legal experts now describe the courts as tools of intimidation. “They were meant for sophisticated threats, not young people chanting slogans,” says a Nairobi-based lawyer. Others highlight cases of defendants languishing in pre-trial detention with little access to legal counsel, all under the guise of national security.

The government, however, defends its approach. Interior Cabinet Secretary Kipchumba Murkomen insists that protests often turn violent and that activists sometimes work with “criminal elements” to destabilise the country. KNCHR data, however, shows most arrests lack evidence of violence or terrorist intent. The reported death toll of 31 protesters by July 2025 only heightens accusations of excessive force.

For Kenya’s youth, the stakes are personal and urgent. With unemployment above 35% and corruption choking opportunity, protest is one of the few outlets left. But terrorism charges have cast a chilling shadow. “We’re not terrorists; we’re just demanding a future,” says 24-year-old protester Mary Otieno, who narrowly escaped arrest in July. Online, hashtags such as #EndPOTAabuse capture the growing frustration.

The international community, particularly the United States, faces a stark dilemma: continue funding and risk complicity in repression, or withhold support and weaken Kenya’s counterterrorism drive. Human rights groups are calling for urgent reforms to narrow POTA’s scope and restore judicial oversight.
Without such reforms, Kenya’s anti-terrorism courts risk becoming permanent instruments of political control, undermining the democracy they were meant to defend.

As Kenya navigates this turbulent period, the misuse of US-funded antiterrorism courts casts a long and troubling shadow. For our readers, the question remains: can justice prevail when the tools of security are turned against the people? Only time and sustained public pressure will tell.