Our sovereignty is at stake, but Ruto has chosen to stay silent

On August 30, 2025, the world witnessed a shocking development in Sudan’s civil conflict. Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, better known as Hemedti, leader of the notorious Rapid Support Forces (RSF), was sworn in as the head of a parallel Sudanese government in Nyala, a major city in Darfur. For those who have followed Sudan’s descent into chaos, this was not merely another headline. It was the institutionalisation of a militia long accused of atrocities, now claiming legitimacy as a government.

Yet, even as Sudan struggles under the weight of competing governments and armed factions, Kenyans must ask themselves an urgent question: What role are we playing in this dangerous regional script?

For months, credible reports have linked the RSF to activities inside Kenya recruitment networks, financial flows, and logistical coordination. Instead of confronting these violations of our sovereignty, the Kenyan state has appeared either complacent or complicit. Nairobi has hosted RSF delegations; Kenya’s silence has emboldened the militia.

Now, as if the RSF connection were not alarming enough, another frontier has opened. Jubaland forces. A Somalia militia with shifting allegiances is said to be operating inside our territory. The Governor of Mandera County has openly complained that Al Shabaab controls large swathes of his county and has called for the withdrawal of Jubaland fighters from Kenyan soil. This is not a fringe outcry. It is a governor’s cry for help, a governor sounding the alarm that Kenya’s territorial integrity is under assault.

Where Is the Commander-in-Chief? In moments like these, nations look to their leaders. The President of Kenya, as Commander-in-Chief, is constitutionally sworn to safeguard the sovereignty and territorial integrity of the Republic. Yet, where is he? Where is the strategic communication? Where is the decisive action? Instead, we are treated to a deafening silence. A vacuum at the top that only deepens uncertainty and leaves border communities exposed. A nation cannot subcontract its defence to foreign militias, nor can it coexist with terror groups running parallel administrations inside its borders. This is not merely insecurity. It is an erosion of sovereignty.

Sudan’s fragmentation, Somalia’s endless instability, Ethiopia’s fragile ceasefire, all of these dynamics bleed into Kenya. We sit at the intersection of some of Africa’s most volatile conflicts. That makes clarity of policy, firmness of leadership, and consistency of principle even more urgent.

Instead, what we see is drift. Kenya once stood tall as a neutral arbitrator in regional peace processes, respected for its impartiality and statesmanship. From South Sudan to Somalia, our diplomats and generals carried weight. Today, that reputation is being squandered. When Nairobi is linked to the hosting of RSF leaders, or when our soil becomes a playground for foreign militias, we lose both credibility and security.

This drift is not abstract. It has real costs for real Kenyans. In Mandera, Wajir, and Garissa, citizens live under daily threat from Al Shabaab. Parents bury children killed in crossfire. Traders pay taxes to terrorists in order to survive. Now they are being told to co-exist with Jubaland forces operating across porous borders.

Every foreign militia tolerated on Kenyan soil strengthens Al Shabaab’s narrative that the Kenyan state has abandoned its own people. Every silence from Nairobi tells border citizens that they are on their own. This is how nations fracture. Not with one dramatic collapse, but with slow, unacknowledged abdications of responsibility.

Kenya must urgently reset its security and foreign policy priorities. Three steps are critical:

Firstly, defend sovereignty without ambiguity: No foreign militia; RSF, Jubaland, or otherwise should be allowed to operate within our borders. Parliament must summon the security chiefs to explain how this state of affairs has been allowed to fester.

Secondly, Kenya must return to the tradition of principled diplomacy. We cannot be both peace brokers and militia hosts. The government must draw a clear line between engagement for peace and complicity in regional instability.

Thirdly, we must secure border counties as a priority. Development, education, and security in Mandera, Wajir, Garissa, and Turkana must not be treated as peripheral. These counties are the frontline of our sovereignty. Neglecting them is neglecting Kenya itself.

Ultimately, this moment calls for presidential leadership. It is the President who must speak with clarity, reassure citizens, and take decisive action. Silence is not neutrality; silence is abdication. And abdication at this scale invites both internal rebellion and external encroachment.

The RSF swearing-in in Nyala may seem like a Sudanese affair. Jubaland fighters in Mandera may look like a border skirmish. But taken together, they are warnings: Kenya’s sovereignty is being tested, piece by piece. If the Commander-in-Chief remains absent, history will record that Kenya lost ground not through invasion, but through negligence.

Kenya is at a crossroads. We can either reclaim our role as a stable, principled anchor in the Horn of Africa, or we can drift into the orbit of militias, warlords, and terror networks. The choice cannot wait.

The people of Mandera are already living under siege. The presence of RSF-linked networks in Kenya is a stain on our diplomacy. The silence from State House is deafening. Where is the President? Where is the leadership that defends sovereignty, protects citizens, and restores Kenya’s honour in the region?

These are the questions Kenyans are asking, and until they are answered, our nation will remain vulnerable, adrift, and at risk of losing the very essence of statehood.