Ruto's 'shoot the leg' directive stokes fear and undermines human rights

President William Ruto stood before a nation in pain. A nation mourning the lives of its children gunned down in cold blood, a nation clamoring not for charity but for dignity. And in that pivotal moment when leadership demanded restraint, compassion, and unity, the President chose threat and intimidation. He told the police to "just shoot on the leg." A command so reckless, so dismissive of human life, that it will be remembered not as a slip of the tongue but as a stain on the soul of this Republic.

What is even more damning is that this inciting order came on the heels of equally menacing instructions by Cabinet Secretary Kipchumba Murkomen, who urged police to deal ruthlessly with demonstrators.

When those at the pinnacle of state power use their positions to legitimize violence, they embolden lawlessness within the very institutions tasked with protecting citizens. These utterances, from the President and his Cabinet Secretary, are not just morally repugnant; they are constitutional violations.

Let us be clear: President Ruto’s remarks are in direct conflict with Articles 26, 27, 28, and 29 of the Constitution of Kenya.

Article 26 guarantees the right to life. Rex Masai, Eric Ochieng, Kenneth Onyango, these are not just names; they are sons of this soil whose right to life was extinguished by bullets allegedly justified by the same words spoken by the Head of State.

Article 27 protects the right to equality and freedom from discrimination. Yet, we now see a pattern of selective policing and use of lethal force against protestors, disproportionately affecting youth from specific communities.

Article 28 affirms the inherent dignity of every person and the right to have that dignity respected and protected. When the President instructs officers to "shoot on the leg", as if the human body is a target range, he debases the dignity of the Kenyan people.

Article 29 explicitly forbids any form of cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment. What is more cruel and inhuman than an elected leader using the instruments of the state to terrorize citizens exercising their constitutional right to assemble and speak?

Even Article 24, which outlines the conditions under which rights can be limited, cannot be invoked here. The Constitution does not allow derogation from the right to life, freedom from torture, or dignity under any circumstances, including public order.

The President’s defenders may argue that he was acting in the interest of security. But real security is never secured through fear. It is built through trust, dialogue, and constitutional order. To suppress dissent with bullets is to confess to the failure of policy and the bankruptcy of leadership. And to condone, much less command, police violence is to drag Kenya backward into the dark days of authoritarian rule.

We have come too far. Ours is a country forged in the fires of struggle. from the resistance to colonialism, to the push for multiparty democracy, to the hard-won 2010 Constitution. Each milestone was achieved because brave citizens dared to challenge state overreach. Today’s protestors, the young, the poor, the dreamers, march in that tradition. They are not criminals. They are patriots seeking accountability in how they are governed.

This presidency, however, appears intent on criminalizing protest while weaponizing the police. The result is a disturbing erosion of democratic space and normalization of state brutality. It should alarm every Kenyan, regardless of political leaning, that a President who once championed police independence now uses the pulpit of state power to issue operational directives that amount to extrajudicial orders.

President Ruto must immediately retract his statement and issue a public apology to the families of those killed and injured by police officers emboldened by his words. In doing so, he must affirm that the state will protect, not prey upon its citizens.

The police, too, must be reminded that their oath is to the Constitution, not to any individual. Obeying unlawful orders, especially those that result in the unlawful killing of citizens, renders them personally culpable under both Kenyan and international law.

In the end, this is not about politics. It is about the soul of our Republic. The power to govern must never become a license to violate. A President must be the calming force during crisis, the guardian of liberty, the moral compass in moments of conflict. By choosing to incite violence rather than temper it, Ruto failed the test of statesmanship.

But it is not too late to act. Kenya’s Constitution offers a path back, one paved by truth, accountability, and a recommitment to human rights.

President Ruto can still reclaim the moral high ground, not through silence or spin, but through justice and humility.

The blood of the innocent now cries out from the streets of Nairobi, Kisumu, Mombasa, and other towns. It demands more than condolences. It demands action. And it demands that the President, above all, lead not with the iron fist of fear, but with the open hand of constitutional fidelity.
Let him do so now.