Ruto is not empowering youth; he is manipulating them with fake mercy

“The enemy’s fake mercy doesn’t heal you, it hollows you. It turns warriors into beggars and lions into house rats.”-Marcus Garvey.

Last weekend a group of young Kenyans were invited to State House to receive wheelbarrows and car wash machines. Cameras flashed, speeches flowed, and the message was dressed as empowerment.

But beneath the ceremony lies a deeper tragedy, the quiet transformation of a generation from warriors into beggars, from lions into house rats.

Marcus Garvey’s words echo with uncomfortable precision in moments like this. Fake mercy is when power hands you a token instead of a tool, a survival kit instead of a pathway to self-determination. It’s when the state dresses charity as policy and expects you to be grateful.

Kenya’s youth are not lazy. They are not short on ambition. They are not allergic to hard work. What they lack is not motivation but opportunity. And yet, instead of dismantling the structural barriers to employment, the government keeps serving short-term hustles as though they were long-term solutions.

The wheelbarrow and car wash policy is not empowerment. It’s economic sedation. It’s the art of keeping people busy enough to survive but too exhausted to challenge the system. It’s poverty management disguised as poverty eradication.

The danger of fake mercy is that it trains you to lower your expectations. You stop asking for policies that create industries, fund innovation, or open global markets. Instead, you start thanking leaders for the privilege of hustling for scraps. Over time, ambition is eroded, dreams are downsized, and a generation that could have been builders of industries becomes managers of small kiosks.

We are told these small hustles are “starting points.” But a starting point without a road is just a trap. A boda boda, a wheelbarrow, a car wash machine these are fine for personal ventures, but when they are the centrepiece of national youth policy, it is a confession that the government has no industrial vision for its young people.

Serious nations don’t hand out wheelbarrows; they hand out scholarships, grants, seed capital for tech start-ups, tools for green energy innovation, and access to global supply chains. They don’t train their brightest minds to wash cars; they train them to build the cars.

Kenya’s youth are lions. The average age in this country is just under 20. That is a roaring powerhouse of potential if directed toward manufacturing, digital technology, creative industries, and renewable energy. Instead, we are watching that roar being reduced to a meow in the corner of a car wash bay.

Some will say: “At least the government is doing something.” But doing the wrong thing with great publicity is worse than doing nothing. It cements the illusion of progress while the structural problems remain untouched. And in politics, illusions are powerful; they keep people voting for the same leaders who keep them dependent.

This is not just about jobs; it’s about dignity. True empowerment allows you to take control of your life permanently. Fake mercy keeps you at the mercy of the giver. The youth who accept wheelbarrows today will be expected to clap for the giver tomorrow. That is not empowerment. It is political clientelism.

Marcus Garvey warned that fake mercy hollows you out. You may still be standing, but inside, the hunger to challenge the system, to demand more, is gone. You start believing that small favours are the height of what you deserve. That is how warriors become beggars and lions become house rats; tamed, quiet, and grateful for crumbs.

If the government truly believes in the youth, it must shift from charity to capacity. Fund innovation hubs in every county. Offer low-interest loans for manufacturing start-ups. Partner with global tech firms to create coding schools and software engineering academies. Invest in agriculture as a high-tech, export-driven industry, not just subsistence farming. Open pathways for Kenyan creatives to enter the global entertainment and arts markets.

This country will not leap into the future on the wheels of a wheelbarrow. It will not innovate from inside a car wash. The future belongs to nations that train their young people to own the industries of tomorrow, not just participate in the hustles of today.

To the youth: You are not house rats. You are lions. Do not let anyone convince you otherwise. Demand policies that match your ambition, not your desperation. And to the government: Stop offering fake mercy. Kenya’s youth don’t need pity, they need power. Because when lions remember they are lions, no one dares to put them in cages. Not even gold-plated ones with a State House ribbon on top.