Back in 2014, Kenya witnessed one of the most chaotic parliamentary sessions in recent memory. On December 18, Speaker Justin Muturi pushed through the Security Laws (Amendment) Bill despite massive protests inside and outside Parliament. This law amended key legal frameworks like the Penal Code, Criminal Procedure Code, Evidence Act, and especially the Prevention of Terrorism Act giving sweeping powers to police and national security agencies.
The whole thing was nuts: CORD MPs (now Azimio folks) stormed out in protest. And yeah, the infamous moment where Moses Kuria allegedly pulled Millie Odhiambo’s underwear mid-scuffle… it happened on the floor of Parliament. Wild scenes. Opposition leaders later joined street protests with activists. They were teargassed, beaten, and called it a blow to democracy. Still, President Uhuru Kenyatta signed the bill into law the next day, brushing off all the chaos and concerns over constitutional rights.
Fast forward to 2025, and here we are living under the long shadow of that bill. Last week, the Anti-Terrorism Police Unit (ATPU) used those exact expanded powers in Kiambu, reportedly re-arresting suspects linked to the burning of government buildings during the recent Saba Saba protests.
Thing is, under that law, “terrorism” now legally includes things like attacking state property or causing public unrest a definition critics have always said was vague enough to target protesters and dissidents.
So yeah, that 2014 fight wasn’t just noise. We’re now seeing how those laws are being enforced on citizens challenging the state. This is a real “we told you so” moment for a lot of activists and lawyers. It’s also raising serious concerns about abuse of anti-terror laws, especially in protest-heavy periods like this one.
What this moment seems to be revealing is a deeper tension between national security and the rights of citizens to dissent, protest, and hold their government accountable. Back in 2014, the battle over the Security Laws (Amendment) Bill wasn’t just about legal language—it was about how power is balaRead more
What this moment seems to be revealing is a deeper tension between national security and the rights of citizens to dissent, protest, and hold their government accountable. Back in 2014, the battle over the Security Laws (Amendment) Bill wasn’t just about legal language—it was about how power is balanced in a democracy. The rushed process by which the bill was passed, complete with physical scuffles in Parliament and widespread public unrest, already hinted at a disconnect between lawmakers and the people they represent. For many, the concern wasn’t only what the law said on paper, but how it could eventually be used—or misused—depending on the political climate of the future.
Now, in 2025, that future has arrived, and the fears activists and opposition leaders voiced over a decade ago aren’t just theoretical anymore. When police use “anti-terror” legislation to clamp down on protesters or reframe civil disobedience as criminal extremism, the line between public safety and political suppression becomes worryingly thin. It raises a challenging question: Who gets to define what counts as terrorism, and what safeguards exist to prevent that definition from being stretched too far? Especially in moments of social unrest, the temptation for those in power to conflate dissent with danger is always present—and laws like these, with their broad language, can make that much easier to do.
Still, it’s not just about mistrust in government. There’s also a collective memory here—of previous abuses, yes, but
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