One Year After the Finance Bill Protests: Was It Worth It?

Written by Jacob Okumu

A protesters throws back a tear gas canister at police during 2024 protests (AP Photo/ Andrew Kasuku)

June 2025 marks one year since Kenya found itself at a historic crossroads. Young people, forming the majority of the population, fuelled by frustration and yearning for dignity, poured into the streets in the hundreds of thousands in major towns and cities across the country. They protested as an expression of their dissatisfaction with the government led by President Ruto.

What started as cries against the draconian Finance Bill 2024 that threatened to increase and introduce more taxes onto the already overburdened citizens, quickly  metamorphosed into a vote of no confidence on the government, with the majority of the youthful protesters calling for the President to resign.

The rallies were defiant, hopeful, and deeply patriotic. But they were also tragic. Over 60 lives were lost, among them a 12-year-old child whose only crime was dreaming of a better future. More than 600 others were left nursing wounds inflicted by the very state that swore to protect them.

Today, as the dust of those momentous days settles, Kenyans are asking: was it worth it? What did we gain, and how have we sustained those gains in the face of continued repression?

The Gains: A Nation Awakened

For many, the protests were a painful but necessary awakening. The Finance Bill was eventually watered down, with some of its most draconian provisions scrapped in response to public pressure. But perhaps the deeper victory lay not in the fine print of legislation, but in the spirit of resistance that was born.

Ordinary Kenyans discovered their collective power. The protests stitched together a sense of shared destiny across tribe, class, and region. For the first time in years, young people felt they could confront the state not as passive subjects but as active citizens.

One year later, this culture of vigilance has not waned. Social accountability is at its peak. Citizens are more outspoken, more willing to protest, and less easily cowed by threats. The fire lit in June 2024 continues to burn.

The Costs: Blood, Fear, and Abductions

Despite the gains, the costs remain unbearable. The ghosts of the slain still haunt us. Families are left with empty chairs at dinner tables, parents with gaping wounds where their children once were. Activists whisper that the price paid in blood is too high, especially when justice remains elusive.

The government, rather than heeding the call for reform, has doubled down. Police killings persist, often with impunity. In a chilling turn, abduction has become a new weapon of silence. Activists vanish in the dead of night, only to resurface days later battered—or never to return at all. Fear stalks the movement, but fear has not killed it.

A Culture of Protest

If anything, repression has fertilized the soil of defiance. Regular protests now erupt over issues ranging from corruption scandals to skyrocketing food prices. What once felt exceptional has become almost routine: Kenyans on the streets, placards in hand, voices raised in unison.

This normalization of protest—what some call “protestism”—is reshaping civic life. More people, even those who once dismissed demonstrations as the work of radicals, now see protest as a legitimate and necessary tool of democracy. The youth, in particular, have embraced it as part of their identity, an inheritance they refuse to surrender.

At the Grassroots: Picking Up the Pieces

At the grassroots level, where wounds are most raw, activists carry the heaviest burden. During the protest they the were the ones comforting bereaved families, organizing medical support for the injured, and rallying communities long after the cameras have left. One year after, they are the ones left to pick the pieces.

For them, the protests were not a moment but a movement, and sustaining it is backbreaking work. They speak of exhaustion, of the loneliness that comes when the headlines fade, of the surveillance and not to mention the pressure of continuing to pursue justice.

For them, the struggle persists, and still, they have to keep showing up. The resilience of grassroots activists is perhaps the truest testament to the sacrifices made last year.

Was It Worth It?

So, was it worth it? The answer is complicated. No victory can justify the lives lost, the broken bodies, the tears of mothers burying their children. And yet, to dismiss those sacrifices as meaningless would be to dishonour the very patriots who stood tall.

The Finance Bill protests forced a reckoning. They reminded a generation of its power and forced those in authority to confront people unwilling to be silenced. One year later, Kenya is more vigilant, more restless, and more insistent on accountability.

The struggle is far from over. But perhaps that is the point: democracy is never a destination, but only a journey. The patriots of June 2024 showed us the way, in blood and in courage. It falls on us, the living, to ensure their sacrifice was not in vain.

Support gaps identified from finance bill protests

• Psychological support often falls on communities. Professional support often requires funding. This is further burdening most impacted community members.
• Media support; when big movement moments pass, critical work is still happening. This work becomes more dangerous when awareness and attention are pulled away rapidly.
• Training offerings to further skill up organizers often require funding; this excludes grassroots activists who need this support most.
• Counter-surveillance methods are falling on communities to find ways of addressing. Communities need access to knowledge and funding to implement preventative/counter measures.