NAIROBI, Kenya — The phenomenon of “goonism” — gangs that disrupt rallies, attack politicians and intimidate opponents — has become the most charged word in Kenya’s political landscape ahead of elections scheduled for 2027. President William Ruto’s supporters use the term to decry the lawlessness authorities will not tolerate; his opponents use it to condemn what they call state‑sponsored violence engineered by Ruto’s camp. In recent weeks, armed men have broken up opposition rallies, a senator was beaten and hospitalized, and a prominent preacher warned from the pulpit that those who use goons to rule would fall.

Ruto, who took office in 2022 after campaigning as a humble born‑again Christian who carried a Bible everywhere and called himself “God’s prophet,” now faces growing accusations that he has abandoned that identity. Former supporters noticed that after his inauguration he stopped carrying the Bible publicly and seldom quoted scripture. His decision to demolish a chapel on the statehouse compound to build a modern replacement was criticized as self‑aggrandizing. Aggressive income‑tax measures introduced months into his tenure triggered massive youth‑led protests, forcing the government to withdraw some proposals but not quelling anger.

The country’s turn toward political violence became impossible to ignore after protesters stormed the parliament building in 2024. Ruto vowed it would never happen again and, during later demonstrations, urged police to “break” the limbs of protesters. “If we go this route, we will not have a country,” he said in a televised address. “The country belongs to all of us. And if there’s no country for William Ruto, there’s no country for you.” Opponents read the remarks as a veiled threat.

The violence has taken physical form. Men armed with machetes and guns have broken up political rallies or prevented them from starting. In a notable incident last month, opposition Senator Godfrey Osotsi was manhandled in a restaurant by men questioning his political views; his injuries required hospitalization. The attack sparked protests in his home region and drew condemnation from religious leaders.

The most dramatic religious backlash came from the pulpit. During a recent Sunday sermon, Mombasa megachurch pastor Wilfred Lai — once a Ruto supporter — told congregants, “Goons, goons, goons… Everyone who wants to rule this country by that kind of thing, I speak as a prophet of God: You shall fall.” He added, “You can’t use goons and you are telling us that you are taking us into a better place. You are a liar and the truth is not in you.” Lai did not name Ruto, but many Kenyans assumed the president was the target.

The Catholic Church has also scolded the political class. After Ruto and his former deputy Rigathi Gachagua traded public insults — Gachagua called Ruto a thief, Ruto called Gachagua a “cold‑blooded pig” — Archbishop Maurice Muhatia, head of the local conference of Catholic primates, rebuked them at a gathering of bishops. “Disagreement is OK, but insulting each other in public is a disgrace,” Muhatia said. “Give us a break.”

Opposition figure Kalonzo Musyoka has explicitly accused the state of sponsoring goons. “We must say no, collectively, to the new specter, the new norm, of goonism,” he told a broadcaster. “The goons are very well‑known. So for anybody to pretend that it is the work of united opposition, he really must be ashamed, even before God, that this is state‑sponsored.” Ruto’s allies have also denounced the violence: Interior Secretary Kipchumba Murkomen warned that “since the politician won’t be with you when you commit the crime, we’ll come for you,” while Speaker Moses Wetang’ula declared that “the culture of goonism has no place in a democratic society.”

With the presidential election still more than a year away and no clear main opposition candidate, analyst Karuti Kanyinga, a Kenyan development scholar, warned that if leaders do not tone down their rhetoric “the election is going to be very bloody. Everyone will have their own protection gangs.” The specter of Mungiki‑style gang violence that marred the 2007 vote hangs over the current climate.