I write not merely as a commentator on history, but as one who stood at the birth of this Movement the Orange Democratic Movement (ODM); as its pioneer Emeritus Secretary General; as a scholar of politics who understands that political movements are never accidents of time but products of moral necessity; and as a servant of the people who knows that silence at such a moment would itself be a betrayal of history.
I write with deep humility, conscious that I stand on the shoulders of a fallen giant – the late Raila Amollo Odinga. He was not simply a politician; he was a nationalist in the truest sense: a man who believed Kenya must be united not by the arithmetic of tribes, but by the architecture of justice. He never surrendered to the crude mathematics of power-balancing that now threatens to reduce leadership into mere transactions.
Systematic corruption
His life and his passing remind us that the cost of being a nationalist in Kenya is never small. It is paid in detention cells, in exile, in ridicule, in betrayal, and sometimes in lonely hospital rooms far from home. But history is kind to such men.
To understand ODM at 20, we must return to the fire that forged it, the 2005 Kenyan constitutional referendum. By the early 2000s, Kenya faced a dangerous contradiction: multiparty democracy existed in form, but not in substance. Power had changed hands, but not character. The presidency remained overbearing an imperial centre clothed in reformist language yet resistant to real accountability. Corruption was systemic. Poverty normalized. Citizenship tolerated, not empowered.
The referendum exposed this truth with painful clarity. Kenyans were asked to endorse a draft constitution that promised reform but preserved excessive presidential authority: authority without accountability, power without restraint, inclusion promised but exclusion practised.
The Orange symbol became a historic refusal: a refusal to constitutional deception; a refusal to postpone justice to another generation; a refusal to accept that the presidency should remain all-powerful and undemocratic in spirit and structure. ODM was therefore not formed for political comfort. It was born of historical necessity the political expression of a national awakening.
We are all born into one ethnic community or another; we speak our mother tongue, sing our music, often marry within our ethnic groups, and stand for elective positions where we are known best. These are objective realities of our existence, not undone by willpower. History resists impatience.
Change requires a long historical process. It demands conscious effort, respect for cultural differences, and recognition that being different does not make anyone superior or inferior.
It is easier to be an ethnic chauvinist than a nationalist in Kenyan politics today. Politics has long been organised along ethnic lines; ethnicity appeals to familiarity, fear, and immediate material expectation. But true leadership confronts difficult choices.
ODM was formed on the conviction that while ethnicity is an objective reality, it must not become a political destiny. If we took state power, we could transform the political culture from ethnic patronage to constitutional citizenship. Nationalism is not the denial of ethnicity but its subordination to constitutionalism. The state belongs equally to all citizens, not to whichever ethnic coalition temporarily captures the presidency.
Dispersed power
For decades, Kenya operated under a highly centralised presidential system. The presidency became the centre for dishing out wealth, appointments, and resources. Competition for this office was existential; it appeared as though the community that captured the presidency had captured the state itself.
This made electoral contests vicious, political campaigns ethnic censuses, and politics fuel suspicion, bitterness, and sometimes violence. This pathology made constitutional reform central to ODM’s birth.
The 2010 Constitution fundamentally altered this structure. It reduced and dispersed power, strengthened Parliament, empowered the Judiciary, and established independent commissions such as the Public Service Commission. It entrenched devolution, transferring authority and resources to counties. Devolution was democratic engineering, not decoration, ensuring no single office, individual, or ethnic coalition could monopolise the Republic’s destiny.
But democratisation is never an event; it is a process. It is patient cultivation, not a quick harvest. The Constitution institutionalised the struggle, which every generation must defend.
In Kenya, nationalism is often misunderstood. It is not loud patriotism but the quiet insistence that institutions must be stronger than individuals. It is courage to demand limited power, even when close to it. It is a willingness to lose elections rather than principle.
The nationalist does not calculate which community benefits today; he asks which generation benefits tomorrow.
ODM carried that burden. In 2007, we became the largest party in Parliament, proving we were not a regional agitation but a national force. In 2008, amid a crisis, we chose peace over power in the Grand Coalition Government. In 2010, we fulfilled our founding vision with a new Constitution – devolving power, entrenching rights, and placing constitutional limits on the presidency.
Yet nationalism demands continuous vigilance, humility in victory, and dignity in defeat.
From the beginning, ODM placed ideas before office and principles before convenience. Our commitments were clear: sovereignty of the people, constitutional transformation and devolution, social justice and equity, democratic governance, civil liberties, and the rule of law.
“Chungwa Moja, Maisha Bora” was never a slogan; it was a theory of governance – unity in diversity, justice in distribution, dignity in opportunity.
Belonging to ODM was never about wearing orange. It was about embracing sacrifice, accepting scrutiny, and understanding that leadership is stewardship, not entitlement. Transparency was foundational. Accountability was a duty. Forgetting these foundations risks turning a living movement into a nostalgic monument.
Have we achieved our reasons?
At 20, ODM must ask uncomfortable questions: Have we dismantled the over-centralised Executive? Eradicated corruption? Ensured devolution works for every village? Transcended ethnic mobilisation?
We have made undeniable progress. The Constitution stands. Devolution breathes. Civil liberties are stronger. Yet economic inequality persists, youth unemployment remains high, and political competition sometimes slides into ethnic arithmetic. ODM must resist self-congratulation; movements decline not when defeated, but when they forget why they were formed.
Generational contest within ODM should refine, not frighten, us. Internal competition is vitality, not decay. A movement that cannot debate cannot think. One that cannot reproduce leadership cannot reproduce relevance.
Young leaders questioning old assumptions is renewal, not rebellion. But generational change must not become amnesia. The new must study the old. The old must mentor the new. Wisdom must meet energy; experience must embrace innovation.
ODM must remain a workshop, not a shrine – sharpening ideas, testing leadership.
Kenya faces a profound question: Can power be limited by law, wealth distributed with justice, and diversity celebrated without weaponisation?
National leadership requires resisting short-term alliances that dilute long-term ideals, rejecting an all-powerful presidency, demanding transparency, equity, and humility. ODM must remain the Republic’s conscience.
If we abandon the moral vocabulary of reform, we become indistinguishable from those we once opposed. Selective devolution weakens the architecture we built. Reducing politics to ethnic calculus betrays our nationalist vision.
The next 20 years must deepen economic justice, strengthen social protection, defend devolution, and protect democracy as a living process. ODM is not a monument to 2005; it is a movement for tomorrow.
From the flames of the referendum, through contested elections, reform victories, and setbacks, one truth endures: ODM is sustained by principles, not personalities. The passing of our founding leader transfers responsibility. The torch moves from one hand to many.
Twenty years ago, an orange became a symbol of defiance. Today, it must remain the symbol of conscience. Let us return to first principles: transparency without fear, constitutionalism without compromise, and democratisation as a permanent struggle.
An African proverb teaches: “However long the night, the dawn will break.” Dawn breaks not for those who sleep, but for those who keep vigil.
ODM must remain that vigilant force – guarding the Constitution, defending devolution, nurturing democracy, and shaping a nationalism that transcends ethnicity without denying it.
If we do so, we shall not merely seek power; we shall justify it. We shall not merely win elections; we shall build a nation.
