Every election cycle, Kenyan political youth leagues gather in conference rooms, order samosas and sodas, and draft yet another “transformative” manifesto. From KANU Youth Congress in the 90s, to the flashy promises of TNA’s Youth League in 2013, to the UDA Youth League today, the script has never changed.

They launch glossy PDFs with hashtags, speeches, and photo-ops that scream fresh energy. But beneath the hype lies a painful truth: these manifestos are not worth the paper or pixels they’re written on.

If manifestos built nations, Kenya would already look like Singapore. If promises paved roads, we’d have superhighways connecting every village. Instead, the only thing manifestos seem to build is political CVs.

Manifesto as Political Fashion: Let’s be real: manifestos have become fashion statements. They’re not blueprints for governance they’re accessories for campaigns.

Take 2013: the TNA Youth League promised one million new jobs annually, a “Silicon Savannah” that would absorb young graduates, and interest-free loans through the Uwezo Fund. Reality? By 2017, youth unemployment was at over 20%, and the Uwezo Fund was riddled with mismanagement scandals, barely scratching the surface of its lofty promises.

Fast forward to 2022: the UDA Hustler Manifesto promised to inject KSh 50 billion annually into the Hustler Fund, a revolution for mama mbogas, boda riders, and young entrepreneurs. Today, the Fund dishes out micro-loans of 500 bob to 3,000 bob, barely enough to fuel a boda for a week, let alone transform livelihoods.

It’s political drip with no depth.

The Betrayal of Memory: Nobody bothers to ask: what happened to the last manifesto? Where is the report card on Jubilee’s promise of 1.3 million jobs annually (2017)? Instead, unemployment rose, cost of living skyrocketed, and most youth programs collapsed in debt and corruption.

What happened to ODM’s Youth Enterprise Fund reforms? Or the loud charters pushed by Bunge La Mwananchi? They disappeared into silence, replaced by fresh slogans and recycled pledges.

It’s like submitting the same school assignment three times, just changing the font and date. The teacher would fail you. But in politics? We clap and cheer.

Youth Politics: The Copy-Paste Syndrome

Here’s the bitter irony: youth leagues are supposed to represent disruption, innovation, and rebellion against old-school politics. Instead, they’re perfecting the very rituals of empty politics they claim to oppose.

Take the UDA Youth League rallies: they look like carbon copies of Jubilee youth rallies circa 2017 just different colors, same slogans. The ODM Youth League too has spent more time fighting for seats at the high table than fighting for actual youth policy implementation.

Instead of demanding action, youth leaders mimic the political class cut, copy, paste. They produce manifestos not to serve the people, but to prove they “did something.” It’s a culture of ticking boxes, not changing lives.

And the worst part? We, the youth buy into it. We rally around new promises while ignoring the graveyard of old ones. A Manifesto Without Muscles

A manifesto without action is just literature. And literature doesn’t feed the unemployed graduate, fix the boda boda sector, or create sustainable hustles for young Kenyans. Manifestos need muscles; budgets, timelines, clear responsibilities, and consequences for failure. Without these, every new manifesto is just another lie told loudly.

So… Do We Even Need Another One?

Here’s the provocation: maybe we don’t need another youth manifesto. Maybe we should boycott the next launch by UDA Youth League, ODM Youth League, or whoever thinks dropping glossy PDFs will fool us again.

Maybe we should demand a forensic audit of Jubilee’s job promises, or UDA’s Hustler Fund projections, before a single new manifesto page is written. Until youth politics breaks this cycle of cut-and-paste promises, we’ll remain spectators in our own struggle clapping for leaders who keep selling us the same recycled dreams.

Because the truth is simple: Kenya doesn’t have a manifesto problem. Kenya has a delivery problem. And unless youth leagues grow the guts to demand implementation, they’ll remain the weakest link in our political chain.