Creating Under Threat: Kenya’s Youth and Innovators in the Shadow of Cybercrime Law

By Elishah Mwangi - Every day, Nairobi, Kenya’s bustling capital, pulses with the rhythm of business and ambition. From hawkers, taxi drivers, fruit vendors, to street traders, everyone is chasing opportunity within the city’s restless energy.

In almost every corner, cybercafes hum with life, students typing assignments, office workers printing documents and young innovators sketching app ideas on scraps of paper.

Kenya’s tech revolution has long taken root in spaces like these, an unlikely cradle of digital dreams set against a growing shadow of state surveillance and control.

Yet the country that gave birth to M-Pesa and nurtured one of Africa’s most vibrant startup ecosystems is tightening its grip on digital expression.

At the heart of this growing standoff is the Computer Misuse and Cybercrimes Act of 2018, a law originally framed as a shield against online fraud, child exploitation, and cyber-terrorism.

Activists now argue that it has become a sword, cutting into freedom of speech, civic tech innovation, and the lives of ordinary citizens.

When Nairobi-based software developer Rose Njeri Tunguru launched Civic Email, she imagined a simple civic engagement tool. The platform allowed citizens to automatically send protest letters to Members of Parliament opposing the Finance Bill 2025. But what she saw as participation was treated as disruption.

“I thought I was empowering people to speak directly to their leaders, but instead I was treated like a criminal,” she said in a Zoom interview.

In early June, police raided her Nairobi home and seized her electronic devices. She was detained and accused of violating Section 16 of the Cybercrimes Act, which criminalises unauthorized interference with computer systems.

The arrest of a developer for building a civic tool sent a chilling message: the state’s tolerance for digital dissent was shrinking.

A month later, Milimani Principal Magistrate Geoffrey Onsaringo dismissed the case, ruling that the prosecution had failed to meet the legal threshold required to constitute a valid charge, an indication, many said, that she had been falsely accused.

Software developer and activist Rose Njeri Tunguru, 35, in the dock at Milimani Law Courts. Photo Internet 

“If an app that connects citizens to their leaders is termed misuse,” she asked, “then what future is there for civic technology here?”

If Njeri’s ordeal showed shrinking space for dissent, the case of Albert Ojwang pushed the conversation into darker territory. The young teacher and blogger, known for his outspoken political commentary, died while in police detention.

Police initially claimed he died of self-inflicted injuries after being arrested for allegedly defaming the Deputy Inspector General of Police.

But an autopsy conducted on 8 June 2025 indicated that Ojwang’s death resulted from physical assault.

Justin Muturi, former Speaker of the National Assembly, wrote in The Standard that Ojwang was “killed by the state,” attributing the death to a “broken, brutal police culture.” He demanded prosecution of the officers involved and called on President Ruto to take responsibility.

“Arresting people because of a Twitter post is too much and against the spirit of the constitution,” Njeri said when asked about Ojwang’s death.

Even religious spaces have not been spared. On Sunday, October 5, during a Gen Z thanksgiving service at Jesus Compassion Ministry (JCM) Church led by Bishop Ben Kiengei, telecommunications suddenly faltered across networks. The livestream froze and M-Pesa transactions failed mid-donation.

A visibly frustrated Kiengei paused the service and addressed the network provider before thousands onsite and online.

“To our network provider, the people here are disciplined and focused,” he said. “Let the network be restored so we can continue.”

On social media, users speculated that the timing was deliberate, another attempt to weaken the growing influence of Gen Z youth, a demographic that has repeatedly challenged the government both online and in the streets.

Authorities denied involvement, but the incident rekindled concerns over state-linked digital interference, echoing patterns observed earlier in the year during protests.

Amid the fear, resistance is rising. Journalists, bloggers, and human rights advocates have mounted legal challenges, arguing that the Cybercrimes Act is being applied in dangerously broad and punitive ways.

In September 2025, they filed a petition before the Court of Appeal, warning that enforcement of the law has led to “arrests, harassment, and even deaths” of those exercising free speech.

The Law Society of Kenya (LSK) sought to join the case, arguing that vague legal provisions threaten whistleblowers, journalists, and media practitioners.

The blogging community has long raised similar concerns. Shortly after the law was enacted, the Bloggers Association of Kenya (BAKE) filed constitutional petitions alleging that key sections violated rights to expression, privacy, and public interest.

The National Police Service and the Ministry of Interior had not responded to requests for comment by the time of publication.

Punishing innovators and critics, advocates warn, is punishing progress. For a country once celebrated as Africa’s digital pioneer, the stakes now extend far beyond technology, they touch on trust, civic participation, and the health of Kenya’s democracy.

Yet voices like Rose Njeri’s remain calm and resolute.

“Innovation is not a crime,” she says. “And if we stop building because of fear, we lose the Kenya we dreamed of.”

Her words echo a growing sentiment among Kenya’s digital community: safeguarding innovation and protecting civil liberties are no longer separate conversations, they are the same struggle.

_____________

This report was produced as part of the Liberalist Centre’s Journalism for Liberty Fellowship program with funding support from Atlas Network and the Institute of Economic Affairs (IEA).