Kenya marked the 16th anniversary of its 2010 Constitution on August 27 with a familiar ritual, now laced with unease.

Sixteen years after Kenyans voted overwhelmingly to adopt a new constitutional order, the country split, once again, into two symbolic rooms. At the Kenyatta International Convention Centre (KICC) in Nairobi, President William Ruto led the official Katiba Day Symposium, flanked by Deputy President Kithure Kindiki, Chief Justice Martha Koome, and leaders of the three arms of government. Across town at Jeevanjee Gardens, activists, lawyers and reform advocates gathered for a rowdier reckoning, questioning whether there was much to celebrate at all.

The stakes of that split are not merely ceremonial. The Constitution promulgated on 27^th August 2010, following a referendum in which roughly two-thirds of voters said yes, remains the most consequential legal document produced in independent Kenya. It devolved power to forty-seven counties, entrenched an expansive Bill of Rights, and built checks intended to restrain a presidency that had, for decades, operated with few limits. Sixteen years on, the architecture endures, but its execution remains contested.

The contrast in tone between the two gatherings told its own story. At KICC, President Ruto urged the country to treat Katiba Day as a day of national accounting rather than a mere anniversary and pressed institutions to examine whether they were delivering on constitutional promises around health, housing, water and dignity. Notably, he also suggested that parts of the charter now need revisiting, singling out judicial injunctions he believes frustrate government programmes. At Jeevanjee Gardens, former Chief Justice Willy Mutunga, activist Boniface Mwangi, former Law Society of Kenya president Faith Odhiambo, and others, pushed back hard on that very idea, insisting that talk of amendment serves only those seeking to extend their grip on power, and calling on citizens to defend the document rather than dilute it.

This tension is not new. Kenya’s post-2010 history is dotted with attempts to rewrite the settlement, from the Building Bridges Initiative’s (BBI) push to restructure the executive before courts struck it down, to today’s fresh signals from the State House that some areas warrant review. Subversion has often taken quieter forms, too, with security forces answering protests with excessive force and enforced disappearances in violation of Article 37. State agencies routinely slow-walk or ignore court orders. In June, the High Court ruled that President Ruto’s Cabinet was unconstitutional for breaching the two-thirds gender rule—a ruling the President has yet to comply with even with its October deadline approaching. Chapter Six’s integrity promise, meanwhile, remains more aspiration than enforced law.

Yet constitutionalism has held its ground, too. The Judiciary, for all the political pressure heaped on it, has repeatedly asserted its independence. Devolution has pulled resources and decision-making closer to ordinary Kenyans. A restless civil society and an assertive Gen-Z—whose 2024 street protests forced President Ruto to withhold assent from a punishing Finance Bill—have shown that the document’s promise of accountability still has teeth when citizens choose to use it.

What emerges is a Constitution neither fully honoured nor fully betrayed. A living settlement whose fate depends less on speeches at KICC than on whether institutions comply with rulings they dislike and whether citizens keep insisting that they do. The way forward is unglamorous, but clear. First, enforce compliance with court orders without exception. Second, operationalise Chapter Six with real vetting and real consequences. Third, redirect budgets toward upholding economic and social rights guaranteed under Article 43 that millions of people still go without. Finally, rein in the politically sponsored violence creeping into the run-up to 2027. Sixteen years in, Katiba’s promise is not exhausted. It is simply overdue.