ODM and its traditional strongholds are undergoing the most consequential political shift in two decades. What was once a monolithic voting bloc, extending far beyond its bedrock of Nyanza, is now on the brink of fracturing into a mosaic of smaller, fluid and harder-to-galvanise constituencies. The party’s embrace of the so-called broad-based government (BBG) has accelerated this fragmentation, exposing the vulnerabilities of a movement long held together by personality, grievance and iron organisational discipline.
For nearly two decades, ODM’s dominance rested on three powerful pillars: Raila Odinga’s unrivalled authority, a largely united regional political elite, and a shared narrative of historical marginalisation. All three are now visibly weakening.
After the 1997 and 2002 elections—when elite leaders such as Prof Anyang’ Nyong’o (1997) and James Orengo (2002) broke ranks with Raila to catastrophic political consequences—the post-2007 period marked a dramatic re-consolidation. Raila successfully gathered Nyanza’s political heavyweights under one united command while simultaneously nurturing leaders from other regions to national prominence. Nyong’o returned to the fold and won in 2002; Orengo, after losing both his presidential bid and parliamentary seat, rejoined Raila ahead of 2007. With the formation of ODM in 2005, Raila built a formidable national machine anchored on deep reform traditions and fierce loyalty to his leadership.
At its height, ODM operated almost like a politburo, with leaders from across the political spectrum operating under Raila’s authority—ironically including today’s President William Ruto, once one of the party’s brightest stars.
Today, that unity is gone.
ODM leaders, including those from Raila’s traditional Nyanza stronghold, no longer speak with one voice. The spectacle of Deputy President Rigathi Gachagua openly courting ODM’s eloquent, pro-mwananchi Secretary-General into a political outfit to nowhere symbolises this drift. Meanwhile, younger voters—more preoccupied with economic survival than historical grievance—are unconvinced by nostalgia politics and no longer bound by singular party identities.
This has produced a dangerous duality among ODM’s elected leaders. On one hand, many now look to the broad-based government for political cushioning—seeking protection, development projects and survival through pragmatic alignment with the State. On the other, they still cling to Raila nostalgia, knowing his emotional pull remains potent in Kenya’s political psyche.
This double posture—pragmatism towards State House and sentimentality towards Baba—creates fertile ground for President Ruto. He is well-placed to exploit incumbency, sweep up fragmented loyalties, and present himself as the more reliable custodian of development, power and political stability in regions that once formed the backbone of the opposition.
With ODM’s three pillars weakening, the consequences extend far beyond internal party intrigue. Nyanza, Coast, Western, Nairobi, Turkana and North Eastern—long treated as guaranteed opposition zones—are now fully contested political spaces. Development politics, incumbency advantage, generational turnover and fading ideological identities are colliding in ways that redraw Kenya’s political map.
ODM’s entry into the BBG does not automatically guarantee ODM votes in future elections. The establishment will likely tolerate this arrangement only for as long as it serves its own electoral calculus. Once that utility fades, the party risks being politically hollowed out.
If the current trajectory holds, the unravelling of ODM will reshape the 2027 election in two decisive ways.
First, it widens President Ruto’s path to re-election by weakening the only voting machine that reliably produced a consolidated national opposition for over two decades. As ODM leaders increasingly negotiate directly with State House for survival—something Raila once guaranteed through collective bargaining—they become vulnerable to the regime’s statecraft. New patronage networks, political brokers and regional power alignments can be manufactured around development projects and strategic appointments.
This allows the President to reshape national politics without a strong, unified counterweight. Critics will argue this is good for development and record-based competition. But it is also undeniably dangerous for democracy, because it opens the door to state-engineered political survivalism rather than genuinely competitive politics.
Second, even modest gains in ODM traditional strongholds—combined with voter fatigue in historic opposition zones—could blunt any national anti-incumbency wave. For the anti-BBG political class, the ground is collapsing beneath their feet. Without a unified party, without Raila’s anchoring presence, and without a coherent regional bloc to negotiate from, they approach 2027 as fragmented actors in an order that no longer bends to old loyalties.
Unless they quickly reinvent themselves and articulate a compelling post-nostalgia alternative, they risk becoming passengers in a political realignment they neither control nor fully understand.
Yet a final warning must be issued—both to the political establishment and to ODM’s own leadership.
Raila Odinga’s legacy demands the nurturing, not weakening, of Kenya’s democratic architecture. A strong ODM is not merely a partisan asset; it is a critical institutional pillar of Kenya’s multiparty democracy. The quiet or deliberate erosion of ODM—just like the systematic dismemberment of Jubilee a few years ago—weakens the entire system of checks and balances.
A weakened ODM means diminished scrutiny of the Executive, softer oversight of public spending, and a smoother path for authoritarian drift. Competitive politics is not a luxury; it is the backbone of accountability.
ODM must remember that its strength has never been purely electoral. It has been structural—part of the machinery that prevents Kenya from sliding back into a dominant-party system where power accumulates unchecked and abuse grows in silence.