As the State unveils a scheme to bankroll social media influencers to showcase flagship projects, a thorny dilemma takes shape: should creators grab the cheque and risk alienating their audiences, or guard their credibility and watch the money slip away?
With less than two years to the General Elections, the timing has only deepened suspicions that the move is less about civic education and more about political survival for an increasingly unpopular regime.
The programme, announced last week by President William Ruto’s Head of Creative Economy and Special Projects, Dennis Itumbi, seeks to tap into the extensive reach of digital creators whose content shapes conversations among millions of Kenyans daily. While proponents see the plan as a modern way of delivering government messages where citizens already are, suspicion is rife that the absence of strict disclosure rules or independent oversight could blur the line between transparent public communication and subtle propaganda.
Externally, global precedents already offer a warning.
In the US, for instance, the Federal Trade Commission compels influencers to flag any ‘material connection’ with sponsors, while the UK’s Advertising Standards Authority insists that paid content must be ‘obviously identifiable, from the first glance.
Platform’s such as TikTok have gone further by embedding ‘paid partnership’ labels into their systems.
Kenya, by contrast, has no clear framework, leaving creators torn between short-term payouts and the long-term loyalty of their followers.
While announcing the initiative last week, Mr Itumbi termed the plan a dual-purpose initiative that supports content creators while amplifying government priorities.
“The government is willing to put money specifically for a few things that government is doing, and you can benefit directly. If you do content around housing, health, job creation and agriculture, we are willing to put money into it for you,” he said during a forum with creators.
Mr Itumbi further argued that the model would formalise partnerships with digital creators, some of whom he said are already promoting government programmes on their own platforms without pay.
“There are creators who are already explaining the Affordable Housing programme, or Hustler Fund, because they believe in it. This is about recognising that effort and supporting it,” he said.
While no official guidelines have been published on how the initiative will run, the absence of regulatory guardrails has sparked debate on what transparency will look like in practice.
The Advertising Standards Body of Kenya (ASBK), a self-regulatory initiative set up by players in the marketing industry, has spelt out general provisions to ensure ethical and responsible advertising but does not have influencer-specific disclosure rules.
In advanced economies, regulators have insisted that the success of such campaigns depends on clarity.
In the US, the Federal Trade Commission has previously penalised influencers who failed to disclose paid endorsements, while Britain’s Advertising Standards Authority maintains a public list of influencers previously found in breach of disclosure requirements.
For local creators, the dilemma is not just regulatory. Accepting government contracts could alienate audiences who see them as independent voices, particularly at a politically sensitive moment.
Turning them down, on the other hand, means passing up rare formal earnings in an industry that’s still struggling for sustainable monetisation. As a profession, influencing has gained ground in Kenya in recent years, transforming from a side hustle to a full-time career for many young people.
According to online research tool Salary Explorer, local influencer marketers earn between Sh82,800 and Sh286,000 a month, with the average being Sh180,000.
High-profile creators can charge up to Sh100,000 for a single sponsored post, while others rely on smaller but more frequent deals.
Global data platform Statista projects that ad spending in Kenya’s influencer market will reach $2.1 million (Sh271.3 million) by the close of this year, translating to an annual growth rate of 8.8 percent.
Yet, despite these figures, industry earnings remain uneven as only a fraction of creators secure consistent contracts, leaving the vast majority struggling for sustainability. As such, the government’s promise of guaranteed pay for content on flagship programmes could prove attractive.
The political undertones of such arrangements, however, complicate the picture.
With Kenya’s general election due in under two years and the ruling administration facing growing discontent over economic hardship and contested policies, critics argue the State-funded influencer campaigns risk becoming an indirect tool of political messaging disguised as civic education.
While the tension between money and credibility is not new in inflencer culture, stakes are even higher when government is the sponsor. Unlike commercial brands selling products, the State carries political political baggage.
orsing housing, health or agriculture projects might look like neutral civic messaging on the face of it, but in an election cycle, the same content could be interpreted as campaign propaganda.