If We Reward Illegal Forest Occupation, Where Does It End?

There’s a troubling pattern emerging in Kenya’s approach to conservation, and if we don’t speak up now, we’ll watch our natural heritage disappear one ‘regularisation’ at a time.

Public Petition No. 20 of 2025, presented to the National Assembly by the Cabinet Secretary for Environment, Climate Change and Forestry Deborah Barasa, has put forward a plan to de-gazette 7,008.66 hectares from four public forests in order to regularise long-standing human settlements.

What message does this send to communities living near other forests? That if you invade protected land and wait long enough, the government will eventually reward you with ownership?

This isn’t about being unsympathetic to landless Kenyans. Their plight is real and deserves genuine solutions. But those solutions cannot come at the expense of our forests.

The government owns substantial land under the Agricultural Development Corporation specifically designated for food production and settlement. Why are we not settling these claimants there, where they can contribute to food security without destroying ecosystems that took centuries to develop?

The answer, unfortunately, often comes down to political expediency trumping environmental stewardship. And that’s a trade we simply cannot afford to make.

Dr Barasa’s petition doesn’t exist in isolation. Just weeks ago, we watched tragedy unfold in Elgeyo Marakwet, where mudslides claimed lives and displaced thousands.

Interior Cabinet Secretary Kipchumba Murkomen directly attributed the devastation to years of deforestation and unsustainable farming practices. Families were buried in their sleep as saturated slopes, stripped of the forests that once held them together, collapsed under heavy rains.

This is what forest loss looks like in human terms. Not abstract statistics, but fathers losing six family members in a single night, survivors describing a thunderous sound like a helicopter landing before mud swept their houses away.

Where does it end?

Historical injustices are real and must be addressed, but not by creating new injustices against future generations who will inherit a country stripped of its natural wealth. There’s a word for this approach: short-sighted. And there’s a consequence: irreversible environmental degradation.

Every time we hand over a protected area, we’re essentially saying that conservation only matters until it becomes politically inconvenient. We’re telling our children that their right to clean water, stable climate and rich biodiversity matters less than our inability to find alternative solutions today.

Let’s talk numbers, because they paint a stark picture. Kenya’s forest cover currently stands at a paltry 7.2 per cent, well below the 10 per cent minimum recommended by the Food and Agriculture Organisation. We’re not meeting the bar; we’re limping far beneath it.

Yet we’ve committed to ambitious restoration targets: 5.1 million hectares under the Afri100 and Bonn Challenge initiatives. The Presidential 15 Billion Tree Growing Initiative aims to dramatically increase our tree cover. These aren’t just feel-good projects. They’re essential for our survival in an era of climate crisis.

Now, here’s the absurdity: whilst we’re planting trees with one hand, we’re proposing to give away 7,008.66 hectares of existing forest with the other. That’s the potential loss of trees that already exist, already providing ecosystem services, already doing the work we need them to do.

You cannot plant your way out of deforestation if you keep excising existing forest land. It’s like trying to fill a bucket whilst someone else drills holes in the bottom. The maths simply doesn’t add up.

These aren’t just numbers on government reports. Let me tell you what 7,008.66 hectares actually means for ordinary Kenyans.

It means rivers that will run dry because the forests that regulate water flow are gone. It means communities downstream, often the poorest and most vulnerable, watching their water sources disappear. It means farmers facing even more unpredictable rainfall because we've destroyed the forests that help stabilise our climate.

It means the collapse of water catchment areas that millions depend upon. When you destroy a forest, you’re not just removing trees, you’re dismantling an entire life-support system.

You’re sabotaging your own water supply, fragmenting wildlife habitats that underpin our tourism industry and releasing stored carbon that accelerates the very climate crisis already threatening our farmers.

The cruelty is that those who suffer most from these decisions are often ordinary people: the families buried under mudslides in Elgeyo Marakwet, Nairobi residents who endure water rationing whenever dam levels drop.

When our forests vanish, the consequences aren’t borne by those who authorised their clearance but by mudslide victims who have lost loved ones, homes and livelihoods, by communities downstream whose water sources have dried up, by thousands of city dwellers who face rationing and by farmers whose rainfall patterns become increasingly unpredictable.

Here's something that should concern anyone who believes in the rule of law: this petition directly violates Section 34(2b) of the Forest Conservation and Management Act  that was enacted to safeguard vital water catchment areas. 

Kenya has worked incredibly hard over recent decades to increase forest cover through conservation efforts, community engagement and enforcement of protection laws. We’ve made progress. Forest cover has gradually increased. We’ve shown it’s possible to reverse the tide of destruction.

Now we stand at a crossroads. Down one path lies the continuation of that hard-won progress, protecting what remains, restoring what we’ve lost and building a future where our children inherit a country rich in natural capital. Down the other path lies the slow dismantling of our protected areas, one ‘regularisation’ at a time, until there’s nothing left to protect.

If the petition is approved by Parliament, it will signal that protected areas are only protected until someone wants them badly enough. It will confirm that illegal occupation is a viable strategy for acquiring land. It will announce to the world that Kenya’s environmental commitments are worth less than the paper they’re written on.

If rejected, it will send a very different message: that some things are non-negotiable, that our forests are not bargaining chips in political negotiations and that we’re serious about securing our environmental future.

The frustrating thing is that alternatives exist. They’re just not being seriously pursued because forest land is easier to give away than finding genuine solutions.

The Agricultural Development Corporation holds substantial land suitable for settlement and food production. Settling forest claimants there would address their legitimate needs whilst advancing food security goals. It’s a solution that creates winners on all sides, except it requires more effort than simply signing away forest land.

But this requires political will, careful planning and potentially more resources. It requires leaders who are willing to make the harder choice because it’s the right choice.

This petition presents a profound test of leadership. It asks whether decisions will be guided by long‑term stewardship of our nation’s resources, or by short‑term considerations of popularity and applause.

The choice, therefore, is not between compassion and rejection, but between solutions that safeguard both human needs and environmental sustainability. The question is whether deliberations will be shaped by emotional appeals and political pressure, or by informed judgement consistent with your constitutional mandate.

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