There is something deeply disappointing about watching Hassan Omar’s political journey. A man who once appeared driven by principle and democratic ideals now seems, in the eyes of his critics, to be chasing political relevance at almost any cost. The transformation raises an uncomfortable question: what happened to the Hassan Omar who once believed that public service was about standing with ordinary people?
Hassan was not always the politician many people see today. In 1997, he was chairman of the Moi University Students Organisation. When he was expelled from the university, his comrades, including Kepta Ombati and others, rallied behind him.
They raised money and found lawyers to help him fight his case. He later joined students from public universities and polytechnics in forming the Kenya National Students Union, where he became its first chairman after an election in Nakuru.
Those were years when political activism carried real risks. Hassan had also been an air force cadet before studying law. He was part of a generation that believed Kenya could be changed through democratic struggle.
He stood with leaders such as James Orengo in Muungano wa Mageuzi and was involved in a movement that believed the country was bigger than individual political ambitions.
After the National Rainbow Coalition victory in 2002, efforts were made to give Hassan a bigger role in public service. He was appointed a commissioner at the Kenya National Commission on Human Rights and later became vice chairman.
His work around the investigations into the 2007-2008 post-election violence gave him an opportunity to speak for victims, displaced families and witnesses who needed protection.
For a period, Hassan appeared to understand that influence was not simply about being close to power. It was about using whatever position one held to defend people who had little power of their own.
That is why his later political direction is so difficult for some of his former comrades to understand.
By 2017, Hassan had moved closer to political forces that many of the people he once stood with had opposed. His critics now accuse him of abandoning the principles that shaped his earlier political life in exchange for proximity to power.
UDA secretary general Hassan Omar. Photo Courtesy/File.
His recent political rhetoric has also drawn attention. Statements attributed to him concerning dead people supposedly voting in the 2027 elections, including claims about the use of fingerprints from bodies in mortuaries, have raised serious questions about the direction of political debate.
Such rhetoric, does little to strengthen public confidence in elections or democratic institutions.
Politics is already deeply emotional in Kenya. Leaders therefore have a responsibility to lower tensions rather than feed them with shocking claims and extreme language.
Hassan should know this better than most. He has lived through periods when political words had serious consequences. He has seen how communities can suffer when political competition turns into something more dangerous than a contest for leadership.
The history of Kenyan politics is full of people who became powerful because they stood close to presidents, only to lose their relevance when that political protection disappeared.
The administrations of Jomo Kenyatta, Daniel arap Moi, Mwai Kibaki and Uhuru Kenyatta all produced powerful figures who were once considered untouchable. Many later faded from public life.
That should be a warning to anyone who believes proximity to the president is the same thing as political strength.
Hassan Omar still has a chance to reflect on the road he has taken. He once fought for democratic change and human rights. He once understood the value of institutions and the importance of standing with ordinary citizens.
If he has now chosen political loyalty over those principles, history may judge that choice harshly.
Power is temporary. Political alliances change. Presidents move on, and those who appear indispensable today can become irrelevant tomorrow.
The real question for Hassan Omar is therefore not how close he can get to power, but what he will be remembered for when that power is gone.
If he continues down a path that places political survival above principle, he risks turning a once-promising democratic activist into a cautionary story about what happens when ambition becomes more important than conviction.
