Those were the most dramatic days of our lives – politically. Everything came to a standstill for a few moments on June 25, 2024, as Kenya seemed to lose one of the strangest symbols of its political power.
As protesters poured into Parliament during the height of the anti-Finance Bill demonstrations, the country watched scenes that would have seemed impossible only hours earlier. Parliament had been breached. Lawmakers were busy fleeing the chambers that normally housed debates and votes because it had been overrun.
The country was in the middle of the Gen Z-led protests against the Finance Bill, 2024. What had begun as a largely peaceful civic uprising had escalated dramatically by June 25, when protesters breached Parliament. The day would become one of the darkest chapters of the demonstrations, with young Kenyans losing their lives as the confrontation between protesters and security forces intensified. [Read our earlier account of the deadly Finance Bill protests and the young Kenyans who paid the ultimate price.]
In the midst of all the mayhem, one protester was photographed leaving the building carrying what appeared to be the famous golden mace. The images went viral, and the symbolism was enormous. However, the following day, then Speaker Moses Wetang’ula told the House that the object taken was a dummy mace used for display, not the actual ceremonial mace. He said the real mace was securely kept.
Still, it came as a shock to every concerned citizen, that Parliament had been robbed of its symbol of authority.
So, what exactly is a parliamentary mace?
To understand why a ceremonial object caused such a stir, it helps to forget what the word “mace” normally brings to mind.
Historically, a mace was a weapon – essentially a heavy club designed for combat. Over time, however, the object acquired a very different meaning inside parliamentary institutions. The mace became associated with the authority of Parliament and, more specifically, the authority of the Speaker and the House.
Kenya’s Parliament explains it rather plainly: the Mace is a symbol of parliamentary authority. The National Assembly’s Standing Orders go further, stating that the Mace “embodies the authority of the Speaker and the House” and that it must be kept in safe custody by the Serjeant-at-Arms.
That means the object sitting inside the chamber is not simply decoration but represents the authority under which Parliament conducts its business.
The Serjeant-at-Arms has the responsibility of protecting it and carrying it during the Speaker’s procession into the chamber. In other words, the mace is a physical representation of something that cannot itself be touched: the authority of the House.
Kenya’s mace is older than the current Parliament
The other reason the mace matters is because it is part of Kenya’s parliamentary history.
The country’s parliamentary mace tradition dates back to 1958, when the Speaker of the Legislative Council, Cavendish Bentinck, received the first mace from the Crown Prince. That was during the colonial period, years before Kenya became independent.
The tradition therefore predates the Republic of Kenya itself. It survived the transition from colonial rule to independence and became part of the parliamentary traditions of the independent country.
This is not unique to Kenya. Maces are used in legislatures around the world and are rooted in the old British parliamentary tradition. Kenya’s own Parliament explains that the mace evolved from the emblem of the Serjeant-at-Arms into a recognised symbol of the authority of the House and the Speaker.
So when you see the mace being carried into Parliament, you are watching a tradition that has travelled through centuries of parliamentary history.
Which brings us back to June 25, 2024
The timing is what made the incident so extraordinary. The country was in the middle of the Gen Z-led protests against the Finance Bill, 2024.
On June 25, protesters breached the parliamentary compound after lawmakers passed the controversial Finance Bill. The scenes inside and around Parliament became some of the most dramatic of the demonstrations. And among the objects photographed in the hands of protesters was the mace.
People posed with it and photographs spread across social media. The symbolism almost wrote itself.
The protesters had entered the institution that was supposed to represent them and now they were carrying away one of its most recognizable symbols. It was also a moment that came amid a much wider and increasingly uncomfortable conversation about violence, accountability and the relationship between ordinary Kenyans and the institutions meant to protect them. We explored that wider pattern in our earlier look at Kenya’s growing culture of violence and the question of whether these tragedies are really as random as they appear.
It was almost as if the protest had physically turned the hierarchy upside down.
The people were no longer outside Parliament looking in….. they were inside, holding the symbol of Parliament’s authority.
The next part of the story is where things become particularly interesting. According to the then speaker, the object carried away by the protesters was not the actual ceremonial mace used by the House but a dummy (i guess we will never truly know whether this was true or not.)
Contemporary reporting described the object taken during the occupation as a replica, while the real mace remained secure.
If indeed this is true, that distinction matters. Because by then, the internet had already done what it does best.
There were claims that Kenya had lost its precious parliamentary mace. There was speculation about its value, and even disturbing rumors circulating online about the people photographed with it (story for another day).
What protesters had taken was a dummy – allegedly – yet the symbolism did not disappear with that clarification. If anything, it became more complicated.
Why did taking a dummy still matter?
Because symbols don’t have to be the original thing to carry meaning. It is as simple as that really.
The same way a national flag is a piece of cloth but burning one can provoke outrage. And how the presidential seal is just but an image but placing it somewhere it does not belong can carry political meaning. In that same vein, a parliamentary mace is an ornate object, but its importance comes from what it represents.
That is why the photograph of a protester carrying the dummy mace resonated so strongly.
The person holding it was not literally carrying away the constitutional authority of Parliament. But they were carrying away the symbol of that authority at the exact moment Parliament itself had been physically occupied.
That made the photograph far more powerful than the value of the object because of how it captured the mood of the day.
So, was the real mace ever missing?
According to the explanation given at the time, no. The real ceremonial mace was kept secure but the confusion came from the fact that the object photographed outside the chamber looked sufficiently like the real thing to be mistaken for it.
That is why the phrase “Parliament’s mace was stolen” became so widespread.
And like i have already stated up there, we will never really know the truth.
What happened to the dummy?
Or, more specifically, where is it?
This is perhaps the least satisfying part of the story. Despite the dramatic images, there does not appear to be a clear, publicly documented account establishing that the dummy mace was later recovered. That is something worth separating from the rumours that circulated immediately after the protests.
Social media was filled with claims about what happened to protesters photographed carrying objects from Parliament. Some of those claims were extraordinarily serious, but they were not established by reliable evidence. So it would be irresponsible to fill the gap with speculation.
What we can say with certainity though, is that the public record does not give us a definitive recovery story for the replica. Where is it? Perhaps that is why the story still feels unfinished.
Does Parliament still have a mace?
The answer is Yes. There is no indication that the National Assembly lost its ceremonial mace as a result of the 2024 incident.
In fact, Parliament’s current Standing Orders continue to contain a specific provision titled “The Mace.” They state that it embodies the authority of the Speaker and the House and that it is to remain in the safe custody of the Serjeant-at-Arms.
Parliament’s description of the Serjeant-at-Arms also continues to identify custody and protection of the mace as one of the officer’s responsibilities.
Which makes this whole story so fascinating. Look again at that image from June 25.
A protester is carrying what appears to be the authority of Parliament out through the doors of Parliament itself. At first glance, it looks like a theft. A lot of noise is made about it, and many people wonder why all the fuss. The next day the national assembly speaker claims it was a dummy. And then you learn what the mace represents. Suddenly the photograph becomes something else. Replica or not, the symbolism was glaring.
Perhaps, that is why a seemingly ordinary ceremonial object became one of the most memorable images of Kenya’s 2024 protests.
The real mace might have been allegedly safe, but the symbolism was not.
