When protesters in Nairobi and other major towns took to the streets on June 25, 2025, their actions extended beyond chanting slogans and facing police barricades. Public sculptures — once seen as neutral city ornaments — became immediate targets. The removal and damage of these installations wasn’t mindless rage; it was a direct, calculated extension of public discontent.

The symbolic weight of these sculptures made them unavoidable flashpoints. In a moment where government legitimacy was being questioned, monuments erected or protected under its name became fair game for the fury of the streets.

Preventive Destruction: When Protesters Act Before Mobs Do

In several areas, including roundabouts, parks, and central business districts, sculptures were either dismantled or removed by groups claiming to defend them from more dangerous elements. Protesters, aware that criminal gangs often infiltrate mass actions, sometimes acted preemptively — taking down or covering sculptures before they could be desecrated.

This form of “protective vandalism” might appear contradictory, but within the chaotic energy of demonstrations, it served a real function. Protesters recognized that sculptures had become soft targets — susceptible not only to symbolic wrath but also opportunistic destruction.

Sculptures as Symbols of Government Disconnect

Certain public artworks, particularly those associated with political figures or historical narratives, were perceived as hollow symbols of a government seen as aloof, corrupt, or oppressive. The monuments no longer reflected pride or unity — they reflected betrayal. By targeting these structures, protesters were not simply defacing property; they were rejecting what those sculptures represented.

Statues once unveiled with fanfare — lions outside county offices, athlete busts in parks, political figure memorials — stood as visual reminders of what the government prioritized: self-glorification, not public service. Their removal echoed the chants that filled the streets — a rejection of vanity in the face of poverty and neglect.

Public Art Turned Protest Tools

Some sculptures were not destroyed but re-appropriated. Protesters used them as platforms — draping banners, chaining coffins to their bases, painting them with protest slogans. These acts transformed static art into dynamic protest icons.

The Tom Mboya statue in the Nairobi CBD, for example, became a powerful focal point. Protesters surrounded it with placards and visual symbols of mourning. In other towns, similar statues were turned into stages of grief, resistance, and sometimes satire — repurposing what was once state-owned symbolism into instruments of rebellion.

The Larger Meaning: Identity and Ownership of Public Space

Ultimately, the removal of Nairobi’s sculptures during protests reveals a deeper tension in the urban public space — a clash between official narratives and citizen identity. The sculptures, while visually imposing, had long ceased to reflect the will or pride of the people. Their fate during the demonstrations served as a reflection of a population reclaiming the right to define its own symbols.

Public art, in this context, was never neutral. It was always political. And in the crucible of civil unrest, every statue became a question — Who put this here? Who does it serve? And in that reckoning, some fell, others were hidden, and a few were transformed.