In Kenya, where press freedom is delicate, often contingent on political and economic conditions, the creation of an entirely new legal framework for KFCB is more likely to entrench censorship than cushion restrictions on film initiatives.
By Adedamola Jones Adedayo
With effect from 4th March 2026, the Kenya Film Classification Board (KFCB), a regulatory body for film under the Ministry of Youth Affairs, Creative Economy and Sports in the Republic of Kenya, established under the Films and Stage Plays Act, opened a three-month window for films released in the country from 2018 to date to be duly classified by the Board. Also, every filmmaker has been reminded, in a public notice, to procure a licence from the Board before commencing any film project in the country.
This notice is in line with Section 4 of the Act, which prohibits the making of a film within Kenya for public exhibition or sale either within or outside Kenya except under and in accordance with the terms and conditions of a duly issued filming licence. To obtain a filming licence, Section 5 of the Act requires that filmmakers submit a full description of the scenes and the full text of the spoken parts of the film which is to be made, even where part of the film is to be made outside Kenya. This also includes, as may be required, English translations for non-English titles, subtitles, texts, descriptions, synopses or other non-English parts of the film.
Further provisions under Sections 12 to 14 of the Act require that films to be distributed, exhibited, or broadcast must first be examined—for the purpose of classification—and approved by the Board. A filmmaker, exhibitor, or distributor seeking approval for their film or poster must submit the entire film along with a copy of every poster or other advertisement intended to be publicly displayed (including, if required by the Board, a detailed description of the visual and verbal content in the film or poster, as well as English translations for non-English films and posters).
While Section 12 sets down general requirements for every film to be examined and issued a certificate of approval before exhibition or distribution, certain film genres are exempted. These exceptions are educational documentaries approved by the Kenya Institute of Education, and films meant for use in the medical field, neither of which necessarily has to meet certificate requirements. Even so, the Board maintains strict oversight to ensure overall compliance.
Films that fail to comply with the KFCB’s latest directive before the expiration of the notice period will not be allowed to show in public, and any contravention will be lawfully treated. This means offending filmmakers will be unable to monetise their works as they face possible content proscription or any other punishment deemed fit by the Board.
According to Section 32 of the Act: “Any person who is guilty of an offence under this Act shall be liable to a fine not exceeding one hundred thousand shillings or to imprisonment for a term not exceeding five years or to both such fine and imprisonment.”
Regulation of content production and distribution in the Kenyan film industry, as with other industries in the country and elsewhere, is necessary to protect, as the Board puts it, “Kenya’s culture and national values” and curb the spread of immoral or unethical content that could corrupt consumers, most especially children classified as “vulnerable sections of the society”. The Act, as it were, provides the KFCB with rules to play by in handling not only “film” in the strict sense but also other audiovisual content.
Reminders like the KFCB’s notice gesture towards a sense of structure. They suggest a body that is committed to guiding content responsibly, setting standards and promoting accountability in the industry. What the Board, however, turns a blind eye to are the failings of the Act by which it functions.
The Problem with the Films and Stage Plays Act
The Film and Stage Plays Act of Kenya (officially the Films and Stage Plays Act, Cap. 222) was assented to on 22nd November 1962 and became effective from 1st October 1963, over two months before the country gained independence.
Although the Act has seen minor amendments and subsidiary legislation over the decades to continually redefine the powers of the Kenya Film Classification Board (KFCB), it still bears a distinctly colonial imprint, having originated under the British administration of Sir Evelyn Baring (1952–1959).
As a result, the foundational wiring of the Act to suit the draconian moral, political and social codes of the British colonial administration persist, and they continue to reflect in how the KFCB approaches film approval, using authoritarian and rigid parameters that quell freedom of expression and artistic creation ordinarily guaranteed under Section 33(1)(b) of the Constitution of Kenya, 2010. In 2020, significant amendments to the Act were initially proposed through the Statute Law (Miscellaneous Amendments) Bill of 2020, which sought to repeal Section 16 of the Act amidst other regulatory undertakings, but they were later withdrawn.
Certain provisions of the Act encourage the KFCB’s arbitrary use of power and stifle creative licence in a manner reminiscent of colonial film censorship. While Section 4, for instance, mandates that filmmakers engage with the Board beforehand, it suggests a reality that may limit the extent to which they can experiment with ideas, as a government body determines what is permissible even before production begins.
Section 6 (1) of the Act states: “The licensing officer may, in his discretion, issue or refuse to issue a filming licence for which application has been made to him under this Act, or may issue it subject to the condition that a police officer of or above the rank of Inspector, or other person appointed for the purpose by the licensing officer, shall be present at the making of the film, and to such other conditions as he may think fit”.
This technically allows for abuse of power from a licensing officer in a manner injurious to creativity. It grants the officer a discretionary right to act as “he may think fit”, a law that does not seem to give the filmmaker a fair chance to possibly prevail over an unscrupulous licensing officer. This means that the licensing officer may resort to depriving the filmmaker of a licence, even if it is to settle personal scores, until, at least, an actual court of law says otherwise.
Building on Section 5, Section 7(1) introduces further problematic restraints: “When it is desired to make any material alteration or addition to the text, synopsis or scenes of a film which is set to be made and in respect of which a filming licence has been issued, the holder of the licence shall apply in writing to the licensing officer for permission to make the alteration or addition…” This stipulation is not only outdated and restrictive, but it also strips filmmakers (producers and directors especially) of any real sense of agency over their projects, leaving them at the mercy of the Board even after securing a licence.
The problem with these laws isn’t just how they inflate the powers of the authorities, encourage undue politicisation or leave loopholes for systemic exploitation. It is also that they continue to exist in the punitive shadows of the colonial order, while the decentering of filmmakers, an injury to creativity, appears to matter little to a Board that claims to be concerned with their welfare.
KFCB’s Censorship: The Classic Case of Wanuri Kahiu’s Rafiki
The most recent and controversial case of the KFCB’s restrictive censorship involves Wanuri Kahiu’s Rafiki, a 2018 Kenyan drama film about a romantic relationship involving two women in Kenya. The film stars Samantha Mugatsia as Kena and Sheila Munyiva as Ziki, two young women who fall in love with each other, against all odds—their fathers’ political rivalry, community pressure, and conservative expectations on sexuality.
On 15th April 2018, Rafiki was officially announced as an official selection in the Un Certain Regard section of the Cannes Film Festival. This raised eyebrows in Kenya. Towards the end of the month, the KFCB placed a ban on the film for its depiction of homosexuality and lesbianism, which they claimed defied Kenyan laws and cultural values.
However, since the selection was already announced before the ban, it did not stop the film from making its Cannes premiere a month later, becoming the first Kenyan feature film ever selected for screening at the festival.
When it was time to try its luck for the Academy Awards, an eligibility problem arose. For a film to be considered in the International Feature Film category of the Oscars, it must have had a theatrical run in its home country for a minimum of seven consecutive days. Due to the KFCB ban, Rafiki could not be shown in Kenyan cinemas.
The filmmaker Kahiu challenged the ban in the High Court of Kenya, successfully securing a seven-day temporary ban lift, which made it possible to show the film in the local theatres. Unfortunately, the film did not make Kenya’s official entry for the 2019 Oscars.
On 26th April 2020, the High Court reinstated the ban through a judgment that affirmed that the KFCB’s initial decision was constitutional and appropriate, marking a setback in artistic freedom, especially as it involves the acknowledgement and protection of the LGBTQ community.
The latest ruling came through the Court of Appeal in January 2026, exactly seven years and nine months after the KFCB ban. While the Court acknowledged the film classification and censorship framework, including limitations that may come to freedom of expression when it compromises child expectation, public morality and culture preservation, it ultimately favoured Rafiki, in accordance with Article 33 of the Constitution, holding the KFCB’s ban to be unconstitutional and disproportionate. Key rulings included a reversal of absolute film bans and outright limitation on the Board’s censorship powers.
The Rafiki-KFCB situation became a landmark case because the domestic ban arrived after the film gained prominence on the world stage, calling attention to the conflict between local and international creative realities and expectations. It also highlighted how much of a disservice the KFCB’s high-handedness, backed by a retrograde Film and Stage Plays Act, could do to Kenya’s creative economy and international image.
As it stands, a filmmaker who intends to make a film like Rafiki may struggle to obtain a filming licence in the first place, let alone achieve the international recognition that made the Rafiki ban so visible.
It is no coincidence that the KFCB’s directive is coming after the victory of Rafiki, particularly with the Board’s emphasis on films released since 2018, when Kahiu’s film first became a controversial subject. Indeed, the directive could be interpreted as the Board’s attempt to reassert its authority and quietly push back against an unprecedented judgment that seemed to question its censorship powers.
Recommendations?
The KFCB’s three-month deadline for licensing and classification may appear to be a reaffirmation of the Board’s administrative obligation. This also brings light to the prevalence of deep-rooted political issues assailing the regulatory framework of the Kenyan film industry. If the Board wants its regulatory oversight to remain respected, it has to work towards unique legislation rather than relying on a colonial playbook that has overstayed its welcome.
However, in Kenya, where press freedom is delicate, often contingent on political and economic conditions, the creation of an entirely new legal framework for KFCB is more likely to entrench censorship than cushion restrictions on film initiatives.
Since ascending to power in 2022, President William Ruto’s administration has been marked by allegations of police indiscretion and brutality, alongside an intolerance for public criticisms and a discernible anti-media stance. This is evidenced by incidents such as the October 2022 murder of Pakistani journalist Arshad Sharif; the June 2024 shooting of youth protesters at Nairobi’s Parliament during demonstrations against the 2024 Finance Bill, later documented in BBC Africa Eye’s Blood Parliament; and the March 2025 police violence directed at four Kenyan journalists during a demonstration.
A comprehensive reform of the Films and Stage Plays Act is required to create a framework that navigates regulatory oversight and artistic liberty. But this action cannot be taken in isolation, without recourse to the socio-political realities of contemporary Kenya.
In a society where art and media engagements are often subject to the whims of the government, it is difficult to trust that laws will be crafted solely to protect the interests of creatives without ulterior motives. The case of Rafiki has revealed how existing regulations can be utilised to curtail the spread of progressive and eclectic values, which then becomes detrimental to the development of Kenya’s creative economy.
The Kenyan government must first engender an atmosphere conducive to free media and artistic expression. This includes promoting press freedom, safeguarding the rights of filmmakers and performers and encouraging the exploration of diverse social, cultural and political narratives without fear of retribution. It is only in these circumstances that film reforms can genuinely serve both public interest and the creative community.
Adedamola Adedayo is a film journalist and critic with a special interest in African cinema. Through writing and audiovisual mediums, he creates conversations around cinema in Africa and the Diaspora. You can find him on Instagram @jonesthegoodboy and X on AdedamolaAdeda4.