By Clement Wasike
Over the past couple of days, the media and more so social media platforms have been awash with impassioned debates about the betting industry, with hashtags like #BanBettingKE and #GambleResponsibly trending nationally.
The uproar follows viral stories of individuals allegedly losing life savings to sports betting, sparking calls for outright bans or draconian regulations.
Lost in the frenzy, however, is a nuanced truth: Kenya’s betting sector is not the lawless Wild West it’s being portrayed as. While personal tragedies linked to gambling deserve empathy, conflating individual choices with systemic failure risks obscuring facts and solutions.
Contrary to popular rhetoric, Kenya’s betting landscape is neither unregulated nor inherently predatory. The Betting Control and Licensing Board (BCLB) oversees the sector, enforcing strict guidelines under the Betting, Lotteries, and Gaming Act.
Licensed operators must comply with requirements such as age verification (18+), transparency in odds, and contributions to the Sports, Arts, and Social Development Fund.
Platforms like SportPesa, Betika, and Odibets display responsible gambling messages and offer self-exclusion tools, allowing users to voluntarily block their accounts.
In 2023 alone, the BCLB suspended 19 illegal betting sites, demonstrating on-going enforcement against rogue actors.
The narrative that “anyone can bet unchecked” is simply inaccurate. Like alcohol or credit, betting is a legal activity with safeguards, itself, a reality mirrored in regulated markets globally, from the UK to South Africa.
The hyperbolic portrayal of Kenya’s betting arena paints an image of individuals who bet as victims who are “forced to bet at gunpoint.”
This insults the intelligence of millions who engage responsibly. Betting, by definition, is voluntary. The industry’s growth, projected to hit Ksh. 500 billion in revenue by end of 2025, reflects demand, not duress.
To blame platforms for individual excess is akin to banning cars because of a case of a drunk driver running over a random pedestrian.
This is not to trivialize addiction. Problem gambling exists, affecting an estimated 3-5% of Kenyan bettors, according to the National Authority for the Campaign Against Alcohol and Drug Abuse (NACADA).
But mental health experts stress that addiction stems from complex factors: socio-economic pressures, lack of financial literacy, and escapism not merely access to betting apps. As Dr. Linda Ngunjiri, a Nairobi-based psychologist, notes: “Scapegoating betting ignores deeper issues. We need targeted interventions, not blanket vilification.”
Critics argue that Kenya’s betting culture is uniquely toxic. Data tells a different story. In the UK, where gambling is a Ksh. 15 trillion industry, 0.5% of adults face severe addiction lower than Kenya’s rate.
The difference? Robust support systems… Britain mandates operators to fund rehabilitation programmes and enforces spending limits via affordability checks.
Similarly, South Africa’s National Gambling Board couples regulation with public awareness campaigns on responsible play.
Kenya’s framework isn’t perfect, but it’s evolving. In 2022, the BCLB partnered with NACADA to launch a toll-free helpline (0800 022 119) for gambling addiction. Operators now contribute 0.5% of revenues to counselling services, a model other African nations are studying.
Beyond moral panic, the betting sector is a significant economic actor. It employs over 50,000 Kenyans directly and supports thousands more in IT, media, and logistics. Tax revenues from licensed firms hit Ksh 15 billion in 2023, funding sports infrastructure and youth programmes. For many, particularly in tech-savvy urban areas, betting is a harmless pastime—no different from buying a lottery ticket.
Yet, the industry’s critics, including religious leaders and some MPs, demand bans, citing “moral decay.” This stance ignores precedent. Prohibition of alcohol in the 1980s birthed a thriving illicit market. Similarly, banning betting would push users to unregulated offshore sites, exposing them to even greater risks.
The solution lies in balancing regulation with personal accountability. Strengthening existing laws, for example, stricter age checks, caps on daily bets can mitigate harm without infringing on freedoms. Concurrently, public education is critical. Schools and media must teach financial management, while families ought to address behavioural triggers early.
Most importantly, Kenyans must resist the urge to outsource responsibility. As Esther Mwende, a retail worker and occasional bettor, quips: “No one forces me to place a bet. If I lose, that’s on me. Let’s stop blaming apps for our choices.”
The current furore over betting reflects legitimate concerns but misdirected anger. Kenya’s industry is regulated, and millions engage without issue. Rather than demonizing a legal sector, let’s focus on empowering citizens to make informed choices—and support those struggling with addiction. As other nations show, responsible gambling isn’t an oxymoron. It’s achievable with maturity, not melodrama.
Clement Wasike is a former banker turned social critic and political commentator
