I have always believed that the safety of a nation is not built in the guarded halls of government agencies alone. Too often, when we talk about national security, our minds jump straight to soldiers in camouflage, intelligence officers poring over classified files, or police units in tactical gear.
We imagine security as something “they” do — somewhere far away, in secret rooms, or on distant battlefields. The media fuels this picture, showing counterterrorism raids, high-tech surveillance systems, and rapid-response teams as the main actors in keeping a country safe.
But living in Kenya — and observing events both in Africa and abroad — has taught me that the reality is far more complex. In our time, the threats facing nations are varied and unpredictable: homegrown extremists radicalized online, cybercriminals stealing information with a single click, cross-border smuggling that funds terrorism, and even natural disasters that disrupt entire communities overnight. In all these cases, the first line of defense is not an elite force hidden somewhere — it is the ordinary citizen. It is you and me.
This is not a motivational slogan; it is the hard truth of modern security strategy. In the United States, for example, the Department of Homeland Security runs the “If You See Something, Say Something” campaign, reminding people to report suspicious activity. Many of America’s most successful counterterrorism operations began with a simple tip from a concerned neighbor, a co-worker, or even a passenger on a bus or subway. I have seen the same principle at work in Kenya: when a vigilant resident near the Somalia border notices strangers moving suspicious cargo at night and alerts authorities, lives are saved.
Security agencies cannot be everywhere at once. They cannot watch every street corner, follow every social media post, or predict every possible disaster. But they can partner with citizens — with people who are alert, informed, and willing to speak up. In that partnership, the citizen becomes the first sensor, the one who spots unusual patterns, picks up early warning signs, and shares critical information before an incident spiral out of control.
The need for such vigilance has only grown. Lone-wolf attackers — individuals who act without direct support from terrorist organizations — are especially difficult to detect. Cybercriminals often rely on ordinary people making small mistakes: clicking a malicious link, using weak passwords, or ignoring warning signs. And when disasters strike — from Hurricane Katrina in the United States to the 2023 floods in Kenya — it is often neighbors, local volunteers, and small business owners who act first, long before any official help arrives.
I am convinced of one central truth: national security does not begin with government agencies; it begins with the citizens. The rest of this book will explore that truth — drawing from history, real-world case studies, and lessons learned from both Kenya and beyond — to show that ordinary people are not passive beneficiaries of safety. They are active contributors to it.
This idea is not new. History is full of moments when the ordinary person played an extraordinary role in protecting their community. For example, during the Second World War, the United States depended on civilians for civil defense. Volunteers patrolled neighborhoods during blackout drills, ensuring no lights could guide enemy bombers. Families grew “Victory Gardens or War Gardens” to reduce pressure on public food supplies. Scrap metal, rubber, and paper were collected for the war effort. These acts were not just symbolic — they were strategic contributions that supported national survival.
The same spirit lived on during the Cold War. Communities practiced air-raid drills, and local amateur radio operators kept emergency communications alive. These measures might seem outdated now, but they carry a timeless message: when ordinary people are trained and involved, the whole nation becomes more resilient.
After the September 11 attacks in the U.S., this partnership between citizens and the state became even more structured. Programs like Citizen Corps and the Neighborhood Watch integrated local volunteers into emergency preparedness.
In one unforgettable incident in 2001, passengers aboard American Airlines Flight 63 overpowered the “shoe bomber,” Richard Reid, before he could detonate explosives hidden in his footwear. That day, unarmed civilians became the decisive factor between life and death.
Around the world, similar examples abound. In Britain during the Blitz, civilians acted as rooftop firewatchers, scanning for and extinguishing incendiary bombs. In Israel, community-based security squads often respond to terror incidents before police arrive. In Kenya, during periods of heightened tension along the Somalia border, local elders and community leaders have sometimes been the first to alert authorities about strangers who could be Al-Shabaab operatives moving through rural areas. These examples remind us: without the citizens involvement, government orders, resources, and strategies are limited in power.
Today’s threats move faster and strike from more directions than ever before. And this demands a swift response that can only be provided by nearby citizens. For instance. during the 2023 Maui wildfires in Hawaii, residents with small boats ferried stranded people to safety. Shop owners gave away water and food while official aid was still hours away. This reminded me of scenes from Kenya’s own natural disasters, like when locals in Budalang’i rescued flood victims using makeshift rafts long before the National Disaster Operations Centre could mobilize and respond.
Even in cyberspace, the principle is the same. The massive SolarWinds cyberattack in the U.S. proved that sophisticated state-sponsored hackers could breach multiple agencies through one software update. But in smaller incidents, such as phishing scams or fraudulent donation campaigns, citizens are often the first to spot suspicious activity. Choosing to report these attempts — instead of ignoring them — can save countless others from being exploited.
In 2023 in Las Vegas, an alert hotel employee saw a guest bringing an unusually large amount of ammunition and gun cases into a room. His report triggered a police intervention that prevented what could have been another mass shooting. The 2017 Las Vegas massacre might have repeated itself, but for one observant citizen it was thwarted.
In Kenya, similar vigilance matters even more in border towns like Mandera, Garissa, and Lamu, where terrorist infiltration is a constant risk. Smuggling routes, fake identification documents, and corrupt border officials can all open doors to dangerous actors — but communities that know their neighbors, recognize unusual movements, and speak up can close those doors before tragedy walks in.
All the past security threats point out one truth: the citizen is the first line of defense. Therefore, partnership between the public and security agencies is important. Citizens must observe, interpret, and act on warning signs; agencies must ensure reporting channels are clear, whistleblowers are protected, and civil liberties are respected. Without this trust, hesitation and fear will slow the response, and lives may be lost.
I am asking you — as my fellow Kenyan, African, and global citizen — to take this role seriously. Learn the signs of suspicious activity. Be informed about the threats that matter to your community. Protect yourself online with strong digital habits. Take part in community preparedness. Report concerns through the right channels.
Security begins with you — not as a slogan, but as a way of life. The person who notices an unattended bag, questions a strange email, or checks on a neighbor during a flood is doing more than a good deed. They are performing an act of national service. In an unpredictable world, the vigilant citizen is not just part of the solution — they are the cornerstone of it.
We imagine security as something “they” do — somewhere far away, in secret rooms, or on distant battlefields. The media fuels this picture, showing counterterrorism raids, high-tech surveillance systems, and rapid-response teams as the main actors in keeping a country safe.
But living in Kenya — and observing events both in Africa and abroad — has taught me that the reality is far more complex. In our time, the threats facing nations are varied and unpredictable: homegrown extremists radicalized online, cybercriminals stealing information with a single click, cross-border smuggling that funds terrorism, and even natural disasters that disrupt entire communities overnight. In all these cases, the first line of defense is not an elite force hidden somewhere — it is the ordinary citizen. It is you and me.
This is not a motivational slogan; it is the hard truth of modern security strategy. In the United States, for example, the Department of Homeland Security runs the “If You See Something, Say Something” campaign, reminding people to report suspicious activity. Many of America’s most successful counterterrorism operations began with a simple tip from a concerned neighbor, a co-worker, or even a passenger on a bus or subway. I have seen the same principle at work in Kenya: when a vigilant resident near the Somalia border notices strangers moving suspicious cargo at night and alerts authorities, lives are saved.
Security agencies cannot be everywhere at once. They cannot watch every street corner, follow every social media post, or predict every possible disaster. But they can partner with citizens — with people who are alert, informed, and willing to speak up. In that partnership, the citizen becomes the first sensor, the one who spots unusual patterns, picks up early warning signs, and shares critical information before an incident spiral out of control.
The need for such vigilance has only grown. Lone-wolf attackers — individuals who act without direct support from terrorist organizations — are especially difficult to detect. Cybercriminals often rely on ordinary people making small mistakes: clicking a malicious link, using weak passwords, or ignoring warning signs. And when disasters strike — from Hurricane Katrina in the United States to the 2023 floods in Kenya — it is often neighbors, local volunteers, and small business owners who act first, long before any official help arrives.
I am convinced of one central truth: national security does not begin with government agencies; it begins with the citizens. The rest of this book will explore that truth — drawing from history, real-world case studies, and lessons learned from both Kenya and beyond — to show that ordinary people are not passive beneficiaries of safety. They are active contributors to it.
This idea is not new. History is full of moments when the ordinary person played an extraordinary role in protecting their community. For example, during the Second World War, the United States depended on civilians for civil defense. Volunteers patrolled neighborhoods during blackout drills, ensuring no lights could guide enemy bombers. Families grew “Victory Gardens or War Gardens” to reduce pressure on public food supplies. Scrap metal, rubber, and paper were collected for the war effort. These acts were not just symbolic — they were strategic contributions that supported national survival.
The same spirit lived on during the Cold War. Communities practiced air-raid drills, and local amateur radio operators kept emergency communications alive. These measures might seem outdated now, but they carry a timeless message: when ordinary people are trained and involved, the whole nation becomes more resilient.
After the September 11 attacks in the U.S., this partnership between citizens and the state became even more structured. Programs like Citizen Corps and the Neighborhood Watch integrated local volunteers into emergency preparedness.
In one unforgettable incident in 2001, passengers aboard American Airlines Flight 63 overpowered the “shoe bomber,” Richard Reid, before he could detonate explosives hidden in his footwear. That day, unarmed civilians became the decisive factor between life and death.
Around the world, similar examples abound. In Britain during the Blitz, civilians acted as rooftop firewatchers, scanning for and extinguishing incendiary bombs. In Israel, community-based security squads often respond to terror incidents before police arrive. In Kenya, during periods of heightened tension along the Somalia border, local elders and community leaders have sometimes been the first to alert authorities about strangers who could be Al-Shabaab operatives moving through rural areas. These examples remind us: without the citizens involvement, government orders, resources, and strategies are limited in power.
Today’s threats move faster and strike from more directions than ever before. And this demands a swift response that can only be provided by nearby citizens. For instance. during the 2023 Maui wildfires in Hawaii, residents with small boats ferried stranded people to safety. Shop owners gave away water and food while official aid was still hours away. This reminded me of scenes from Kenya’s own natural disasters, like when locals in Budalang’i rescued flood victims using makeshift rafts long before the National Disaster Operations Centre could mobilize and respond.
Even in cyberspace, the principle is the same. The massive SolarWinds cyberattack in the U.S. proved that sophisticated state-sponsored hackers could breach multiple agencies through one software update. But in smaller incidents, such as phishing scams or fraudulent donation campaigns, citizens are often the first to spot suspicious activity. Choosing to report these attempts — instead of ignoring them — can save countless others from being exploited.
In 2023 in Las Vegas, an alert hotel employee saw a guest bringing an unusually large amount of ammunition and gun cases into a room. His report triggered a police intervention that prevented what could have been another mass shooting. The 2017 Las Vegas massacre might have repeated itself, but for one observant citizen it was thwarted.
In Kenya, similar vigilance matters even more in border towns like Mandera, Garissa, and Lamu, where terrorist infiltration is a constant risk. Smuggling routes, fake identification documents, and corrupt border officials can all open doors to dangerous actors — but communities that know their neighbors, recognize unusual movements, and speak up can close those doors before tragedy walks in.
All the past security threats point out one truth: the citizen is the first line of defense. Therefore, partnership between the public and security agencies is important. Citizens must observe, interpret, and act on warning signs; agencies must ensure reporting channels are clear, whistleblowers are protected, and civil liberties are respected. Without this trust, hesitation and fear will slow the response, and lives may be lost.
I am asking you — as my fellow Kenyan, African, and global citizen — to take this role seriously. Learn the signs of suspicious activity. Be informed about the threats that matter to your community. Protect yourself online with strong digital habits. Take part in community preparedness. Report concerns through the right channels.
Security begins with you — not as a slogan, but as a way of life. The person who notices an unattended bag, questions a strange email, or checks on a neighbor during a flood is doing more than a good deed. They are performing an act of national service. In an unpredictable world, the vigilant citizen is not just part of the solution — they are the cornerstone of it.
