Kenya’s new Gambling Control Act, 2025 is supposed to rein in a multibillion-shilling industry that has long operated in the shadows. Yet the Act, as reviewed by , comes off as a blend of control, moral policing, and red tape. Buried deep in Section 10(d) is one of its most startling ideas, which proposes tying gambling to national social welfare.
The clause gives the newly created Gambling Regulatory Authority (GRA) power to “develop policies for placing of bet for betting, lotteries and gambling that include a savings component for social health insurance or social retirement benefit.” This means that every wager could carry a built-in deduction meant to fund health or pension savings.
But the Act offers no clarity on how such deductions would work, who would manage the funds, or whether gamblers themselves would have a say. The law leaves those questions to the GRA, which will now sit at the centre of all gambling activity in the country.
The thinking behind Section 10(d) appears to be that gambling, which has long been viewed as socially harmful, should somehow contribute to the community. Yet the idea of forcing gamblers to fund national health or retirement schemes raises serious questions about purpose and enforcement.
Would operators be responsible for deducting and remitting the money? How would it be tracked across thousands of daily online bets? None of that is defined.
Mike Olukoye, a legal analyst who spoke to , views this clause as an example of what happens when “public morality and economic regulation are merged without a clear policy foundation.”
“It blurs the line between taxation and social engineering. While other countries tax gambling proceeds to fund social programs, Kenya’s law takes an unusual route by attempting to turn the bet itself into a ‘savings instrument’,” Oscar Mauti, another legal expert, told on Tuesday.
“The thinking behind Section 10(d) appears to be that gambling, which has long been viewed as socially harmful, should somehow contribute to the community. Yet the idea of forcing gamblers to fund national health or retirement schemes raises serious questions about purpose and enforcement.”
The expanding state hand
In the past, the Betting Control and Licensing Board oversaw the activities of the industry. The Gambling Control Act is replacing the board with the GRA, a new entity with sweeping powers. The GRA can licence, investigate, suspend, and revoke any operator’s permit; inspect premises without prior notice; and monitor every transaction in real-time.
Section 10(h) directs it to build a “central electronic gambling monitoring system” that tracks compliance and links to the Kenya Revenue Authority for tax oversight. Every betting transaction, payout, and jackpot can be observed, “raising concerns about privacy and data protection,” according to Mauti.
This level of control may sound efficient, but it risks creating a surveillance state around private recreation. It also puts significant discretionary power in the hands of a single regulator, one that can issue, revoke, or freeze operations at will, according to the two analysts.
Barriers that favour the rich
Under Section 29, every gambling company must have at least 30% Kenyan ownership and keep all its accounts within local banks. The intention is to promote local participation, but in practice, it creates structural barriers for global firms and smaller local entrants.
More troubling are the financial requirements under the Third Schedule. Online operators and national lotteries must post security bonds of up to KES 100 million ($774,000) before obtaining a licence. Casinos must deposit a minimum of KES 20 million ($155,000). These sums are beyond the reach of most small or mid-sized firms, effectively handing the market to a few well-funded players.
Industry lawyers refer to this as a “de facto exclusion clause,” which effectively eliminates the informal market without providing a clear pathway for compliance.
Kenya’s gambling market is one of Sub-Saharan Africa’s largest, heavily dominated by mobile sports betting due to high smartphone and M-PESA penetration, with over 80% of adults reportedly participating in betting. The market is projected to generate approximately $831.80 million in revenue by 2025 and is a significant source of government tax revenue, with collections surpassing KES 13 billion in August 2025 alone.
Estimates suggest that over 10 million active users spend over KES 2 billion daily.
Winning from betting has dropped, according to Mike Tinega, who has been placing bets since 2014. He said odds have shifted and payout rates have changed. Operators cut payouts after a period of higher taxes. Additionally, excise duty on betting stakes rose from 7.5% to 15%. It was later reduced to 5% in June.
Harsh penalties
The Act introduces a level of criminalisation that seems out of step with its stated aim of responsible regulation. Operating without a licence, failing to file accounts, or even making a false declaration in an application can attract fines running into tens of millions of shillings or imprisonment for up to 20 years.
Advertising is even riskier. Section 87 bans the use of celebrities, athletes, or “lifestyle imagery” in gambling promotion and restricts sponsorship of sports teams. Violations carry the same 20-year penalty, similar to serious felony charges. Even legitimate ads must devote 20% of their airtime to responsible gambling messages, a rule likely to make most advertising financially impractical.
In Kenya, billboards and TV spots pair football, friendship, and easy wins; young fans cheering and cash prizes flashing across screens.
A PR executive at one of Nairobi’s advertising agencies, who wished to remain anonymous so he could speak freely, said that they use celebrities and athletes to promote betting brands, but the new law ends all that. It bans the use of public figures or scenes that link gambling to success or excitement.
“The industry is leaning on celebrities and social media influencers to push betting products across platforms used daily by under-25s,’ the executive said. “We use the same promotional tactics to market alcohol and tobacco.”
“Estimates suggest that over 10 million active users spend over KES 2 billion daily.”
Counties no longer have authority
Although the Constitution assigns betting and gaming to county governments, the Act strips most of that autonomy away. Counties can issue trade permits for physical premises but must follow national policy and consult the Authority on almost every decision.
They cannot licence online operations or cross-county lotteries. They also lack control over investigations, machine approvals, or player protection standards. In effect, the Authority now dominates both the national and county level, which renders local regulators as mere administrative extensions.
Player surveillance and restrictions
Online players must register verified accounts, deposit through approved local banks, and meet minimum bet thresholds set by the Authority. Operators are barred from offering credit, bonuses, or inducements.
Inactive accounts must be reported and, after five years, their balances transferred to the Unclaimed Financial Assets Authority. Every operator is required to keep records of each player’s deposits and withdrawals.
This creates an extensive data trail that merges financial, behavioural, and personal information in a single system. The Data Protection Act offers some safeguards, but the Act gives the regulator vast discretion to access and share this information “for compliance purposes.”
The Gambling Control Act tries to sanitise an industry seen as morally suspect and fiscally undisciplined. But instead of building modern oversight tools and harm-reduction programs, it reaches for control and punishment.
Section 10(d)’s “savings for health or retirement” idea illustrates that confusion. Rather than promoting financial literacy or voluntary saving among bettors, the law imposes a vague, mandatory contribution mechanism that neither safeguards player welfare nor ensures proper fund management.
Experts argue that if the government wants gambling to contribute to social protection, it should use transparent tax mechanisms, like hypothecated levies on profits, rather than changing personal wagers into welfare tools.
The rest of the Act follows a similar logic: criminal penalties are used where administrative enforcement would suffice, surveillance is employed where data audits could be effective, and moral restrictions are applied where simple consumer protection would be sufficient.
