In Kenya’s always-online economy, where a boda boda rider can livestream his ride to a client and an avocado farmer in Murang’a checks market prices on TikTok, a new legislative proposal on internet meter has sparked a digital uproar: Should Kenyans start paying for the internet the way they pay for electricity and water — by the unit?
That’s the idea behind the Kenya Information and Communications (Amendment) Bill, 2025, sponsored by Marianne Kitany, MP for Aldai. At the heart of the Bill lies a seemingly simple question: is it time to install meters on Kenya’s internet?
Under Kitany’s proposal, all internet service providers (ISPs) would be required to adopt a metered billing system. Each user would be assigned a unique “internet meter number,” enabling service providers to monitor consumption, generate itemized invoices, and — ideally — protect users from arbitrary billing. In short: you pay for what you use, megabyte by megabyte.
But while the proposed law aims to bring “transparency” and “consumer protection” to the digital economy, critics argue it risks introducing a kind of bureaucratic absurdity — a state-sanctioned spreadsheet for every TikTok scroll and Netflix binge.
Why Now?
Indeed, the Bill positions the internet not as an unmetered stream of modern life, but as a measurable utility — one that, like power or gas, can be quantified, audited, and, yes, taxed accordingly. It also subtly expands the definition of a “telecommunications operator” under Kenyan law to explicitly include ISPs — a legal tidying-up that paves the way for greater regulatory reach.
The Communications Authority of Kenya (CA) would oversee the new regime, receiving annual data dumps from ISPs — including lists of subscribers’ internet meter numbers and usage records. And lest ISPs be tempted to fudge the numbers, non-compliance would carry penalties of up to Sh5 million.
But here’s where the benign absurdity begins.
While meter billing sounds rational — even equitable — it clashes with the logic of modern internet usage. The global trend, especially in developing digital economies, has been toward flat-rate pricing or bundled services. Think: unlimited YouTube streaming on mobile plans, subsidized WhatsApp bundles, or monthly fibre connections without data caps.
Under the proposed law, however, ISPs would need to design metering systems capable of not only tracking raw data usage but converting that usage into readable “details” — a charmingly vague requirement that has left many ISPs scratching their heads.
“Do they want us to itemize each click? Should we charge differently for Facebook versus Zoom? Or just count the gigabytes?” asked one Nairobi-based ISP executive, requesting anonymity to avoid irritating regulators. “Next we’ll be asked to weigh packets by moral weight.”
Surveillance or Safeguard?
The metering clause is just one part of a broader legislative package that reads like an attempt to bring 20th-century order to a 21st-century mess. Alongside the meters, the Bill introduces new requirements for SIM card registration, age verification for social media access, and more rigorous controls over personal data.
To access WhatsApp, Instagram, or LinkedIn, users — both new and existing — would need to verify their age using Kenya’s national ID system. Content and application service providers would be tasked with enforcing the checks, and mobile operators would need to ensure SIM card registrations align with them.
Kitany says the aim is to “safeguard children” and restore a modicum of responsibility to a chaotic online sphere. “The society as a whole,” the Bill declares, “is responsible for safeguarding the rights of children in their access and use of information, communication and technological products and services.”
The proposal echoes similar debates elsewhere — from India’s digital ID debates to the European Union’s sweeping Digital Services Act — but critics warn of unintended consequences.
“Requiring national ID verification for social media might lock out millions of young people from digital platforms they use for learning, earning, and expression,” warned a Kenyan digital rights advocate who asked not be named. “We need proportionate solutions, not blunt instruments.”
Metered Reality?
Still, the Bill is now before Parliament, and as Kenya prepares for 2025’s tech-heavy budget cycle, the conversation about how — and how much — Kenyans pay for connectivity is unlikely to go away.
Whether the internet becomes a metered commodity or remains an open stream, one thing is clear: lawmakers are watching your data habits. Maybe not every meme, but at least the monthly totals.
And in true Kenyan fashion, consumers will find a way to adapt — or, more likely, a creative workaround.
After all, if there’s one thing Nairobi excels at, it’s making bureaucracy dance to the beat of innovation.
