Only approximately 5 out of every 1,000 research projects succeed in reaching commercialization. This phenomenon, often referred to as the “valley of death,” describes the critical gap where promising scientific discoveries fail to transition from the laboratory to real-world impact, policy, or positive social change.
In Kenya and Africa at large, we have witnessed notable scientific discoveries, including Zipline, M-KOPA, and One Acre Fund. These are just a few examples of how research delivered critical technologies. But for each one of those successes, how many discoveries have we failed to bring to fruition? Very few innovations become new commercial products or services today. Even fewer are poised to address the public interest. Many technologies remain lab experiments that, even when they succeed in addressing technical or government needs, fail to become a generalized solution to address societal problems. Why is it that after all the effort we put into our research projects in university, after the sleepless nights, fieldwork, presentations, and emotional damage by our so-called supervisors, those ideas often end up gathering dust, going nowhere, and doing nothing?
Do you know that despite Kenya’s relatively strong research production capabilities, including a higher proportion of researchers per million population than some comparator countries and a robust intellectual property (IP) protection system with over 120 resident patent applications annually, a significant bottleneck exists in the translation of research into practical applications? Only approximately 5 out of every 1,000 research projects succeed in reaching commercialization. This phenomenon, often referred to as the “valley of death,” describes the critical gap where promising scientific discoveries fail to transition from the laboratory to real-world impact, policy, or positive social change.
What’s more troubling is that Kenya has treated research and development for commercialization like a side dish, occasionally acknowledged, rarely prioritized, and never given the main seat at the table. Why do we preach water yet drink wine? We speak of innovation and progress, yet fail to invest in the very systems that make it possible. We are like the builders in the Bible story of the house on sand, loud about innovation, job creation, and youth empowerment, but when the storms of real-world challenges come, our foundations collapse because we never truly invested in what matters.
In 2023, Kenya committed to spending 2% of its Gross Domestic Product (GDP) on research and development, which would have boosted research commercialization. However, contrary to this commitment, Kenya spent only 0.81% of its GDP, falling short even of the African Union’s target of at least 1%. This contrasts sharply with the global average R&D investment, which stood at 1.95% of GDP in 2022. This quantitative disparity underscores a critical resource deficit that inherently limits the scale, scope, and strategic direction of local scientific endeavors.
The composition of R&D funding in Kenya further highlights systemic vulnerabilities. A significant 47% of Kenya’s domestic R&D expenditure is sourced from international partners. In stark contrast, the domestic private sector contributes a meager 8.66% to Gross Domestic Expenditure on R&D (GERD). This reliance on external funding suggests a potential for research priorities to be influenced by external agendas, possibly misaligning with immediate local needs or long-term strategic independence. The minimal private sector engagement also indicates a weak linkage between academic and public research and its industrial application, which is a vital pathway for commercialization and the development of self-sustaining innovation. This funding structure creates vulnerability, limits the strategic direction of research towards purely locally defined problems, and hinders the full realization of the “Lab to Impact” journey.
Adding to the concern, the growth rate of R&D expenditure in Kenya has been on a concerning downward trajectory, declining sharply from 22.2% in 2015 to 6.4% in 2018. This decelerating investment in innovation occurs despite clear national and continental strategies that emphasize Science, Technology, and Innovation (STI) as foundational enablers for development. Kenya’s Vision 2030, for instance, explicitly recognizes the central role of STI in boosting wealth creation, social welfare, and international competitiveness.
Similarly, the African Union’s STISA-2024 and the subsequent STISA-2034 aim to accelerate Africa’s transition to an innovation-led, knowledge-based economy. The declining growth rate directly contradicts these stated strategic recognitions and ambitions. This trend suggests that the policy intent is not being matched by sustained investment momentum, which could lead to Kenya losing its competitive edge in innovation within Africa and failing to achieve its long-term development goals.
Until we name the problem, we’ll stay trapped in the same matrix, caught in a loop of research with no impact, innovation with no roots, and potential with no progress. Today, as I sat down, I stumbled upon an old research project report that once belonged to a friend of mine back on campus. I remember he spent thousands of shillings on it, printing, binding, and formatting, pouring not just money but months of hard work, sleepless nights, and real hope into that document. It looked beautiful, polished, and professional, like a booklet that is going to change Africa. But today, it’s just collecting dust. He eventually landed a job, but that research? It’s doing absolutely nothing.
And I found myself asking again: Where did we go wrong?
Maybe it starts here: our universities are preparing us to solve problems of the Global North while we live in the Global South. Take an example
A thesis explores “solar-powered electric vehicle charging stations” for highways, yet in many parts of Kenya, people still rely on kerosene lamps and firewood for light and cooking. Shouldn’t our energy innovations begin with the homes still in darkness? It’s time we asked ourselves, who is our research really for?
We’re taught to follow templates and theoretical models that were never meant for our realities. That project might never have been viable, feasible, or sustainable for our context, but did anyone say that? Were the professors or project supervisors honest enough to challenge it on those grounds? No, absolutely not. And that’s exactly where the gap lies. There is a massive disconnect, a valley of death, between research and entrepreneurship. One side is full of brilliant minds with research papers; the other, a few daring entrepreneurs trying to make things work. But very few stand in between.
What we desperately need is a new kind of thinker: a research-based entrepreneur, someone who understands how to dig deep and analyze data but also build a business, test a market, and implement ideas in the real world.
And that’s what compelled me to found Swahili Design Lab. To bridge that gap. To nurture a new generation that doesn’t just write for marks or to graduate, but innovates for impact. But let’s be honest, individual effort can not go so far when the system itself is underfunded. Kenya spends less than 1% of its GDP on research and development. That’s like planting seeds in dry soil and hoping for rain. If we truly want research to drive innovation and create jobs that we always talk about, then we must do more than write reports; we must invest in the ecosystem that brings ideas to life.
Until we prioritize funding, mentorship, and infrastructure for research commercialization and lab-to-market ecosystems, stories like my friend’s will remain painfully common. Even more concerning, the few dedicated researchers remaining in Kenya and across Africa will continue pursuing research, not to solve local problems, but merely to access funding and stay afloat within the system.