Maliba Arnold Nyajayi, Executive Director, Open Future Hub (OFH)./SCREENGRAB
A foreigner arrives in Kenya. During his stay he visits Nairobi and Mombasa like any other visitor—moving through malls, markets, streets and, of all places, churches. Nothing about his presence appears remarkable.
Weeks after his departure, he releases video clips. The footage shows women he approached in these everyday spaces, capturing the first encounter and later moments when they visited his apartment. The clips go viral, provoking anger, embarrassment and national apprehension.
It later emerges that the same individual had staged a similar spectacle in Ghana. One particular clip from that earlier episode stands out. A Ghanaian woman—well-dressed, confident, stepping out of a Jaguar—firmly rejects his advances.
Online audiences hail her as morally upright, a symbol of African dignity resisting exploitation. But an uncomfortable question lingers beneath the applause: Would she have made the same decision if she were not economically secure?
That question is the heart of this conversation—and the one we are carefully avoiding. Because this is not fundamentally a story about morality. It is a story about economics. Public debate has rushed to condemn the man, lament social decay, and invoke culture and religion.
Outrage is understandable. It is also convenient. It allows us to focus on the individual villain rather than confront the structural realities that made the encounter possible in the first place. When an economy weakens the link between effort and stability, survival begins to reorganise behaviour.
The relationship between work and dignity starts to fray. People improvise. Across our urban centres, salaried workers survive on advances, small traders cannot restock consistently, graduates stitch together endless side hustles, and households negotiate rent, fees, and food with mathematical precision.
The language of growth remains loud, but the lived experience of security is steadily thinning. In such conditions, choice itself becomes compressed. Economists describe this as constraint-driven decision-making—a situation where individuals do not act from preference but from pressure.
Decisions that appear questionable from a distance are often rational responses to financial instability up close. This is why the Jaguar is not a minor detail. It is the thesis.
The Ghanaian woman’s refusal is being celebrated as a moral victory, yet it also illustrates a deeper truth: economic security expands one’s freedom to reject risk.
Financial stability allows people to say no without calculating the cost of that refusal. Precarity forces negotiation with circumstances one would otherwise dismiss.
The viral videos, therefore, are not exposing a collapse of values. They are exposing a collapse in bargaining power. And this is where the political class must resist the temptation to treat this episode as a spectacle.
These incidents are not national embarrassments to be moralised away; they are policy outcomes. An economy that produces widespread informal work without protections, rising living costs without matching income growth, and a youthful population without sufficient absorption into stable employment inevitably generates vulnerability. When institutions fail to cushion citizens, citizens absorb the shock privately.
The informal sector, once celebrated as resilient, has become a permanent holding space for millions—defined less by opportunity than by unpredictability. In that space, everything becomes negotiable because nothing is guaranteed. History shows that when societies reach this stage—where private vulnerability becomes public spectacle—it signals structural imbalance.
The digital age has not invented this phenomenon; it has merely amplified it. The algorithm did not create the conditions. It monetised them. Blaming individuals navigating hardship is easier than confronting systems that manufacture that hardship. But national dignity cannot be defended through sermons while economic realities erode beneath them.
If leadership wishes to prevent future spectacles of this kind, the response cannot be outrage alone. It must be economic repair: restoring the connection between work and security, expanding pathways to stable employment, and ensuring that growth is felt in households, not just announced in reports.
Until then, similar stories will recur—not because society has lost its moral compass, but because too many citizens are being forced to navigate without one. The real scandal is not what was recorded on camera. It is the economic environment that made it possible.
The writer is the Executive Director, Open Future Hub (OFH).
X: @MalibaArnold.
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