Hidden camera is not just a device. It's a weapon

                                                  Anyango Oyieke COO Alakonya LLP

The recent revelation that a foreign national secretly recorded his sexual encounters with women in Kenya has triggered outrage, as it should. But beyond the shock and outrage lies the uncomfortable truth that this incident is not isolated. It is part of a wider pattern of sexual violence evolving with technology.

This is what experts describe as a continuum of sexual violence. At one end may be sexist jokes and harassment. At the other, brutal assault. In between lies coercion, manipulation, economic pressure and these days, increasingly, digital exploitation.

These acts may differ in severity, but they are connected by the belief that women’s (bodily) autonomy is negotiable.

In Kenya, harassment at work, attending university, or simply using public transport is common for women, and technology has added a new layer of risk.

Hidden cameras, revenge porn, and sharing of intimate images on WhatsApp and Telegram groups are the modern extension of an old problem. That is the entitlement to women’s bodies.

Consenting to intimacy does not grant anyone the right to record you, and a man who secretly films a woman during sex is not preserving the memory but creating leverage and asserting control. The act of recording someone without their knowledge transforms a private act into a potential tool of humiliation, coercion and blackmail.

Kenyan law is not silent on these issues. The Sexual Offences Act criminalises exploitation; the Computer Misuse and Cybercrimes Act addresses the unlawful use of digital platforms; and the Data Protection Act recognises and protects the right to privacy. Yet enforcement often lags behind innovation, and our investigative systems are still adapting to crimes committed online and offline.

It is sad to see that public reaction to this case has fallen into the familiar trap of victim-blaming. All the questions about why a woman met, trusted and entered a private space with someone distract from the bigger concern, which is why he believed he had the right to record without consent in the first place?

In my work supporting survivors of gender-based violence, I have seen shame weaponised. The fear that intimate images may surface online keeps many women silent and traps them long after the physical encounter ends. The violence becomes psychological, social and economic.

We must also acknowledge the power dynamics that are at play, driven by economic inequalities between foreign visitors and local women, thus increasing their vulnerability.

Rather than focusing on the nationality of the perpetrator, discussions should be about recognising that gender inequality and other factors, such as economic vulnerability due to, amongst others, social status and age creates a fertile ground for abuse.

While it is important to be angry, this moment requires that we demand more. It requires that we demand reform at a legal, structural and social level. Law enforcement agencies must treat technology-facilitated sexual (and gender based) violence with the urgency and disdain it deserves and strengthen the handling of digital evidence for more just outcomes.

Above all, survivors’ safety and privacy must be fiercely protected through the adoption and enforcement of clear safeguarding principles and standards.

Most importantly, we must expand our understanding of sexual violence along a continuum. It not only presents as physical force but also includes entitlements, as illustrated in this case, and a disregard for consent boundaries. We must recognise this recent case as part of a broader pattern so we can finally tackle the structures that make such abuse possible.

Kenyan women deserve to be safe. In public and private, offline and online.

Anyango Yvonne Oyieke COO Alakonya LLP