It is inhumanity when the victim takes the blame – Businessday NG

It is one of the cruel ironies of our time that, in parts of Africa, survival itself has been outsourced, and when it goes wrong, the dead and the broken are blamed for their own suffering. This is the essence of inhumanity, when the victim is not only harmed but also accused, shamed, and discarded by the very system that pushed them into danger.

When I wrote on “Turning Nigeria’s migration wave into an economic asset” (BusinessDay, December 2, 2025), the argument was straightforward: migration, if properly managed, can benefit both the migrant and the migrant’s nation. Remittances can stabilise families, skills can be transferred, and labour mobility can reduce unemployment pressures. What that argument did not fully know, and what recent investigations have revealed, is the dark underside of migration when African governments treat citizens not as people, but as export commodities.

In one of the lead stories of December 15, 2025, ‘A lucrative, deadly trade’, by Justin Scheck and Abdi Latif Dahir of the New York Times, is a revelation African leaders should worry about.

In the story, the revelations from Kenya about migrants are distressing. According to the story, more than 250 Kenyan workers, most of them women employed as house help, have died in Saudi Arabia in recent years. These were not due to illnesses or factory disasters.

They were househelps, young women working in private homes, supposedly safe spaces. Autopsy reports spoke of electrocution burns, broken ribs, unexplained falls, etc. One woman was found dead inside a rooftop water tank. Many of the deaths were quietly attributed to natural causes. Survivors who returned home told of rape, beatings, starvation, confinement, and torture.

What is most disturbing is not only that abuse occurred – such abuse has been documented in parts of the Gulf for years – but that the numbers are rising even after promises of reform. Even more unsettling is where responsibility truly lies. The problem does not begin at the place of work alone; it begins at home.

Kenya’s government, grappling with mass unemployment and youth unrest, chose a shortcut: export labour at any cost. It is alleged that President William Ruto’s administration framed labour migration as an economic solution, aggressively marketing Kenyan workers as cheaper and more compliant than those from other nations. Under agreements with Saudi Arabia, Kenyan domestic workers earn about 40 percent less than their Filipino counterparts and enjoy far fewer protections, no reliable rescue hotlines, weak consular intervention, and minimal legal safeguards.

Worse still, migration in Kenya has become a profit centre for political elites. Investigations uncovered how politicians and their allies own or control recruitment agencies that recruit and deploy workers abroad. At least a tenth of manpower firms are linked to politically exposed persons. The country’s major insurance company serving the sector counts the president’s wife and daughter among its largest shareholders. The cheaper the worker, the fewer the protections, and the higher the profits for those at the top.

To maximise these profits, safeguards were systematically dismantled. Training requirements meant to prepare and protect workers were rolled back after lobbying by industry leaders who complained they would hurt margins. Domestic workers’ salaries were effectively capped at just over $260 a month. There was no safety net for those abused, unpaid, or abandoned. In effect, the state withdrew protection while maintaining control over the pipeline. And when things predictably went wrong, the blame was shifted downward.

Kenyan women were accused of being lazy, rude, ignorant, or having bad attitudes. Sadly, rape allegations were dismissed as seduction. An industry lobbyist described the women as “dogs” belonging to their employers. The labour secretary suggested abuse was a behavioural issue, not a systemic failure. This is perhaps the deepest moral failure of all: the transformation of victims into culprits and of exploitation into discipline.

This pattern should sound uncomfortably familiar across Africa, including Nigeria. Our own migration debates increasingly focus on remittances while glossing over the human cost. Governments celebrate diaspora inflows but rarely ask what price was paid to earn them. Young people flee not because they are adventurous, but because local economies have failed them. When tragedy strikes abroad (detention, abuse, death), official responses are often muted, delayed, or defensive.

The Kenyan case shows where this road leads if unchecked. A state that monetises desperation, colludes with private interests, and then moralises suffering is man’s inhumanity to man. It is the logic of disposability.

Yet, amid the caricatures, the truth about the women themselves stands in sharp contrast. Many had finished secondary school. Some were trained teachers, chefs, or carers. They were not naïve; they knew the risks but were also ambitious, determined, and willing to gamble to lift their families out of poverty. When their government promised opportunity and protection, they trusted it. Too often, that trust became a death sentence.

The implications are profound; a society that blames victims disintegrates its own moral foundation. A government that profits from citizens’ vulnerability forfeits legitimacy. And a development strategy built on cheap, unprotected labour is neither sustainable nor just.

In essence, labour migration should be governed by dignity, not desperation, which should be the first way forward. Sending nations must enforce minimum wage standards, binding protections, and transparent contracts that are non-negotiable. No African worker should be cheaper simply because their government is willing to sacrifice them.

Also, political conflicts of interest must be outlawed and exposed. Public officials and their families should have no stake in recruitment agencies or related businesses. Migration policy cannot be credible when policymakers profit from its failures.

Likewise, training, monitoring, and support systems must be strengthened, not weakened. Pre-departure training, enforceable insurance, emergency hotlines, and active consular protection should not be seen as luxuries but as obligations.

Similarly, African governments must confront the deeper issue: migration should be an option, not an escape. Until domestic economies create jobs, security, and hope, citizens will continue to take unsafe risks, and predators, both foreign and local, will continue to exploit them.

It is indeed inhumanity when the victim takes the blame. But it is also a choice. African leaders can choose to value lives over foreign exchange, people over profit, and dignity over expedience. Anything less is not development; it is organised cruelty camouflaged as policy.