Ian's Blog

One of the most powerful tools for understanding society is surprisingly simple: ask who benefits. When systems change, when institutions weaken, when social norms shift dramatically, the question of benefit often reveals motivations that are otherwise hidden beneath layers of rhetoric and ideology. In recent decades, one of the most significant social transformations across much of the world has been the weakening of the traditional family structure. Divorce rates rose sharply in many countries through the late twentieth century. Marriage rates declined. More people live alone. Dual-income households have become the norm rather than the exception. Cultural narratives around work, success, and independence have also changed dramatically. These shifts have sparked an ongoing debate: were they simply the result of evolving social values and economic realities, or did powerful institutions have incentives to encourage them? For many critics of modern economic systems, the answer seems ...

  In theory, paying taxes is one of the clearest expressions of citizenship. It is the agreement between the people and the state: citizens contribute a portion of their earnings, and in return the government provides services, infrastructure, security, education, healthcare, and a functioning society. Taxes are supposed to be the fuel that powers a nation forward. But in Kenya today, many citizens feel something very different when they look at their payslips or send money to the tax authority. Instead of feeling like they are contributing to the common good, it increasingly feels like they are funding criminals. And for many people, it doesn’t just feel like that. It looks like that. The frustration comes from the growing perception that the political class has transformed public office into one of the most lucrative criminal enterprises in the country. Instead of serving the public, many politicians appear to treat government as a private business, one where the product being s...

  Epstein files, war in the Middle East, US, Israel, Iran, drones striking, missiles fired, civilians killed—kids, babies, families. Nuclear talk everywhere. Flash floods in Nairobi swallowing homes, drowning colleagues, washing away livelihoods. Corruption unchecked, looters laughing, government promises evaporating. Family struggling to pay rent. Friend posting about suicidal thoughts. Social media pings with “breaking news” every few seconds: famine, displacement, climate disasters, police brutality, school shootings. And still, I wake up. Brush my teeth. Make coffee. Prepare for Monday. The world burns around me, but my alarm clock insists on its own urgency. I check emails, attend meetings, nod at colleagues, answer calls, pretend the chaos in Syria, Iran, Sudan, Congo, and Gaza is somehow distant enough to ignore. But it’s not distant. It’s on the screen, in the notifications, in my heartbeat. It presses on my mind. Every headline is a weight: another child dead, another fami...

  There are many things that threaten a nation: corruption, poverty, violence, and injustice. These problems dominate headlines and political debates. But beneath all of them lies something even more dangerous, something quieter and harder to confront. The most deadly poison of our time is indifference. Indifference does not arrive with noise or spectacle. It creeps in slowly, disguising itself as fatigue, resignation, or survival. It begins when people see wrongdoing and shrug their shoulders. It grows when citizens hear of corruption and say, “That’s just how things are.” Over time, indifference becomes the silent force that allows injustice to flourish unchecked. In Kenya today, this poison has seeped into many corners of national life, weakening the moral backbone that a functioning society requires. Consider how often stories of wrongdoing surface in the country. Scandals involving public funds appear with alarming frequency. Investigations are announced, commissions are forme...

  In many societies today, conversations about suicide are still surrounded by fear, silence, and misunderstanding. The topic often triggers immediate alarm, moral judgment, or institutional responses that focus more on containment than understanding. Yet one idea has been gaining traction among mental health advocates: if we want to genuinely help people who are struggling with suicidal thoughts, we must first make it safe for them to talk about those thoughts openly. That means creating spaces where individuals especially young people can have real, judgment-free conversations about their feelings without immediately being labeled, dismissed, or automatically forced into hospitalization. The premise behind this approach is simple but profound. When someone expresses suicidal thoughts, what they are often seeking first is understanding. They want someone to listen without panic, accusation, or dismissal. Unfortunately, the reaction they frequently encounter is the opposite. People...

  Every so often, a story emerges that forces us to rethink what justice should look like. One such story comes from the United States, where a grandmother in the state of Missouri is advocating for a proposal known as Bentley’s Law. The law is named after her grandsons, Bentley and Mason, whose parents and baby sibling were killed in a drunk-driving crash in 2021. In the aftermath of unimaginable loss, the grandmother began pushing for a policy that would ensure children left behind by such tragedies receive financial support from the person responsible. Bentley’s Law proposes something simple: if a drunk driver causes the death of a parent, they should be legally required to pay child support to the surviving children. Under the proposal, payments would begin about a year after the offender is released from prison and would continue until the child turns eighteen, or up to twenty-one if the child is still in school.  At its core, the proposal is built on a basic principle: a...