Kenya’s Labor Export Strategy: Balancing Economic Gains with Workers’ Rights and Welfare

Many African nations, including Kenya, are increasingly utilizing labor export as a seemingly rapid solution to domestic unemployment issues, frequently neglecting the welfare and human rights of the workers involved. Kenya’s approach to labor brokerage is a prime example of this trend, where the government collaborates with private sector entities to facilitate the export of inexpensive laborers, capitalizing on their vulnerabilities even before they leave the country. This system emphasizes economic benefits, such as remittance revenues, over the protection and well-being of its citizens, often disregarding the exploitative conditions inherent in these arrangements. Francis Atwoli, the Secretary-General of the Central Organization of Trade Unions, has been criticized for his role in not prioritizing workers’ welfare and succinctly captured the exploitative nature of this model by stating, “We [the Kenyan government] see Kenyans as commodities.” It is essential to recognize the significant role that sending countries play in creating precarious conditions for migrants. The formalization of labor export in Kenya began in the 1990s with the establishment of agreements with Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) countries. Over the years, this strategy has intensified, driven by the promise of remittances, which accounted for 3.6% of Kenya’s GDP in 2023, making it the country’s leading source of foreign exchange. Additionally, the Ministry of Labour and Social Protection’s new labor agreements in 2024 with Middle Eastern and European nations, including Saudi Arabia, Germany, and the UK, highlight the escalating complexity of this issue. A stark example of Kenya’s deepening labor export predicament is illustrated by Alfred Mutua, Kenya’s Cabinet Secretary for Labour and Social Protection, who recently committed to exporting one million workers annually. Meanwhile, Kenyan migrant women currently affected by the Israeli bombings in South Lebanon are being abandoned by the very government that profits from their labor. This situation emerges at a time when advocacy against the exploitation of African migrant workers has gained traction, especially following the 2022 Qatar World Cup, which brought significant criticism to the kafala system. Sociologists argue that the kafala system, prevalent in most Gulf countries, resembles modern slavery, as it legally binds workers to their employers for the duration of their contracts, granting employers extensive power and control, thereby making workers highly susceptible to abuse. Migrants have reported severe human rights violations, including sexual and physical abuse, starvation, and imprisonment. Kenya’s political and economic structures explain why labor exports are a prominent feature of its foreign policy. Global labor market trends are influenced by push and pull factors. Push factors, such as poverty, ethnic conflicts, and high unemployment rates, compel individuals to migrate. For instance, youth unemployment in Kenya is at 43% for those aged 18–35, and 83% of the labor force is engaged in the informal economy, characterized by low wages, lack of benefits, and job insecurity. Conversely, pull factors include the availability of better-paying jobs, improved healthcare, and greater security in destination countries. These opportunities are particularly appealing to African women, as migration offers not only financial independence but also potential social empowerment by supporting their families. This context helps explain why constrained domestic workers in Lebanon were hesitant to leave, even when given the option, due to the better quality of life and access to education they could provide for their children while working abroad. Advocacy against the kafala system has successfully pressured sending countries to enhance governance and recruitment practices to protect migrants. In response, Kenya has made notable efforts on paper to regulate labor migration in recent years through various laws, policies, and regulations. These initiatives include drafting a national labor migration policy, ratifying International Labour Organization (ILO) Conventions No. 97 and No. 143, and implementing the Employment Act (2007) and Labour Institutions [General] Regulations (2014) to oversee recruitment agencies. However, the problem extends beyond Kenya’s ineffective enforcement of these regulations. Feminist scholars argue that mainstream explanations, which focus on “regulatory failures” and “limited state capacity,” oversimplify the issue. These approaches do not address the deeper systemic problems underpinning Kenya’s labor export strategy, which is why efforts to curb migrant abuse have fallen short, as evidenced by recent incidents in Lebanon. Although Kenya’s regulatory framework appears to present its labor brokerage model as a tightly controlled state regime, a closer look reveals that these regulations have actually increased the power of private actors, particularly recruitment agents. These non-state actors act as intermediaries in a system of “governance from a distance,” where the state delegates significant responsibilities to enhance management efficiency while avoiding accountability for migrant welfare. Under the Employment Act of 2007, the Kenyan government explicitly empowered recruitment agencies to manage the entire migration process, placing a legal responsibility on these agencies to monitor and ensure the welfare of recruits once they have settled abroad. This mandate includes critical tasks such as handling visa applications, providing pre-departure training, and preparing contracts, including specifying working hours. This unchecked authority allows recruitment agencies to commodify workers through the commissions they receive from employers or placement agencies overseas. According to the Labour Institutions [General] Regulations of 2014, agents are allowed to charge a service fee to overseas principals (employers or placement agencies) to cover recruitment costs. However, the absence of specified maximum or minimum limits gives agents considerable flexibility to maximize their profits. Reports indicate that agents often receive commissions averaging around $2,000 per recruit, translating to annual profits ranging from USD19,500 to USD48,900, depending on the scale of operations. This unregulated system incentivizes agents to prioritize profit generation above all else. As one agent admitted, “there is money to be made,” and they do not intervene when problems arise because their “work is done once they receive the commission.” In addition to commissions from employers, agencies frequently violate the Labour Institutions Act by charging migrants exorbitant fees directly. Despite regulations requiring that recruitment costs be covered by employers (with the exception of one month’s salary as a deductible), migrants report paying up to $2,200 for expenses such as passports, medical certificates, and visas. Those who cannot afford these upfront costs are often subjected to wage deductions, trapping them in debt bondage for months. This intricate “web of debts and obligations” results in workers being treated and disposed of like commodities, as evidenced by their subjugation and abuse. Recruitment agents argue that their profits are insignificant compared to the revenues generated by the Kenyan government. Official fees for documentation, such as birth certificates, are inflated tenfold—from $3 to $30—while security bond fees, ostensibly meant to cover repatriation costs, remain inaccessible to both agents and workers. Despite collecting $3.6 million annually from licensing fees and security bonds, the government has failed to fulfill its obligations. For example, one insurance company has monopolized the bond system and reportedly has not paid a single claim. This results in a continuous cycle of blame-shifting between the Kenyan government and recruitment agencies, which is a key reason why many workers were left stranded in Lebanon. Instead of relying on remittances—a strategy that has proven unsustainable for long-term economic growth and harmful to local Kenyans and the broader African continent—Kenya must prioritize creating local employment opportunities to address its youth unemployment crisis. Domestic job creation can stimulate economic growth by retaining skilled labor within the country. However, solving Kenya’s unemployment problem requires more than just creating jobs; it demands regulatory reforms of the domestic labor market, which is plagued by significant governance gaps. Economists often highlight sectors such as tourism, horticulture, and technology as untapped areas with immense potential to drive job creation and structural transformation in Kenya. Among these, Kenya’s tech industry, known as the “Silicon Savannah,” is promoted as a key driver for positioning Kenya as a premier investment destination. Yet, the same structural forces that drive labor migration from Kenya, including widespread underemployment and a surplus of educated, low-wage workers, also attract tech giants to the country. Leveraging this, the Kenyan government’s foreign investment strategies frequently enable systematic worker exploitation under the pretense of maintaining the country’s competitiveness in the global outsourcing market. For instance, Senator Aaron Cheruiyot recently proposed a Business Laws Amendment Bill aimed at shielding tech companies from being sued locally. This move follows a landmark Kenyan Court of Appeal ruling in September that allowed Meta, the parent company of Facebook, to be sued in Kenya, despite Meta’s claim that it bore no liability in Kenya due to its lack of local registration. In a recent CBS documentary, moderators employed by SAMA, an American Business Process Outsourcing (BPO) firm contracted by both Meta and OpenAI, detailed allegations of exploitative working conditions and human rights abuses. The workers, who are now pursuing a lawsuit against SAMA, report suffering from severe psychiatric conditions, including depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). These conditions stem from their roles in content moderation, which required them to review hours of graphic and distressing material, including child pornography and suicides. Despite the psychological toll of the work, these moderators were paid a mere $2 an hour, far below the $12.50 per worker that OpenAI had reportedly agreed to pay, with no psychological support provided. Cheruiyot’s conveniently timed bill shifts employee liability exclusively to BPOs, arguing that this will still protect workers’ rights by obligating tech companies to adhere to certain labor standards. However, this claim is under heavy scrutiny, as the bill could effectively shield parent companies like Meta from accountability. Without the ability to sue these tech giants locally, it remains unclear how workers can effectively seek redress for labor violations. The government’s apparent decision to weaken labor laws indirectly allows tech companies to dissociate themselves from these digital sweatshops. Proponents of the bill argue that holding tech companies liable could harm Kenya’s business environment and deter foreign investment, noting that SAMA, which employed over 3,000 Kenyan workers, has ceased content moderation operations following the court ruling. However, to genuinely protect workers, the government must heed the Court of Appeal ruling and hold both tech companies and BPOs accountable for labor rights violations. This includes instituting better working conditions, standardizing employment contracts, implementing livable minimum wages, and regulating work hours. As tech workers from Kenya Tech Workers United have stated: “We acknowledge and support the government’s push for digital job creation. However, this responsibility does not end with job provision. No company or individual is above the law, no matter how powerful.” Kenya’s labor export policies represent a short-sighted attempt to address unemployment by relying on migrants to alleviate the national debt through remittances. The Kenyan government must invest in creating domestic jobs and establish sustainable methods for generating foreign currency. While foreign direct investment can boost domestic employment opportunities, the Kenyan government cannot afford to grant corporations unrestricted freedom to exploit its people under the guise of economic development. Failing to do so perpetuates neocolonial dynamics that treat Kenya’s citizens as raw commodities, ripe for exploitation.