Last week’s piece, "The Crisis of Fatherhood and the Rise of Andrew Kibe as a Hero" by Prof Egara Kabaji, poses an important question: Why are so many young men listening to Andrew Kibe?
His answer is that fathers have retreated – physically for some, emotionally for many others – creating a vacuum that figures like Kibe have filled.
It is a compelling argument. But I respectfully disagree with its central premise.
Andrew Kibe’s popularity cannot be explained by fatherhood alone. Neither should it be read, by itself, as evidence of declining fatherhood. His rise reflects a much broader transformation in society – one shaped by changing communities, digital media, and a generation increasingly seeking guidance beyond the home.
To understand Kibe’s influence, we must first understand the age in which he emerged.
There have been many commentators discussing masculinity, fatherhood, and relationships, but few have built Kibe’s following. In today’s attention economy, influence depends as much on how a message is delivered as on what it says.
Thirty years ago, Kibe might have remained an outspoken man among friends or a familiar voice on local radio. Today, algorithms amplify personalities that command attention. Social media rewards confidence, controversy, consistency, emotional engagement, and even rage bait. Influencers who provoke strong reactions often travel further than those who merely inform.
Kibe did not become influential simply because some fathers became less available. He also became influential because he possesses qualities the digital age rewards. He is articulate, humorous, confrontational, confident, consistent, memorable, and has mastered the art of rage baiting. His success is not merely a story about fatherhood; it is also a story about communication, timing, technology and personality.
Equally important, we simply do not know his audience. Prof Kabaji’s argument understandably associates such popularity with young men searching for the guidance fathers once provided. That is plausible, but it is unlikely to describe every listener, reader, or viewer.
Like every influential public figure, Kibe’s audience is far from homogeneous.
People consume his content for different reasons. Some genuinely seek guidance. Others watch out of curiosity. Some are drawn by his humour. Others enjoy the controversy. Many disagree with him yet continue listening simply to understand the conversations shaping contemporary society.
If millions watch him, it does not automatically follow that they lacked fathers. His popularity tells us there is demand. It does not, by itself, establish what created that demand.
Lastly, I believe Prof. Kabaji, like many other people, romanticises traditional fatherhood.
He suggests there was once a time when fathers religiously interpreted life for their sons and prepared them for every challenge of adulthood. That may have been true for many families, but it was never universally true.
For various reasons, fatherhood has always been imperfect. Many African fathers were providers more than conversationalists. Many were disciplinarians more than counsellors. Many were terrible at parenting, inspiring fear more than respect. Others were violent to their wives in front of their sons, leaving trauma that has haunted them to this day. Others were absent altogether.
We all know men raised by responsible fathers yet they became absent fathers themselves. We know siblings raised under the same roof but they grew into remarkably different fathers. We have seen fathers do almost everything right and still watch their sons choose destructive paths.
If fatherhood alone determined outcomes, these realities would be difficult to explain.
Even as a present and emotionally available father, I recognise my own limitations. My son asks questions for which I do not always have answers. Sometimes I find them in books. Sometimes in conversations with older men. Sometimes from scholars, psychologists, and experienced professionals.
No father, however devoted, can embody the sum of human knowledge. Nor can he prepare his son for every challenge of a world changing faster than any previous generation has experienced. Artificial intelligence, social media, online dating, digital finance, the creator economy, and shifting ideas about identity have transformed what young men learn and how they live. Seeking mentors beyond home, therefore, is not necessarily evidence of failed fatherhood. It is evidence of a more complex society.
African societies, to which Prof Kabaji rightly appeals, understood this too. The proverb, “It takes a village to raise a child,” is a philosophy of such shared responsibility. Fathers mattered, but so did uncles, grandparents, elders, teachers, neighbours, and spiritual leaders. The village – not the father alone – helped produce a man.
Perhaps, then, the deeper crisis is not simply that fathers retreated. It is that the “village” itself changed.
Andrew Kibe did not become influential simply because fathers became less influential. He became influential because society itself changed. His popularity cannot be explained by fatherhood alone, nor should it be read, by itself, as evidence of declining fatherhood.
Rebuilding fatherhood remains essential. But rebuilding families, schools, faith communities, and intergenerational relationships is equally urgent. The task before us is larger than restoring fathers to the centre of the conversation. It is rebuilding the “village” that will help men become fathers so that they can raise their sons better than they themselves were raised.
The writer is a public affairs and communication consultant
