“Networks can protect, or they can obscure. When power is unchecked, the very relationships meant to nurture change can shield harm.”
November 02, (THEWILL) — In recent years, the world witnessed a global wave of reckoning around sexual harassment, abuse of power and gender-based violence. The hashtag #MeToo evolved from a grassroots movement into a global force, pushing institutions to confront the hidden cost of silence. Yet, as the movement gained momentum, so did the backlash. Across Africa and beyond, moments of hope were followed by moments of hostility, disbelief, or retreat.
Why did this happen? What can we learn from the resistance, fatigue, and failures that followed the initial surge of momentum?
This article does not focus on specific individuals or public figures. Instead, it reflects on what the #MeToo movement revealed about the fragility of trust, the limitations of formal accountability and the role of networks in either sustaining or stalling justice within African contexts.
The Promise of Relational Exposure
#MeToo gained traction because it surfaced what many people already knew but could not say. It decentralised power by allowing stories to emerge across class, geography and industry. It showed how abusers often relied not just on their authority, but on networks of complicity. These could include friends, colleagues, legal advisors, religious leaders or organisational gatekeepers who silenced victims or protected perpetrators.
In Africa, where informal relationships often carry more weight than official structures, #MeToo presented an opportunity to challenge not only individual actions but entire cultures of silence. It opened conversations across sectors, such as law, academia, civil society and faith spaces.
Yet very quickly, the cracks in the system became visible.
When Informal Power Shields Formal Abuse
Many African organisations promote values such as dignity, equality, and integrity. But behind the curtain, informal influence networks operate with their own rules. These are not always built with harmful intent. They may emerge from social bonding or shared loyalty. However, during moments that require accountability, they can shift into protective mechanisms that deflect scrutiny or silence victims.
Colleagues may be warned not to damage the organisation’s name. Victims are sometimes asked to resolve issues ‘internally’ to avoid public shame. Whistleblowers can be isolated or labelled as disloyal. Quiet apologies are sometimes offered behind closed doors, while public narratives are tightly controlled to avoid reputational loss.
These patterns reveal a deeper issue. When influence circulates without transparency, harm can persist without meaningful consequence.
Why the Backlash Was Predictable
In many African societies, community cohesion, hierarchy, and deference to authority are deeply embedded. Accusations directed at respected figures are often viewed as betrayal rather than acts of courage. This creates a cultural environment where victims are frequently doubted, judged, or asked to remain silent ‘for the greater good.’
Some responses to #MeToo framed it as a Western import. Others questioned the timing, motives, or credibility of the allegations. Beneath the surface, the discomfort stemmed from the fact that these revelations disrupted more than reputations. They threatened familiar social ecosystems and power arrangements.
People feared that if one prominent figure could be called out, then many others could be next. The instinct to preserve what is known overtook the need to examine what might be harmful.
Network Failure as a Moral Issue
When a network fails to protect its most vulnerable members, the breakdown is not technical but moral.
Survivors often report that the silence of friends, the hesitation of colleagues, or the passivity of leaders hurt more than the original violation. This signals a failure not only in policy but in relationship. It raises the question: Where were the people who claimed to care?
In communities that value relational depth, betrayal through silence cuts especially deep. When silence becomes the cultural norm, harm is normalised. When silence is broken, cultures begin to shift.
From Naming to Transformation
Naming abuse is necessary, but transformation demands more. It requires disrupting the networks that enabled abuse in the first place.
This might involve:
- Overhauling grievance mechanisms within institutions
- Training staff and leadership in trauma-informed responses
- Establishing safe, accessible reporting channels
- Ensuring that those who speak out are not punished
Transformation also demands a change in how loyalty is defined. Protecting an institution or leader by silencing survivors is not loyalty. True loyalty means protecting the values an organisation claims to stand for.
Why It Is Relational Work
In Africa, relationships matter more than organisational charts. Power flows through who knows who, who can be called on, and who is trusted. Networks are not just about influence. They are about belonging.
When abuse is allowed to persist within a network, it creates a culture where silence becomes currency and survival requires complicity. When networks centre care, accountability, and shared responsibility, they become engines of justice.
Healthy networks:
- Centre the safety of the vulnerable
- Build in checks against unaccountable power
- Encourage honest reflection, even when uncomfortable
- Honour truth over reputation
These practices do not emerge overnight. They are nurtured over time, through consistent investment in transparency and ethical leadership.
The Cost of Silence
When organisations fail to act, the cost is not just reputational. Talented individuals leave. Survivors are retraumatised. Communities lose trust. The organisation becomes known less for what it achieves and more for what it covers up.
In several surveys conducted across African nonprofit and education sectors, young professionals cited lack of internal accountability as one of the main reasons for exiting. They reported that complaints often led nowhere, and in some cases, the complainants themselves faced consequences.
This erosion of trust is difficult to rebuild. Once people believe that the system is rigged against them, they disengage emotionally and professionally.
Designing Networks That Heal
What would it look like to design networks that protect the vulnerable and challenge power when needed?
Some practical questions institutions can ask include:
- Who feels safe enough to speak honestly here?
- What happens when someone reports harm?
- Are informal power brokers held to the same standards as everyone else?
- Do people believe that leadership will prioritise justice over preservation?
Healing networks are not perfect, but they are honest. They do not rush to protect status. They pause to listen. They admit wrongs and act decisively when harm is exposed.
Conclusion: Rebuilding the Room
The lesson of #MeToo, particularly in African contexts, is not just about the harm done but about the relationships that made the harm possible. If we want long-term change, we must examine the networks around power: who is protected, who is dismissed, and who gets to be heard.
A network that fails to address harm does not simply fall short. It becomes complicit.
As leaders, colleagues, and peers, we must ask: are we building networks that heal or networks that hide?
The future will be shaped not just by our policies but by our relational choices. Let us choose wisely.
***Written by Aramide Abe.
Aramide Abe is a networking expert and a professional in international development. She is the convener of an African business leader network – Naija Startups. Follow arams on Twitter, Website – www.aramide.ng
