Our attention is finite, yet we spend it everywhere but where it matters. This is not a moral failure. It is a structural one. Attention economics is the idea that in a world overflowing with information, human attention becomes the scarce resource. Whoever captures it, holds power. Over time, this has reshaped not just markets, but inner lives. What we notice. What we ignore. What we can tolerate. What we can no longer sit with. For a long time, people warned that television would rot our brains. In hindsight, television looks almost generous. A show required you to stay for forty minutes. A film asked for two hours. A detective story invited you to notice details, to remember names, to hold multiple threads in your mind at once. You watched. You followed. You waited. Listening to music meant staying long enough to learn lyrics. Reading meant sitting with confusion until meaning arrived. Writing a poem meant wrestling with language, not skimming it. Even boredom had a purpose—it ...
There is a dangerous gospel being preached across Kenya — not always from pulpits, but from the streets, the offices, and the minds of many who consider themselves devout Christians. It is a gospel that says: if you are wealthy, God must be pleased with you. If you are poor, you must be doing something wrong. If you’re struggling, you must lack faith. And if you’re rich, it’s because God is smiling down on your choices. This is the unholy reward — the lie that material wealth is a measure of spiritual approval. It is a pandemic of belief. You hear it in testimonies that focus less on transformation of character and more on bank balances. You see it in social media posts that equate Range Rovers with righteousness. You encounter it in churches where the wealthy sit in the front and the poor are advised to “sow seeds” they cannot afford — just to get God’s attention. “Blessed” — but What Does That Mean? In Kenya today, the word “blessed” is often synonymous with “rich.” A new car? “I...