Uganda Blog

“The leader is responsible for the set of ethics or norms that govern the behaviour of people in an organization.”

Warren Bennis and Burt Nanus 

In the month after the media blew the lid off the scandal in the Office of the Prime Minister (“OPM”), Parliament has begun to examine the contents of that corrupt vessel. As the grisly and sickening details of greed and criminality emerge, the inevitable finger-pointing has followed, with everyone seemingly intent on denying any responsibility for what has taken place. So once again a tired and abused nation is faced with the sickening refusal of those who are supposed to be our leaders to take responsibility. So once again, weary and with a heavy heart, I raise the question of leadership and responsibility.

However, before I do, I want to point out something, which is obvious but which it is all too easy to let pass unremarked. This scandal appears to have come to light as a result of a courageous whistle-blower. Although his or her identity is still unclear,  (since many seem to be claiming that accolade),  what is clear is that someone blew the whistle, and that person deserves our praise and gratitude. Then there was the diligent and intelligent investigation by the Auditor General’s office and some journalists. Once again, it is highly encouraging that at least some sections of civil service and the press (both of which should serve as  key pillars of a free and democratic society) are able to function, in spite of - rather than because of - the State. Finally, once again in spite of the State, some elements of Parliament seem to be functioning, to be willing and able to shine the spotlight on the entrails of this scandal.

What the breaking of this scandal tells us, beyond the fact that our present government is corrupt and broken (which we have known for some time now), is that there are many individuals out there, servants of state, in the press, in parliament, in the judiciary, outside of the system, who are still willing to fight for the ideal of a free and democratic society.

It will not have escaped anyone’s notice that how the Press and Parliament are conducting themselves is far from perfect, nonetheless as with a child learning to ride a bicycle we, on the sidelines, must encourage them, support them, urge them to keep going even when they fall off, because what they are learning now will hopefully lay the foundation for how they and we conduct ourselves in the future. These people are our real leaders, they are those we should pay heed to, listen to, whose examples we should follow.

To my mind, it is all about leadership, about taking responsibility. I absolutely believe in what is asserted at the top of this post, namely that a leader is responsible for the ethics that govern behaviour within any organisation, and that includes a government. Bennis and Nanus are the authors of leading works on leadership and that quote comes from their book, “Leaders: Strategies For Taking Charge” (which I would recommend to anyone interested in the subject).

Bennis and Nanus go on to say that: “Leaders set the moral tone by choosing carefully the people with whom they surround themselves, by communicating a sense of purpose…, by reinforcing appropriate behaviours and by articulating those moral positions to external and internal constituencies.”

Let’s dissect this for a moment. Let’s look at those with whom our present leader chooses to surround himself. We know why he does it (because he cannot afford not to and maintain himself in power), however the price is that, however honest he may be or want to be, however clean he may be or want to be, by choosing to surround himself with a bunch of thieving sycophants he sets a very strong tone and sends a powerful message to us all that corruption will not only be tolerated, it will be rewarded.

Rather than the reinforcement of appropriate behaviours, we see that inappropriate behaviours are consistently rewarded and encouraged, so that whilst President Museveni may pay lip service to the fact that corruption is bad, that corruption causes and reinforces poverty, his words do not match his deeds, and we simply do not believe him anymore. Everyone knows that, as long as you give him loyalty, you can be as corrupt as you like; so long as you give part of the spoils of any looting to the NRM (so it can continue to steal elections and bribe MPs), you will be left free to continue to steal. Look at the case of  Hassan Basajjbala. His web of deceit and corruption appears to have spread deep into State House, the Bank of Uganda, the NRM (of which he is a vice chairman) and the Attorney General’s office, yet despite what his corruption and fraud has cost this country, he still walks free. Where is the leadership in this?

Just as the recent unmasking of the corruption scandal at the heart of the OPM has thrown a welcome and positive light on those who are fighting corruption in Uganda, its place at the heart of the government, right in the office of the Prime Minister highlights what has gone wrong, where leadership has gone astray. One aspect of this scandal reported in the Monitor on Saturday encapsulates where it has all gone wrong. 

At the heart of this scandal lies Pius Bigirimana, who is still the permanent secretary to the Office of the Prime Minister: On his account he is the one who blew the whistle on this scandal, on the account of others, he is one of its chief architects.  Leaving that aside, what the Monitor reports is that sometime in 2010 and certainly by December 2010, his wife, Elizabeth, who is employed as an administrator at the Uganda Broadcasting Corporation (UBC), had registered in her name a four-wheel drive Mercedes Benz bought brand new for $100,000. All the more remarkable is that this sum was paid in cash in three instalments in the five months preceding the car being registered.

To me, sitting on the outside of this all, in a country where civil servants are subject to effective and proper scrutiny, where they are led by mandarins whose integrity is clear and unquestioned, this is a remarkable event. When I read this, I asked how no one would question how someone in her position could be driving around in such an expensive car (wouldn't anyone suppose her husband bought it for her?); how the company that took this money, not apparently from a bank but in cash, did not feel the need to question the source of these monies (are they not aware that there are money laundering laws in force?); I wondered where were the watchdogs in the civil service to notice and enquire into such strange goings on.

The sad answer is that everyone in this government seems to believe they are entitled to a Mercedes Benz (however it is acquired and whatever the cost is to the rest of us, none more so that president Museveni with his two million dollar Mercedes Benzes); we all seem to have got used to the fact that it is acceptable to deal in large amounts of cash, even though it is suspected they are ill-gotten gains; we all seem to have lost sight of the fact that we must challenge those in authority if we see things which do not seem right to us. The laws exist to prevent all of this: there are leadership and civil service codes in force; money-laundering laws in place, what is missing is leadership.

All these things (and more) can fairly and squarely be laid at the feet of our leaders, in particular the President, who seem to have lost sight of the fact that they are “responsible for the set of ethics or norms that govern the behaviour of people” in this government. If he buys a Mercedes Benz for over a million dollars with no proper oversight, why should not a permanent secretary do the same? Perhaps that is something else that President Museveni’s Benzes can tell us, that he and those around him have failed as leaders.

“No Situation is Permanent”

When I was young boy living in Uganda under Amin, I distinctly recall this phrase that now seems to me to have been more ubiquitous than perhaps it was. Nevertheless it is an image that has stayed with me all these years, etched indelibly in my mind. The phrase was, as I recall it, painted (rather crudely) on the back of pick up trucks and those long-distance lorries that were the lifeblood of a country in the midst of an economic crisis, the very same lorries whose drivers were the unwitting conduits for the HIV virus that so devastated Uganda in the aftermath of Amin.

Perhaps it was because of the sense of hope that the phrase carries that made it so memorable for me. I distinctly remember that every time I saw it, more often than not on the way to or from school, I would slip into and get lost in a reverie because of it. For a fleeting moment it provided relief, relief from the unremitting, relentless sense of oppression that I and every one else around me felt; relief from the sense of powerlessness that came with that oppression. The phrase and what I took it to mean was a welcome alternative to a message that came from Amin: that he was President for life and we were all powerless to change that.

There was also something else about it that was so alluring, it hinted at rebellion, the ability to say something against the status quo, against the oppressor. It seemed to me to be a clever device because at the same time as it had such a powerful message, it could also be reduced to a simple message from one driver to another: You may be behind me now, but some time in the future you may overtake me.

I now understand that it derives from an old African proverb, from which part of Africa I cannot tell you but it makes sense that it would come from Africa, for as a continent we are the cradle of mankind, we know what change really means, we have seen so much, weathered so many storms and in the end it always all changes, nothing says the same forever. To a young boy who had known nothing but dictatorship his whole life, the message that this phrase conveyed, the hope it radiated provided a lifeline, a way out of the hell I found myself in.

You have to remember that when I first saw it, it was an age where the State really did try to determine everything, so for something like this to get by them seemed miraculous to me: I had seen the Asians expelled (because Amin wanted their wealth and the power that he thought came with it); I had seen women banned from wearing mini-skirts, trousers and wigs (because Amin did not approve): I had seen sapatus (rubber slippers) being banned because they were said to be unhygienic (Abdullah Nasur, the Governor of what was then known as Central Province i.e. Buganda, banned them and there are tales of those caught wearing them having them cut up and being forced to eat them by the roadside).

On June 3 of this year, Mark Fagence, a 41-year-old man, was subjected to what was subsequently described as a “brutal, frenzied and relentless attack, which almost killed [him]”. This brutal attack left him in hospital for over a month, part of which was spent in an induced coma. It took place whilst he was taking an afternoon nap and was carried out by his twin brother Guy, using as a weapon a wooden post that he had found lying about in the garden.

Two weeks ago, Guy Fagence was jailed for six and a half years but is what was said in his defence, in mitigation that is striking. The court was told that the twins had battled for years over dominance, a battle that Mark eventually won, becoming the dominant twin in the relationship. In mitigation, Guy’s defence counsel encapsulated the problem from Guy's perspective, saying: “The balance of power between the brothers is firmly lain on the side of Mark. It is a power he has abused and there has been a long standing bullying relationship.” Guy expressed enormous remorse at what he had done and explained that he had simply snapped: after all the years of abuse, he simply could not stand it anymore. He had exploded and in his rage was driven to launch this frenzied attack his own twin, almost killing the person to whom he was closest in the world.

If a brother, a twin at that, will seek to kill his brother because he can no longer stand the bullying anymore, when he has had enough of being trampled and abused, what does that tell us about what we are all capable of when we have had enough?

In the past few weeks, the Ugandan papers have been full of the corruption scandal that has enveloped the Office of the Prime Minister. It has also reached the British press, sections of which have reported that the UK (along with Ireland, Sweden, Denmark and Norway) has now suspended all aid to Uganda, pending the outcome of the investigations into this affair. Despite this massive scandal, not only does the Prime Minister remain in office, but so does his permanent secretary, whose suspension or dismissal has been called for by our Parliament.

At the same time, the Ugandan press has also been reporting on the trial of the former health minister, Mike Mukula (who also happens to be the vice chairman of the ruling NRM party) for his role in the theft of funds in the GAVI scandal. Strikingly, in his defence he has said that part of the funds that he is alleged to have diverted were paid over, at her express request, to Mrs Janet Museveni (the wife of the President). That is not to say she used the monies for improper purposes. We do not know that. However - and what it is indicative of things falling apart at the centre - fingers are now being pointed by insiders, not just at the heart of the Prime Minister’s Office, but at the heart of State House.

As I and many other commentators have said many times, it is the poor who suffer most when monies such as these are stolen. It is therefore no surprise that the World Bank, for example, says that it “ views good governance and anti-corruption as important to its poverty alleviation mission”. That is so obvious that it would almost seem unnecessary to say it, but clearly those who steal, who encourage these thefts, who benefit from these thefts do not seem to realise that: that with each dollar they steal they send another child to a premature death from an easily preventable disease; they condemn a fellow citizen to a continued life of abject poverty and continue to hold back the development of our nation.

So when will the parents of those children condemned to an early grave; when will the poor in Northern Uganda and elsewhere, who constantly experience the opportunities to transform their lives being snatched from their hands; when will those of us who care about the Constitution and the rule of law see them being trampled mercilessly, arrive at the point when we have had enough?

The riots and unrest that have become a regular event on the streets of Kampala are a sign that some have had enough; the protests by the wives of some policemen in Kampala protesting over their living conditions is a clear sign that they (and perhaps their husbands) too have had enough; the decision of the producers of the play “The State of the Nation” to continue to stage their play, despite the decision by the government to ban the play, is a sign they too have had enough and the list goes on.

So, in the midst of all this, it must be a legitimate question to ask whether it was a wise decision for President Museveni to choose our Independence Day to appear for the first time in one (of his two) brand new armoured Mercedes Benzes (each costing a reputed $1.5 million and acquired, it would seem, without the proper authorisations from parliament).  Frankly not that any time would be a good time in my book, but it must rank amongst one of the most callous political acts since Marie Antoinette reputedly said “Let them eat cake.” The bright spark on Twitter who started the tag line #ThingsMusevenisBenzCanDo and all those who have added their comments clearly think so too.

At a time when we, as a nation, are quite rightly chafing under the yoke of oppression and corruption, when many are quite legitimately beginning to express their revulsion at the cancer of corruption and abuse of office that is now endemic; when it is clear that many of us have had enough, it is imperative we ask ourselves what will happen not only if our protests are ignored, but if they are actively and brutally suppressed.

Our fears about what may happen have been expressed with great articulation by certain commentators this week: Daudi Mpanga expressed a fear that the approach of the State to corruption will simply exacerbate the tribal divide, which has been so poisonous in the past; Charles Onyango-Obbo warns us that today’s corrupt are like the slave traders of the past, who will leave us with a legacy of lost opportunity; Daniel Kalinaki warns that whilst Uganda used to have thieves, the thieves now have Uganda.

Having said that, what I am interested to know is what President Museveni and his cohorts are going to do next. Apart from the Presidential spokesman, Tamale Mirundi (who increasingly reminds me of Moussa Ibrahim, Qaddafi’s last spokesman) accusing anyone, who dares raise any questions about the purchase of the Presidential Benzes, of being ignorant, their silence of late has been telling and ominous.

What happens next may well determine the fate of our nation. We are undoubtedly at a crossroads. The monster that is corruption is now undeniably out of control, even to those who perpetuate it. Those in power have a choice: respond to our protests, as Assad has done in Syria with even fiercer oppression, or begin the process of acknowledging that something really has to be done about it.

In the end, we all know what will happen if the abuse continues unabated, something will snap and we will be dragged into a hell that will be even more unbearable. However, as with the case of Guy Fagence, even that prospect will not determine what some do when they are pushed to the point where they snap, where they feel they are left with no alternative. Remember Muhammad Al Bouazizi, the Tunisian fruit seller, who committed self-immolation.

In the past week, President Obama has been re-elected as President of the United States; Bishop Justin Welby has been appointed as the Archbishop of Canterbury and, just last Saturday, George Entwistle resigned as Director General of the BBC. There are many ways in which all 3 events are connected to Uganda.

Uganda’s critical role in US policy in Africa, not least Somalia, means that any US President will have an impact on what happens in Uganda. However, the connection is more personal: President Obama hails from Kenya, just across our border, and that raise our hopes that he will, for that reason alone, make a difference to our lives.

The Church of Uganda, which accounts for over 40% of our population, is very much part of the Anglican Church, at whose head Bishop Justin Welby will now sit. Once again, I have read that Africa’s hopes have been raised by his appointment because here is a man who was the Anglican envoy to Africa and has spent time in Africa: he must surely understand us better than those who have gone before him. At the same time, our hopes and pride have been somewhat dashed because our very own Dr. John Sentamu, the Archbishop of York, who was also very much in the running for the post, was once again overlooked.

The BBC needs no introduction to us: It is an institution that we universally trust and whose integrity and impartiality we all hold dear. For the older generation, it was the lonely beacon of hope and truth in our darkest days, for the younger generation it remains a source of the truth. The BBC belongs as much to us, as it belongs to Britain, it is a worldwide institution, so what happens to it matters to us.

However, it is not these connections I want to focus on, important though they are. None of those individuals or institutions is going to be our saviour nor were they ever going to be. Our salvation lies in ourselves, in our willingness to learn, to implement the lessons we learn. So what I want to focus on are the deep and profound lessons about leadership that these 3 events could teach us, as a nation, if we opened ourselves up to such possibilities.

At the heart of the US Presidential campaign was the rivalry between Mitt Romney and President Obama, which in turn reflected a deeper struggle of the nation struggling to regain its momentum, rediscover its sense of self. The campaign was often bitter, pocked with untruths and distortions on both sides but, despite both sides clearly feeling that they were fighting for the soul of the nation, we never once saw President Obama using considerable Executive power to send the riot police to break up Republican rallies, to put Governor Romney under house arrest or in jail, to falsely accuse him and have him arraigned on trumped up charges of treason or rape. Obama believes in his vision and, like all great leaders, persuaded others, with his passion and commitment, to follow him willing.

Governor Romney in turn demonstrated a different kind of leadership. His dignified concession speech after his defeat reflected his commitment to the process of democracy. It is worth watching and listening to: it upholds the tradition it emerges from, which is the need to honour the process of democracy, to respect the will of the people once it has been expressed.  

It is perhaps not surprising that both Obama and Romney were able to demonstrate such leadership, given that they both emerge from a political tradition that has a deep and abiding respect for the Constitution at its core. Ultimately the Constitution, drafted over 250 years ago is the real leader, it is to whom all turn, leaders and the people alike, for stability, for continuity, for authority.

The contrast with Uganda on all levels is disturbing. Ultimately all political authority should derive from the people through the Constitution: that is legally the position in Uganda as much as it is in the United States. Interestingly the oath of both Presidents requires them to vow to uphold the Constitution. Unfortunately in Uganda that oath of office appears to be taken to mean something very different: until we learn to honour that oath, until we invest in the Constitution and the rule of law, until we place those principles at the heart of our political process, our authority is bound, disappointingly, to continue to be usurped.

On the question of disappointment, it is natural we may feel disappointment that Dr Sentamu missed out on the appointment but we must remember how remarkable it is that he is the Archbishop of York, having fled into exile from Uganda 30 years ago. However, that is not the lesson we have to learn about leadership and what makes leaders.

Nor is it the fact that Bishop Welby went to Eton that made him a leader (interestingly his former housemaster said he would not have picked him out as a priest) nor was it the fact that he was a successful oil executive before he became a priest. The event that made Bishop Welby the man he is today, a man of such depth and compassion, was the unimaginable tragedy that he suffered almost 30 years ago when he lost his first child, Johanna at the age of 7 months in a car accident. Within 4 years, having encountered unimaginable depths of despair, he entered the priesthood. His rise in the Church has been meteoric, undeniably, in my view, because of the burning faith and compassion that emerged from such a terrible loss.

So whilst we are constantly told by our President and his acolytes that there is no one (other than him) in Uganda with the vision, the drive, the capability to become President, let us remind ourselves that there is a leader lying in wait in each one of us, a leader that is waiting to emerge, whether through tragedy, hard work, challenge or otherwise. It is our responsibility to encourage that leader in ourselves, in our brothers and sisters, in our neighbours and yes, in our opponents.

Unfortunately responsibility is something that really seems to be lacking in our political system, which brings me onto the lessons we can learn from George Entwistle’s resignation. Although he had only been Director General for 2 months and he did not personally edit the Newsnight programme that wrongly accused a senior conservative politician of child abuse, he nonetheless resigned because he thought that was “the honourable thing to do.” Note he did not say that others were to blame, he did not point the finger, he simply resigned as he was the BBC’s Editor in Chief and, in the words of President Truman, another august US leader, he knew that “The Buck Stops Here.”

As I have written before, honour and responsibility are of course concepts that are completely alien to Uganda’s leaders, so it is no surprise that all our Prime Minister does when a massive fraud is exposed in his office is to apologise to the donors, whose money was stolen.  He does not apologise to the people who are affected by the theft (by the way, these are displaced people in Northern Uganda and Karamoja who have suffered enough already through unimaginable horrors). He certainly does not do the honourable thing, which would be to resign. What a leader he would be if he simply said “I resign” because that is “the honourable thing to do.”

“For centuries, Europeans dominated the African continent. The white man arrogated to himself the right to rule and to be obeyed by the non-white; his mission, he claimed, was to "civilize" Africa. Under this cloak, the Europeans robbed the continent of vast riches and inflicted unimaginable suffering on the African people.”  (Kwame Nkrumah)

These were the opening words of Kwame Nkrumah in one of his most famous speeches given to the African Freedom Fighters in Accra in 1960. These words encapsulated the reason why Africans wanted Independence: they wanted to live a life of dignity and share in the wealth that they had so fortunately been endowed with. So, as Uganda now enters into its next 50 years of Independence, it strikes me that now is an apt time to reflect upon what Independence really means.

I am conscious that sitting almost 8,000 miles away I was not party to the celebrations or commemorations that took place, however a number of things have struck me, including how little reflection there appears to have been from the Government and frankly most politicians (of all shades) as to what Independence really means.

It is fascinating that you could almost replace the White man in Nkrumah’s mind with our present leader and see how 50 years on so little has changed. Take for example, the claim to want to civilise Africa. President Museveni constantly talks about taking making Uganda a middle-income country, yet his actions show he clings to a very different vision. He has apparently recently taken delivery of a new armoured plated Mercedes costing around $1 million; we all know State House Entebbe cost over $50 million to renovate, about the same cost as the Presidential jet. Is that what Independence means?

Or is it to project military might? One of the most striking and discomforting images came to me through a photo posted on Twitter. I am sure you will agree with me that it is a remarkably good photograph, obviously taken by someone with a great eye. However, it is what it means that makes me so uncomfortable, it is what it stands for that makes me feel physically sick. For these are the fighter planes that, at a time when some of us are suffering from the effects of Nodding disease, when hundreds of thousands struggle each day with the effects of Elephantiasis, Aids, Malaria and other neglected diseases, our President decided it was better to spend $750 million on (rather than investing that money in our healthcare, education or infrastructure). So much for ending our unimaginable suffering.

In the very week that Independence was being celebrated, the leader of the opposition had been arrested at least twice and was under virtual house arrest on Independence Day. How ironic it is that those celebrations took place on Kololo Hill, a hill that takes its name from the word “Kolo” (meaning  “being left in solitude”) used by the Acholi Chief Awich, imprisoned on that hill by the colonial authorities for his opposition to their rule. So we are clear, the Oxford English dictionary, defines “to arrogate” was meaning to “take or claim (something) for oneself without justification”. The idea of Independence was always that we would no longer be subject to arbitrary rules or government, that we would have the right to protest freely, vote freely, assemble freely, however 50 years on it seems not. It seems that we have simply swapped one ruler after another, who wanted to be obeyed for another.

We are still oppressed, we are still excluded from government, we are still subject to arbitrary rules, and we are still subject to rule by someone who, even though he resides in Entebbe, is as distant from us as London was in the 1950s. We wanted rulers who cared for us, looked after our interests, instead what we got (and seem to continue to get) are rulers who are only in touch with their megalomania, who only seem able to look after their interests or those of their close circle.

We wanted independence so that we would end the robbery of all our resources, yet we are told that, in yet another long line of daylight robberies, officials in the Office of the Prime Minister were stealing 100 million shillings a day. It is not clear whether that is meant to be a working day or literally each day, however whichever way you look at it, this is an astounding amount of money. To put this and many other things into context the health budget for next year has just been set at 80 billion shillings (or 9% of the budget) (apparently with the usual bribes to MPs to get it past, despite the great need and the commitments the government made under the Maputo Protocol to spend 15% of its budget on healthcare). So, for those who want help with the maths, in almost two years those officials have apparently stolen the annual health budget for the entire nation. So much for Independence being a route to ending the robbery of our vast riches. 

A week ago we heard that the Bank of Uganda had intervened in the affairs of the National Bank of Commerce (“NBC”). The NBC happens to be a bank in which the apparently Right Honourable Mr. Amama Mbabazi, the Prime Minister of Uganda, together with his apparently very close friend, Mr. Amos Nzeyi and the ICT Minister, the apparently Honourable Mr. Ruhakana Rugunda hold over 86% of the shares in their personal capacity. The reason the Bank of Uganda gave for its intervention in NBC was that the continuation of its activities was detrimental to the interests of its depositors.

Whilst the question of whether or not the Bank of Uganda is right to intervene is not really the issue, I think it is only right, to be fair, to say that as I write this, the Courts have apparently granted a temporary injunction against the Bank of Uganda that may force it to suspend its intervention until there is a full hearing on the matter.

The real issues -which raise very serious questions in my mind - are first, how is it that the Prime Minister, who after all is meant to be the guardian of the integrity of the Cabinet, once again finds himself embroiled in an unsavoury scandal (of which more later) alongside Mr Nzeyi.  Second, how two individuals, who have supposedly been in government service for the entirety of the NRM government (i.e. since 1986), are able to obtain control of such a significant shareholding in the NBC. Third, how once again it is the poor and hardworking people who have to suffer as a result of the greed of those in power. The NBC was originally set up to provide loans to small farmers and businessmen.

For those who do not know, Mr. Mbabazi and Mr. Nzeyi were both embroiled in the Temangalo Scandal, which related to the improper acquisition of land by the National Security Fund, the NSSF, from both Mr Mbabazi and Mr Nzeyi. The NSSF is a savings fund into which workers all over Uganda pay part of their hard-earned wages in an attempt to make a better future for themselves. The allegation was that the land was not worth anything like the amount paid for it, so apparently Mr. Mbabazi and Mr. Nzeyi benefitted at the expense of the ordinary folk who strive so hard to save what they can. It is symptomatic of our times that this purchase was only possible because the tendering and bidding processes that the NSSF was supposed to follow were ignored. In the end, the Minister of Finance lost her job and the MD of the NSSF went to jail. However, the Right Honourable Mr Mbabazi went on to become Prime Minister.

At the time of the Temangalo Scandal, Mr Mbabazi was Security Minister, one of many posts he has held in government since the NRM came to power in 1985. I am all for public service and it seems to me to be remarkable that the only public servants who end up owning banks elsewhere in the world are those in corrupt regimes. I cannot imagine the Prime Minister of Britain or the President of the United States becoming owners (whilst in office) of the 22nd largest bank in their countries, having devoted all of their life to public service. Tellingly, I have searched for a code that governs the conduct of ministers and there is none to be found. Of course even if such a code existed, it would probably be disregarded.

What I do not have to imagine, because it has happened before (and not just in Uganda), is that a minister will abuse his position to try to get rich. At the turn of the 20th Century, the Marconi Scandal rocked the British Establishment. Following the announcement of the grant of a licence to set up a wireless network in the UK, the shares of Marconi rocketed, but not before certain ministers had already purchased shares, making an immense profit. Although all the ministers involved clung onto power, the Marconi Scandal marked a turning point in British politics. It has become the touchstone of ministerial conduct, which now has been codified.

So what does that mean for Uganda? Is it okay to say that we are still developing and therefore if it was okay for the British then, it is okay for us now? I say not, because if we say that we are showing that we are incapable of learning the lessons of history but above all, I say it is not okay because once again it is a symptom of the culture of corruption and kleptocracy that threatens the existence and viability of our nation.

Once again the section of society that seems to bear the brunt of this government’s greed and incompetence are the poor and the powerless. That is frankly wrong. When do we say enough, when do they say enough, when will it be enough for those who steal and loot with impunity? The list grows: In GAVI, money was stolen from the mouths of our children, mainly once again the poor; for CHOGM money meant for the development of our nation’s infrastructure, the basis of all our futures, was diverted away from us all; In order to win the elections in 2011, the NRM government printed money so that it could bribe its way to an election win. This led to inflation rising to over 30% per annum, and who bore the brunt of that? The poor naturally. Now with NBC, a means of obtaining desperately needed capital is snatched away by greed and mismanagement from those striving to better themselves.

  “First they came for the Communists And I did not speak out  Because I was not a Communist Then they came for the Socialists And I did not speak out  Because I was not a Socialist Then they came for the trade unionists And I did not speak out  Because I was not a trade unionist Then they came for the Jews And I did not speak out  Because I was not a Jew Then they came for me And there was no one left To speak out for me."

These are the words of Pastor Martin Niemoller, a Protestant minister incarcerated in a concentration camp by the Nazis for over 8 years until his release by the Allies at the end of the Second World War. His words are all the more compelling because he originally supported Hitler’s accession to power and gave a number of anti-Semitic sermons prior to his imprisonment.

Ironically, it was only when he was in a concentration camp for opposing the Nazification of the German Churches, that he came to the realisation that he had been wrong to support the Nazis and to espouse such anti-Semitic views. After the war, he worked tirelessly as a pacifist and was one of the authors of the Stuttgart Declaration of Guilt, through which the German Churches confessed their guilt for their part in failing to oppose Hitler and his policies.

I thought of him and his words when I read this week that David Edwards Cecil, a British theatre producer had been arrested in connection with a play, “The River and the Mountain”,that had been staged in Uganda during August. I have unfortunately not seen or read the play, however I understand it is about a gay man, Samson, coming out in Uganda and the challenges that that throws up. It was performed by a cast of Ugandan actors and directed by a Ugandan female director. I have no idea, nor do I care frankly, if the cast were gay or straight, although the leading man is, as it happens, straight.

Whilst the play was openly advertised, apparently played to full houses with no sign of protest, it clearly has offended some people. It is the subject of a “ban” by the Uganda Media Council, which meant the performances originally slotted for the National Theatre had to be moved. This followed strong objections from the Ethics Minister, Simon Lokodo.

So apparently the police, with no other pressing issues to tackle, have decided to devote resources to arresting and prosecuting the producer of the play. He faces a two-year prison sentence for performing a play that had not been approved. How Stalinist is that. I, for one, did not know that to perform a play, to publish a script, it had to be approved by an organ of the State.

My guess is that, in a few days or weeks, he will be quietly released, following discreet representations by the British High Commission and other foreign embassies. So this is not really about the fate of Mr Cecil, it is about our fate, our path, our destiny as a nation.

The reality of the arrest is not that the government is really interested in homosexuality per se; it is interested in being able to demonstrate its power and who better to show that on than a vulnerable minority. It is also appealing to that part of its base that is scared and intolerant, a small, yet extremely vocal section of society that helps keep it in power.

It is instructive reading some of the comments online by Ugandans on this story, which I read on the Monitor website. One sticks out: “For the first time in ages our police and justice is working in the interest of the people. I wonder shhy the whiteman is imposing his immorality on us? If that's what they do in their culture, we dont. End of … Throw him to the toughest prison in the land and toss the keys in lake victoria.”

So let us dissect this statement, which is brimming with ignorance, hate, intolerance and prejudice. First, there is the feeling that for the first time our police and justice system are working in our interests. Wow, so that is how some see the suppression of a vulnerable minority trying to express how it feels to be an oppressed and persecuted section of society. What will you say when one day they come for you because you are of the wrong tribe, the wrong religion, the wrong political party, have a limb missing, have HIV or just frankly do not fit in, will that be okay too then? Will that be in all our interests too?

Second, the view that this is a whiteman imposing his immorality on us and ruining our culture presupposes there was never a homosexual in Uganda before the whiteman came along. Well I have news for you: When the whiteman first turned up in Buganda, they were shocked by the extent of homosexuality at Court. Kabaka Mwanga was notorious for his homosexuality. So let’s not kid ourselves that we are any different from the rest of the world, like it or not, homosexuality exists everywhere and has existed since the beginning of time.

An interesting aside at this point is that I have read similar “preservation of our culture” arguments attributed to Simon Lokodo. It will not have escaped your notice that there has been ongoing conflict between the State and the Karamojong, a conflict that poses a serious threat to the way of life of the Karamojong. As with so many things in Uganda, this conflict is largely about access to minerals and perhaps oil, but dressed up as the need to improve Karamoja. It has manifested itself, as these things do, in an assault of Karamojong culture. That Mr. Lokodo is nowhere to be seen when his own people are being persecuted and his own culture is under threat, is perhaps no surprise. To the extent his stance is to do with the fact that he is (or was) also a Catholic priest, only he will know but it is ironic don’t you think?

Why? Because so many objections in Uganda come from a point of view of Christianity (or at least their version of it), which is that what homosexuals do is wrong because that is what they say the Bible says. As one comment on the internet asked (and did not need to say anymore to show how ridiculous those who use Christianity on one hand, whilst blaming the whiteman on the other): “Who brought Christianity to Uganda in the first place?”

There was one other powerful comment that really makes the point better than I could. That person said that rape, murder and robbery are all illegal in Uganda, but that does not mean we make into criminals anyone who portrays a rapist, murderer or robber in a play. What more needs to be said? The fact is that even though you may not like homosexuality, there are some who happen to be gay. They are not bad; they just have a different sexual preference. They are no more likely to be rapists, murderers or paedophiles than any heterosexual. Most gay people, like most heterosexuals, are decent and good people. It is those, who seek to vilify them, make them into devils, whose motivation and morals need to be questioned and challenged.

It seems to me that some of us do not need to be reminded of what Pastor Niemuller had to say, not least Okuyo Joel Atiku Prynce, the actor who played the lead in the play. His moral conviction and courage are an example to us all. In an interview he said: “When I first read the script, I really wanted to play the character of Olu, who is Samson’s best friend. But the scriptwriter encouraged me to take on the role of Samson. I read through it again, and thought, wow, this will be tough – by playing this role, I could put not only my career, but my life in danger. However, I started thinking, how long are we going to keep quiet and watch people be mistreated and even sacrificed for their sexual orientation?”

In 1939, a seemingly unremarkable young man put aside a seemingly unremarkable manuscript he had been working on, to instead focus on writing something else. In between he became a noted author, yet the manuscript that he set aside was to remain unpublished until after his death, some 60 years later. Remarkably, it is one of the most compelling and insightful analyses of the reasons for the rise of Hitler and the Nazis.

The book is a memoir about the author’s early life in Germany before he was forced into exile in England. The author pulls no punches in what he has to say and his book certainly has the fire and impetuousness of a rightly angry young man. However, alongside this raw anger, is an incisive analysis. This is a book that anyone who wants to understand how dictatorships are created and sustained should read: It is “Defying Hitler” by Sebastian Haffner. 

Sebastian Haffner opens the story with his own childhood during the First World War and ends a number of years before he went into exile. He describes it as “the story of a duel”, his duel with the state, a state bent on destroying his integrity, his private life and his personal honour, which were all subjected to relentless attack. He acknowledges that his was not the only struggle and that there were thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of fellow Germans who were fighting the same duel “in total isolation and out of public view”, a sentiment that has huge resonance with the Uganda of today. 

At the end of the book, in a most profound, unrelenting and unambiguous attack on the German people for the part they had played in bringing to the Nazis to power and sustaining them in it, Sebastian Haffner pulls no punches when he says:

“It is said that the Germans are subjugated. That is only half true. They are also something else, something worse, for which there is no word: they are “comraded”, a dreadfully dangerous condition. They are under a spell. They live a drugged life in a dream world. They are terribly happy, but terribly demeaned; so self-satisfied, but so boundlessly loathsome; so proud and yet so despicable and inhuman. They think they are scaling high mountains, when in reality they are crawling through a swamp. As long as the spell lasts, there is almost no antidote.”

When I read that I thought it would be most unfair to seek to apply it to all my fellow countrymen. There are too many Ugandans who have for too long been side-lined, whose needs and rights ignored for so long, whose daily struggle merely to survive makes it wrong to seek to accuse them in this manner. There are many who wage a silent but honourable battle of their own out of public view, who fight their own personal duel, exhausting as it may be, each and very day.

However, there is a group of Ugandans of whom the same can be said as Sebastian Haffner said about his compatriots. I am talking about those self satisfied ministers who drive around happily in their Mercedes Benzes, whilst babies die (partially as a result of the funds meant for them being stolen by the very same self satisfied ministers who are supposed to be acting in their interest); I am talking about those who regard anyone who opposes the Movement, the NRM, as a traitor; I am talking about those in government who create all the ghost payrolls, whilst acting all innocent; I am talking about the President and his military cohorts who see it fit to spend $750 million on fighter jets, whilst children in Acholi have been traumatised by a war they started and sustained through their greed, whilst nodding disease devastates communities, whilst children like Grace Atubaire, a 14 year old orphan with Elephantiasis are forced to say simply that they have no choice but to “push on.”

I am talking about all those but I am also talking about others. I am also talking about those in parliament who ostensibly oppose the government, yet greedily accept the car allowances that the nation cannot afford; who gleefully accept being amongst the highest paid legislators in the world, when their country is one of the poorest; I am talking about the so called leaders of the opposition, who appear to be more interested in their personal advancement than that of the nation; I am talking about the businessmen, who happily pay bribes because they delude themselves into believing they are building a new Uganda; I am talking about the Judges, who stand by whilst at least one of their number is clearly unsuitable to be a Judge; I am talking about our Kings who remain silent, whilst their tribe’s invaluable cultural icons are burnt down to the ground; I am talking about all of us who would rather demean ourselves by paying a bribe to a traffic policeman, to a government bureaucrat, than embarrass him or her by saying no.

There is, however, change in the air, the spell is being broken and the antidote that for so long seemed absent has re-emerged. Like in 1986, the change is being driven from below, by that silent majority of the population, who have simply had enough of the betrayal, abuse and disappointment that have been subjected to, who in their own quiet way have had to fight the same duel to maintain their dignity and integrity. They are now saying “Enough”.

This week I read an interview in the Independent with Winnie Kizza, who recently won the Kasese by-election in the face of massive intimidation by the state and the NRM. Her success is made all the more remarkable by the margin of victory: She won by almost 40,000 votes, having initially won the seat in an earlier disputed election by a mere 1,450 votes. Her take on her victory is interesting and compelling. She talks about “the people waking up” and that indeed makes sense when you look at the scale of her victory and the fact that the people did not split their votes (The Democratic Party candidate only got about 1,500 votes). When you realise that the Movement has lost 6 out of the last 7 by elections, with two more on the horizon, you realise that something is changing.

However, if we tell ourselves that a change of regime will be the end of all our problems, we are only fooling ourselves. We not only have our own lesson (the last time the people in Uganda exercised their power, the NRM came to power through a bush war largely fought by the descendants of the same people, who are now making their voice heard in Kasese and elsewhere), we also have lessons from elsewhere: Zimbabwe under Mugabe in recent times and in this context what happened in Germany after the First World War.

In the aftermath of the First World War, the Germans deposed the Kaiser, Sebastian Haffner observes that:

“Power lay in the streets. Among those who had seized it were very few true revolutionaries; and even they seem in retrospect to have had no clear conception of what they wanted and how they were going to get it. It was not just bad luck, but a sign of a lack of talent, that they were almost all disposed of within six months.”

  “The sin of silence when they should protest makes cowards of men.”

Abraham Lincoln

It is fascinating how often a mere glimpse of something, picking up the snippet of a conversation, just getting the slightest whiff of a concept can open up a whole new avenue of exploration. This week, whilst brushing my teeth, I happened to be listening to BBC Radio 4. I had no idea what was on as when I had turned the radio on, as it was part way through a programme. However, as I listened it became apparent that it was a programme on dictators and dictatorship. Unsurprisingly my ears pricked up and my attention was engaged.

Lots of things struck me about the programme, however something said by one of the participants really stood out for me. He said that what dictators all strive for is “Silence”, they want a silent population because a silent population is an obedient population (or at least one that will not challenge them).

This drew me into thinking about, and then looking into, the origins of the word “Silence”. Apparently it comes from the Latin “Silens”, which means not only to be quiet, but so much more prescient, it means to be still. As someone who grew up under Idi Amin, that sent a shiver of recognition down my spine. For beyond having to be quiet, what was demanded of all by Amin was that everyone was to be still: If you were still he felt safe and that you would not challenge his rules, his world view, his regime. If you ran you were a threat (as many caught preparing to go into exile (or who were suspected of wanting to go into exile) found out to their ultimate cost); if you simply stood up and disagreed you were a threat (as the death of Archbishop Luwum showed us); if you grew too rich or prominent you were a threat (ask the family of Michael Kaggwa). “Be still as I demand and I will let you live” was the message. He did not just want people to be quiet, he wanted “his citizens” to be still: Not to move, not to grow, just stand still. So it is not surprising that Uganda stood still during Amin and by standing still, it in fact fell behind.

I have developed my own theory about why it is that dictators demand silence and it goes beyond simply maintaining themselves and their family in power. It is to do with the psychological deception that they have to maintain in order to keep doing what they are doing.  They have to believe they are right and have to suppress any evidence to the contrary.

In order to get to where they have got to they have had to suppress within themselves that which they know is right and they cannot bear to be reminded that they are unremittingly practicing this deception on themselves, that they are in fact being subjected to a similar (albeit internal) oppression as we are. When people protest, when they agitate, when they are no longer still, they hold up a mirror to the dictator, a mirror that reflects back to him the deception that he is so desperate to deny.

It is now commonly said that if the Museveni of 1986 were to meet the Museveni of today he would shoot himself. He has after all become everything he once despised, everything he once fought against. It is therefore not surprising that he cannot stand to be reminded of this betrayal, his deception. We all do it, when something is too painful to hear, we simply close our ears and minds to it.  It is part of being human.

So now you can see why Barbara Allimadi, an activist behind the ‘People Power’ T-shirt campaign to highlight corruption in the government of Uganda, was arrested when she went to reclaim the nineteen T Shirts confiscated by “security people” in Parliament, when she was simply exercising her constitutional right to demand the return of her property; why those T-shirts were confiscated in the first place, when all they bear is the truth; why A4C was banned, when all its activists were doing was exercising their constitutional right to political activity; why $750 million was spent on fighter jets, when millions are denied their constitutional right to proper medical care, clean water or proper nutrition; why journalists are still routinely arrested and charged with treason, when all they are doing is exercising their constitutional right to free speech; why the individuals wrongly charged in connection with the so called Buganda riots were denied their constitutional right to bail.

All these things (and more) happen because President Museveni cannot bear to be reminded of the fact that he is living the basest of lies; that he has betrayed the values he was once prepared to die for.  And that is why it is so important that we all do not fall in line when it is demanded that we be still, that we be silent. If we remain quiet, if we remain still we feed the lie, we become part of the lie and in the end we will pay an even greater price than we are paying at the moment because in the end we will simply prolong this plague of dictatorship and corruption.

Robert F. Kennedy said that “Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope...build(ing) a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.”

This week it was announced that the Prime Minister had been ordered to set up an investigation into existence of “ghosts” on the payroll of his office. For those not familiar with this term in a Uganda context, it refers to having names on the payroll of people who simply do not exist. Their salary is dishonestly paid over to those in charge.

This is not a phenomenon new to Uganda. Indeed, in a Panorama documentary on the BBC earlier this week on Joseph Kony, one of the reasons asserted for the length of the war against Kony was said to be the interests of military commanders for whom the war was an incredibly lucrative venture, not least because of the huge numbers of non-existent ghost soldiers on their payroll. To be fair, it is also not something unique to Uganda. It was rife in the British Army in the 18th and early 19th Century and reportedly still in India today.

This new investigation comes alongside an exposé by the Monitor that highlighted incredibly loose financial controls which allowed funds (and significant funds at that) to be paid into the personal accounts of officials within the Office of the Prime Minister, purportedly to disburse on government projects, yet there was no means of accounting for such sums once paid into their personal accounts. I still shake my head in disbelief as I write that, but then so much about what happens in Uganda is incredible, hard to believe.

The focus on the Office of the Prime Minister is undoubtedly part of the on-going power struggle within the ruling party as to the succession. Suddenly, at a time when the name of the Prime Minister is being touted as a possible successor, the President decides to take an interest in this type of corruption. However, leaving that to one side for the moment, what it does undoubtedly show is how high and how far the cancer of corruption has spread within the government of Uganda. With the cancer of corruption having spread this far, it is simply not credible for the President to continue to protest, as he does, that he stands above the fray. However noble he may have once been (and he undoubtedly was), he appears to have allowed himself to be misled, deceived by those more dishonourable than himself.

In holding himself out as a paragon of virtue, it seems to me that the President is attempting to cast himself as the only hope for Uganda, as the only one that deserves our loyalty, the only one we can invest our hope in. This strikes me as a sign of desperation. After almost 30 years in power, he is running out of places to go. He, I sense, realises that the people of Uganda are beginning to wake up to the fact that Uganda can no longer afford to be identified with any single man, certainly not one who presides over a corrupt and rotten regime. Citizens across the Middle East woke up to a similar realisation not so long ago, resulting in the seismic upheavals of the Arab Spring.

Interestingly this week, The Economist, in reporting the death of Meles Zenawi (another ghost who will undoubtedly occupy the thoughts of many of Africa’s strongmen) rams this point home. It makes it crystal clear to those African dictators who point to Meles Zenawi as proof of the need for top-down government that “Ethiopia is no model. Mr Meles’s death exposes the dangers of building a state around one man. He leaves a powerful machine that none but he could steer.”

Two weeks ago, I had the privilege and pleasure of watching a performance by the Royal Shakespeare Company of Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar”. What was remarkable about this performance is not that an all-black cast performed it, but that it was set in Africa. As Richard Dowden (a former journalist who knows a lot about Africa, in fact once taught in Uganda and is Director of the Royal African Society) pointed out in the programme: “If Shakespeare were with us now,“ an African friend once told me, “he would have a much better rapport with me than with you.” He then explained this by saying that, amongst other things, “both of them could understand the raw paranoia of kings and lords and knew the horrors of anarchy and catastrophe.”

Watching the play set in Africa and themed around the personalities of African strongmen and warlords we know so well really brought home to me the power of the central tension in Julius Caesar which Michael Dobson, director of the Shakespeare Institute, highlighted as being “between loyalty to an individual politician and loyalty to the state, between a sense that the constitution cannot afford to do without this one man and a sense that it cannot afford to be identified with any single man.”

Of course Shakespeare’s extraordinary grasp of human nature allows him to show the whole palette of motivations that drive people to act and he recognises that people do not only act out of benevolence or from a place of integrity: greed, fear, ambition, a lust for power and envy are just as likely to drive their actions.

Should he ever consider the matter, it seems probable to me that President Museveni would like us to see himself cast in the role of Caesar, with Cassius - the prime conspirator and the one who turns Brutus against Caesar - represented by our own Prime Minister, brimming with envy, rather than with more laudable motives. It would not be hard to imagine our President describing him thus “[He] has a lean and hungry look. He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous.”

Likewise, it is not hard to imagine the President seeing Brutus and his co-conspirators as representing the parliamentary party of the NRM all slowly turning against their beloved leader and beginning to think of him (not literally I hasten to add) “as a serpent’s egg, Which hatched, would as his kind grow mischievous, And kill him in the shell.”

Having said that (and you may need to take a moment to think about this, for the play, as with many of Shakespeare’s works, allows you to look at the same thing from different perspectives, to imbue one thing with different meanings), the truth of it all is that President Museveni is no Caesar. He is more like Brutus playing the pivotal role in the murder of our Constitution and the Rule of Law, whilst the corrupt cabal that surrounds the President are no different from the conspirators who plot Caesars’s downfall and deceive Brutus into agreeing to his assassination. As Antony says of Brutus right at the end of the play: “This was the noblest Roman of them all. All the conspirators save only he did that they did in envy of great Caesar. He only in a general honest thought and common good to all made one of them.”

Ultimately the assassination of Caesar is not so much about an attack on a man, it is about an attack on an ideal, about an attack on the body politic: an attack on the state, its laws, its constitution, all of which Shakespeare has Caesar represent. Caesar is of course an idealisation, it is not so much the man that is important but what he represents and, as Anthony says in his famous “Friends’ Romans, Countrymen” speech “But yesterday the word of Caesar might have stood against the world. Now he lies there, and none so poor as to do him reverence.” 

Replace “Caesar” with “Our Constitution and the Rule of Law” in that quotation and you will feel how true it sounds about Uganda after the unacceptable and relentless attacks on the Constitution and the Rule of Law in Uganda over the past 20 odd years.  Then remember that that Constitution and those ideals are what we all suffered so much for to create and that could give us the justice and security we all seek and deserve. Remember that, grateful as we are to the President for leading it, he did not single handedly win the Bush War and overthrow Obote. He did it with our help, our pain, our suffering. He could not have done it otherwise.

Towards the end of Julius Caesar, just prior to the Battle of Philippi where Brutus was to be defeated by the forces of Anthony and Octavius and would then take his own life, the ghost of Caesar appears before Brutus. Brutus asks who he is. In response the ghost simply says “Thy evil spirit, Brutus.”

Just hours before, Brutus had been full of confidence of ultimate victory, expounding that “our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe” (sound familiar?), yet when forced by Caesar’s ghost to face the truth he knew the game was up. It seems to me that the current plague of ghosts we are being forced to see is a sign of the change that is underway. The spirits are definitely restless.

As the Olympics draw to a close in London, everyone is agreed that the Games have been an amazing success: Almost flawless organisation, enthusiastic crowds, fantastic spectacles in the stadiums, on the water, in the arenas (and for us Ugandans on the road this very morning), no breaches of security, flashes of brilliance, moments of pure emotion. Overall a great Games: Competitive, yet fair; Secure, yet accessible; Huge, yet intimate. A triumph for London, yet that is not where it ends: These Games will ultimately be judged not simply on the basis of what we have seen over the past fortnight, they will very much also be judged on the basis of their legacy, what they leave behind.

It is fitting therefore that the catchphrase of the London Games is “Inspiring a Generation.” That captures the essence of what these Games are about for the UK, an opportunity to inspire the next generation to get involved in sports, to build upon the success of these Games. Interestingly Lord Coe has already been appointed to focus his considerable energies on mobilising support and resources to ensure that this legacy becomes a reality. 

Alongside this, Boris Johnson, the energetic mayor of London, is doing the same to ensure that other important elements of the legacy are fulfilled including the regeneration of East London and the reinvigoration of London as one of the world’s greatest cities.

Beside them are the architects, engineers, planners, other professionals, sportsmen and women, artists and other creatives, who all played such a huge part in the planning and execution of the Games: All looking to build upon all of the achievements of these Games. There is an almost universal feeling that what has been achieved over the past seven years since London was first awarded the Games can and will ensure not only London’s standing as one of the preeminent cities of the world, but also the UK’s standing as a centre of excellence for sport, innovation, creativity and professionalism. There is not only an expectation of that legacy; there is the demand for one. Given what we have seen over the past seven years and given the UK’s history, that is not something I for one would bet against.

It is therefore with some reluctance and a sense of embarrassment that I am going to express my deep and profound fear as to the legacy that we as Ugandans are creating or - perhaps more accurately - are allowing others to create for us. This may seem strange, and indeed curmudgeonly, on the day that Stephen Kiprotich demonstrated such talent, strength and, frankly, brilliance in winning Uganda’s first Olympic Gold medal since John Akii-Bua in 1972. However, I do not apologise because legacy is a crucial and fundamental issue that we as a nation have to grapple with.

Stephen Kiprotich is certainly a credit to himself, his family and to Uganda. I am afraid, however, that the State of Uganda is not a credit to Stephen Kiprotich. As he himself said in an interview with the Guardian, a London newspaper, before the Olympics: "In Uganda we need better facilities," he said. "I have asked our athletics federation for better facilities and they have been promising them without delivering. That pushed me to Kenya. I spend most of my time training there and visit Uganda to visit my family."

“Promising without delivering” just about sums it up. In the week that President Museveni once again says that he cannot leave office because there is no one else in Uganda with any vision, I think we are all entitled to ask how long we are all going to sit by whilst promise after promise is broken; when so much is promised, yet so little is delivered.

We were promised that the Commonwealth Heads of Government Conference (CHOGM) held in Uganda in 2007 would leave us with a first-class infrastructure. What we got instead were poorly-made roads that quickly returned to the potholed versions we know so well and a massive boost to the culture of corruption that has been allowed to flourish; Bujagali was supposed to end load shedding, yet by the time it was ready, demand had once again outstripped supply; GAVI was promised to save our children from the scourge of the world’s killer diseases, yet simply turned into a another honey pot for the corrupt in government; Universal Primary Education promised to deliver a proper education to our children, yet it too became a feast for the locusts; President Museveni promised us the rule of law, instead all we get are his Black Mambas assaulting the High Court, and a High Court judge who is dishonest and unfit for office.

CHOGM did not have to be a feast for vultures; it did not have to leave us with nothing but feelings of violation, abuse and shame. It could have left us with a legacy of infrastructure, experience and that we could be proud of and draw strength from; the legacy of GAVI could have been a much healthier population and resources available to keep them healthy; the legacy of Museveni and the NRM could have been a free, proud and dynamic country subject to the rule of law and focused on fairness for all.

Instead, we have roads full of potholes; the cancer of corruption; regular load shedding; children dying meaninglessly each day; half-built hotels; and a State that has simply lost sight of the people in whose service it was set up.

We have oil coming on tap soon (apparently) so it is a legitimate question to ask what will that leave behind as a legacy: The desolate wastelands of the Niger Delta; the rampant and even more blatant corruption of Angola and Nigeria; the stark inequalities of Gabon; the complete expropriation of the oil wealth by one family and their cronies as in Equatorial Guinea?

I am all for celebrating the wonderful achievement of Stephen Kiprotich, just as I celebrate the finding of oil and yet another victory for the opposition in the Kasese by-election. These are all potentially great news for Uganda. However, history tells us all that in the hands of a dictator such victories are liable to fail to deliver what they promise. In the same way that Idi Amin turned against those who failed to deliver what he wanted, President Museveni has turned his wrath on the Electoral Commission - accusing it of corruption for failing to stop an opposition win in Kasese (by 40,000 votes, by the way) leading to the arrest late yesterday of the returning officer for Kasese.

“The doubters said, "Man cannot fly," The doers said, "Maybe, but we'll try," And finally soared In the morning glow While non-believers Watched from below.” (Bruce Lee)

You may have heard that the Olympics have come to town. London is certainly abuzz with everything to do with the Olympics. However, what tends to get overlooked in all the excitement (although it was certainly addressed in the opening speeches by Lord Coe, the Chairman of the organising committee, and Jacques Rogge, the IOC President) are the Olympian ideals that underpin these games. One of those fundamental principles “is to place sport at the service of the harmonious development of humankind, with a view to promoting a peaceful society concerned with the preservation of human dignity.”

These ideals make it possible for 204 different nations to gather in one place every 4 years to compete fiercely, yet fairly; where regardless of the turmoil going on elsewhere in the world we can actually believe that we can coexist in harmony with others; compete against others fairly and without rancour. What the Olympics do not say is that the world is in harmony and at peace with itself, but what they do say is that that is possible, so that is why we gather together around the Olympic flame every 4 years: To keep possibility alive.

I find it humbling to remind myself that each Olympic gold medallist was once merely a little boy or girl who had nothing more than a dream that one day he or she would win a gold medal, if indeed they had that dream at all. The fact is that merely having the opportunity to compete in the Olympics, let alone winning a gold medal, requires that you will have already defied the odds. For most it is an impossible dream. Yet, despite this apparent impossibility, many still strive to get there and whilst many do not succeed that does not deter others from trying and succeeding.

Much of the feedback I have had to the postings on this blog relate to impossibility: it is impossible that President Museveni will ever go willingly; it is impossible that corruption will ever be tamed; it is impossible that we will ever have a rule of law in Uganda; it is impossible to change the order of things; it is impossible to have oil without corruption and conflict; it is impossible your blog will make a difference; it is impossible for me to make a difference. Think about it for a moment, the moment you say that something is impossible is the moment you cease to try to achieve it and in that moment it really does become impossible. 

So try doing something different: Begin to think that what you want, that what you believe you deserve is possible and see what difference it makes to how you see the world, how you act and how the world responds. Remember that John Aki Bua would not have won the gold medal in Munich in 1972 if he had not at some point begun to believe it was possible. I doubt he dreamed of winning a medal at the Olympics when he was a young boy herding goats and cattle in Lango. Indeed at that point he would, in all likelihood, have been laughed at, but somewhere along the line he began to believe and look what happened: a gold medal and a world record. 

The beauty of possibility is that it always exists; the real challenge is to allow ourselves to see it, to nurture it, to sustain it, even when the finish line seems out of reach. Today I read about a group of scientists who have spent the last year or so in an isolated settlement in Siberia studying the psychological effects of what a trip to Mars will entail. They are only one very small part of what will be required to have a successful manned trip to Mars (which will apparently take nine months each way). They are unlikely to take part in that trip, yet they believe it is possible and will play their small part to ensure it happens, because they believe it is possible.

This week I also read that there are now three men who once had HIV but are now clear of it. “Impossible” I hear you say, yet it is true. If I then tell you that they all also survived leukaemia, you will say that is definitely not possible, yet it is true. In fact it is the fact that they had leukaemia, which led to the eradication of the HIV virus. They all had bone marrow transplants from people uninfected with HIV and it transpires that the antibodies in the new bone marrow actually eradicated the HIV virus. If you do not believe me take a look for yourself: The Berlin Patient

We all know that man made it to the moon; that penicillin was discovered; that I can put this post up and a second later it is read in Uganda; that we can transplant a heart from one person to another; that Gaddafi, Mubarak, Amin were all overthrown; that Obama is now President of the USA; that Beethoven wrote his Ninth Symphony. We all know from all of this and more that nothing is impossible, yet day in, day out we tell ourselves that so much is impossible. It seems to me that we simply fool ourselves into believing things are impossible because we cannot see how we will get there.

My last post was a picture, rather than words, in the hope that doing something different, seeing something different would provoke a different kind of reflection in you all. On a personal level, I have been revisiting that picture ever since I first saw it. Looking very carefully at the picture, at what I could see and just as importantly, paying attention to the different thoughts and feelings that it provoked.

I am not proud to say that my first responses came from the seat of judgment. One of the first was a searing rage, which arose from a real sense of disappointment at one of the first things that struck me about the picture. If you look at it carefully you will see that the new IGG, Mrs Justice Mulyagonja is leaning forward into the handshake in what could be said to be a bow and holding her right elbow with her left hand. That struck me as far too sycophantic and obsequious.

Next I could not help but see the way the President has chosen to greet her from behind this great big desk. I think there can be little doubt that this gulf represents a deeply subconscious attempt to ensure he has a barrier between himself and his new IGG. Two thoughts crossed my mind: He is a coward and he is scared, then a realization that he is all too aware of the potential power of the person standing opposite him.

Finally I was struck by the emptiness of the picture. Look at the desk, it has nothing on it, the room looks empty and bare, a symbol, it struck me, of the emptiness of the Presidency itself, how it has run out of ideas.

One thing I have learnt over the years, and certainly in writing this blog, is that being judgmental often simply has the effect of alienating whoever it is that I am trying to reach, those I want to see and understand my point of view. Whilst venting my feelings may make me feel better for a while, I have come to realise that it also denies me of the opportunity to have a deeper exploration and engagement with the very people I want to. So with this in mind I held my tongue last week and committed to reflect on what was going on.

On reflection, I have resolved to do something very different from what I first wanted to do or say. To start with I resolved to be open about what I had felt, to apologise for being judgmental and to share some wisdom that I have come across, with you, with the new IGG, Mrs Justice Mulyagonja, with the President and his coterie.

The starting point is that, contrary to what the picture shows, Mrs Justice Mulyagonja is not alone. We are all part of her drive in the fight against corruption and the widespread abuse of office. We must remember that as much as it is our right as citizens to demand that our rights be recognised and respected, it is also our duty to do what we can to ensure that we respect those rights, that we do what we can to ensure those rights are safeguarded, to support those entrusted with the power to do so.

It is up to us to ensure we fulfil our duty to study, to understand, to respect and to advocate our rights under the Constitution. To ensure that we do not feed or encourage those who are corrupt and abuse the power we have given them. If we do that we become part of the solution, we join hands with the new IGG, she will soon realise that she is not alone and let’s face it, when we are not alone we feel less afraid, there is a real strength in numbers. 

However, neither Mrs Justice Mulyagonja nor we can get away from the fact that she is the individual in whom the power has been vested to be the government watchdog. It goes further than that: she has volunteered to take on this responsibility. I doubt that she agreed to undertake the role lightly, so alongside her undeniably fine legal brain, her commitment to her duty, the new IGG needs to understand, to be reminded, that with great power comes great responsibility. That phrase is now associated with Spiderman but believe it or not it has its roots in what Jesus said: “For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required: and to whom men have committed much, of him they will ask the more” (Luke 12:48). 

I am conscious that we are asking much of Mrs Justice Mulyagonja in demanding that, regardless of the cost to her, she has to fulfil her new role to the best of her abilities, with utmost conviction and commitment. To inspire her, to encourage her I would like to share with her and with you the story of Corrie Ten Boom, a member of the Dutch resistance during the Second World War. 

Corrie Ten Boom was 45 when the war started, an age by which most people feel they have done all they are ever going to do. Except in Corrie Ten Boom’s case that was the beginning of a remarkable life. She credits her father's example in inspiring her to act, to get involved, to do what she felt was right. She tells of an incident early in the war in which she asked a pastor, who was visiting their home, to help shield a mother and new-born infant, both Jews. She then says: “he replied, "No definitely not. We could lose our lives for that Jewish child." She went on to say, "Unseen by either of us, Father had appeared in the doorway. 'Give the child to me, Corrie,' he said. Father held the baby close, his white beard brushing its cheek, looking into the little face with eyes as blue and innocent as the baby’s. 'You say we could lose our lives for this child. I would consider that the greatest honour that could come to my family'"

With that began her life, at the age of 45, as a member of the Dutch Resistance. In the end, she and her family were betrayed by a quisling (a traitor) and ended up in Ravensbruck concentration camp. Corrie Ten Boom survived, however many members of her family did not, yet in speaking for them she says that she and all her family all had absolute faith in the fact that what they were doing was right, whatever the cost to them all.

Corrie Ten Boom was driven by that desire, that impulse we all have, to help each other and to ensure that justice is done. Of all the remarkable stories she tells, one story above all strikes me as the most remarkable. After the war, Corrie Ten Boom made it her mission to educate the world about the horrors of Nazism. As part of this effort she regularly gave lectures to audiences across Europe and North America. At the end of one such talk, an old man approached her asking to speak to her. Immediately she recognised him as a guard from Ravensbruck. She describes the feelings of anger, rage, grief and fear that she went through in that moment, how she was thrown right back to the concentration camp. The man then admitted he was indeed that guard but was now a Christian, who was drowning in his guilt and had come to ask for her forgiveness.

Corrie Ten Boom describes how in that moment she wrestled with her feelings and her conscience, begging God for the strength and courage to do what was right. She finally found it within herself to say she could forgive the former guard and at that moment gave him a hug. In that hug, confirming her forgiveness of this man for such unspeakable acts, she says she felt closer to God than she had ever been in her life.

Our fight against corruption has been a long one and, given the extent to which the roots of corruption have taken hold in our society, it likely to take some time yet before we get to a point where we know we have won. In order to win we have to think deeper than simply being angry and judgmental. It is all too easy to be angry, to rush to judgment, however what will make the real difference is having faith and belief: The faith in knowing what is right and the belief to do all we can to ensure we defend and do what is right.

It was perhaps inevitable that by beginning this blog and focusing on Uganda, I would have to face up to the reality that I have now been away from Uganda for the last 33 of my 45 years. Whilst I have been back plenty of times since I left at the age of 12 (in what was only a temporary departure in my mind), part of what I have had to struggle with ever since are the feelings that emerge from being cut off from the place of my birth, my homeland, the feelings that come from being in exile. 

Ironically, many in Uganda spend much of their time dreaming of getting out, of making their way to the West, to all the riches and freedom that it promises. Those riches and freedom do exist and many do succeed outside of Uganda, however I can tell you from personal experience and from what I repeatedly hear from others that there is always a sense of loss, a sense of being cut off from something that really matters. As Joseph Brodsky, the Russian born, American poet who won the Nobel Prize for literature in 1985 said: "No matter under what circumstances you leave it, home does not cease to be home. No matter how you lived there- well or poorly." 

Over the years, I have met many Ugandans (and non Ugandans) from all walks of life who have settled in the UK and elsewhere in the West, some are high flyers who have made or are making a significant contribution to the place they end up. Others, in more mundane jobs such as taxi drivers, cleaners, traffic wardens, nevertheless still make a telling contribution, not least through their children who often benefit hugely from their parent’s sacrifice. Amongst all these people, regardless of status or race, there is an almost universal sense when you talk to them that something is missing, they yearn to go home. They are living with the deep, unseen psychic wound that comes from being in exile, cut off from home.

These feelings make absolute sense to me and not just because that is how I feel and have felt. Since almost the beginning of time, having to go into exile has been one of the worst punishments that could be inflicted on someone. In the Bible (Isaiah 14.18) we are told that when Lucifer was cast out of heaven, God said:

“All the kings of the nations, All of them, sleep in glory, Everyone in his own house; But you are cast out of your grave Like an abominable branch, Like the garment of those who are slain"

In ancient Greece, exile was seen as a fate worse than death. It meant losing the protection of your country, your community and your kin. A prince in his homeland became nobody in exile: he had no rights, no status and little protection. Socrates, given the choice of punishment after his trial, chose death over exile.

Today’s reality is of course not as dramatic as it was in ancient times, largely because often going into exile offers greater protection for the individual: Someone who is forced to flee to the West is likely to have more protection and freedom that someone who remains in Uganda. Nevertheless, at a more fundamental level that estrangement from country, kin and culture is as traumatic as it has always been, it rocks the core of one’s very being. For some it becomes so unbearable that they return home, others labour on in spite of it, others buckle under the burden, others find a way through it. However, what is undeniable is that most of us are hugely affected by being in exile, away from the homeland that we will always love and yearn for.

This insight and the subsequent exploration of what it means to be in exile got me thinking about other forms of dislocation, in particular what happens when we find ourselves cast adrift from our values, those principles that are so important to us that often we are prepared to die for them. 

It is not all bad, what exile also gives rise to is a heightened awareness; a duality of perspective that often gives rise to creativity. Kobena Mercer, a respected Professor of History of Art at Yale, who has studied the impact on art of exile and the diaspora concluded that “Most people are principally aware of one culture, one setting, one home; exiles are aware of at least two, and this plurality gives rise to an awareness of simultaneous dimensions...” 

As part of this exploration and as a nod to creativity, I took down from my bookshelf and begun to reread “Sowing the Mustard Seed”,the early autobiography of President Museveni written in 1986, very shortly after he had first taken power.

The title of his autobiography is based upon a parable from Matthew, in which it is said that the kingdom of heaven is like the mustard seed. Whilst it is the smallest of all seeds, when it grows it becomes the largest of garden plants and turns into a tree, on which all the birds of the air come to perch. It is a rich and powerful metaphor: It promises not just great richness from such small beginnings, it also offers the promise of heaven: a place of nurture, rest, sustenance and safety for all.

In his introduction, President Museveni explains the metaphor’s relevance to his task as a leader saying “before the “mustard seed” of freedom and democracy could be sown in Uganda, the land must be cleared of the rocks and weeds of a corrupt system, which had given rise by the 1970s to sectarian dictatorship and violence.”

The image that President Museveni chose and by choosing to equate heaven to the ideals of democracy and freedom, he reveals to me, to us a deeply held conviction (not just at the time but now) that corruption goes counter to all the values he held and holds dear. Values, as he says, which were the reason why he had chosen to spend all of his adult life fighting against dictatorship.

Ironically it is President Museveni who now finds himself caught up on the “rocks and weeds” of a corrupt system that are suffocating freedom and democracy in Uganda. The reasons why are undoubtedly complex. In part, I wonder how much can be ascribed to the inevitable corrupting and corrosive nature of power itself, 26 years is rather a long time to be in power; I wonder how much responsibility lies with the dishonesty and selfishness of those who have inveigled themselves into his confidence over the years and who have failed him as advisors; I wonder how much relates to the very corruption of the system he overthrew and its insidious influence on the culture of the nation; I wonder to what extent what we see is due to incompetence. As someone close to me says “'never attribute to malice that which is readily explainable by incompetence”.

Whatever has happened I really do not believe that President Museveni suddenly no longer cares, that he no longer holds those values he was prepared to lay down his life for. I sense that he does but he has been cut off from them, there has been a psychic rupture. And because of this he feels acutely the pain of that trauma, of finding himself so far away from what he really values.

We all know that when we find ourselves feeling lost in an unfamiliar place; we yearn to find our way back home. We are also scared; we feel we may have done something wrong to have been brought here; we may be racked by guilt; we question what we did to deserve this; we struggle with finding ourselves so far from home. I believe that if we begin to see that President Museveni too may be in this place, in exile from the values he holds dear we may find a way to reach him, to allow him to come back home, to guide him back home.

Like any of us, if President Museveni feels under threat, if he feels he is being attacked, his primary instinct will be to protect himself (and those closest to him). At some level he perhaps has come to thrive on the hatred and venom directed at him. A young American writer, Mike Norton, who knows what it is to be an outcast says with great articulation that “Outcasts, callused from being in exile for too long, learn to thrive on being the hated; the attention and infamy of our actions fuel us to become antiheroes. Too often do we forget: we risk self-destruction if we fail to follow what we know is right; our talents too often become misplaced, misdirected, misguided from what could have been something wonderful.” 

So instead of attacking him, instead of judging him, maybe we simply need to find a way to reach his true moral core: Try to remind him (and us) of what is “right”, of what he holds dear, of what ultimately really matters to him (and to us), of what he (and many others) risked life and liberty for. He will not have forgotten, he has simply lost touch. All is not lost because, as Ovid, the Roman poet, said in his “Poems of Exile”: “Our native soil draws all of us, by I know not what sweetness, and never allows us to forget.” 

“Why” is one of the most important words in the English language  (if not in any language) and if we could learn to harness its power more effectively we could transform our lives. Think about it for a moment. From a very young age we ask the question “Why?”: “Why is the earth round? “Why are you doing it that way? “Why is it raining? “Why are dogs different from cats?" Whatever the question, we are hardwired to want to know “Why”; our curiosity is at the root of our creativity, which is ultimately what enables Man to stand apart.

“Why” is also an extraordinarily powerful word and how we choose to use it often determines how we respond. Go back to being a child again (or think about a child in your life) and remember how you heard expressions of delight when you first asked “Why”? For when a young child first begins to use the word “Why”, it is a sign of his or her curiousity, intelligence, willingness to wonder, to engage with and seek to make sense of the world. We love it and praise it.

However, as a child gets older, the use and meaning of “Why” subtly, and often imperceptibly, changes. A child begins to hear and experience “Why” in an oppressive and judgmental way: “Why do you have to be so careless?” “Why don’t you look where you are going?” At the same time a child begins to use “Why” to question the source of oppression: “Why do you have to shout at me?” “Why is everything so unfair?”

What is amazing is that as we grow into adults without much thought we develop into what a wise friend called “binary thinkers,” by which I mean we only think in two dimensions, and in so doing we limit our choice to two options: Black and White; Freedom and Oppression; Good and Bad. The same with “Why”: We mostly use (and experience) “Why” as a means of passing judgment or to protest at feeling judged or oppressed. The problem with this approach is that when we most need engagement with the world, we create division, because the moment you ask “Why” you either become the Judge or the oppressed, immediately in conflict with the person you are judging or the person you perceive is oppressing you. Think about how you felt the last time someone demanded to know “Why”: “Why is this piece of work late? “Why are you late?” “Why did you shout at me?” “Why do you always criticise me?”

The sad truth is that the moment we limit ourselves to just two choices we are in conflict because we create a dilemma: We become in turn defensive and aggressive, we have to protect ourselves, yet we yearn to be engaged and to explore the world with the other.

All is not lost, however, there is a third way to use “Why” which can dramatically alter the way we feel, and thereby what we perceive and how we act. Remember that child who first begins to use the word “Why”, remember the sense of wonder, the sense of curiosity, the sense of willingness to engage and how others responded to that. So when you want to understand what the cause of something is instead of asking Why?” simply try saying “I wonder why…” and see what a difference that makes: “I wonder why he does that?” opens up many more possibilities than “Why do you not do as I ask?”; “I was wondering why you were so upset” is likely to create more dialogue than a blunt “Why are you upset?” You come from a different place and therefore so will the other.

So I wonder why, I hear you ask, he is talking about the word “Why” and has not even mentioned Uganda once today? Well, in one word “Elephantiasis”. I read in Saturday’s edition of The Monitor that this disease is rife in Busiriba, an otherwise unusual sub-county in Uganda, yet the local residents have little information on how to prevent it and no access to the medical help needed to cure it. So they suffer in silence, not just the pain, the immobility but also the humiliation, stigma and hopelessness that inevitably accompanies this disease.

Here is a little bit about Elephantiasis: There are the obvious symptoms, namely the massive swelling of mainly the lower limbs and the genitals (2 to 3 times their normal size). Let’s be honest we all want to turn away when we see it (Click through to the Monitor). Add to that the extreme pain in the afflicted areas, the fever, the excessive sweating, the headaches, the ulcers, the swollen lymph nodes and the exhaustion. Then there is the social ostracism, the humiliation and the immobility. Undoubtedly with all this what will follow is a severe deterioration in the mental health of the sufferer.

So what causes Elephantiasis? I am no expert but from what I gather, there are two causes: One is when a parasite largely introduced by the mosquito enters the body, reproduces and then begins to block the lymphatic vessels, which then begin to swell. The second cause is chemicals in the ground, such as potassium and sodium, which enter the body largely through bare feet and then block the lymphatic vessels, which once again leads to the swelling.

In short, Elephantiasis is an awful disease that causes untold pain and misery to those who suffer from it, yet it is readily preventable: Mosquito nets and shoes. It is not easy to cure once it takes hold but it can be cured too with drugs and a strict regime.

So when I read the story the first question on my lips was “Why”: “Why is the government so useless that it is not doing anything about this?” (Feeling judgmental and accusatory), swiftly followed by “Why is the world so unfair?” (Feeling oppressed and powerless). But for the intervention of a mentor earlier in the week, this article would have been in that tone, in turn judgmental, in turn despairing. However, fortunately I was guided to look at things differently this week.

That is not to say that I do not feel angry, I certainly do at the injustice and inequity of it all, however I do not want to get stuck with those feelings of anger and hopelessness, so instead I choose to wonder why: I wonder why the government has chosen to spend over $750 million on new fighter aircraft ostensibly to defend this country (whilst there is not one hospital in Busiriba to save its inhabitants from this untold and relentless misery); I wonder why the individuals who stole and misused funds from GAVI chose to do so (when those funds were destined to buy the mosquito nets that may have ended up in Busiriba); I wonder why “wealthy” Ugandans have over $150 million stashed in Swiss banks (when this country is crying out for investment); I wonder why the Prime Minister feels he has to be driven around in a Mercedes that probably costs north of $100,000 when in Busiriba sub-county, amongst many others, there is a 14 year old orphan, Grace Atubaire, who has Elephantiasis.

Last week President Museveni gave the annual State of the Nation address. One day it will be what it is meant to be, a clear and compelling statement of the vision that the President has for the whole nation. In the meantime we will just have to live with the disappointment it has become.

Read a transcript of the address and see what you think State of the Nation For my part it struck me as an ill thought out rant seeking to blame everyone else but himself for the state of the nation. It is devoid of any self-reflection and striking in the absence of any vision for the future, simply a muddled regurgitation of the past.

There is little in the address to inspire creativity, hope and possibility. It lacks the sophistication one would expect from a confident leader; it betrays an almost childish inability to accept responsibility. The image that came to mind was that of a child caught with his hands in the honey jar, attempting to blame others for the missing honey, whilst at the same time knowing there is honey all round his mouth, down his front and all over his grubby little hands. How come, like this child’s response, is it that the President’s address seems to be rooted in a place far from reality?

You see one of the major themes of the speech was what President Museveni termed “corruption as well as selfishness.”  Anyone who has been reading this blog will know that that is a theme close to my heart, so why was my heart was not gladdened by what he had to say? In short, Hans Christian Andersen’s tale: “The Emperor’s New Clothes”.

That tale tells of an Emperor who was incredibly vain, and of whose vanity a pair of scoundrels decided to take advantage. They told him they were highly experienced tailors, who had invented a method of weaving a type of cloth that was visible only to those who were fit for office, remaining invisible to anyone who was unusually stupid. They convinced him to pay them many bags of gold to produce a design using this cloth, one that was so amazing and unique: he would be seen as the most magnificent Emperor by his subjects.

After sometime they sent word to him that his cloth was almost ready and invited him to come and see it. He sent a trusted minister in his stead. The tailors proceeded to show the minister the cloth and rave about all its qualities, how fortunate it was that he was so intelligent and competent that he could, like them, see it in all its magnificence. He, of course, could see nothing but could not admit that. He therefore went along with them. Seeing this and sensing an opportunity, they asked for more gold to finish the job. You see it had turned out to be more magnificent than even they had ever imagined. Naturally the minister persuaded the Emperor to agree to their request. The tailors repeated the same trick time after time and each time a new advisor was sent, the same tale was spun and the Emperor, on the advice of his ministers, ended up approving further money for the project. 

A few weeks later, the tailors were ready to fit the Emperor with his new clothes. To cut a long story short they spent the best part of the morning dressing him up in robes made from this very special cloth. What was amazing was that all his courtiers, all his ministers, all his advisers went along with this, so when the Emperor paraded before them proclaiming how magnificent his clothes were and what a remarkable job the tailors had done, they said that when he appeared before his subjects, they would undoubtedly see him as the most magnificent Emperor that had ever been.

His advisors sent out word before the public procession begun that the Emperor was wearing new clothes that were so special, only those who were intelligent and fit for office could see them. The stupid and incompetent could not see them and the Emperor would not employ such people. So when he appeared, the crowds oohed and aahed, cheering wildly, expressing amazement at his magnificent wardrobe. What an Emperor they had! Until a little boy in the crowd pointed out that the Emperor in fact had no clothes. Suddenly a hush fell over the crowd, people began to whisper to one another, eventually the cry went up: “It is true, the boy is right, the Emperor has not got anything on.”

The Emperor of course knew his people were right but he could never admit it, not now, so he ordered the procession to continue, walking regally (as you can with no clothes on) down the street with a page behind him holding up his imaginary cloak.