In many societies, where consequences matter, people must consider the results of their actions before proceeding. Let me clarify what I mean for the benefit of those who may not fully understand, or perhaps wish to misunderstand me.
Eating, for example, has one primary objective: to be nourished and, by extension, to preserve life. There’s also the objective of maintaining health and avoiding lifestyle diseases.
So, while eating may seem like a single activity, it has varied objectives depending on the eater. After a meal, one can assess whether the main objective—satisfaction or health—was achieved, and the consequences of that action are measurable.
Sadly, these days, when you ask some young people why they’re doing something, their response is simply, "Just." Well, if "just" is your reason for doing something, how can you measure whether you’ve succeeded or not?
This is why I am obsessed with results. I don't believe that "just" is a valid reason for any action. I’ve long been interested in understanding the true objectives behind actions in Uganda. For instance, when you start a campaign against corruption in Uganda, what exactly do you want to achieve? What measurable impact are you striving for? How do we determine whether your campaign was successful?
The reason this matters is simple: telling us that corruption exists isn’t groundbreaking. We’ve known about it for years, with detailed reports from the Auditor General showing the extent of it. What’s more, the arrogance and top connections of those who benefit from corruption mean that shouting on social media does nothing to reduce it. They simply don’t care.
I’m now seeking real efforts to fight corruption—ones that lead to tangible, measurable reductions in corruption.
My concern is that we might fall into a pattern we’ve seen before in this country. It’s the same pattern we saw when people joined the fight against HIV/AIDS, not necessarily to eradicate it but to make it their lifelong vocation.
For many, the focus became less about ending the epidemic and more about securing personal economic stability in a country rife with unemployment. The same could be happening with the fight against corruption.
We see people with no established sources of income or jobs starting campaigns against corruption. They receive funding, their personal lives improve, and soon they’re living comfortably, fighting corruption in countries all over the world, winning awards.
While there’s nothing wrong with securing a better personal life, it’s crucial to acknowledge that corruption continues to grow in Uganda.
This brings me to a question: Should we not begin to question the means by which corruption is fought if the results are not being felt, even with the so-called honest and spirited efforts to combat it? How can such an earnest fight not show results we can be proud of?
When I first joined the media, I remember a spirited lady named Cissy Kagaba, who was vocal about fighting corruption. Now, I wonder, where is she? Corruption has only grown, and she’s no longer part of the scene.
New faces have emerged in the fight against corruption, yet what hasn’t changed is this: very few people involved in this battle have personal lives that reflect the struggles they claim to fight against. Look at where their children go to school.
The fight against corruption isn’t their main hustle, yet their lives are lavish, and they seem to be financially well-off. They claim to be volunteers, with no main jobs, yet their lives involve substantial bills.
Ironically, it seems that those fighting corruption are supported by the very people they claim to fight for—those who bear the cost of rent and school fees.
What’s clear is this: the fight against corruption in Uganda is an enigma. It’s as serious as the growing corruption itself.
Let me conclude here.