Next week, the National Resistance
Movement (NRM) will celebrate 23 years in government. The NRM revolution was
born in a moment of great hope. It is difficult for me to capture the emotional
tone of that moment. But there was great hope in most of this country on that
26th day of January 1986. That hope was captured in a promise made by incoming
President Yoweri Museveni that this is not a mere change of guards but a
fundamental change in the politics of our country.
There was good reason to believe this
promise. People had made great sacrifices: Careers had been abandoned Kizza
Besigye left a well paying job as doctor at the Aga Khan Hospital in Nairobi to
join the struggle; education had been sacrificed Amanya Mushega quit his PhD
studies at the London School of Economics to go to the bush; property had been
lost peasants in Luwero surrendered the last goat and/or grains to feed the
rebels; many had suffered grievous bodily harm like Salim Saleh, Mugisha Muntu,
Henry Tumukunde and Elly Tumwine while many others had paid with their lives Sam
Magara, Rubereza, etc.
It would therefore be unfair to suggest
that all these people made these sacrifices purely out of greed for power. They
did so for high minded reasons; to bring about democracy, respect for human
rights, rule of law, free and fair elections, and honest and clean government
determined to fight corruption, tribalism and nepotism. The sacrifices made
were a credible signal of NRMs commitment to its promises.
In its early years, the NRM tried to
sustain this promise. There were many things that went wrong. But overall, most
observers felt that government was driven by a genuine desire to reconstruct
our country. The NRM took bold steps to reform the economy. At great cost to
its popularity, it returned Asian properties. At the price of losing access to
key patronage opportunities, it sold off malfunctioning state enterprises. At the
risk of losing key rental havens, it disbanded state monopolies and liberalised
major sectors of the economy. Then it retrenched civil servants, tried to
reform the civil service and tamed the army.
Visitors to Uganda in the mid 1990s
could feel the mood of optimism. Museveni cut the image of freshness. He
criticised other African presidents for clinging to power saying it was the
cause of our continents crisis. International observers called him a new breed
of an African president. World leaders made stops in Kampala to consult with
him. The economy began to grow and has sustained that growth momentum till
today. This has produced a sizeable middle class, a fairly robust private
enterprise sector and a vibrant albeit foreign aid dependant civil society.
Yet as NRM leaders indulge themselves
in self congratulation at Kololo this January, many of them, including Museveni
himself will deep down in their hearts feel a sense of loss. The sullen
cynicism of ordinary citizens reflects the emptiness they feel towards public
policy rhetoric about prosperity for all (Bonna Bagaggawale). Indeed, many
people now call it Bana Bagaggawale meaning only four people Museveni, his
wife, son and brother should get rich. Pay As You Earn (PAYE) tax today
is called Pay As Yoweri Enjoys. These jokes show that people feel public
institutions no longer embody a collective vision. Instead, they reinforce a
pattern of private privilege by a few at the expense of the many.
What has gone wrong? Where NRM promised
an independent, integrated and self sustaining national economy, it has created
a dependant (on foreign aid) disjointed economy. Instead of free and fair
elections, we have rigged ones. Respect for human rights died in torture
chambers euphemistically called safe houses. Corruption has become a virtue,
nepotism a way to run our nation and tribal bigotry the running philosophy of
government. The rule of law took a beating when government organised hooded
gangs who began attacking the courts and threatening judges.
Possibly the worst aspect of this
degeneration has been the personalisation of power and with it, increasing
arbitrariness in decision making. The president unilaterally gives public land
and taxpayers money freely to businessmen of his choice. He appoints his family
members at an ever increasing number into government. He hardly chairs cabinet
because he runs government from his home. The national treasury works like his
personal bank account as he moves around dishing out cash to individuals and
groups to reward their support or to rent it. To silence dissent on these gross
abuses, the state has intimidated the media.
Thus, sometime last year, Capital Radio
owner, William Pike, called me and said he had been instructed by government to
get me off the Capital Gang talk-show. Why? Each time I was there, I exposed
these gross abuses of power in our country. On Thursday January 15 2009, I was
hosted on KFM. Then I said that Museveni is the grandfather of corruption in
Uganda. Before I could give evidence to support my claim, the programme
suddenly went off air.
Apparently, the Managing Director of
Monitor Publications, Tom Mshindi, called the radio station and instructed that
they shut down the programme. Mshindi would not have stopped the programme if I
had criticised a minister or any other official in government. The instructions
are to protect Museveni and family. The sad thing is that state agents no
longer need to stop Monitor from public criticism of the president; the paper
and its sister radio station just censor themselves.
These developments show how power has
shifted from formal institutions of state towards informal networks of an
ethnic, often sub-ethnic but today largely of a family character. The presidents
family has increasingly come to enjoy unprecedented influence in government
turning Uganda almost into a replica of Mobutus Zaire, Omar Bongos Gabon, Paul
Biyas Cameroun and Daniel arap Mois Kenya. This explains the pressure to place
the First Family above and beyond criticism. What a sad transition from
รข€˜fundamental change to no change!
How did we get to this? How did the
sacrifices of many turn into a pattern of private advantage for a few? The
story of Uganda since the late 1990s is a sad tale of betrayal.
amwenda@independent.co.ug
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